The morning of Carnival... sunrise.
A rap on Aiden's office door, and Calanthe enters in. He's already at work, knowing that the day will soon grow busy - or perhaps, busying himself to clear his mind before the day. Looking up from his papers, he nods to his Chancellor. "Heading out then?"
She shifts to the side so that the small rolling bag is visible. "Not for long. Just an overnight trip, perhaps two days?"
He nods. "Yes, the kestrel, was it?" He starts to search for a file, but Calanthe raises a hand to forestall him. "I have it all in hand. It's you that I am worried about. Are you sure you can spare me for the evening?" A delicate frown of concern.
Aiden sighs. "I can't say I am looking forward to tonight. Nor can I blame you for not wanting to stay. My smallfolk have been neglected, and I must face any pranks or ire. But it is my duty as Baron, not yours." And he gives her a small smile. "...And if the rumors are true, you really must find this falcon before they entertain other buyers."
She moves over to sit lightly on the edge of his desk, her expression one of concern over carefully crafted neutrality. "You cannot truly be worried about the commoners - the rules of Carnival bind them to petty jibes. No, you must be more concerned with your own reactions." She dares, "...and how you may appear before... our new Reeve."
He gives her a sharp look, but then turns his gaze down to his own hands. "There are cracks. I can feel it. Calanthe, please. Should I welcome this as the rain after a drought, and an ease of the floodgates? Or... Fear it. Overwhelming the dam, and it shall burst and drown all that we have built." His facade wavers, uncertainty present.
"Oh, Aiden." Daringly, she leans over and rests a hand on his shoulder, and when he doesn't immediately move away, strokes his hair for a moment - but at that he shifts away, and she deftly draws her hand back as though it was her own intended motion.
"Do not worry. I shall not allow weakness..." She delicately rephrases as the Ailil's posture stiffens. "...that is, you know that the strength of our hold is, and always has been, my paramount priority. Just say the word, and I will ensure your strength through this holiday's trial. You must be strong - not only to present such to the common folk, but also you must show strength to those you have chosen to lead, and lead on your behalf."
A sigh, as the Dame. "Emotion, dare I say affection - the Varich are wise in not allowing them to lead them down the paths to failure, weakness and loss. I have learned much through my own intimate study of their ways. Any yet, perhaps the sweet Baroness is too young to understand fully her own House's teachings. I worry for her. She has been hurt already by growing too close to her mortals."
Aiden is silent for a long moment as he considers this, and finally, a heavy nod. "As always, you must be my strength. Help protect our hold for us all... and from my failings."
Calanthe's expression is unseen by the Baron as she slides behind him, resting her hands lightly to cup his face, thumbs lightly brushing against those sculpted cheekbones in a familiar, intimate fashion. "Think nothing of it." As she calls up her glamour, tendrils flowing, creeping, binding. Although she will not be attending Carnival, there is something fitting the theme about her hidden Cheshire smile.
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