When Sulescu Comes Out for it's Own

There is controlled chaos as many people jostle for space politely, swapping chairs and space and purchasing drinks for one another. Many wet cloaks being hung up and laid out. Children shuffling in to cling to their parents respectively. Octavia herself, surprisingly having a boy and a girl of about eight or nine that hold onto her armor quietly. The little girl leans on Milena on the other side, who begins to absently unbraid and rebraid her hair in a very automatic way. The instincts of the families to care for one another, sharing food and making acquaintances with travelling funeral guests. 

There is a clear order of authority for townspeople, which is to speak to Priestess Renate, then Petyr's family, then either Octavia or Neve - then Milena and her family. 

As the silence becomes expectant, a little heavy with the waiting - Neve stands a little forward and stops looking at her own hands finally. 

"Petyr once said that I was good at giving advice. He also said I was bad at taking it." She pauses with a slight pained look at the memory. "So I'm going to share with you the advice I was given about this time, before I had refused to speak and then re-agreed."

Rolling her shoulders, a slightly wet scratch of fabric against her belts and buckles for her weaponry. An apologetic grimace and raising her voice a little more, trying to enunciate properly. 

"Priestess Renate told me I should thank the gods for the time that we all had together. I do. My father said that we need to have a toast to Sulescu. We will." She nods at each person as she shares their advice. Seemingly appreciative of it and of the intention. 

"My mother said I should talk about duty and achievement, so that we show that he was more than this small town. Octavia said that we should talk about the future, that no matter what - his legacy will continue. Milena wanted to make sure I didn't dismiss the nature of love and how that will never die."

"Lastly, his mother and father wanted me to talk about Petyr."

She squares up a little, taking a deep breath that only slightly shakes. Fingers curling up in her layers of chokers, delicate chains and woven ribbon neck adornments that sparkle in the dim lights.

"I'm going to talk about me." In the slightly mortified silence, she takes a drink of water from her cup and returns her hauntingly pale blue eyes to the saturated cobbled floor of the tavern. Her gait is stilted, almost swinging into a limp when she turns back from the table. A mixture of sweat and water clings to her exposed shoulders and drips down onto the layered, wrapped black fabric of her cinched bodice. On the surrounding feminine members of her family, it would look almost indecent and comical with the giant sword and the plate boots - on Renate Neve, it looks like a tactical mix. It looks like she was caught part way through battle and walked into the funeral. Maybe she did. 


"When I was a child, I was sick. Almost all of you know this. I was not allowed outside for a long, long time.  I was born in my house, they thought I would die in my house." 

"Octavia would make sure I had company when she could, she made sure I was told about the outside world from the perspective of the rest of the children. She always held my hand and told me I would be out there. She told me what the rain was like, every day. She complained, every day about this shower of water from the sky. She described all of her friends in the town, the people coming on the ships. I had no concept of the things she would talk about, but I was so grateful for the small gifts she was giving me. "

"One day I heard a new voice at the door. A boy was talking to my mother about something. It was an odd conversation, I know because the intonations and the tones were unique. She was taken aback and she laughed. He left. But the next day he came back and I was allowed to sit at the hinge of a partially opened door and talk to him. "

"Every single day, sometimes more than once a day - he would come and tell me about the Village. He would ask me my opinions, questions, thoughts, feelings. He would pass on messages from other members of his club. He said I could have membership if everyone agreed. It was all I thought about for a long, long time. It was all I lived for, this club that I knew my sister was part of. "

"I stopped thinking about reaching around the room until I found a knife. I stopped thinking about climbing into the warmth of the fire. "

"I don't know if that boy knew he was saving me, I don't know if it was conscience or faith or just the inner core of his being. "

"Obviously that boy was Petyr. The club was the Seafaring Foxes and the conversation he had with my mother was that he wanted to talk to me and the law states that a courting couple must be allowed to talk through a closed door. "

"That's what he was like. He use the rules of the village to court a dying girl. He would take a mischief club into a Karameikos wide business that would bring the village out of severe poverty. He would share his riches. He would probably find a way to make this horrific situation at all relevant in the grand scheme of the world."

Under her breath, she swears quietly and pauses to get her thoughts in line. Looking towards the door and then back to the floor before finishing in a bereft and stilted way. All the patience and stolen confidence leaks out of her body, leaving just the glaring reality of a struggling woman in an overly crowded room. 

"He would have the right things to say here.
That he loved you all.
That Sulescu will gain the favor of the gods and the sun will break through."

She lifts her almost empty cup of water and raises it up. "To Petyr."

Then drains it, gently places it down. Nodding to everyone in a rather formal but oddly aloof way. Walking politely and rather slowly with her stiff legged stalking way to the door and stepping out into the storming afternoon. 

No one seems to react until the door fully shuts. Perhaps wondering if this is some sort of bit or part of the speech. Priestess Renate makes a move to go after her, with a dark expression. Neve's mother and father blocking the way. A very mother-daughter argument ensues, with Octavia shaking her head slowly and speaking quietly to Milena who looks confused but disgruntled.