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Thread: Putting the Old House into a New Order - 6/17 afternoon, Haven's Nest, Balfourians [open]

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    House Farrand-Calhoun Langston's Avatar  
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    Putting the Old House into a New Order - 6/17 afternoon, Haven's Nest, Balfourians [open]

    The youngest son of House Farrand-Calhoun paced the library thoughtfully. Any moment could be the one in which the harbinger of doom brought word. Word that he was King of Balfour. Langston had argued that Lochlan should have come instead of him. Left him at home to rule until the plague took him. Not the other way around. But for now, and the immediate future, his brother called the shots. And so he had left his home in favor of the less infected island of Tuneric, taking Tatianna and whatever noble refugees wished to join them.

    At the very least, Nataliah was only a day away. And from all reports, the capital was full of generally healthy people. For the time being, anyway. Here in Valley Haven, it was another matter altogether. Tarran, by all rights, Lord of Chesbrook, was near death with whatever was running rampant in Balfour. He had been quarantined for everyone's good, though the Baptiste woman was being insistent about seeing him. She had tried numerous treatments, and was finally confident that she had found some kind of answer. And according the whispers, Hutchinson was looking better.

    Once he was satisfied that Evangeline had been right, he had sent her to her rooms to pack for Hebron. She would be leaving shortly, once she reported back to him. There were people still sick in Tuneric, and helping them would be the quickest way to convince King Cailen to lend Langston what he needed to get the cure back to his brother.

    He called for his sister, and Huthcinson's sisters, and his few aides to attend him while they waited for Evangeline. Cailen had invited them to the celebration of Swaren Day, despite their proclivity to plague. Langston wanted to make sure they had a plan in place for attending, safely...

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    House Baptiste Evangeline Baptiste's Avatar  
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    When they'd pulled away from Balfour, their homeland growing distant as the wind filled their ship's sails, Evangeline had thought to herself that life was never going to be the same. If only she had known just how true that thought would prove to be, she might've relaxed more on the voyage over. It seemed ever since they landed, there had been nothing but chaos. They had only barely begun to settle in when Tarran fell ill, and since then she had been doing everything in her power to keep him alive and try and find some way to rid him of the horrible plague that they had tried so hard to escape. It was only after long days and sleepless nights that she'd finally found something which had broken the illness's hold on him, but even then she wasn't allowed to long savor her victory. If her method had worked on Tarran, it would surely work on the people of Tuneric who were sick. Langston, who was their somewhat reluctant leader, was now sending her to Hebron, to present her findings to the King. It meant leaving Tarran while he was still recovering, which she was loathe to do, but she couldn't deny that imparting this information to as many people as possible would save hundreds of lives.

    And so she had returned to her room and packed, although she hadn't known how long to pack for; not that it really mattered. In the evacuation there had been little time to gather material goods, and Eva had only brought what she'd needed. Most of that now was packed into a small trunk, and that along with a large, worn leather bag would be all that traveled to the capital with her. Once they were taken to be loaded into the carriage that would carry her to Hebron, she made her way to the library, where she would report in one last time before leaving.

    Stepping into the large, musty room, she curtseyed before the Prince. "Everything is in order," she said, a small amount of weariness creeping into her voice. "I'm ready to leave at your word."

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