Not Flying Off

Mellia — Not Flying Off

????, Dark Season


The end of Dark Season. Mellia has arrived in Sartar. [[[s02:session-18|Session 18]]]


They come in to a peaceful-looking Wilmskirk late in the evening. If it was not a White Lady and a clan chief calling at the gate, they would be sleeping outside. Silor insists, though, and the guards send for a man of rank, and the man of rank looks very disappointed in Silor, but they are allowed in.

Their reception at the town house is warm, although there are many guards around. It is not as crowded as last time. Jengharl bows to his father and hands over a golden arm ring, and Silor says to Mellia, “My hospitality is yours, then.”

Mellia thanks both of them. Depending on Jengharl, Mellia would get the news from him, or retire.

Jengharl is just turning to Mellia, when there is a cry of joy from a window of the house. It is unmistakably Venlar. “Oh, he got here just before dark,” Jengharl says.

Venlar has forgotten to use the stairs. He climbs out, tries to jump down cleanly, and with a bit of wild yelping, manages to come down on his feet, roll, and start trying to scramble up. His cloak is in the way.

The entire courtyard full of guards and nobility breathes out in relief, all together, as he turns out unhurt.

Mellia sighs in relief too. She hugs Venlar and asks, “What happened to the negotiations?”

Under the cloak, Venlar is wearing sleeping trousers, and unlaced boots. He hugs Mellia in return once he is disentangled. “Yamia told me she could handle it, and I came up to see if I could carry you into Sartar.” He looks at Silor, half rebellious, half impressed. “But all I found was some thralls. And father’s horse.” He nestles his cloak around her as well as himself.

Mellia snuggles close. “I am tempted to hold the wedding right now.”

“We can’t,” he whispers. “Father’s against it. Or else I’d have caught up already.”

Silor’s expression is halfway between satisfied and challenging. It is very Orlanthi, and not quite how he ordinarily looks.

Jengharl is managing to keep a straight face although he is suddenly finding interest in cleaning his fingernails.

Mellia sighs and lets go of Venlar. Mostly. “Perhaps we should go and let them talk?”

Venlar keeps a hold of her, murmuring in her ear more than speaking. “We could. I should probably put clothes on and greet my father, though. As I’m here against his suggestion. But he guessed so at least he’s not angry?” He shuffles back towards the house, trying to keep her with him and also hide behind her.

“That’s something,” Mellia agrees.

A little later, Venlar has even managed to get dressed before he is summoned to see his father…

Jengharl lets Mellia sleep. This time, she and Venlar have a room to themselves. It is warm, and dry, and private. Without the luxury of the Saicaie rooms, it still has Venlar in it, and he declares that his favourite thing in the world is there anyhow.