RP:Refuge

From HollowWiki

Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc


Summary: Mikael, Lisbeth and Bertram ensure that Leone and Hildegarde reach the home of Kyl'oriel safely. Upon reaching the home, the giants are given refreshments while Leone is put to bed for some rest and Josleen brings Hildegarde up to speed on what's going on in Frostmaw since her absence. Suffice to say, Hildegarde is afraid for the people and resolves to embark on a quest to restore order to Frostmaw.

Meadow

Josleen rushed to her parent’s house as soon as she heard word from Mikael. If it weren’t for the fact that the message came from him — that Hildegarde is coming back — she wouldn’t have believed it. But Mikael wouldn’t lie, or even be misinformed, about something like that. Her mother, Jessa, was already home. As for Kyl’oriel, the bard sent him a message at the Tower. He would like to be home for this too. It’s not every day you host a dignitary, much less a resurrected one. Is that the word to use here, resurrection? Josleen isn’t sure. The language surrounding the transition from life to death is known to her, but in reverse the words sound simultaneously too fussy and too hollow, incapable of describing what has occurred with any exactitude. The last occupant of the guest room was Skylei. It still smells vaguely of sick and bed rot. Josleen opens the windows and shutters, lights incense, dusts. Thankfully the bedsheets were changed when Skylei moved out. One less thing to do. The non-disgusting knick-knacks the family accumulated during Skylei’s convalescence remain in the room as decoration: healing crystals, body magnets (aka magnets, with a salesman’s pitch), body and hair oils, floral extracts in tiny bottle, and so forth. The buffalo tripe and dried hippo turds have been disposed of. There is little proof any of these items helped Skylei heal at all, but the family tried anything that ever worked for anyone. Hildegarde can expect the same level of care when she arrives, which should be any minute now. Josleen stands on her parents’ white, fenced porch. It’s a one-story ranch-style home, with three bedrooms, a study, a livingHildegardefamily room, a kitchen with a small dining area, an outhouse attached to the house (fancy! great in winter), two washing rooms (oo la la) and a yard in the front with flowers planted to the right of the flagstone walkway and a vegetable and herb patch to the left. Jessa has a fondness for antiques (most of her antique ceramics are chipped and cherished), anything with flowers, and doilies. It’s clear where Josleen learned her aesthetic from. Jessa also dresses in floral prints. She is darker than her daughter, fully human, nearly the same height, and aging gracefully. She stands by Josleen on the porch. Kyl’oriel has yet to arrive.


Hildegarde wouldn’t have been seen coming from a distance, but the three giants in her company would have. Mikael, Lisbeth and Bertram. Two knights of the Queensguard and one paladin in service to Leone, who was also accompanying the group. Bertram had resorted to carrying Leone and Mikael’s large hand was plastered to Hildegarde’s back as he urged her forward and toward the ranch-style house; Lisbeth was tagging behind the group to obviously guard the rear from anyone who might dare to follow them. “Lady Josleen!” Mikael greets as he draws up towards the home. Already, the giants know they will likely not be permitted inside due to their sheer size. Could they even fit through the door? Once the giant comes to a halt, Hildegarde leans against his armoured leg. Her own armour is old and a ramshackle collection of steel, true steel, mithril, blue iron and chainmail; with some of it lashed onto her arms and legs to make sure it would stay attached to her body given that some muscle and body mass had wasted away in her state of death. She is evidently out of breath, her skin glistening with sweat from exertion. Mikael looks at Josleen and her mother, dipping his head respectfully, “We… We didn’t know who else to turn to,” he said apologetically.


Josleen and Jessa are too polite to refuse the giants entry aloud, but the giants’ hunches are spot on. They’re too big; they’ll break everything. Jessa’s lack of invitation to the giants is hopefully enough for them to catch on. As for Josleen, she’s too shocked to talk anyway. She had been told to expect Hildegarde alive, and yet she was unprepared. How could she prepare? “Hilde..” she ignores Mikael’s greeting, her eyes glued to the knight who is carrying way too much weight. (A summary of thoughts Josleen will have the moment her wits return to her: Giants are dumb. What is this get up? She is clearly weak. Who’s running this show?) She sprints the small distance between them and embraces the dragon as tightly as she dares, an embrace like a test to feel the proof that this is real. She’s really alive, in the flesh. Hopefully the giants help keep the dragon upright. “Oh gods, oh Sven. How?” She pulls back to peer into Hildegarde’s eye to see if it’s really her friend. As a healthy skeptic of resurrection, Josleen is on the lookout for fraud, for some illusion to appear as Hildegarde that may get her hair right, her nose right, her scars, but would fail in capturing the knight’s stare — steely, understanding, kind, a little impatient, with a hint of vulnerability, and a lot of courage. It is Hildegarde, without a doubt. Josleen’s eyes well up and glisten and she hugs Hildegarde once more, this time settling into it as a physical greeting that says hello, welcome back, I missed you. She sniffles loudly as she pulls away then finally remembers to smile at Mikael, though words continue to fail. Jessa comes forward and takes over, saying softly to the giants. “We’ll take her inside. I’ll be out with some tea and biscuits for you.” To Hildegarde Jessa says, “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Jessa, Josleen’s mother.” Mother and daughter stand on either side of Hildegarde and help her inside to the guest room to lie down under the mobile of colorful healing crystals. “The bed’s a little small…” Jessa says.


Hildegarde might have fallen over if it weren’t for Mikael’s hand at her back to hold her upright as Josleen crashes into her for that embrace. Although Hildegarde might have tried to laugh off an injury at any other time, this is not an ordinary instance. Instead, she winces aloud and flinches at the contact, but she does not shy away from it. “Jos,” her voice is a little raspy, her throat is dry and her lips cracked. “Leone… she… Her magic, I don’t really know,” she tried to explain, but evidently, she didn’t know the ins and outs of the matter and Leone was far too weary to explain herself. Mikael can only smile down at Josleen. He knows the lady through her interactions with Hildegarde and limited interaction with himself, but he is fond of the little woman. “You are too kind, m’lady,” he thanks Jessa with a respectful dip of his head; Lisbeth and Bertram copying him in his motion and readying to set up outside the house. With Jessa’s attention now upon Hildegarde, the knight smiles at the human woman – though her smile is weary – and glances between Jessa and Josleen. “I am honoured,” she sucks in a breath, “Lady Jessa. I see where Josleen gets her charm and grace from,” complimentary as ever. “Please. I… My friend, Leone. If she could take the bed rather than I, I would be indebted to you. More than I already am,” she said, her stance suggesting she wouldn’t be inclined to shift until she knew Leone was guaranteed a resting place. “Truly. She’s weak. I’m a hardy dragon, I can sleep on a floor and be fine,” she said with a weary yet champion grin.


Josleen shakes her head gently to dispel Hildegarde’s concerns. “There are two spare rooms. The room I grew up in, which has an even smaller bed, if you can believe it.” A twin-sized bed for Leone in Josleen’s childhood room, where a wallpaper runner of roses and ballerina slippers crowns the walls, which are painted a powdery pink with white wooden door trim and mopboard. A dollhouse and child’s tea set collect dust in the corner. Josleen moved to Cenril at a young age, and the room never grew up. Enjoy, Leone. The guest room has a full-sized bed, which is likely too short for Hildegarde, but alas, it’s what they have. It’s walls are also painted a more adult and sensible cream with chocolate brown wooden trim. No toys. Sorry. Once they manage to wrestle Hildegarde’s conscience into the room, Jessa can handle the petite Leone alone and the priestess can either rest in the pink room or join the group. Either way, both Hildegarde and Leone are given water, and offered food and directions to the bathroom. Josleen then asks Hildegarde, “Would you like to change out of that armor? I am sure we could borrow my father’s robes. They’ll be short on you but will do until we can bring in some of your clothes from Frostmaw.” As if on cue Kyl’oriel appears. His voice can be heard greeting the giants outside, offering them liquor because… Well, mages have a thing for mind-altering substance; it is known. Once the giants have been seen to he appears in the open doorway to the guest room and knocks on the frame. “Am I interrupting?” Josleen introduces Hildegarde and Kyl’oriel, unsure if they’ve ever met before. Probably? They’ve both led long lives concerned with Xalious. Josleen knows they aren’t close, but perhaps they are acquaintances. She wouldn’t be surprised. “Once you’ve caught your breath and rested a little, I’d be fascinated to hear the detail of your resurrection from your perspective,” the scholar says. He is tall elf, and Josleen’s thinly featured face came from his lineage, though she missed out on his height. Josleen shoots him a sharp look. Academic fathers can be so embarrassing, old dogs always chasing the same bone.


Hildegarde understands that Leone will need all the rest she can possibly get, so she makes no fuss when they are separated. With the offer of water, she hastily accepts but understands her own body well enough to know that if she chugs it down, she might well make herself feel all the worse. So it is with restraint that she sips on some water. There is more water, there is no need to rush. It tastes… different. It’s as if not tasting something for well over a month will make you appreciate it more! “It’s okay,” she reassures Josleen, “I, er… I need the weight. As inconvenient as it is and uncomfortable, lifting and carrying the armour as I walk will help me regain my strength,” and it protected the stitches all about her chest, tender as it was. As Kyl’oriel arrives and pardons any interruption, the knight offers him a friendly smile. They had met maybe once or twice, knowing each other initially through Svilfon and only being passing acquaintances more than anything else. Yet with her eye upon Kyl’oriel, she fails to catch the sharp look passed from daughter to father. “I will be blunt, sir, and as informative as I can be,” what else could she do to repay her saviour? “It was… horrible. My skin felt as if it were afire and then deathly cold. A light touch felt like a shocking pulse. Every sound was loud and horrific. I’d say it’s much like being deprived of everything and then being shoved into a situation with no explanation. Terrifying.”


Josleen refills Hildegarde’s glass whenever necessary and insists she eat something. Even cakelog will do! Kyl’oriel’s face lights up with Hildegarde starts explaining the experience right then and there. “Brilliant! I need to take notes. If you don’t mind, I’ll pick your brain about it while you’re here. I shall leave you to it.” He bows and takes his leave. Josleen huffs grumpily in his wake. “You can refuse him if he gets to be too much. He’s always studying everything. He means well, but sometimes fails to rein in his questions. He can be intrusive without meaning to be, or perhaps he means to be, but either way, he can be refused.” She crosses to the closet and begins to pull out extra coats and dresses and robes. “I’m making some space for your things. You may stay as long as you like, same goes for Leone. We’ll find a place for Mikael, Lisbeth, and Bertram. Are you sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable to rest in?” Finally she turns back to face Hildegarde, sees her again, and smiles. Her entire body language softens and she sits on the edge of the bed.


Hildegarde has dealt with academics before, she understands their delight in uncovering all the secrets of the world! Once Kyl’oriel takes his leave, the knight exhales heavily. “I know,” she said softly, “but he is my host. And I cannot begin to think what danger this puts you or your family in by taking me and my lot in,” she said morosely. She was already feeling guilty in coming here. “I must pay my dues and if that’s by answering his questions, then that is what I will do,” she vowed. “Thank you, Jos. But… no. I need to regain my strength. I couldn’t bear to go to sleep or rest any longer. I must regain my strength. Then regain Frostmaw.” The Silver pauses for a moment and even hesitates. “Have you… You hear things, Josleen. Have you heard anything about Frostmaw…?”


Josleen inhales slowly and holds her breath as Hildegarde speaks of dangers. “Mikael too hinted of the dangers, but he did not have enough time to explain. I know there is unrest in Frostmaw, within its walls rather than a war raging outside of them. But… I haven’t had the courage to go to Frostmaw since you… since the…” She rubs her collar nervously. “Well, since that day. Initially, I thought the disquiet was purely a grab for power after you... The throne has been empty for a long time now, so I suppose this was a long time coming. You stood before that empty throne and opposed those clamoring for it with the title of Steward, and so few dared try to claim that throne while you drew breath, but then you weren’t there.Empty thrones with no heir by birth inspire greed and royal pretenders, like Balgruuf.” She snorts derisively. “But who didn’t see that one coming? The only thing he lusts more than gold is titles. But his political rhetoric so far is weak. His claim is only his grandeur as appraised by himseld, easy to dismiss out of hand now that you are back. However, I have heard some other rhetoric which could complicate things. The most worrisome is that technically Satoshi should never have been Queen, and thus any who had power by her decree — such as you Hilde, and Leone through your appointment — are invalid. The argument is that Satoshi was more like a deity or entity, but not truly eligible for rule because she is not a Frost Giant, and only a Frost Giant may rule Frostmaw. Of course no one uttered this when you were Steward because you were so well liked and kept the peace and led the city through wars so effectively. Your merits outweighed any rhetoric. But now that it has been said, I fear Balgruuf will keep saying it until it becomes true in order to shove you out permanently.”


Hildegarde listened to Josleen’s appraisal of the situation. Balgruuf. That was a name she and most Frostmawians knew. He was well known for his ferocity in combat, along with his nasty habit of tearing chunks out of his foes with his own teeth and staining his beard with their blood. “Balgruuf is no idiot,” she commented. “He’s well-versed in combat and since getting into the trading business, he’s got the brains I lack. I match him in brawn. Or, at least, I did. But brains… I have never been cut out for this ruling business,” she confided in Josleen. She was brawn, not brain! “But Balgruuf was there when the old Jarl was in power, before Satoshi came to power. He is used to the old ways; the traditions of keeping the outsiders outside. He wasn’t pleased about helping the elves go to war,” she remarked thoughtfully. “The people will be in danger, Jos.”


Josleen is brain, but not brawn! Ying and yang. Perfect. “Nonsense, you’re an excellent ruler, and you know when to lean on others for advice, and who to lean on. Don’t be surprised to find a large swath of the population cheering with you return publicly to Frostmaw. They will rally behind you.” Josleen smiles kindly, but the expression fades. “But..” Her gaze sweeps over Hildegarde’s withered body. “You know you cannot return with any sign of weakness. Balgruuf will exploit it, or worse. You know this, and yet I know I must repeat it. I must insist you focus on regaining your strength. I know you, Hildegarde the Silver. You will want to rush into opposition of Balgruuf before you are physically ready, because you want to protect your people. You will be of little use if he can exploit weaknesses. Please be patient.” Patience isn’t enough. She looks to the east. “Governor Tristram is your ally, yes? Perhaps if force is needed before you are ready he can come to your aid.”


Hildegarde nodded along at Josleen’s assessment, “Only the strongest may rule Frostmaw,” she said, as if she were reciting it from a script. “That is the way of the City of War. I cannot return in this state and I cannot return without strength at my back,” she reasoned. “Tristram is my ally, yes… I was… well, I was thinking of perhaps journeying around. To find the old and the new allies who will support me in this quest. A knight’s quest.”


Josleen is for once grateful for Frostmaw’s militant code. It may keep her friend safe, paradoxically and only for now. This knight’s quest idea seems like a good idea in the short-term. “So long as precautions are taken to ensure your safety… but yes, I think that’s a good idea. But for now, take a day, or what’s left of today.” She holds Hildegarde’s hand and squeezes it. A slow smile warms her features. The talk of war and politics fades until all that’s left is two friends reunited. “It’s good to have you back.”