View source for Thicker than Blood

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== Log Info ==
*Title: Thicker than Blood
*Emitter: Aryia
*Characters: Aryia, Aya
*Place: Lower Gardens
*Time: March 10th, 2022
*Summary: Back in the lower gardens again, this time Aryia is conversing with a couple of familiar mul'neissa about some aquatic plans. A roaming sister enters, soon to be tackled by a hug from her sister. Aryia drags Aya over to meet her parents, which is uncertain and suspicious at first, but it all pans out.
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== ==

:: ''Lower Alexandrian Gardens, Late Afternoon.''

It's a fair weather day overall, warm in the sun, cool in the shade, with just a few clouds lazily floating in front of the dwindling light of the sun. There's a scarred mul'neissa woman sitting on a bench under a tree, a folder open on her lap as she's gesturing to two other folks flanking her.

An older mul'nessian man, crimson hair tumbling from his head like a waterfall, missing a right arm with silver eyes.

An older mul'nessian woman, moon colored hair with an eyepatch over her left eye, a violet orb peering at the mute's lap and gesticulations.

"I still find it odd I understand you," the woman mentions in her native speak. <Undercommon>

Aryia shrugs. "Guess I just got better at it," she gestures before holding up a page to the woman to read over.

A trio of mul'neissa.

There HAS to be something fishy going on.

Evening. Always the best way to begin a day. So to speak. Moreso for mul'niessa.

Thus it is that a fourth enters the gardens. Aya moves at an unhurried pace, even for an average person of her stature. Her attention is ostensibly upon the foliage and passersby, though her focus is likely elsewher.

The man tilts his head to the side. "Hmm... you think all of that will fit in there? What of a study?" <Undercommon>

Aryia squints at him. "What study?" <Handspeech>

The woman is about to add in her own two coppers, but her attention is drawn elsewhere. She blinks, then sits up ramrod straight. She clears her throat, whispering, "Zilly... I don't mean to alarm you, but there's-" <Undercommon>

Aryia looks over and-

There's some pages that flutter to the ground as the mute has vacated her seat abruptly, her rushing over to the other mul'neissa with her arms thrown wide open and a grin on her face.

The two others look on, perplexed.

Pfft. Nothing ever surprises Aya, much less approaches her unnoticed. -She- is the one who arrives to other, suddenly and unannounced, not the other way around.

On the other hand, perhaps that was the old Aya. The current version proves that her attention is, in fact, not upon her surroundings in this instance. She is unaware of the inbound Aryia until it is too late.

In short, Aya is tackle hugged. Alarming at first, familiar and warm a moment later. There's a near silent snicker that comes from her, a taut squeeze, and she pulls away slightly to wave happily in greeting.

The two slooowly look at each other. And exchange a quiet conversation. Silently. Wordlessly. Though a slight shrug, a raised brow, and a flick of a glance.

Aya startles at the moment she realizes the incoming mul missile, though only for a moment. The shock of that, and the aggressive hug that follows, shakes her from her rather distracting musings. She braces with a shift of weight and stance to not be bowled over before returning the embrace similarly: aggressively yet earnestly.

A flicker of uneven smile not quite smirk. "It is good too see you, too, sister. Thank you, again."

Aryia bobs her head, releasing her sister from one of the clingy arms to gesture between them. "Of course."

She could almost feel the staring behind her as three eyeballs bore a hole in the back of her skull. She clears her throat, and pulls away slightly, a hand threading into Aya's. "There's some people I want you to meet," she gestures lowly, albeit a tinge nervously.

The duo behind her on the bench have finished picking up the scattered papers, and they're watching the sister with a mixture of confusion and caution. <Handspeech>

An eyebrow lifts. There. That looks familiarly Aya-ish. Her eyes shift briefly past Aryia and to the gestured two. Not that two mul'niessa (correction, two OTHER mul'niessa) would not be the presumed people even without the gesture.

Aya glances back to Aryia, making a brief gesture between their bodies as her other brow lifts. "Is this interaction to be social or physical?"

Aryia snickers, and shakes her head. "Social. Honest," she motions back before pulling away and tugging at her sisters hand.

The other OTHER two mul'neissa perk up, subtle yet quick tugs at sleeves and robes to spruce up their well dressed selves. They stare at Aya as the mute brings her closer, opting to stand once they come to a halt.

The older woman takes a breath and hazards smashing the ice. "I... take it this is your sister, Zilly?" she mentions, tone a measured and familiar noble cadence.

Aryia bobs her head.

"Aya, was it?" she offers a hand. "Khal. Cha-"

The mute clears her throat.

"... Khalees. Charmed."

The man was much more subtle about the whole endeavor. "Xarann. At your service," he softly intones, putting his lone hand over his heart and bowing slightly.

Aya gives Aryia a slight nod in acknowledgement before following her sister's lead (and tug) to the pair. She regards each in turn with the introductions; attentive, rather neutral, though not to the point of impolitenes. A nod is given to each and she then dips her head in a deeper fashion. "Aya. Likewise a pleasure. I-"

A pause as something registers and her eyes shift sidelong to Aryia. The near brow arches anew. "Zilly?"

Aryia's face colors just a tinge. The woman, Khalees, glances to the mute for confirmation of something.

She gives a little 'go head' motion.

The older mul'neissa woman clears her throat. "Zilly is what we've called Zilstrae for over a century."

Aryia rubs at her face, tries to smile through her natural awkwardness, and gestures to her sister. "Aya. These are my parents." <Handspeech>

A moon-haired matron, plus a silver eyed man, equals-

One plus one equals- yep. The mute is a spitting image of the two mashed together.

It seems that Aya was uncertain where this might have gone. Afterall, even a social interaction with mul'niessa is, more often than not, not a peaceful affair. The revelation, however, is not what she expected. She blinks, twice. A glance to Aryia in mild disbelief that does not require gestures to convey the rather rhetorical question with surprise. Possible to validate Aryia's apparent opinion on the matter, as well.

She then remembers her manners and turns back to the parents. "Of course. My apologies. Tales of your fates were, obviously, greatly exaggerated. I am pleased that she found you both, and you her."

The rhetorical question is answered with a soft smile of 'yep, this is real'.

Though, such social interactions with mul'neissa are always a song and dance. Especially with those more so... refined. They both pinch their brows, but the father speaks. "Our... fates? I am curious as to what fates you might know of...?" he requests.

Aryia too, was a bit perplexed by this.

"Never the less," the matrons hums. "We are well and glad we are reunited. Despite it being... quite some time."

"Aryia..." Aya pauses before considering altering or correcting that. In the end, she simply continues her explanation, "... had no family when she arrived, nor knowlege of one. That implied that they were deceased, or she was tributed or otherwise abandoned by them." With the last, and end of her explanation, she levels a cool gaze upon and between the two elders. "All of which are rather common in Charn."

Aryia's expression falls a bit at the memory, her looking off to the side and slightly sighing.

Such a thing also makes the parents sag ever so faintly. Though that coolness burns more than it should.

And the more hot headed of the two scowls and fires back. "We did /not/ abandon her...-!"

Xarann puts a hand on the mother's shoulder, silencing her with just that. "It is a complicated tale, Miss Aya. In short, and for transparency, we did tribute her."

His gaze falls slightly, with decades amount of remorse showing forth. "... but only to jam the systems at play so we could all flee. She-" a glance to the faint, second moon in the sky,- "left us. None knew that She did."

Aya's countenance remains firm against the scowl and retort; the first display of that familiar, confident determination for Aryia since Aya's return. At Xarann's odd combination of admission and mitigation, however, ...it softens. She is quiet for a time before she speaks, though she does not look away in the interim.

"I know well of machinations, maneuvers, and exchanges. I was tributed, myself; 'recruited' by The Single Chord. That you are reunited is a goal many would not seek, much less achieve, and I welcome that for her, and yourselves."

A slight step forward is taken. "You should be aware: whatever your maneuvers with here were, then, I trust that they are no more. She is my sister by choice, stronger than the failed bonds of blood, and I will not see her a piece in any further games." The same slight step back. "In the furthering of our mutual transparency."

Aryia blinks, her looking over at Aya with a slightly sad expression, but she slowly nods. 

Khalees purses her lips, defiant despite that advance. "It was to protect her," she firmly states. "We wanted off the table for the games. And then we lost her. We looked... all over Charn for... for decad-" 

A squeeze of tje shoulder cuts her off gently. "Of course not, Miss Aya. We only want what's best for our daughter. We are... apologetic that you have went through similar tribulations, and hope you can look past our actions."

The parents look at the two sisters. A twinge of pride in their eyes, but also a longing for an old, old bond." Perhaps one day that blood won't be as weak of a bond," Xarann soberly mentions.

Aya's posture now relaxes as she glances to Aryia. "That you are here, now, for ... Zilly," she notes with a flicker of a smile before turning back to her parents, "that is enough for me. Your blood is far stonger than that of House Rrostoavae..." Her expression firms a moment before she shakes it lightly off and offers Khalees and Xarann a smile. "I intended no offense; my concern was for the future, not judgement of the past."

Aryia opens her mouth, but she closes it, pouting at Aya for the choice of name. 

The matron relaxes as well, her chuckling a bit. But the two of them freeze at the name. A glower rests in Xarann's eyes as he looks aside. "... yes, House Rrostoavae tends to be like that..." 

Khal clears her throat, "Though I assure you House Aleduis is different." She snakes an arm around her husband.

He leans into it slightly. "Of course, Miss Aya. The past is... rife with strife. The now and the future is all we have."

"Far too much so," Aya concurs with both statements. The halt and shift in the others is noted, and briefly considered, before she simply allows the matter to pass for now. Instead, she sidesteps to her sister to put an arm around her in a quasi-mirroring of the others. "We also have Zilly," a squeeze and a smile that is both genuine and curled with wry mirth."

Nope, that's not going away anytime soon. Ever.

Aryia leans into the arm, and sighs. She blinks, and glares at Aya. "Oh, fuck you," she gestures, laughing silently in that way that she does. <Handspeech>

The parents smile. "That we do..." they both intone.

 -End Scene-

[[Category:Logs]]