faderift | { CLOSED } Ne me quitte pas

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{ CLOSED } Ne me quitte pas

WHO: Christine Delacroix, Sam Gareth, Church
WHAT: Visiting Christine's mother to deliver some bad news
WHEN: backdated to early Kingsway
WHERE: Velun, Orlais
NOTES: The direct result of what she learned at the front in the civil war in Orlais.

The trip to Velun on the western side of Lake Celestine doesn't take terribly long thanks to the Imperial Highway being their route almost the entire way. The town is full of tightly packed houses with the Chantry being the largest building, looming in the background. Unlike Val Royeaux or Halamshiral, Velun is a place full of poorer folk, as well as an emerging middle class of merchants who send their wares across the lake or via the Imperial Highway, and from there across the Empire. The sight of two mages walking freely has some people a bit nervous, but being a trading town, they have seen mages pass through since the fall of the Circles. Most keep their distance and leave the pair of mages alone.

Which suits Christine just fine, until she says she may not remember the way to her house as it has been so long, and she needs to ask for directions. She stays calm and polite, hands limp at her sides as she asks a fruit seller where she might find the Delacroix residence. To her relief, the man doesn't make a scene and simply tells her the way. After twists and turns through narrow pebble and grass paths, the group finally stops in front of a yellow house with cheery window boxes of flowers and hanging baskets of the same out front. And now Christine finds she can't move, until she reaches one hand out for Church's and her other for Sam's.

"Oh, Maker. How do I even begin? How do I tell her? 'Hello. I know it has been over fifteen years since you last saw me, but I am here to tell you Père has died.'?"

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Church had worried he'd feel like an intruder, not being as close to Christine in many ways as Sam. Being an outsider. A Rifter. When they get closer to town, he makes a point of trying not to let anyone know he's got a shard in his hand, because dear god they do not need to be causing any scenes. And nobody's going to mistake the likes of him for a Templar.

But she had welcomed him along. And for better or worse, he went. (This is stupid, he thinks. It's not like they're dating. And she can handle herself, and Sam can help her, and he doesn't need to meet her mom.)

He's glad, though, that he came when she needs their hands. Squeezes gently. "She sent that letter to you, and then you show up out of the blue with a couple of strange dudes. I think she's gonna know." In wartime, it happens. People get so scared of someone official and stern coming to the door with bad news that sometimes it's just expected. Sometimes you just know. "You're gonna say 'hello', you're gonna say 'it's me', and you're gonna hug your mom. That's how it's playing out more or less in my head. The details are gonna come out one way or another after that."

Despite that everyone was giving them a wide berth, Sam rather likes the little town. It felt... more approachable then the rest of Orlais for him. That and it reminded him of home, though his town was a bit smaller and less brightly colored - probably because it was in the Coastlands.

The bright yellow house has him smiling ever so slightly, a bit sadly that Christine had to return home like this. The grip on his hand though has him looking down and offering a more supportive smile. "That sounds like the gist of it. At least get the 'hello' part out."

"Yes, well... it sounds simple when you both put it like that," she grouses. Why are they bringing logic into this? But she simply can't stand outside all day, so she releases their hands and steps forward, knocking on the front door. She waits, stomach doing flips until the door opens and they're greeted by a young human woman with black hair and bright blue eyes. The woman opens her mouth to speak, pauses, and eyes the three with open curiosity. What are mages doing here at the house? But then her eyes lock on Christine and something clicks. Her entire demeanor changes and she gasps, both hands flying up towards her face in delight.

"You are her! You must be! Mistress Christine! You are finally come home! Oh, oh, the Mistress will be so pleased to see you. She has spoken of little else but you since your letter. Oh, do come in, do!" The woman steps back and waves them inside, out of breath from her exclamations. Christine is surprised half of the village isn't looking out their windows right now towards the house and its exuberant occupant. But Christine gathers her wits and steps inside while the woman holds the door, dipping a curtsy. "I am Darcia, your mother's servant. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you. Is my mother at home?"

"Oh yes, Mistress. She is always home. If you and your companions will leave your things in the hall here, you may then go in to see her." Which is Darcia's polite way of asking them to not scare the mistress by coming in with their weapons.

Honestly, he figures it's kinda like taking your shoes off in someone's house. 'Please leave the deadly weapons by the door so you don't track gore and viscera through the house, thank you.' Darcia's enthusiasm is a little weird given the heaviness of the situation, but she doesn't know.

"Wow," he says, quietly, taking in the space, "she's got a servant. Fancy." Not that it's unusual for Orlais, but it's not what he expects in a place that seems so quaint otherwise. At least it's not an elf. Once he's stowed his sword and things like an umbrella, he's back at Christine's side. "You got this, mistress. We'll be right here."

Well he certainly had not been expecting a greeting like that, blinking slightly as Darcia's voice got louder and higher pitched as she talked. He'd be surprised if Christine's mother didn't already know they were there. Still he follows in, slowly, and raises a brow about just leaving weapons out in the hall. Certainly it made sense not to walk around with them, but just leaving them out? Alright.

Once Sam is done laying down his hilt and shortsword he falls in line as well. "Do you... want us to wait here when you see your mother or would you like us to come with?""

Christine smiles faintly at Church and shrugs a shoulder. "My mother has always been in poor health. She needed the help. Even when I was a child, I think I remember her having a servant then."

Darcia looks thrilled at getting to witness this reunion, so yes, she really hasn't guessed at all that Christine is here to deliver bad news. "Right this way."

"Perhaps you could both come with me at first," Christine says, "And if things become too..." She pauses, eyes darting towards the oblivious servant. "Too much, you could come back out here?"

"No problemo." This man's going to meet your mother, Christine, are you super sure? His smirk at the situation settles back into a serious line. He'll...probably be taking Sam's cue as to when things become 'too much' and need to bail out, because honestly any emotion tends to be a little much. Sometimes.

Hopefully 'hey your husband is dead, sorry about that' doesn't give the poor health woman a heart attack.

"Alright." Looking up Sam looks at Darcia, still beaming at them, before looking back to Christine. "Just remember to breath." He was nervous just being there, he could only imagine what was going on in Christine's head being back in her home with such news.

Honestly he hopes that it doesn't turn to screaming, and the only reason they'll need to leave is to give the two of them time alone.

Really, anything Church could do pales in comparison to the news she's about to give. It would be easier -- she thinks -- if she really knew the woman she's about to see. Hazy memories and one letter aren't really enough to know her temperament or how she'll receive the news.

Once they're ready, Darcia open the door and leads them in. The room is some kind of sitting room, but the furniture is comfy looking and not formal. The curtains are drawn, but a second set of gauzy white curtains soften the light so it's not so harsh. On a sofa sits a woman with a quilt covering her legs. She's slouched a little so her head is resting against the back of the couch, eyes closed. They might mistake her for being asleep except her fingers are lifting in the air, doing a little dance. The reason for this is the small dog who has his front paws propped up in her lap, mouth trying to chase the moving fingers. But when he sees the intruders he jumps fully into her lap, letting out a growl and eliciting a groan from the woman.

"Poncelet!" she scolds, opening her eyes. At the same time, Darcia comes forward. "Madame Delacroix, look! It is Mistress Christine here to see you!"

Aimee Delacroix lifts her gaze to the group, but her eyes focus on her daughter immediately. She looks stunned, but then she shoos the dog from her lap and pulls back the quilt. Her dress is nowhere near as fine as what nobles wear in Val Royeaux, but it's well made and highly decorated. She pushes herself to stand and Darcia rushes over to offer her arm. The dog, meanwhile, hops off the sofa and continues to act the guard dog, barking at the three.

"Ponce, hush!" Christine's mother says, nodding her thanks to Darcia as she stands. Christine steps forward, having never been more unsure of herself or her place in the world as she is in this moment. Mages aren't often faced with this. The younger they are when they enter the Tower, the more abstract the concept of family seems to be until they grow up and realize that families are more than just blood.

But her mother steps towards her, arms outstretched. Already her face is scrunching up with the start of tears.

"My little girl. My Titine!" Which happens to be an Orlesian diminutive for all girls whose names end in -tine. If Church snickers right now, Christine will murder him. The nickname has Christine moving forward to close the distance, arms wrapping tight around her mother. The two are close in height, very similar in face, and the only real difference is the age lines on her mother's face and the paler pallor she sports, complete with dark circles under her eyes.

"Maman," Christine murmurs without even having to think about it. The welcome has set her at ease -- or as much as she can be given the circumstances that brought her here. Tears fill her eyes as she imagines this scene with her father in it too; the pair welcoming her back under happy circumstances. But this? This is far better than having no parents at all, so she will feel blessed to have this.

Darcia bends to scoop up the noisy little dog, giving him a playful bounce in her arms and softly shushing him. He falls back to a suspicious growl.

"Oh, I did not know when I would get the chance to see you, my darling girl. Let me look at you!" Aimee pulls back and takes Christine's face in her hands. "Oh, so beautiful!" She suddenly turns to the two men in the room, squishing Christine's cheeks with motherly affection. "Isn't she stunning? Wait, who are you? Titine, is one of these gentlemen your beau?"

Christine laughs and gently loosens her mother's grip on her face. "No, no! This is Samouel Gareth and Leonard Church." Yes, she knows your first name, Church. You wrote it on the rifter meeting notice and she's very observant. But she calls you by Church because that's the name you gave her. "They are my friends who serve in the Inquisition with me." Well, Church is just sort of around, but her mother doesn't need to know he's a rifter, does she?

Aimee's expression is rather pleased and she looks both men up and down with the critical eye of a woman who is immediately considering marrying her daughter off to one of them. Look, with the Circles falling that means mages will be treated like people, right? They can marry and have babies and she'll get to be a grandmother. Don't take this from her.

"A pleasure. I am Aimee Delacroix." She holds out her hand, fingers pointed down so these charming boys can kiss it.

So this is all going swimmingly so far, but that's because the bomb hasn't been dropped yet. Still, this could've gone way wrong. Good to know Christine's family seems to be loving, and understandable, and not ultra-posh Frenchie-French upper crusty jackasses. Even if the madam of the house has a tiny fuzzy lil dog that might as well be a rat compared to mabari.

Despite being just a little shorter, Church leans an arm up on Sam's shoulder and grins, especially at the motherly squish of Christine's cheeks. Wow. She's gonna be that kinda mom, huh? 'Titine' is gonna have to get used to this face. This is the fact of a man who is learning things and gaining ammunition and oh dear god what does she mean by beau...

"Uh." Gotta love how articulate he is in the face of the I don't know what to do. He's a colorful space marine, not a fancy schmancy ponce. He might have seen this in movies before. "Theeee pleasure's all mine?" Well it's a start. He definitely doesn't look like he knows what to do with hand because if they were just gonna shake that'd be easy so he...kind of...awkwardly takes her hand and bows over her hand and...is he supposed to actually kiss it?? Unsure?? So he doesn't do that part just, awkward quick bow and back up. Yeah. That's good. Be an embarrassment.

Titine? Sam doesn't laugh, but he certainly smiles, more so when he feels Church lean on his shoulder as Christine's face seems to be getting squished like putty. He's half expecting the exchange to go along without them being noticed with the doting going on, but it seems needing to ask about Christine's beauty has to be asked around.

Sam smile only seems to get wider as the conversation goes on, especially when Lady Delacroix starts asking about 'beau' and then eyeing them critically. They're going to have a lot to talk about later, Christine. At least their meeting seems to be going well, since he knew Christine had been worried about how she would be welcomed.

When it seems that Church is done with his introduction, Sam smoothly retrieves the hand to raise it high enough so that he can kiss the back of Lady Delacroix's knuckles. It's not something he is particularly used to doing, but with the soirees and trips to Val Royeaux, it's been easy to pick up. "Pardon my friend, Lady Delacroix. I believe he's a bit baffled by your own beauty. Thank you for inviting us into your home."

Yes, Sam, they will. Christine is going to endure the teasing, because she's been without a mother cooing over her for more that half of her life. The woman is obviously making up for lost time.

Aimee is certainly expecting a kiss from Church, so when he bows only, she gives him a puzzled smile and tries to recall if there is a certain country where they only bow. Maybe he's the heir to a large fortune in that country! Sam, however, is given a pleased smile. Oh, this one has manners! And is so very good at compliments! What a dear. Christine's face is an odd mix of impressed and suppressed mirth at Sam's clever reply. It distracts her from the sad news she's about to reveal, but only for a moment.

"How charming you are! Please, do sit down. Would you care for refreshments? I was not expecting you. Titine did not write to say you would be coming."

Christine's expression shifts to serious and she gently touches her mother's arm. "There was not time, I am afraid. Maman, would you sit? I have something important to tell you."

Her mother seems surprised, but does as asked, drawing her quilt back over her lap. She looks between Christine -- who sits beside her -- and Sam and Church. What news could this be? Is her daughter getting married? But she looks so serious! Is she with child? Well that's all right as long as someone marries her.

Darcia holds onto Ponce, looking around at the group and wondering if she should put the kettle on. Mistress Christine looks troubled, and maybe some tea would help her? But before she can sneak out to get started, Christine comes out and says it.

"We are here because we visited the front where Père was stationed." She takes her mother's hand in hers. "I am sorry, Maman. They told me he has passed on."

The woman's face falls, her shoulders slump, and she lets out a shaky breath. Darcia throws a fist up to her mouth and lets out a whimper of despair.

"Are they sure? Perhaps there was a mistake, and it was someone else. Perhaps he's missing, and will return?" Aimee is desperately grasping at any explanation she can, but her daughter shakes her head, eyes filling with fresh tears.

"No, it is true. Here." She takes the precious keepsake ring from her pocket and shows it to her mother. Darcia starts crying and buries her face in the dog's fur, turning away. Aimee takes the ring and joins the ladies in their tears.

"Oh, my Luc! I had feared he was gone, but I held out hope! I thought-- I thought the Maker would spare him." She shakes her head, letting out short sobs and pulling a lace handkerchief from inside her sleeve to dab at her nose. "We spoke of it before he left. I thought I had prepared myself, by now?" She puts her face in her hands and cries, and Christine wraps her arms around her, looking back at the men.

"Could you give us a few minutes?"

Darcia turns back, wiping at her face. "They can come with me to the kitchen. I'll put the kettle on." Christine nods and her mother doesn't move from her embrace, so Darcia leads the way out, still carrying the dog. Once in the main hall she turns down another hallway that leads into the kitchen. The windows are open to let out the heat and she waits to close the door after them before setting down Ponce.

"Oh, poor Madame! Monsieur Delacroix was such a lovely man. And now she's without him. They doted on each other so!" Her sniffles continue as she sets a kettle on the fire. There are stools around the center island counter if they wish to sit, but for now, Darcia will talk with fondness about her employers if there's anything they wish to ask.

Good save, Sam. You're a bro. Stupid weird old fancy customs, he's from the 26th century, not the 16th!

But then it's time to actually drop the news of why they're there. And, yeah, it's just as bad as they feared. A room full of crying women should not make him panic, but thank god Christine suggests they step out, and thank god Darcia is gonna put on some water and talk about the family. He's trying not to show uncomfortable panic, but crying ladies how do deal with that actually.

"It's uh. It's a good thing Madame Delacroix sent Christine a letter asking after him, then. Something something a halt on non-military letters and packages being sent from the front lines, who knows how long it might've been before she ever found out. How long has he been away? Is she...is she gonna be okay, here alone, with you?"

"Of course." Sam lingers for a moment longer before he follows after Church and Darcia, letting out a heavy sigh when they make it into the kitchen. It was terrible news but at least it seemed things were going well between Christine and her mother even after all these years.

He's also curious about the family, but Sam continues to stay a bit silent when Church asks his last question. He won't say it out loud, in case it gives anyone an idea, but he is a bit worried that Christine will be asked to return home and stay. "How long have you been working here, Darcia?"

"It has been seven months since he left. His business has been in the care of his apprentice, but now the young man will take over. That is how I understand it." Darcia pauses, gnawing her lower lip in thought before looking down at her lap. "Madame Delacroix will not be able to stay here. She has no income. Her brother told her long ago that if anything should happen to Monsieur, he would take her in, but I do not know if that includes me."

Getting up, she quickly takes down several tea cups from a cabinet before going back for the saucers.

"He lives the next town over, so Maker willing, Madame will bear the journey well." She arranges everything neatly on a tray before looking up at Sam with a sad smile.

"It will be five years this autumn. I was fifteen when I started. My mother was sick and she looked for work for me so I would have a place to go. My father left us long ago. So long ago I do not remember his face. And mon petit frère -- my little brother -- he died when I was thirteen." Now she fetches the sugar bowl and the teaspoons. "The Delacroixs told me about Mistress Christine when she was little. I always wished I could have had a sister like her. She sounded so smart and sweet."

"It'll include you. If her brother can take her in, he can take you, too." Church does not, of course, know this. He has no way of really knowing. Money might be tight enough with an extra person that two might not be able to do, but who couldn't use a bubbly maid?

His secret is that he's always had a bleeding heart. It was just a lot easier to hide it back home. Hey, at least they should be able to get some extra cash in selling the house, right?

Hard to figure out how to talk about anything without it being...awful and sad. Christine, though, she's always a good topic. "She's really smart. And very sweet. Sure, it's been a long time since she's been home, but her parents still raised the kid right while they had her. Spitting image of her mother."

Sam looks to his cup of tea as Church 'confidently' tells Darcia that she will be taken in when Lady Delacroixs has to move. He couldn't say something like that, not sure what kind of person the brother was or his situation. It was nice that Church was attempting to make her feel better.

For a moment he tilts his head towards the door to see if he hears anything from the other room, but there's nothing. Well no yelling was a good thing.

"Hm," he hums lightly adding a sugar cube to his tea. "Christine is definitely smart and sweet. She also works hard and has accomplished a lot in the Inquisition."

"Oh, would you tell me of the Inquisition? We hear such varied reports here. I hardly know what is truth and what is gossip." Darcia does look interested, but it's more needing a distraction right now. She's upset over the loss of the man of the house, but she's trying not to fall apart. Both she and Madame knew to expect this. It was always a possibility. But it's one she didn't want to see come true.

"The Inquisition," dear god it's so hard not to follow that up with 'what a show!', "is a group filled with people from all walks of life dedicated to setting this world back on the right path. And by right path, I mostly mean out of danger of ripping apart. Peacekeeping, where there's peace, and fighting to make peace. Fighting demons, closing rifts in the sky, stuff like that. A little crowded back at HQ, but that's just a sign of how many people are ready and willing to help their fellows without knowing a thing about them."

It's not the slickest sales pitch, but it's something! Even if she's only half paying attention for the sake of distraction.

He's rather thankful that Church didn't say anything like that. Course he wouldn't have given Darcia the kind of pitch he was giving - they weren't trying to recruit her. Since it's been said though-

"That covers a whole lot of it. There are a lot of people from all across the world teaming up together to take care of this threat. We have refugees coming to Skyhold to take shelter and find work as we clear out areas of danger. It's becoming quite the hub. Was there anything in particular that you heard about that you wanted clarification about?"

"Well, I already knew that the Inquistion was taking in refugees. There was some talk that the leaders murdered the Divine--" And here she waves her hands quickly. "Which I never believed! Not for a second. But the rifters. Who are they, really? Some say demons, but that cannot be. They would not have fooled all of you and you would have destroyed them if they were, yes?"

The kettle whistles and she moves to fill up a highly decorated teapot with the water, but she's still obviously ready to listen.

Ahahaha. Ha. Yeah. About those rifters! Sure wanna know who they are, yeah? While she is distracted by the kettle he shoots a quick look at Sam. What do.

"Absolutely. If rifters were really demons, they wouldn't be helping out. They're just people who came here by complete accident, through the rifts, who are just trying to figure out how life in Thedas works. Most of them would rather go back home if they could, but they're just people like you and the Delacroixs."

"I'm glad that you don't believe that rumor, it is completely untrue." Cassandra and Lelianna would be appalled by such a rumor.

Well should've expected that to come up, the subject about Rifters. Once Darcia has turned around, Sam looks to Church, seeing that he's doing just the same. The man looks a little worried about the subject, which Sam give purses his lips and gives a shrug. They'll just have to talk about it, but not necessarily mention that Church was one of these Rifters.

Yeah, just like that, Church.

"As Church has said, they're just people who have been brought here by accident - not demons. They're actually lending their time and energy to help us with this fight."

As they explain who the rifters are, Darcia's expression becomes more fascinated, though she never wavers from setting everything up on the tea tray. It's muscle memory at this point. Tea leaves go in with the water, she fetches the sugar bowl and whatever is left, and when they're finished speaking, she's quick to reply.

"That is good to hear. I wonder what their worlds are like... Well, you must have spoken to some of them. What do they say about--" But whatever else she's planning to say is interrupted as Christine gently opens the door. Ponce starts barking at her and she gives the dog a pursed lip look before entering and walking towards the maid.

"Darcia, my mother asks that you please take these letters to a messenger." She holds out two pieces of parchment, folded and sealed with wax. Though her eyes are red-rimmed, Christine looks steady now. And it seems her mother is enough to have written messages. There are clearly similarities between the two women. They can have a burst of strong emotion, but rally themselves not long after.

Darcia takes the letters and looks at the addresses before nodding and slipping them into the pocket of her apron.

"Right away, Mistress Christine! Oh, I made tea for Madame." She looks over at the tray nervously, wondering if she shouldn't drop it off first before going on her errand, but Christine quickly cuts in with, "I shall take it. Go on." Darcia nods, drops a curtsy, and scurries off to mail the letters. Once gone, Christine sinks down onto a stool and sighs.

"Everything is changing for my mother. My father's apprentice was promised the business if my father died, so she will have no income anymore. Her brother promised to take her in if this happened, so she wrote to him to ask him to pick her up. He will make arrangements to sell the house and furniture, and Maman will have that money at least." Her voice lowers, even though Darcia has left. "She does not know if her brother will allow Darcia to come, and he has said Ponce is absolutely not to come. His daughter is allergic." What a mess. The death of one man affects so much, like a stone thrown into a pond makes ripples that push outward.

It's kind of a blessing to interrupt the conversation, because keeping up the pretense of Hey I'm Totally Not A Rifter gets really hard after a couple sentences out of Church's mouth, generally.

"At least it's not a no, to Darcia," he says with a shrug. "There's a chance for her." Church comes over and rubs Christine's back, a gentle up and down with a broad hand between the shoulders. "Your mom kind of doesn't look super active enough to be making an income. Maybe her brother's got something lucrative enough to go around. You gonna be okay?"

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