(122-09-20) Amity
Summary: Marsei appeals to the parents of the imprisoned Lord Istor.
Date: 03/10/2015
Related: Turning the Bitter to Sweet, more Fossoway plot

The patriarch Camber is ill, apparently significantly so, as Marsei is ultimately shown to his bedchamber, where his wife Dyanne also sits, in a chair near his bed. Another chair has already been set out for Marsei's use, somewhat more removed from the bed than the Fossoway lady's.

Earlier in the day, Marsei had spent much of her time outside, visiting the orchards and those who work in them, as well as the outlying hamlets of smallfolk around Cider Hall, lending them kind words as well as food and stories, as she had been known to do in her time before; her charity is only uplifted now by the fact that she has one of the Most Devout in her company.

In the bedchamber, her cheeks pink from the day outside, she greets the aging matriarch and patriarch with equal warmth, clasping the wife's hands first in gratitude for allowing her to visit. She stands at the bedside before taking to the chair; a respectful distance, but certain to look upon Camber with kindness in her beaming smile. "An honour, my lord, that you take the time to see me." She sits neatly and spends a moment talking about her visit; how welcoming everyone has been, as they always have been; how lovely it's been to be back, how like family they are. "It is a regret of mine that I could not know all the Fossoways as well as my husband's side," she goes on.

It's quite hard to tell how much the noble lord is really present. He lifts his hand in a vague movement and makes hoarse sounds that would be quite hard to decipher. It's quite possible that he's had a stroke. His wife leans in close to hear him and then nods graciously at Marsei. "It is so kind of you to pay your calls now," she says. "We are both quite touched. Ordinarily outsiders would not be permitted into this bedchamber, but you are still family and we know we can depend upon your good nature and discretion."

"Of course," Marsei says with a deep nod of her head; modest, but also understanding, confirming her discretion. "Family is so very important, I think." Although it is difficult to ascertain what Cambor comprehends, let alone says, she looks to him as much as she does his wife. "I admit it is a strange thing to move from one to the next, but I will always hold the Fossoways dear. I should like to invite you both to my wedding, although I understand it is not possible," she says with an small, sweet, empathetic smile to the ailing lord. "But I felt it a kind gesture; not only toward you, but …" There is no hitch; the lady's sweetness is on the level, as earnest and unfailing as her smile, subtly insistent, even, as she states, "I should also like to invite your son … Lord Istor."

"Ah, my dear," says Lady Dyanne, reaching to take her husband's hand. "I think we must remain here in our seat." Lord Camber lifts his head a little. It could be a nod? "But why do you wish to invite our younger son?" There was once a third boy, Marsei might recall, but he died some years ago.

"Although I do not know him personally, what I have heard does … sadden me," Marsei admits; a sadness that does touch her voice, but she does not dip too deeply into the thought, going on kindly, "It is not my place to judge whether or not any man should be imprisoned, certainly I… have no right; but I am a woman of faith, and… I believe that every soul with any hope should have a few days in the sun."

The Lady Dyanne leans in close to her husband and murmurs a few things. He makes some sounds which it may or may not be possible for the lady to interpret, and she sits up again. "Will you be inviting our elder son as well?" she asks. There is both softness and strength in her manner. It is clear from both her appearance and her previous meeting with Marsei that she is not unsympathetic, but that she is also not prone to making hasty decisions.

"Lord Haemon is welcome," Marsei replies with another lowering of her red head; in a way, gently subservient to the elder woman. When she looks up, there is a knowing look in her gaze; a quiet thing, small. "My wedding will be a celebration," she says brightly, "As you may have heard… even the king may be in attendance. I mean for anyone who wishes to attend to be welcome. And safe, of course." She pauses, careful, gentle. "My father shares my mission of amity toward noble prisoners across the realm."

The Lady Dyanne casts an eye over Lord Camber, heaving out a long but quiet breath. She's silent for a moment, looking then down at her hands. Lord Camber makes a few vague sounds. It is unclear whether they mean anything or whether the lady heeds them. At last, she lifts her eyes, and she, too, has intelligence in her expression. She has not missed Marsei's subtle points of pressure. "My husband and I must discuss this matter somewhat. I hope you do not mind if we do so in private. We understand what you have said and believe in your good intentions."

"I believe in your good intentions as well," Marsei returns meaningfully. Her smile deepens at the corners as she meets Lady Dyanne's gaze. She need not say anything to acknowledge the lord and lady's need for privacy; however, she does not stand to allow them such right away. Instead, hopefully, she clasps her hands upon her lap and asks of them, "Would you allow me to pray with you?"

Lady Dyanne seems surprised by the question, but after a brief hesitation, inclines her gray head. "How kind," she consents.

The prayer begins silently, yet Marsei's warm presence fills the air, as if she has charged it by faith alone, joined by Lady Dyanne. She does not take up too much of their time, ending with a few softly spoken, familiar thanks and petitions to the Mother, for Her mercy, before thanking the Fossoways themselves and taking her leave.

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