03.29.3014: Honeyed Fields and Bloodshed
Summary: Garus is visited at Phylon by Leandra. The two discuss the danger he faces from within his very noble house.
Date: 14 December 2013
Related: Takes place just prior to The First Tilt and Report of Battle, March 29, 3014
Garus Leandra 


Penthouse Gardens — The Fortress, Phylon
High up in the Fortress of Phylon, the lift opens to a garden atrium. The residential sections of the tower devoted to the Cindravale family and their guests rise up all around the patch of water and greenery, but here in the center is an oasis of nature. Sunlight is brought down from above by a cunning array of mirrors, and an electrostatic shield protects the garden from inclement weather. Arched doorways open up to corridors on all sides, leading back to private rooms and penthouses. The garden itself is centered around a fishpond with a sunken area at the middle where the waters are held back by transparent composites. A table and chairs allow people to sit and meet while looking out over the pond from water level. Around the pond are a variety of flowering bushes, shrubs, and trees, creating a fragrant, green preserve in the center of the Fortress.
March 29, 3014

With further warfare to be done and the mobilization of the soldiers at the Fortress at Phylon, Lord Sir Garus Leonnida has wasted little time in recovering from his wounds. Having just been cleared of medical rest from the nurses that have been tending him, he moves about his room with a keen eye on his door for his visiting brother, Godric. Already, the blue and gold carapace shell of his powered armor has been draped over his shoulders, ready to buckle and latch into place. With the armor of his left arm already strapped in and locked against the shoulder of the impressive armor, Garus stands silent, tapping at a replacement console on the forearm, syncing the commands to his helm, while sits on the bed like a severed lion's head.

"Lord Sir Garus Leonnida," announces a warm, smooth voice in the door. It has opened to yield the tall, graceful frame of Senator Leandra Ryder. Even though she has given up the name Rovehn, she still wears her House colors with pride, the deep maroon dress accented with warm bronze. Her long coat is embroidered with both the thestral of House Rovehn and the Hawk of her party, reassuring all where she stands in the mess of things. Today, her smile is soft and at ease, her head lightly tipped. "You are quite the difficult man to find."

Blue eyes snapping up to the door at the sound of Leandra's voice, Garus' lips turn into a faint, all-too-familiar smile at the sight of Leandra. Taking quick note of the embroidered hawk on her jacket, Garus steps towards her while tugging the last strap of his gauntlet into place. "And I would say the same, Senator, as a Lord of the Roar I'm sure has to filter through the same pile of InfoSphere mails as the other, common man." Glancing down to his colbat blue, gauntleted fist as the fingers flex, he comes to a stop and looks to her face. "Are you trying to tell me that you searched for me at Landing and found I was routed here instead?"

"No," Leandra says, her alto laced with humor. "Your letter informed me that you were writing from the Fortress of Phylon. However… before that, I wondered where you might have gone. Of course… I've wondered that for about seven months now." Her storm-colored eyes scan over the room before she takes a daring step within. Her hands swing behind her, fingers intertwining loosely. "Now, I do have to wonder what has you holed up in the Fortress of Phylon instead of the Roar however."

Right to the point. Leandra hasn't changed. Following the older woman with his quiet, blue eyes as she slips past him, Garus glances to the door. With the aid of a heavily plated heel, he nudges the door closed and strides back to his bed. "The last seven have been rather busy. Swallowed alive by the field, really. What of you? It's been…quite some time." Garus pauses, reaching down to another piece of his armor. Instinctive or not, the murder-attempt of a scar that lines his neck points towards her. "Young Lord Solon Cindravale sought to provide me with comfort after the last fight."

Leandra continues to stride into the room, glancing around the comfortable accomodations of Phylon. She glances toward the Leonnidan, one golden brow lightly arched. "The last few months are not quite as important as the last few weeks," the new Senator points out. Then she sobers a bit. "I take it your relationship with your elder brother continues to go well." She shakes her head a bit as she finally takes a sweeping seat into an armchair.

Garus' lips part, revealing his teeth in a wolfish grin. The laugh that follows is every bit as sarcastic as her comment, complete with a glance back to the door to make sure the wind hasn't blown it open again. "Godric is powerful, confident, and sherpardly of his fellow brood as ever." The smile fades, though, as Garus understands that her hawk-like eyes continue to see more than she should. He turns to her, resting in a lean against a corner table, arms folded while he inspects her. "I'll be fine."

"You and your Leonnidan ways," Leandra breathes out a heavy sigh, though it is included with a light smile. She folds her hands in her lap, and she tilts her head a bit. "You know, Garus… there are ways to cease this trial with Godric." She arches a brow at him now. "Have you considered turning his own tactics against him?"

"If we kill each other off, one by one, there will be nothing left to rule over." Garus replies. With Leandra cutting the foreplay of the moment to get to the throat of the matter, the knight speaks openly with her. With a twitch of a brow, his head shakes from side to side. "The Roar needs its best, and right now it is strongest with both Godric and I working together against the invading forces. Difficult situation, isn't it?" Garus' brows knit together before turning back to his work. "I'm going to confront him."

That draws Leandra's brows up. "Your brother does not seem to agree with you, Garus." She tilts her head, pressing the pads of her index fingers together as she maintains a steady, hawkish gaze with him. "You may end up dead because of your passiveness." Then she smirks a bit. "And do you think confronting Godric will yield much?"

"It'll yield my conscience, and likely one of us dead." Garus replies. Leaving the latches of his armor behind, he ends his fidgeting to look to Leandra's face with a weight to his brow. He's given this much thought, and the very thoughts alone draw his lips into a flat, almost angry, line. It's anger for his brother, not for his guest. "I intend fully to survive this, Leandra, nomatter the cost, but I am not my brother and will not lower myself to his left and become him as a means to survive him."

Leandra settles back into her chair, and she looks thoughtful. "Godric doesn't see things that way, and neither does the Leonnidas… survival in your father's House may mean killing before being killed." She breathes out a deep exhale as she deflates in the chair. She rests her cheek in her palm, her gaze softening. "I hope that your method works, Garus… but I know Godric as well as you do…"

"I saw you knowing this day would come, ever since I told you the truth about Dorinne." Garus replies, glancing to the empty space over Leandra's shoulder as the need to separate eye contact comes. Jaw tightening, he hooks his thumbs in the heavy buckle of his swordbelt. "And damn them for making me do this. I've yet to learn if this was Godric's doing or another's but I'll find out soon enough." A heavy sigh escapes his lips, exhausted with the ugly truths. "I won't murder my own, Leandra, not even to save my life. My hands are tied; am I my father's son or the man I wish to be?"

Leandra frowns a bit, and she also turns aside her gaze as she brushes a lock of honeyed wheat behind her ear. She then breathes out a heavy sigh as she slowly sweeps up to her feet once more. "Your hands are not tied, unless you have tied them yourself, Garus." She then offers a bit of a weary laughter, reaching up to touch the back of her neck. "You could always find a lovely Paramount wife…"

"Every time a niece of nephew is buried, though, Leandra…" Garus trails off, fists clenching before both hands, one gauntleted, reach to the top of his head to brush his hair away from his eyes. "…and I could never ask that of Young Lord Solon. I have a feeling my father is hungry for this showdown between my brother and I; waiting to see what happens next. He may stall a banns." With a turn, Garus reaches out to Leandra's shoulder with his bare, right hand and places it upon her shoulder. Thumb brushing her arm in a pair of simple waves, he turns to face her. "We knew this day would come. You warned me about Godric."

Eyebrows knitting together, Garus' features soften and he opens his mouth to say something more. The syllables begin to form, but are suddenly cut off by a blurt from his armor's loudspeaker.

Lord Garus, the staging area is mustering. Your presence has been requested…

Lips clamping short, Garus frowns to Leandra and turns away from her. Reaching for his shoulder, he presses a button. "This is Sir Garus, I'm enroute." Grabbing his helmet, he turns and makes haste towards his door. With one final glance to Leandra, his softer features have been replaced with fire for the fight ahead.

"We'll speak when I get back…"

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