RP:My Wife Issa Bad Witch
Summary: Hudson delivers some bad news to Irenic about his new wife. That woman though, she's tha baddest witch.
Behind a Hemlock Grove
You begin to hear the soft sounds of water again, though you are far beyond the waters of Vibrance. Curiosity urges you forward, towards a particularly dark part of the forest and to a strangely well-tended grove of tall hemlock trees. A small path, one worn through the forest by travel, leads behind the grove and to a wide glade. Wildflowers and sweet grass grow hip-high in some places here. A stallion, easily twenty hands high and black as pitch, grazes lazily, unconcerned with his surroundings. A stream runs along the eastern edge of the glade and a well stands close to it. A stable of stone, the word 'Fury' carved above the wide open doors, rests between the well and the cottage. Standing tall in the west of the glade is a two-story cottage of the same stone. Smoke, white and wispy, floats from the chimney and the pointed top of the curiously crooked tower that seems to be attached towards the back. The wooden arched door is bold, berry stained red with a heavy owl carved doorknocker of iron. The windows are wide, with diamond patterned muntin work and stained glass. A small pebbled pathway winds between flower beds, shrubs, and droopy branched willow trees. It leads behind the home and to a fenced garden. A fat, long-tailed inky black cat can be found resting drowsily on the fence in a patch of golden sun and watching you with heavy-lidded emerald eyes. Here, the heady scent of herbs and flowers in bloom greet you. The garden itself boasts plants of all types, both useful and purely aesthetic, in full and clearly enchanted bloom. The herbs and flowers are arranged in spirals around a bubbling fountain. The carved image of a woman stands in the middle of the water with hands cupped around a crescent moon and raised above her head. Cool and clear water tumbles from her fingertips into the wide fountain's base. The forest presses close behind the garden's fence, the tall trees casting long shadows. The rounded and slightly crooked tower is seen more easily from here. Its odd shape boasts a lower oriel window and a balcony on it's highest floor. Ivy climbs and covers the beautiful stone face.
Hudson had come here after seeing Valrae in the prison. He'd felt it best to get it all done in one fell swoop, the emotional pain, like lancing a boil. Now that she's no longer in front of him, he feels as if his visit had been a thing that happened in the periphery of his consciousness. He's partitioned himself from it, focused on the present, on taking the route to her home, to see Irenic. He'll process it later, perhaps. For now, he approaches the cottage and knocks at the door.
Irenic is in the kitchen pouring hot tea for him and Maude as they have just came back from plastering Larket with posters of Valrae’s face and a ‘Have you seen this woman?’ detailing that her loved ones are looking for her. He takes his mug of tea and takes up a sketching charcoal in his left hand to mark off areas of a map that they have covered while sipping the warm liquid from his mug. Low gruff timbre speaks up for Maude to hear and somehow it sounds broken, “how are you holding up, Maude? I think I am going to make one more round over here,” he points to a forested area and Maude argues, “absolutely not. You need sleep, rest, and-” He plots down in the kitchen chair nearest him and holds his side, but at least managed to set his mug down while his other hand grips the corner of the table until his knuckles go white and his teeth clenched until they grind together, “are you feeling her again?” There was worry in Maude’s voice just as there was a knock at the door and she rushes over to open it to see Hudson, “hello!” She was happy to see him and gave the man a hug before tentatively inviting him in. Maybe she shouldn’t given the history, but she was desperate for information, “you must have seen the posters all over town. Have you seen her?” Surely there were a few hanging around the home and Irenic takes a deep breath to hold in the pain when he stands back up… Metal wings crafted by Hudson’s wife gleaming in the dull firelight.
Hudson 's eyes grow at the sight of Maude. He's knocked back by her warmth, he can't rearrange his face to match it. It feels wrong to perform happiness when he's come here to deliver such bad news. It is, however, nice to see her, the hug surprises him. It warms him, he feels selfish for letting it, but it does. She'd been the literal only person to know about him and Valrae (before the end, of course), and had been kind in her way. As she pulls away and asks him this question about Valrae, he nods, indicates that they should step inside. It's then that Hudson catches sight of Irenic, looking haggard and like a hanged man, despite the gleaming wings behind him. Their eyes meet, and Hudson feels the moment crystallize as the moment that Irenic knows Hudson has come to tell him bad news. Maude shuts the door behind him. Hudson's brow creases. He doesn't feel he should sit, he shifts his weight uncertainly. "I think we should talk alone," he says, licking his lips. "Sorry, Maude."
Irenic watches as Maude smiles at some man he’s met in a club. Oh, yeah… Hudson doesn’t know that Irenic got his memory swiped a while back, but Maude knows none of this, “Irenic… This is a friend of Valrae’s, Hudson. Hudson this is Valrae’s husband, Irenic.” He only remembered the name, but that was all and he managed a nod through the physical pain he was feeling. Hudson’s request to speak alone caused Maude to tear up, place a hand over her mouth and excuse herself while Irenic pulled a chair out for Hudson to sit, “how about some coffee or tea?” He fills his own mug back up and pours whatever Hudson accepts in front of the empty chair. He was welcoming, seems to harbor no ill will to the man, but appears to be limping and holding his side here or there for he his physically feeling his wife’s pain at the moment. It is actually amazing he’s even standing and holding himself together for so long because he feels how alone and sad she is other than the pain. Irenic sits at a random chair after Hudson does and fixes the man with that mismatched gaze in wait while drinking from his mug that probably has some cutely clever witch saying on it.
Hudson says nothing as Maude face crumples and she starts to cry. He sits, a grim feeling building in his chest. Looking at Irenic feels terrible. Hudson is thinking about how he'd felt when Desparrow had taken Alvina, how he'd been paralyzed by his despair. He'd thought he'd lost her, he'd been a shell of a man, pushed forward by a series of automatic reactions, learned politenesses, like this offer of tea or coffee. "Sure," says Hudson, watching Irenic, knowing that this simple act was just a distraction. Hudson looks into his mug and remembers when Valrae had been sent to jail in Cenril. The first time. And the shame he'd felt when he'd fallen to pieces in front of Alvina about it. He'd failed to contain his grief, had wounded her by it. And she, his angel wife, had consoled him. He doesn't deserve her. They have had so many moments like this together, his wife and him... Surely Irenic's marriage is the same, built on trial and error. Because of the circumstances, rightly or wrongly, Hudson feels a fellow traveler in him, and has empathy for him. Hudson gazes into his mug, at the warm steam rising from it, unable to speak. He and Irenic are silent. But Hudson has started to cry, and that's a little embarrassing. He wipes his face with his palms and exhales harshly. He looks at Irenic, collecting himself. "I'm sorry, this is messing with my head," he says, unhelpfully. "Your wife's in jail, arrested for crimes against the Crown." He swallows, recalls how Maude had introduced them, he remembers now that Irenic hadn't known him before. "We're old friends, from before you knew her," he explains. "I went to see her. I think she's on death row."
Irenic sits patiently, mismatched eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights of feeling his wife through his bond, knowing she is in trouble and unable to do a damn thing about it. He doesn’t stare at Hudson because that would be weird and uncomfortable, so he too stares at how the steam rises from his own mug and warms his scarred up face. Their marriage is rather new, but the circumstances that arose were not; Valrae’s trouble breaking down her walls, her drinking, her grieving for her friends who died recently. He knew he should have went with her that day, but he was having a difficult time with his wings being sore and it was actually making him a little sick. A glance to a nearby potted plant, did he clean that out? He probably did, but just doesn’t remember because he’s been occupying himself with busywork ever since she didn’t return that night. He was looking back to the man before him who was now crying and this caused him to sit up a little straighter. Without being able to find a kerchief near he stands, grabbing a dry hand towel that was on a counter and sets it in front of Hudson. Then he’s apologizing, “it’s fine. Take your time with it.” He pats the stranger on the shoulder before stepping away in order to take his seat once more, but Hudson’s next words stop him dead in his tracks. Those large metal wings shift as if they have been angered and a bird about to fight when his timbre darkened in his gravelly roughness, “what?” The mug he had been holding onto slipped from his grip and it was sent tumbling down until the ceramic shattered on the dark wood of the kitchen floor. The event was ignored by Irenic as he turned to the door, grabbed his cloak, grabbed his scarf and drape them over his tattooed arm. Nothing was in focus, everything sounded far away or underwater and his jawline tense once more with rage, anger, worry. All of it, all of the feels. The door swung open with a force and the near seven foot man was the eff out… Until like ten seconds pass and he comes back in, “where and how can I get to see her?” If Hudson saw her then there must be a way.
Hudson had waved the hand towel politely away. He can contain a few tears, also that would make it more embarrassing. He knows how it looks, even though that's not what it is. In any event, he's rallied now, to say what he needed to say. He watches the other man react as if in slow motion, and though the ghost of past griefs - of Hudson himself being in this situation - still lurks in his chest, he forces himself to be present and clear eyed. He'd come here with a plan, he's ready to answer this question. He steeples his fingers, bows his head. "Joanie, my secretary," he says. "I believe you know her. She's at the nail salon most days, she'll make all the arrangements." He doesn't say that he'll be paying the necessary bribes, but it goes without saying. Hudson continues speaking, although he's unsure whether Irenic is able to listen, or whether he's been simply overcome, "I'm going to try to get the Mayor of Cenril to ask for an extradition, maybe get the death penalty off the table."
Irenic realized that the physical pain he's been feeling makes sense as new ones arose. They are beating her while she’s in captivity again, “but where? The jails here? The dungeons under the fort? Where?” He winces and holds his side where it feels as if he’s got two broken ribs and grunts as he’s getting a whole new pain in his skull, but he knew… She’s weakening by the minute, “you don’t get it… She’s not going to make it if something isn’t done… Now.” He has got to at least get close enough for even a moment to say goodbye. He’s so angry he let himself be so weak that he couldn’t help her or be with her that night. Weather or not Hudson told him where he was leaving. He would find a way just like he did the first time… not that he precisely remembers the first time the writer is just blabbing at this point. He’s out again and a horse trots after him, “no Bitney Spurs… Stay.” He said sternly and to much surprise the mare listened for once, but he was off into the night skies brilliantly with the aid of his glorious metal wings that some hot engineer made for him.
Hudson can't do anything right now, he feels a righteous anger radiate off of Irenic and doesn't blame the guy. Hudson knows he'd be no better if it were his wife, hell, if it were Valrae, some time ago. "The dungeons under the fort," he tells Irenic, who seems to be wasting no time, isn't interested in dealing with intermediaries. The door jerks open, colliding roughly with the wall behind it, and Hudson has risen from his chair to follow. "Man, you can't just go there," he tries to say, but the other man has taken to the skies. That's it, that's all he can do.