For as grand as the exterior appeared comparatively to its neighbors, the interior of the residence was proof that the Black family was far from affluent. The wooden floors were worn and had long lost their luster and polish, though they remained sturdy and intact, a testament to their construction and durability. Pale yellow walls exuded a soft warmth but were scuffed and damaged, the color faded from its former glory, as it had been over two decades since they were painted. Interspersed woven rugs were in varying stages approaching threadbare from overuse. Wide windows allowed light to pour into the rooms through curtains that had been bleached by the sun. It was a poor home, but it was clean, and decorated with affection instead of wealth; cheap wooden frames displayed children's artwork or family portraits, chairs had been lovingly patched with aching dedication, and one corner of the front entryway had inked growth charts showing how tall Gerard, Edwin, and Rhiane had grown through the years.

"You... you didn't have to come in!" Rhiane hissed as she flushed. Unlike before it was not his touch that flustered her; it was how she was convinced he'd look down upon the house she grew up in. She was intimately aware how accustomed he was to the luxuries of the palace. It was one thing to be draped in finery and paraded around the capitol with everyone aware of her background, it was quite another to take someone who had only known decadent comfort, who held impossibly high standards, and escort them through the place from whence she came. The former farmer was proud, but she could not help but be both slightly embarrassed and worried. Were the decision up to her, she'd never grant access to anyone, no reporters, no adoring fans, not even Luke, so that her vulnerabilities lay hidden and a tiny fraction of her privacy was preserved.

"Don't you have work to do?" she whispered in protest as she walked further into the house. To the left and right were open doorways that led to a dining room, absent any fine china or works of art to awe guests, and an office with an old desk, on top of which was a computing device, but was surrounded by unsorted papers. Hand-written notes were tacked to the wall and tools were scattered around on the floor. This had once been where Rhiane did most of her work, but her absence and untidy family had left it in total disarray, their lack of organization glaringly offensive to her gaze.

Passing a set of stairs, Rhiane walked towards the back of the house where the majority of the floor was dominated by a kitchen and living area, the latter of which contained the contentious Hubert Black and Gerard Black. The room was dominated by a large stone fireplace, whose logs were lit to help bring a comfortable level of heat. For seating there was a long sofa and two armchairs that flanked it, all of a deep brown approaching black, small rips in the upholstery stitched together and covered with blankets. The tables in the room were made of solid wood. Rural parts of New Rome found that they could fell trees on their property and trade a carpenter for their services easier than they could buy more expensive furnishings.

Hubert Black was a large, burly man, with dark hair that had begun to turn silver. His hands were calloused from a life of hard labor and his skin had darkened to a deep bronze. While a life toiling outdoors had certainly weathered his skin, he had handsome, chiseled features, and would have been easily able to attract a new wife were he so inclined. He wore an off-white button-up shirt, rolled up to the elbows, a simple pair of trousers, and black work boots. More notably he was as tall as Sebastian. It was from her father than Rhiane inherited her height, though he had contributed other attractive parts of her genetics as well.

Gerard Black was shorter than both Hubert (and Sebastian), but bore a striking resemblance to his father. His hair was darker than his sister's and shoulder-length, tied back at the nape of his neck. He had brown eyes, unlike Rhiane's green, and had an athletic figure that was less broad than his partner's. Perhaps in protest he wore a black shirt, black slacks, and black boots, as if he were in mourning. A scowl was already painted on his lips in anticipating of their arriving gifts. When he smiled he could stop the hearts of his admirers, but when he was angry his looks made him all that much more severe and foreboding, his stare sharp and relentless.

"How [i]dare[/i] you come back here with [i]him![/i]" Hubert's voice thundered with fury.

"How dare [i]you[/i] try to forbid your only daughter from returning to her home," Rhiane countered back quickly angrily, her temper ignited instantly. "Did you think refusing to talk to me would have made mother happy?"

"Don't you speak her name or Edwin's! You lost that right the moment you left to enter the contest, supporting their [i]murderers[/i]!" Hubert all but yelled with equal amounts of pain and unbridled rage in his voice.

"SIT DOWN," she ordered them sternly. Hubert and Gerard had both been standing when they entered the room and balked at this sudden demand. Sebastian had walked in behind casually with his hands in his pockets and said nothing. He did not need to. Rhiane was the smallest person in the room but she had such an authoritative tone, such an unapologetic ally hostile insistence, that she could have quieted a theatre full of disrespectful children. "I said to [i]sit down[/i], or I'll have a bodyguard come in and make you," she threatened before clearing her throat. "Sebastian, would you mind if the three of you took the couch?" she asked more sweetly.