#elsewhere

She sips her tea. "While I think there is merit in taking the boon - many merits, even, in enforcing noblesse oblige for those who would claim to rule - I would advise against having thy celebration in the hold, proper."

"Oh..." A slight disappointment there, but she nods, understanding. "I do express curiosity about what goes on behind those doors. I shan't expect many more such invitations, you see."

"That is still her place of power. Better to have somewhere more accordingly suited to our kind. Though, I suppose, an invasion of shadow-dwellers in a Varich's hold could be seen as counting coup."

Zara considers.

"I haven't many friends." She admits, a touch bashfully.

"You trust the Dame?"

A moments pause to consider, before nodding. "She would do right by me, I feel."

"And... pray, Miss Lizbet, you have more than you think. You are taking a step closer to hagdom, and that is a great celebration for us."

"And Ailil pride will not allow the violation of guest-right."

"Few enough in Carthage. It is a rare sluagh who willingly moves under the sunlight. Dearest Uncle mine is well entrenched and will likely never leave."

"Trust that the nobles will value their reputations."

"Ah, but others may visit. The Denier does not fear Dancingsnow, nor do I."

She gums at her lip a little. "Even the sweetest seeming dog may bite. I fear her, I am not afraid to admit."

"Fear is a wise guardian, and protects us. It is good to listen, to take caution - but we are not slaves to fear."

"No. That would be to give her power over me." Her thin back is straight!

"If you wish to be bold, and your curiosity so demands, hold the celebration at the Manor. There is risk, aye, but... I do not think it unmanageable. If you choose a different venue, it does not reflect poorly on you - it may well be more welcoming to kithmates who are also cautious of a Slavic welcome."

She toys with the cup, and gives a shy glance up at her older kithmate from under a tatter of old lace. "Might I count... yourself, perhaps... that is, I extend an invitation, but you are assuredly very busy."

Zara splays a hand over her heart. "It would be my honor and pleasure, Miss Lizbet."

A toothless smile of delight! "Wouldst that I could floor their very halls with our kin!" Eyes gleaming darkly at the idea of the Baroness squirming in discomfort. "But.. nay, I fear that with so few of our kithmates being intimate acquaintances, you are wise - I may actually receive positive RSVPs were I to hold it elsewhere. My uncle, he will reserve a proper space - perhaps a funeral hall?"

"How delightfully morbid. Hast thou made acquaintance of Miss Velvet?"

"I have not had the pleasure." She admits, "Unless she is the delightful lady of 8 who greeted me?"

"That was Quatre, one of the Thirteen. Miss Velvet is a squire here, and a most diligent scholar of death. She is a wilder, though not long in the Seeming."

"A scholar of death, and a squire? Is she a warrior?"

"Nay. She serves a Liam, and he has skills in gentle arts."

Though she looks slightly dubious at the Liam, she nods, "A gentle death, what many may aspire towards, but few deserve."

"I know not. I think, mayhaps, more deserve that than will receive one."

That makes her think. "I am yet just a lowly grub, and have much to learn." Bowing to Zara's wisdom.

"And grubs make the soil rich and dark and fertile for new things. You have many changes ahead of you, Miss Lizbet."

"Every day brings me closer to the most pleasant excesses of age. But I have taken up much of your time. I should go and plan for my festivities. I must ponder deeply on what an appropriate invoice is to send to the Baroness."

"Perhaps some imported aged cheeses...."

"And tea!"

"Oh, yes. You will have to please let me know your recommendations on what I should order." A gummy smile again, and she heads out, much cheered. Perhaps to greet Velvet, or that may be another occasion!

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Thistle's smartphone rings - showing as however Trina may have entered Marigold into the little technical machine.

"Marigold?" She answers.

"Yes, Trina. Don't worry, no trouble here. How is little Frankie?"

"Sleeping, finally."

"I mean, I like Lucky Charms, too, but &%$E*()...."

"You give the lad processed sugar for dinner, he's not a Never, dear, of course he'll be running on high octane... I just wanted to let you know that Miss Dee and Miss Bluebell will be going in to the maternity ward tomorrow to check on Janice. I don't like how the nurses have given us both the run-around, see."

A long pause.

"...oh..."

"Not that we want to step on your toes, it's just... well, we know you need to watch the little one, and your family, see, they're our kin too. We'll check in and make sure all is ship-shape, report back, easy peasy lemon squeezy."

She chews on her lip. "Dad... hasn't said much."

Is all she concedes.

Firm, reassuring. "That's why we're going to go check on things. Just to be sure that he's not getting the run around from those high-faluting doctors."

"Yeah... yeah. I'm sure nuthin's wrong."

"Can't be."

"Right?"

"That's right. If anything is awry, we'll fix it. You just take care of your brother, and come home to us soon, you hear? The little sillies miss you, and have started to wander off."

Marigold continues, filling her ears with gossip of the hold and town. Silly, pointless comforting gossip.