"Mother's Surrender"

Log Date:
	1/3/2000

Log Cast:
	Richard, Dulcinea

Log Intro:
	Young Moirae Julia Nemeides, daughter of the Rook, takes after her
father and then some--especially in matters of initiative. She's enlisted
the aid of the Mongrel Jenara to arrange a secret meeting with Richard, to
beg him to be allowed to stay with him in Haven. Though he's barely wrapped
his mind around the notion that he has actual offspring, Richard cannot deny
such a request. Moirae's life is at stake, for as long as she's under the
power of his younger brother Erasmus. And so he's given the girl instructions
to memorize for how she can find him in Haven, and if not him, then Mongrels
friendly to him who can keep her safe until he reaches her.
	Moirae does not yet, however, have her father's skill at completely
hiding her tracks. Her mother Dulcinea has discovered her plans, and now,
forced to face the prospect of giving up her daughter, what's left of Cea's
proud heart is about to break....

*===========================< In Character Time >===========================*
             Time of day:  Night (Duskside)
          Date on Aether:  Tuesday, October 24, 3905.
           Year on Earth:  1505 A.D. 
       Phase of the Moon:  New
                  Season:  Fall
                 Weather:  Foggy
             Temperature:  Cool
*==========================================================================*

Old City Garden - Haven
     A strange thing, to some, to see such a thick, unbridled mass of forest 
  within the city walls. Even during the brightest days, it is shady here; 
  looming tree branches above filter out the sunlight, casting shadows that 
  might be relieving during a warm summer day, or alternatively fearsome by 
  night. The heart of the garden is most often alive with the chirps and 
  chitters of the wildlife that makes its home here.
     Still, some civilization prevails, if only tentatively. A wide, roughly 
  cobbled road stretches east to west, suitable for the usual traffic of a 
  city street, if a bit precariously. Benches line the various man-made paths, 
  reminding the visitor that this is indeed intended to be a respite from the 
  bustle of the town, and is not merely some uncontrolled mass of trees within 
  Haven.
Contents:
Dulcinea
Obvious exits:
Streets <E,NE,SW>  Garden Archway <W>

Fog and nightfall: two close friends of the Rook. Tonight's forays for Richard 
  begin on a stealthy, winding course through the old city garden, a 
  circuitous route out of Bordertown to give him time to elude any overly 
  inquisitive eyes before he finally ventures into the Empyrean quarter. Once 
  he reaches that part of the city, once he reaches one of his caches of 
  supplies for disguising his appearance, it'll seem a different man entirely 
  who sets himself to watching the House that is his prey of choice tonight. 
  But for now, Richard is still himself, no more than a normal-seeming, tall 
  and black-haired man making a cautious way through the fog-shrouded paths of 
  this place.

The shroud of fog and night are her fellows this eve. Hidden from the world in 
  swirls of formless living grey she can be unseen as she gives vent to grief. 
  Never one to lose control the only thing that betrays her presence is the 
  vague sound of fists pounding near silently on the ground in a dull thudding.

The sound does not escape Richard's sharp ears. He slows his trek through the 
  fog, pausing to try to determine the source of that strange sound -- and 
  whether it's something with which he will need to concern himself. Twilight 
  eyes narrow, their gaze flicking in several directions to look for some sign 
  of what or who is responsible for the noise.

The fog swallows the sound for a moment until a half strangled sob comes 
  echoing out of it eerily seeming to be right at your side. As if it were 
  some sentient thing with a perverse sense of humor the fog thins to reveal a 
  woman, a woman usually so utterly composed, always calm, perfectly groomed 
  now...well now she is revealed as crying, tears tracking through streaks of 
  dirt on her face, usually perfectly arranged hair streaming down her back, 
  toga once a soft delicate blue now all over dirt and a mark..an ugly half 
  healed vicious bruise that purples the left side of her face can be seen. 
  Perfectly manicured nails now torn dig uselessly into the grass and dirt of 
  the garden.

It doesn't take long to track you. Richard pulls in a silent breath as he 
  discovers you from only a few yards away, though full recognition does not 
  yet strike. What he sees first are wings, which are enough to give him pause 
  in and of themselves. The sobbing strikes him next, but the Rook is a wary 
  man and while chivalry might dictate going to your side to seek out whether 
  help can be provided, the hard-learned pragmatism of Bordertown also 
  cautions that this would be an excellent ruse for some sort of thievery 
  attempt. And so Richard settles for a compromise, calling out softly, 
  "Dom'na, d'ye need a hand?"

A snarl issues from the fog..a hissed..."_you_!" and then a delicate form is 
  flying at you all claws and teeth like a spitting cat. "If you take her from 
  me I'll _kill_ you..I swear I will..how could you!..how could you agree??" 
  words disovling into raging sobs as she does her weak best to beat you 
  senseless.

Recognition, then, strikes like a thunderbolt. And even as you hurl yourself 
  at him, Richard takes a sharp step backwards, his hands surging up to 
  intercept your wrists as he braces himself against the sudden assault. In a 
  fraction of an instant startlement becomes shocked chagrin that the one he's 
  found sobbing in this garden is you -- and chagrin turns into a low, dark 
  heat within his chest as he shoves the emotions that flare up within him 
  down within him, refusing to give them sway over him now. "_Moirae_ sought 
  _me_," he snaps harshly, pitching his voice down low, with just a hint of 
  his lilting street accent to soften the words. "She _asked_ for my help. If 
  you've a problem with her having done so, Dea Nemeides, I suggest you take 
  it up with her!"

Your words seem to break the flow of violence as the woman sinks to the ground 
  again, shame forcing her head into her hands as she sobs. She draws a 
  shuddering her breath , her voice muffled.."I ...I can't. I know why she 
  wants to leave and I can't blame her._ I _ want to leave, how can I fault 
  her for finding a way out and for wanting to take it." 
 What a reversal. The once proud Dea crying in the dirt at your feet.

He cannot say, after fourteen years' worth of living as a wingless, outcast 
  thief in Haven because of what you did to him, that he still loves you. But 
  Richard is not as invulnerable as he would like to be to the sight of you so 
  broken, weeping with such despondency. He stares broodingly down at the 
  droop of your wings and the top of your bowed head, and because he dislikes 
  the strange way his gut has twisted at this turn of events, his voice turns 
  more cutting than he would allow for any other woman in this kind of a state 
  before him. "I would have thought that the opportunity to marry not one, but 
  _two_ brothers of Nemea would have been a blessing from the gods for you."

Bitter laughter is what greets your vicious cut. Her bright head nodding 
  mirthlessly.."you'd think so eh? One a brute with the brain of a squashed 
  cabbage leaf and a taste for violence..the other vicious, cruel, jealous and 
  with the same taste for blood in his women though he keeps it better hid 
  than his elder did. The gods?? The Gods if they exist blessed my _family_ 
  not me..me they've chosen to ignore but for the bright light that is 
  Moirae..and now you are going to take her from me."

"She is leaving my benighted family," Richard corrects bitingly, refusing yet 
  again to be made out as a villain in this, "and I have agreed to shelter her 
  when she does. You would perhaps prefer that I ignore her request and leave 
  her to take on Haven without guidance?"

Dulcinea shakes her head.."no..no not that. " Cea raises her tear streaked 
  face.."she's been sheltered Julian, purposefully. I've kept her wrapped in 
  wool trying to shield her. She's smart though and adventurous..she's more 
  than likely to go seeking adventure and end up getting herself killed..or 
  worse. She's quick. you'll have to keep a tight eye on her you know"..she 
  mutters on small little things about her daughter, your daughter that she 
  thinks you should know..things a Mother would find important. Somewhere 
  along the way it seems she's accepted the fact that Moirae will be moving 
  from her care to yours and her voice slowly goes flat and expressionless.

Hearing the name with which he'd been born, too, causes a strange little twist 
  in Richard's gut. He allows himself no sign of that discomfort, however, 
  keeping rigid control upon his expression and his voice. But now, as your 
  words change again, he takes the time to study your disheveled appearance 
  and the ravages of grief upon the features he once called lovely. And 
  despite the black resentment lurking in the very back of his mind, he finds 
  himself gruffly demanding, "If you have finally realized the nature of my 
  younger brother's charms, Cea, then why do you stay with him?"

Dulcinea tilts her head wincing slightly as that pulls at the bruise, gently 
  wiping at her tears she shrugs.'I realized Ras' charms years ago, Julian. I 
  may have been young and naive but I don't think I was ever stupid. I stay 
  because of Momus. He's Deus of Nemea, I can't leave him to be raised by 
  ERasmus. Always assuming Ras would let him live. If Momus dies Ras becomes 
  Deus. Also Momus is too much Cleon. I am hoping I can raise him better than 
  your mother did his father and mitigate what damage Cleon's blood has 
  wrought in the child. I married Ras to save my son. It's as simple as that.

_Just what the world needs,_ Richard thinks dourly, _a smaller edition of 
  Cleon._ He has his doubts about any child of his elder brother's turning out 
  to be anything except a brute and a bully -- but then again, he has to admit 
  that the chances of that are greatly increased if Erasmus has a hand in his 
  raising. "I have no interest in Momus," he says then, his tone curt, his 
  gaze upon that bruise. "But Moirae, when she comes to me, will be safe from 
  my brother."

Dulcinea 's eyes watch your glance fall upon her marred flesh and she vain 
  enough to blush. Her tone though is hard."Ras doesn't dare tough Moirae. 
  Physcially she's safe enough though he does his best to wound her heart 
  every chance he gets. I try to make sure he get's very few chances of that." 
  Reflecting on your comment about her son she laughs softly, love for her son 
  mingling with bitter reality.'I am afraid very few have an intrest in Momus 
  outisde of those who'd seek to use him. It's just as well Cleon died though, 
  he doted on the boy and would ahve made sure I had very little influence on 
  the child. As for Moirae, safe from Ras perhaps but safe from a hard life?? 
  I've come to know the mongrels who work for us, I trust them but they've 
  told me their lives on Haven's streets..can /you/ keep Moirae safe from the 
  life she is chosing?

Richard smiles, small and tight, and a glitter of not unfounded pride 
  momentarily sparks across his twilight eyes. "That will depend upon what 
  kind of life she chooses," he points out, not bothering to clarify that if 
  his daughter might happen to choose to follow in her father's footsteps and 
  start robbing the Children of the Air on a regular basis, her safety will be 
  at daily risk. "But aye, I have the resources to keep her safe."

Dulcinea takes that in in silence, she rises slowly to her feet and brushes 
  back her hair. Bright blue eyes simply study you for a long moment, their 
  expression unreadable..she seems to be weighing something..

Richard doesn't move, and neither does he shift his gaze. He's stared down far 
  rougher individuals than you, in far more tense situations. He merely 
  watches as you stand, aware of the scrutiny, humoring it to some extent. But 
  his expression is as shielded as your own.

Dulcinea finally shakes her head as if in answer to some inner monologue. 
  "I'll send word when we are ready to leave Haven. She'll be ready. " she 
  brushes at the dirt on her skirts and then sighs giving voice to her last 
  worry, her last plea.."love her Julian. Not for my sake but for your own and 
  hers. She's always been more like you than me. I think...I think she'll be 
  happy with you, happier than she ever was with me."

It is a disturbing thing, to know that he shares a daughter with you when he's 
  spent nearly half his life having considered himself to have washed his 
  hands of you as well as his entire family. Richard pulls in a breath, but 
  now he remembers the vibrant young face of the girl who has his hair and his 
  eyes. And that memory prompts him to pledge quietly, "She'll be... cared 
  for."

Dulcinea nods curtly, gathering up her hair to twist it inot a knot at the 
  base of her neck. Those sky blue eyes travel across your features one last 
  time, filled with regret and sorrow for a moment before her own personal 
  prison slams down upon her emotions once more. "Should I ever hear different 
  Julian..." her voice stops leaving the threat unvoiced and unfinished. 
  "Nevermind. I entrust you to her. You couldn't possibly be worse a father 
  than I've been a mother." she doesn't know what else to say..so much to say 
  but what good would it do anway..still she can't quite make her feet leave 
  as her head tells her she should.

Even after fourteen years his countenance is different -- but familiar all the 
  same. Familiar, too, is the hooded, neutral expression set in those elegant 
  features; the only difference now is that they are the features of a man and 
  not a boy. Implacable, that expression, but perhaps there is one saving 
  grace. He has good reason to hate you, good reason to be vicious, to be 
  cruel... but this man is not Erasmus. There is no pleasure in his eyes, no 
  sign that he is deriving even the slightest enjoyment from the jabs he has 
  delivered you or the condition in which he's found you in the fog-veiled 
  night. "I'll watch over her," he promises, his tenor voice dropping down to 
  a husky rasp.

Dulcinea gathers up her torn and stained skirts attempting to gather her 
  dignity in a like manner. The night swirls around them cocoon like..or like 
  a tomb. As her steps start to take her away she turns after only 2 and says 
  softly.."I am a fool Julian, just how much of one I did not fully realize 
  until I saw the man you've become. Despite everything you've triumphed and 
  you are a far better man than either of your brothers could even dream of 
  becoming. Wings or not..you fly higher than they" fliushing slightly as if 
  she's said more than she intended she turns again, the fog threatenging to 
  swallow her once more.

A hoarse intake of breath is Richard's reply to this -- that, and a surge of 
  discomfort that he should be so praised by you, you who caused the path his 
  life has taken ever since his youth. But before he can make any kind of 
  reply you have already made your retreat into the tendrils of chilly evening 
  mist, leaving Richard alone with the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, he 
  too might have been wrong.

[End log.]