(122-08-16) Standstill
Standstill
Summary: Wylliam arranges for Xavia to meet his mother, perhaps leaving everyone but Wylliam less than enthusiastic.
Date: 16/08/2015
Related: Spilling Blood As a Family
Players:
Wylliam..Xavia..Hellan..

It's mid morning and Wylliam has been up since the sun, even after his trip to see Xavia late lastnight and then the hour long talk with his mother. He's nervous but he's not, and only because he knows how sharp and blunt his mother's tongue can be…But then Xavia will give as good as she gets he hopes. With a last glance in the mirror he decends the steps from his room two at a time and comes into the main room ot the Manse, she'll be here soon and he wishes to personally greet her. So he waits standing tall and proud in his finest clothes which consist of his house colors.

Xavia is wearing her favorite black and white gown when she arrives promptly at the time decided upon last night. The hood on her gown is up and casts a heavy shadow over eyes out here in the midmorning sun. Her guardsman Ser Auraine Waters is at her side and the strawberry blonde knight wears the colors of House Targaryen with a three headed dragon emblazoned across his cuirass. They arrive at the Weirwood Manse and her guardsman announces her arrival- even if Wylliam can we her approaching at her Knight's heel.

Wylliam smiles at his friend. "Auraine, its good to see you again." He says taking his hand and pulling him into a hug, he then looks behind the guard and sees Xavia. He gives her a smile, but does nothing else. "Welcome to my home Princess Xavia of house Targaryen." He says loudly just incase the servents don't realise what an important visitor they have. "My mother should be along shortly, please have a seat." He directs her towards a table which has been made ready for them. Its small with three comfortable chairs around it, a pitcher of water and three glasses awaits their arrival.

"Always a pleasure." Auraine remarks as he is pulled into the one armed hug with a good natured grin. The Princess conversely has a placid expression in spite of Wylliam's abundant good cheer at her arrival. "Thank you, Lord Wylliam Stark." The Princess has her own coy turn to her grin as shs uses his full name back at him with pointed amusement. She is led to her seat and takes it demurely, the hood is calmly pulled back once she is seated. This exposes her odd disjointed gaze, the nystagmus makes her eyes shiver in their sockets. Despite her calm poise bodily the unnatural gaze suggests something… paranoid. "I am so looking forward to meeting your mother." The monotone quality of her voice may belie such a truth to one more unaccustomed to her personality.

Wylliam settles Xavia into her chair, then waits for his mother to arrive so he might also do her the honor of seating her. "My mother has a sharp tongue." He murmurs to the princess standing by her side. "But doesn't let that scare you off, she's extremely shrewd and intelligent and could place half the armes tactical experts to shame. I learned everything I know from her." He grins a little, then squeezes her shoulder gently, moving away from her side so Auraine can take his customery place there. His time to be my her side will come.

A formidable statue of a woman descends into the main hall from the aged staircase. Lady Hellan Stark is clad in dark hues of ash gray, black, and hints of dark green, all worked into a practical, decisively northron gown, only as fine as it needs to be in order to define her status. She halts at the bottom, staring through the space to pluck Xavia out with her gaze from afar before sweeping through the hall. She walks with broad, slow, decisive strides, stopping once to pass an order to a servant who's mid-scurry.

She stops behind Wylliam's chair, viewing the unusual little princess and her accompaniment coolly over his head. Hellan is darker of hair than her son, and the very opposite of Xavia, but for the streak or two of aging silver amidst jet black. "Princess… Xavia," she states more than greets, her deep voice on the flat side although one side of her mouth ticks up in a smile. "Welcome. To our home away from home." The servant comes back, finishing laying out bread and salt.

As he helps her into her seat Xavia looks down and away with a slightly shy manner, her hand brushes his when he touched her shoulder. "Dragons don't scare easily." This whispered in an oblique aside just before he stepped away.

As if to confirm such words Xavia does not become ruffled by Hellan's entrance. "Lady Hellan." The Princess does not deign to take her feet but a pert, plastic political little smile remains painted on her face. "You are most kind to host me."

Wylliam moves to his mother's chair and pulls it out for her, then waits for her to take it. As he does he joins in the greeting. "Mother." He tells her. "I hope you are well this morning." He adds, kissing her cheek softly. "Please be nice." He murmurs, though his voice is filled with a deep laugh, because he knows she'll go at the small woman with both hands on the hilt.

"I'm sure I know what you mean," Hellan replies to Wylliam as he steps back from the greeting kiss on her cheek, the edge of her smile turning all too knowing and amused at herself as she sits down. "It is rare we host a Targaryen," she goes on to Xavia, parsing right past the part where she should perhaps say it's an honour and so on. "But truly, isn't I who am the guest to this party?" Her dry smile obliterates the distinction between joking and seriousness. She gives a vaguely unimpressed look to Wylliam; it's fleeting. Her focus is quick to return to Xavia, her wintry-eyed stare precise.

The calm cast to her features remains in strange juxtapose to the constant motion of her slate violet eyes. It occurs even as she spoke to Hellan, the rapid gaze seemingly unable to rest on any one spot even if her head failed to move. "My time with your son is hardly what I would call a party, never much gone in for the things to be honest… Impractical wastes of time. Do you feel a guest in your own home? Simply because your son has spent copious amounts of time with me recently…. Strange. That." There is no judgement in her Coldly Logical evaluation before she goes for a sip of water without hesitating.

Wylliam humphs softly. "I don't know mother, I'd say I was. I wanted you ladies to meet so…" he pauses when Xavia speaks and tries not to wince, perhaps he should retreat now before things start to take off. "Water?" He offers them both. "And bread." Quick the guest rites.

Hellan leans back in her chair, although the motion is subtle at best, little more than a rise of her chin. She views Xavia from this angle, from above, assessing — or judging — and tracking the nystagmus of those violet eyes. "Strange," she repeats dully, looking unmovingly at Xavia, "That I know so little of you and you seem to know so much of my son. Don't forget the salt, Wylliam." She offers another faint sketch of a polite smile and reaches for the bread and salt, nodding toward the offering in a practiced manner.

"I was in search of a skilled woodworker when I began a recent name day gift for my uncle. I was told your son had the skill, he was most faithful in helping me complete the project. He has remained such, often calling on me and ever charming in his efforts." She doesn't simper or smile but the words come out with a respectfully even delivery. "What do you wish to learn, My Lady?" Xavia takes the offered bread and eats a small bite to be polite before dusting off her fingers gingerly.

Wylliam gives a snort. "Of course not mother." he says simply passing first his mother then Xavia the salt, he then takes a seat between them but not before rolling his eyes at Auraine. "It's true mother, I helped her with a floating problem." He confirms. "It was then she enchanted me and I started to seek out her company more. Which to be honest has been delightful."

Hellan looks to and fro between the young princess and lord; though her gaze is, in and of itself, intense, she appears utterly uninterested in either of them or their thrilling woodworking story. She takes a bite of bread with salt before her smile, what was left of it, drops. Down to business. "Enchanting," she repeats. "Well, you're both transparent as a piece of glass." Xavia perhaps literally. "Shall we skip to the part where Wylliam tells me he fancies another girl he's just met and should like her hand in marriage?"

"Another girl…" Xavia echoes softly but let's it trail off without much dismay so he can answer for himself.

Wylliam gives his mother a very hard and unfriendly stare. "Why else would I be introducing her mother and are you referring to the Tyrell girl, she was merely a thought, but has since gone out of my mind." He says, trying to remember her name, Loryn's cousin…."And just so you are aware mother, we have been seeing each other for sometime. I wouldn't call it formally courting but we have been getting to know each other. It is I whom is interested in her, though she keeps trying to fend me off, I think I have almost convinced her I'm not a bad sort."

Wylliam gives his mother a very hard and unfriendly stare. "Why else would I be introducing her mother and are you referring to the Tyrell girl, she was merely a thought, but has since gone out of my mind." He says, trying to remember her name, Loryn's cousin…."And just so you are aware mother, we have been seeing each other for sometime. I wouldn't call it formally courting but we have been getting to know each other. It is I whom is interested in her, though she keeps trying to fend me off, I think I have almost convinced her I'm not a bad sort."

"Wylliam does not wish to see my join the Sept. He has stalled my efforts for the time being but I in no way convinced to marry anyone. As kind as your son does seem." She looks down, to spare those around her that awful gaze for a few long moments. "The Seven have my heart."

Hellan raises her palms and lifts her dark brows, animating her sharply defined face in a brief flash, all rather expressive of how much Wylliam is clearly being dramatic. She lowers her hands to her lap, refraining from scolding him in front of the princess this time. Her attention once again turns to Xavia, nodding in understanding. "I see. It seems that we are at a standstill."

Wylliam gives his mother another one of his looks before he stands behind Xavia, and places his hands on her shoulders. "She means a lot to be mother and if we have to stand still for a while until she decides what she truly wants then so be it. We will talk more of this once the Princess has left our company."

And so Xavia takes her leave, "Thank you again for the invitation." Princess Xavia takes her feet and excuses herself before adding to Wylliam. "I will see you soon. I hope." She spares a tiny, true smile for him before Auraine escorts her to the exit.

Wylliam watches Xavia go with a little relief, that went well, as well as can be expected at any rate.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License