Lorenzo and Fiona Delorano
Fiona's pale blue eyes watched the Crow intently as he spoke watching the eyes that barely showed through the slit crevices of his mask. A small breeze carried it's way in from the open balcony shifting the seems on her elegant black gown lightly almost giving the illusion that she was floating, if only briefly. Nalia's voice hit her ears with cold stubbornness and immaturity just before to voice of the crow made it's announcement towards the onslaught of questions thrown at him.
Fiona kept her composure through it all took a light breath and then parted her lips before speaking in a softer more subdue and understanding voice, ”Apologies Crow for my rudeness at your arrival, surely you understand the apprehension at your sudden appearance. Please speak your piece on the words the assassin you apprehended spoke.”
Fiona's hands were still clasped together in front of her before she shifted slightly and looked towards her niece who was still eying her from her position at the table unwarranted anger in her eyes and uncalled for disdain in her voice. A small, sweet smile graced her face as she spoke. ”My dear niece, we shall surely have a discussion on this matter when the time and place is more appropriate. All I will say on this matter is that it was a circumstance which occurred years past to which your father, my brother, requested I make the connection.”
Fiona was not amused at the situation that fell into her lap and understood the next few years would be trying and frustrating to say the least, her physical disposition and appearance, however, did not change though her thoughts did. She shifted her eyes towards Meldyr, they were somewhat warmer then they had been throughout the evening, her small smile still displaying itself on her elegant face and silky skin. When she met his eyes her voice was gentle and pleasant, ”My friend, would you be so kind as to have one of your men retrieve the assassin that fell to my balcony? If he is still alive I believe it would be imperative to hear what he has to say.”
her voice was neither condescending or rude. It was gentle and sweet.
The fire that warmed the room crackled as the crows eyes were landed on Junipers. It hissed and flipped in it's ritualistic tribal dance of energy and warmth as if attempting to break up the tension in the room. The orange light reflected off the well carves and finished wooden tables that encompassed it. Lorenzo, shifted his eyes from person to person, still standing as a guard by his mothers side. He knew his mother well enough not to interrupt her in these types of moments and wait to ask questions until they were in a more private setting.