No News Is …
(OOC: Set during and just after the 1110 GEF. Written by Russ Phillips and Dorian Grey)
“Fionnuala?” Bríd was holding out a bag.
“Hmm?” Fionnuala yanked her attention back where it belonged. “Thank you, Bríd”, she said, taking her purchase. Slightly embarrassed to have been caught so distracted, she walked quickly away.
No news from the Fayre, she thought. But it’s only the first day. Relax, silly.
“…and may the blessings of Armengar be on us, and this night be passed in peace.” Here, and…there, Fionnuala added mentally, as she finished the Evening Rite and stepped back from the altar.
Stop being stupid. There's a ritual of peace. He'll be fine. We'd have heard if there'd been casualties. He's fine. But how would we hear, with no transport circle…? Oh, for heavens’ sake, woman, give it over! People don’t die at the Fayre.
She walked along the busy street, barely noticing the people passing her, thinking back to Tamarus and the party for Celestial's birthday. Her brow furrowed. He's a bloody idiot sometimes. Then she remembered what he'd told her about Rysarius. He'd better not do anything like that again. Especially while I'm not there.
They should be back by now. She paced the little roof garden that was the High Priestess’ private retreat. Why isn’t there any news yet? Has something gone wrong? She forced herself to sit down. No, they probably couldn’t get a ship immediately, that’s all. Or maybe the wind was in the wrong direction. Lots of things can happen to delay ships. Perfectly ordinary things, that don’t involve people being dead… She started pacing again, pausing at intervals to peer out to sea.
“Sorry…what did you say?” Fionnuala tried to concentrate.
Molly eyed her knowingly. “You’ve been rightly distracted these past few days,” she observed. “If it’s that nice fellow you had to visit that you’re pining after, I suggest you go find him and marry him.” She grinned. “Then you’ll be able to keep him under your eye.”
Before Fionnuala could remonstrate there was a knock at the door, which opened a moment later to admit Marcus. “Letter for you, Lady Fionnuala, mam,” he said, holding it out.
She just managed to keep from snatching it, but it was Molly who thanked the lad and gave him a couple of coppers, while Fionnuala quickly broke the seal and read faster than she ever had before.
“He’s all right. Oh, thanks be!” She read again, more slowly. “Oh, bollocks!”