03.27.3014: Boys Will Be Boys
Summary: In which Evey learns that Cyri holds no ill will and more details about the fight between Keanen and Nitrim.
Date: 13-12-13
Related: Them Crooked Vultures, Nitrim Gets Beat Up
Cyrielle Evey 

The Heartwood, Arborenin, The Spine
This is perhaps one of the largest promenades of the tree city. It spans between the large trunks of three elderwoods, branches used to support the heavy circular plaza. Residing in this promenade are dozens of stores and shops, as well as access to the lower levels of the city. Peddlers of goods move easily through the plaza, trapping visitors and natives with a hopeful sale of their unique and usually handmade goods. At the center of the promenade is a large, sprawling basin where rain water has been collected for generations creating a natural and yet manmade pool. This is a popular place to cross paths with other residents of Arborenin and maneuver through the tiered city.
Thursday, March 27th 3014

Afternoon in the Heartwood, Evey is walking along in the hustle and bustle, purchasing coffee at a stand. She's wearing athletic gear and the sweat on her forehead would indicate that she's been on a jog or workout. Why the Dalton is jogging in the Heartwood is open for speculation.

Jogging or any similar sort of intense physical activity — that involves such heavy use of the legs — is not something Cyrielle has been seen doing. At least not in a good, long time. She may again in the future, but once more; it will be some time before the fact.

The Hollolas woman is moving from the direction of the Soliania Promenade, passing slowly through the crowds in the Heartwood. She's making her way, slowly, towards the coffee stand herself.

"Mocha please." Evey says, thankful for a good morning burst of caffeine. Her thumb presses the pad in payment.

Glancing around, the Dalton takes a deep breath of the fresh air of the Arbor. No endless sea of desert today. She's becoming quite fond of it, actually. It's then her eyes fall on a familiar face. Taking a few quick strides, Evey offers a polite nod. "Lady Cyrielle, how are you?" The smile is warm and her tone sounds sincere, though her face betrays a bit of nervousness.

"Add a shot of espresso, light on the cream." Cyrielle's order is placed simply, credit approval given. She turns slightly as she waits for the order to be filled, blinking a few times at Evey. Has she forgotten the woman? Or is simply taking in the matter. There's a slight furrowing of brow and tensing of jaw, but whatever may be processing is released.

There's a slight tilt of head from the brunette in greeting. "Lady Evey. I'm well enough. And yourself?"

That subtle tension is a cue for Evey, though she's hoping perhaps to skirt the issue for now. "Fairly well. Just glad to have some fresh air and this great spring weather." Great - literally let's discuss the weather. "Were you headed anywhere in particular, or would you like to join me for a bit?" It's a forced casual offer.

The tension does not last; at least not on the surface. There's a slight tilt of Cyrielle's head in a nod. The woman is attired in a pair of loose slacks — that, with her boots, hide the cybernetic — and a coat. The coat is grey, but the pants are black. She's bundled up marginally more than the citizens of Arborenin.

"It's still a bit chilly, compared to Beacon or Volkan." The two places she spends the majority of her time these days. "I was just finishing some business and having a coffee. I could certainly join you, if you so wish." Managing the drink and crutches is no easy task and she tucks one under an arm while holding the coffee, leaning on the other. "Perhaps taking a seat would be good."

Evey smiles and nods about the weather. "This is true, and I find it amazing." The weather anyways as she selects a table and extends a silent arm in offer of support. "What brings you so far from Beacon?"

There's a small shake of head at the offer. The distance is short and Cyrielle… well, Cyrielle is stubborn. Classic Hollolas trait. Her steps are slow and she leans heavily on the one crutch still braced to her arm until close enough to the table to fall heavily into a chair.

"The Ways make everything seem so near, don't they?" It's a non-answer initially as she gets herself settled, taking a gauging sip of the coffee in hand. A slight nod in approval. "I had to speak with a merchant and he rare leaves Arborenin."

Smiling politely as she takes her own seat, the Dalton sips her own beverage. "They're an everyday miracle, truly." She offers in agreement. "Well, I hope your meeting went well." She says politely as her internal monologue shifts towards a mixture of apprehension and regret.

"A true mastery of science that no invention has yet overcome." Cyrielle may be joking, but it's rather unclear. The woman shifts slightly, finding a better position for her leg, which extends out past the table somewhat.

"Ah, well enough. Just a matter of finalizing a gift for Lord Nitrim."

Evey smiles but doesn't chuckle, unsure of the joke. And then there's that mention of a certain Young Drake that has a penchant for the tabloids. "It is his birthday soon, isn't it? I'm sure he'll love your present."

"Aye, it is," Cyrielle says with a small nod. Even as she speaks of him, her hand goes to a pendant at her chest. Fiddling with the metallic form that holds a glass orb of red. "Mine was just a bit past a week ago." A brief tug of lips in a smirk. "March is a popular time for them, it seems."

There's a brief, quick glance up to the woman. Here, her brow furrows. "Were you aware of what Keanen did to him?"

"Well, belated congratulations then." Evey says as she raises her coffee cup in toast. Thankfully, she finishes her sip before looking back up. "What do you mean?" Rumors are often vague, after all.

"Thank you," Cyrielle says, tilting her head in a nod. She takes a sip, using the slow gesture to gather her thoughts. It's lowered again, to the table's surface. "I guess Keanen saw the image in the tabloids and assumed the worst… He attacked Nitrim."

The look on Evey's face shows she quite clearly wasn't aware of that. "Whyever for?! Aren't they friends…?" She shakes her head, not sure which emotion is dominant. Frustration, most like. Then there's the tabloid mentioned. "It was old friends having coffee. Why are boys so dumb?" She gives an exasperated look, sipping her coffee before her features soften a bit. "For what it's worth - I'm sorry. It was thoughtless of me, with all the paparazzi…and then apparently to assume Lord Keanen would be rational." Though apparently she needs to speak with Nitrim and Keanen…separately.

"I knew it for what it was…" Mostly. Cyrielle won't go into her own misgivings as they delve into much more than a single tabloid photo. "Keanen… well, according to Nitrim, Soleil was his friend." She breathes a sigh and looks down to her coffee. There's a brief flash of anger, brows furrowing. She swallows it down.

"I thought they were friends, too. You don't… you don't handle things like that, attacking someone in the middle of the street that way."

"On Inculta, we like to say that all things will become clear. Though in the desert of eternal sun, that's easy to say." Evey says with a hint of sarcasm. "Even so, I shouldn't have been careless…and apparently I've forgotten how 18-year old treeboys function." She smirks a bit at the thought, though it's fleeting.

"They are an odd crowd, aren't they? And people say we Hollolas are difficult sorts to deal with." Cyrielle snorts softly. "A Hollolas would have just challenged Nitrim to a duel or taken him to sea. Keanen… tempted him with drugs, which weren't the thing at all. It was cruel."

Her drink is tilted one way, then the other. She doesn't look up, chuckling softly. "Nitrim is twenty now. I feel almost relieved. I know I've just turned twenty-two myself, but sometimes… Ah, boys are boys and sometimes, I think they never mature."

Evey chuckles for half a beat. "People always have stereotypes. Why, we Daltons are - he WHAT?!?" The Dalton catches her voice as she's just shouted. She feigns a cough for passerby as her face flushes red. Her voice is lowered and the expression on her face has gone neutral, oddly stoic. "That's…unfortunate." She sips her coffee some more. Her tone suggests her mind may very well be elsewhere. "I suppose they don't, do they?"

"Unfortunate." Cyrielle's brow archs somewhat and her hand tightens, briefly, on her drink. She takes a slow breath and follows it with a sip. "Mmm. That's one way to put it. I'm tempted to demand he face me in a practice ring. Pit our Awakened abilities against one another."

"Nitrim, thankfully… is getting past some of his conspiracy obsessions. I think. At least around me, he has."

For a moment, the Dalton closes her eyes and a soft, golden aura emits from her. Abrupt? Probably. Warmth eases its way just barely touching the Hollolas. She takes a few deep, cleansing breaths before the aura begins its return to her and dissipates. "Forgive me." Evey's smile has softened considerably as she looks back to Cyrielle. "It's good he's slowly giving those up. They add so much needless stress."

The aura has little effect on Cyrielle, abrupt or not. It is the way of Awakened; sometimes, one needs to become in tune with that state. She gives Evey that moment, sipping at her coffee while she waits. When the woman returns from her brief meditation, there's a tilt of the Hollolas' head in agreement.

"They do, yes. If only the tabloids would leave him be long enough for the hivemind to forget about him for a bit."

"They're insatiable bottomfeeders. Frankly, there's a line between doing your job and…" Evey just shakes her head. Though she seems thankful that she can have an Awakened moment and not be judged in the slightest. At home, it's like some divine gift. "Helena and I always hoped they would just move on."

"It would seem that since Nitrim's stopped his womanizing ways, they're becoming a bit desperate. A shame you had to be caught up in it." Cyrielle leans back slightly in her chair, adjusting the angle of her leg. There's a brief flinch, but she washes it away with a long drink to finish off her coffee. The empty cup is set upon the table before her, turned slowly between her fingers.

"They may be my Paramount, but a part of me is hoping the rumors flying around Lady Brienne will serve as distraction enough for a time."

"It'll pass. I was more worried for the effect it might have on developments in his life." Evey says dismissively. "Light knows I've got no rush to betrothal in my future." She chuckles a bit and relaxes a bit further. "Brie seems nice enough, though. I wish they'd be focused on something important. Like, you know, the freakin war for our survival."

"You may have no rush, but there's never any telling what our parents many intend," Cyrielle points out, lips turning up somewhat in a bit of a smirk. "We are ever useful pawns in political matters, with the glossy sheen of providing progeny for the future."

The woman tilts her head slightly in a nod, but it's soon followed with a shrug. "It's a classical thing and purposefully done. There are hundreds upon thousands upon millions of citizens who can only sit back and hope the war efforts are successful for Haven. Tabloids, movies, terrible reality 'vids… they all give them something to take their mind off of matters."

"Cousins of vassal families are hardly useful pawns." Evey retorts with a smirk. "The dance has me on the edges. And I'm more than fine with that." Just ignore that scar on her hand. "But why distract yourself in such nonsense? Especially when so much of it is faked or exaggerated? Aren't there enough holocasts of people voluntarily making fools of themselves?"

"Ah, but you would be a grand choice for some business partner or another. Or a vassal to Dalton that is seeking to curry favor." Cyrielle's nose wrinkles somewhat, in memory. "The number of Hollolas vassals that have attempted to throw their sons at me just to gain favor… They always acted as if they were doing my father a favor. Thankfully, he doesn't fall for such things."

There's a shrug at the question. "We are the celebrities, in their eyes. Some want to focus on the likes of Miss Jane Wyre and some want to know every aspect of the local nobility's lives."

Evey shrugs back, still unsatisfied for the state of things. When the terms of vassal and business partner are mentioned, Evey leans forward and stage whispers. "Shhh! They'll hear you. I'm an Awakened Dalton. My aunt doesn't want me to leave, but it'd be an insult to most to take my name." She chuckles a bit. As annoying as that may be, it certainly works in her favor.

There's a soft snort of amusement. "Lucky for you. I still think my father may partially hope someone takes me off his hands. Awakened are not a common thing in Hollolas. I'm the only one of my siblings." Cyrielle shrugs absently, nonetheless. "Not that we druids are a very cohesive lot to begin with."

Looking to her for a moment, seeming thoughtful, Evey gives a soft smile. "You probably have a long list of reasons to hate me, but I think we should do this again sometime. But, if you'll excuse me…" She stands. "I've got an Arboren to tame."

There's a slight raise of eyebrow at Evey's words and Cyrielle shakes her head, grabbing her crutches as she gets to her feet as well. "I barely know you, Lady Evey. I haven't a reason to hate you. I am quite angry at Keanen, yes, but I will not hold any of that against you."

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