07.11.3013: Sibling Rivalries
Summary: Out of quarantine and back in Landings, Reena meets with Anabethe to catch up on things she's missed. There may be a little too much truth from a little too much drink.
Date: 11 July 2013
Related: None
Anabethe Reena 

The Violet Siren — The Westend, Landing
The entrance into the Violet Siren gives the illusion of a squat, round building with very little character or flair. It is only when one walks through the ellipse-shaped tunnel, under the glowing black lights, do they realize that the Violet Siren is far more than it seems. The foyer is at the top level of a vast silo that tunnels underground for several stories. Its transparent-composite floors look down through the various mezzanines ringing the interior of silo all the way to the expansive dance floor at the bottom. A series of staircases hug the walls of the cylinder, leading patrons past balconies that supply seating away from the loud thumping and madness of the dance floor and a series of bars to wet ones whistle.

The entire lower level is nothing but dance floor with platforms to provide varied elevation to the bumping, grinding, and thrashing of the vigorous dancers. Scantly-clad waitresses maneuver carefully through the dancers with shotglass vials of neon-colored liquor.

11 July 3013

It's been three days since Reena went to Niveus to help stop the spread of a virus of some sort. It turned out to be an airborne contagion, and they soundly defeated it. Now she's finally out of quarantine and back in Landings. After that close call, she needs a drink, so she's sent her sister a message to meet her at the Siren. She's dressed down, way down for the courtly-minded Khournas, in leather breeches and a low-cut blouse of pale grey silk. Her hair is pulled back into a low tail at the nape of her neck. She looks tired, and maybe has already had one or two beers.

Anabethe is healed up, and as usual, that means it's time to forget about battle for a few hours. Skin-tight leather pants, a red silk halter top, boots, and her hair down and tattoos on full display is a sure sign that she's likely to get in trouble before the night is over. "Reena," she calls as she catches sight of her sister, raising a hand and weaving her way over. "You look…Well, I get it's not the nice thing to say, but you look tired, sweetheart," she says when she reaches her, brows furrowing in concern. "Anything I can hit for you?"

"Just been a long couple of days, Beth," Reena notes to her sister with a tired smile. "I really do not do well on an ice moon. Saved the world though, that's what counts, right?" She kicks a chair out for Anabethe to sit in. "How are things back home?" she asks. The beer is dark and hoppy, and there's a pitcher of it on the table along with another glass.

"Hot and loud," Anabethe answers in regards to home, smile quirking as she drops into the offered seat. "Did my own bit to save the world. I expect it was also hotter and noisier than your way, though. I heard something about a quarantine on Niveus, though. What was that all about?" she asks, leaning forward to pour herself a mug of beer.

"They were drilling a new section to the outpost complex through some granite. It was veined with beryllium which, when the dust mixed with the water to cool the drill bits, morphed into something else. It went airborne when the water evaporated. There were some casualties, but we caught it quickly and made sure it won't happen again," Reena explains. She takes a long pull from her mug of beer. "Victor came and visited me a few days ago at the Embassy. Brought me this stuff, found they have it here. I like it."

"Mmmm. Suppose they didn't actually contract with some of our people when they decided to drill," Anabethe muses, winking as she takes a sip of the beer. "Been thinking I should probably start looking for someone to squire Mikail to," she admits after a moment. "Just kind of…Well, you know. I might not be the best mother in the world, but I don't want to drop him out on the field, you know? Not with just anyone."

"One of our cousins, perhaps?" Reena suggests. "Unless you think Victor might teach the boy more about drinking and cigars. Wait, that's what you'd do," she quips with a grin. She shrugs a bit. "This is really not my area of expertise, Beth. But Barton or Johana or Thalo would be good candidates too."

"Thalo, maybe," Anabethe shrugs, taking another drink. "I guess I'm kind of picky about it. If it were up to me, he'd squire with someone legendary enough to make sure he grows up well able to defend himself. But. I suppose I'm limited by people looking for squires." She reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, quirking a brow at her sister. "Give up on courting Thalo already, or just hoping your nephew can give you an excuse to get close?"

Reena looks down into her beer glass at that and shrugs again. "Haven't heard from him since before I left for Landings. I figure that's a pretty big sign. I'm close to giving up on courting, period. I thought my charms could outweigh politics in that respect, but they always rear their ugly head up. What about you? How long until father insists you get back in the betrothal saddle?"

Anabethe snorts softly, rolling one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Right now I'm starting to think he can insist all he wants, but I'm not exactly beating them off with a stick." She pauses, head tilting. "Or maybe that's the problem, they know I could beat them off with a stick. Anyhow. He hasn't mentioned it lately."

"Well that means you can have your fun for a while still. Not a bad thing, hm? You've already given yourself an heir, so I suspect the pressure is off unless Father needs to broker a deal of some importance." Reena slides her fingertip down the condensation on her glass. "What is the status of the Crescent with the Hostiles?" she asks.

Anabethe wrinkles her nose. "I already jumped on the deal of some importance grenade with Nik," she grumbles. "Not really interested in doing that again. And I'd be enjoying the whole freedom thing more if I was actually getting any." Over the rim of her mug as she drinks, she watches the action on the dance floor like a lioness choosing an antelope from the herd. "Hostiles. There are some. Not a whole lot. Getting ready to pull together a squad to check out the stragglers before they can disappear into the mountains."

"Be careful, please, Beth," Reena says sincerely. "There were a lot of casualties on Primus, and a lot of people who had near misses with the Crone. Don't be among them, ok?" She sets her booted feet up on another chair, clearly tipsy as she's normally overly proper in public. "How is little brother doing with the Ash Legion?"

"I'm always careful," Anabethe says with a small, tight smile. "And I'm better at it than they are," she adds, winking. She trails a finger along the rim of her mug, still watching the floor. "Nitrim was doing okay, last I heard. But apparently something went down in that mine in Ignis, too. Sounds like the Lashes could use a little guidance when it comes to not screwing up digging in general. But he didn't say anything about being too badly hurt. Did he check in with you for any treatments?"

"No, no communications at all. I assume his Knight is making sure he's tended to though. What is he thinking, squiring at his age?" Reena asks with an exasperated look. "Now I'm the only one of us that is useless in a fight. Bah." She grumps about that. "At least I'm still the prettiest."

"He's thinking he wants to be useful," Anabethe smirks, rolling her eyes. "And that he has things to prove. He's still better off than Ana's squire. What do you think's going on there anyhow?" she asks, stretching her legs out into the chair across from her. "Apparently he was about to be knighted and then his knight died and he just…did nothing for the next several years. Now it seems like he's got a new woman to love every other week. You'd think we were in the Vale."

"No idea really," Reena murmurs between sips of beer. "Has Ana said anything about it all? Speaking of the Vale, how are things with her and that Cindravale Knight, Erik is it?"

"Hell if I know," Anabethe laughs. "Ellinor seems happy with her Cindravale knight, though," she adds with a sigh. "What they see in them, I'll never know. Sure, they're pretty. But they're so high maintenance. With the egos, and the wardrobes, and the horses, and ugh."

"I can imagine they see us as some sort of brutal savages or some such," Reena says with a small chuckle. "So, Beth, who do you think my prospects are, providing they don't all get wiped out in this war."

"Whoever you want them to be, of course." Anabethe's smile quirks once more before she takes a drink. "C'mon, Reena. We all know that if anyone's going to get what they want, it's going to be you. So long as 'what they want' is defined as 'the most advantageous match.' Emund's going to need to remarry eventually." That puts an end to her smile, silenced by another long drink. "Eventually. Ysabella would have been relieved to know he married someone who could put a boot in his ass, at least."

"But he's old," Reena complains. "But I'd be queen. Quite a tradeoff I guess. But I don't know that Father would even try." She sighs. "If there is any interest in me, whoever holds it is doing an extremely fine job of concealing it. Ah well, Jevon will figure it out eventually I'm sure. It's out of my hands at this point."

"He's not that old," Anabethe protests. "I mean, he's not exactly falling apart from arthritis. I'm so telling him you said that. That'll put a boot in his ass." She drinks again, grin tugging at one corner of her lips despite herself.

Reena giggles at that, and she's clearly had too much to drink. She sobers a moment later. "I don't know that it'd be much fun to always be second to Ysabella's ghost though." She frowns. "You know me, Beth. I'd wilt like my orchids if left unattended."

Anabethe tilts her head, considering her sister for a long moment. "Would you?" she muses. "I don't know. I guess I always thought you had a knack for the practical parts of life. That you get fulfillment out of the win as much as out of who you're playing with. But I can see not being very happy about always being compared," she admits.

"I win so I can be noticed, Beth. It's the only way to get Father's attention when you don't swing a sword around and go drake hunting," Reena murmurs, a little bitterly. "Don't you think that if I'd had a choice in the matter, I'd have loved to have been a Knight or something else? I was bred to be a political match for those nobles who find the war-like nature of Khournas to be distasteful. I was trained to be less like US and more like THEM."

"Do you think I had a choice in the matter?" Anabethe arches a brow, drinking again. "Reena, I squired out when I was eight, but not really out. No, I had to squire where I could be close to home, so they could train my head along with my body. I married Nik when I was seventeen, had Mikail when I was eighteen. Do you think those were things I did because it was a choice? We've all got our place in the wall, Reena. That's what being Khournas is. Not how well you can swing a sword."

Reena grimaces. "You sound just like dad." She sets her beer down. "I need to get back to the Palace. Beer's paid for," she mumbles as she slides out of her chair and shuffles to the exit. She is not a happy drunk.

"C'mon, Reena," Anabethe sighs. "Don't you start with the martyr thing. We're just getting Nitrim to pull out of it. Life is hard, sometimes it sucks, we have to do things we don't want. But we do it because we're family and because we care about each other. Because-" She stops herself, rubbing a hand across her brow. "All right. Love you, Reena. Get some sleep, okay?" she says instead.

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