Music and Stone (Closed)

[The Rambler]

Henry had only a few moments to ponder her words before the stampede reached him. The three energetic brats who had latched onto him on the street were the first to reach them, having been certain of his arrival. "Henry! You did bring the short lady! Yay!" This came from Theo, who was now clinging to Henry's side. Behind these three though came four more children near their age - preteens, bubbling over with energy and excitement. Henry had only a moment to twist himself as he was swarmed under children, and he fell over, landing on his side with laughter bubbling out of his throat.

"Easy, easy you little monsters!" He had been holding his fiddle out when he toppled over, and his outstretched arm was now poking through the seven children who were hugging their victim tightly. The kids were talking, babbling over one another in their excitement as they refused to let one another get an opportunity to speak alone. Each one wanted Henry's attention on them, and didn't want to give it up to any of the others.

Except for Theo, who had leapt off of Henry when the older male had fallen over. The boy was now standing close to the dark-skinned girl, and was beaming at her with the kind of grin only children could match. Down the halls, more footsteps were coming, albeit at more sedate paces. Soon enough a range of teens came into view, though there was only one as old as Henry in attendance, all the others were younger by several years. Three looked to be young teens themselves, closer in age to the kids that had swarmed the musician, while two of them looked to be the same age as the teen who had come into town earlier. That teen, Lethro, was not present at the moment. The last two teens looked to be a couple years older than the other.

"Children. That is enough, do be so kind as to allow your brother to regain his feet." The sharp, strident voice barked out a command from one doorway, as the speaker stepped into view. It was clear this was Matilda, an older woman with a shock of stark white hair pulled up into a severe bun on the back of her head. She was leaning, ever so slightly, on a polished metal cane. At her command, the six kids that were still laughing and keeping Henry on the ground rapidly moved off of the brown-haired man, finally allowing him to stand up. He rose, and moved over to the old woman, who peered up at him through half-moon glasses. Henry took her hand and bowed over it, and she studied him for a moment.

"You've grown. I thought you had finished with that, Henry. Now give me a proper hug, you scoundrel." Henry let out a helpless laugh and wrapped his arms around Matilda, who gave him a brief hug back, patting his hip with her cane. Then her eyes swung to the short, dark skinned woman, and they narrowed, measuring the woman. "Who is this then? You haven't gone and gotten some poor girl pregnant, have you?" Her gaze swung back to Henry, who had turned a vivid red.

"N-no! Mother Matilda, no! I met her in town, and the kids invited her along." The old woman harrumphed and turned her attention to the girl again.

[Yvonne]

Yvonne effortlessly sidestepped the stampede, letting Henry have it. She recognized the kids from the street, especially Theo. They tackled him before anyone else could. Soon he was overrun by seven kids in all, more than enough teamwork to bring him down. Their energy, their elation for their brother returned home - their love for him assured the half-dwarf that the affection she had for him was warranted. Their cheering in unison, their happy shrieks as they collapsed to the floor told her the story of Henry, greatest big brother in the whole universe. There was no doubt in her mind, this was a man she needed to get to know better.

Theo stood out from his brothers and sisters, the only child brave enough, curious enough - or perhaps the only child unaffected by racial differences - to come close to her. It was a simplistic act but in doing so he separated himself from his little peers. Apart from Henry he was the only one to take a place at the mixed blood's side. The gesture of good will was not lost on her, knowing if the rest of the kids turned against her he might be picked on too. She had to make sure that didn't happen, but as more and more kids arrived in the lobby from adjoining rooms she felt light-headed. There was so many hearts for her to win over and she had no idea how to accomplish that feat. Perhaps if she could somehow impress the majority, the remainders would be convinced by their siblings to give her a chance.

The matriarch of the house commanded the children to let Henry be and their discipline, the way Matilda had disciplined them was unmistakable. The kids fell back in line immediately, their time of play was over. Yvonne's eyes were drawn to the all-powerful woman - her presence in the room carried authority, her word was law in this place. You broke that law at your own peril and no one would side with you against the matron. You broke her rules and you were on your own. Yvonne learned all of this in a matter of seconds, from the body language of the children, from the suddenly stringent atmosphere.

Henry paid his respects to his foster parent, a bow, a hug and some brief catching up she was owed. It wasn't long before Yvonne was beneath Matilda's severe scrutiny. She was measuring the newcomer for the kind of woman she was, the matriarch questioned her moral fiber and whether she was a good person. Indeed, a worthy question to seek the answer to. The matron was a lioness deciding between welcoming a hyena among her cubs or aggressively chasing it off. It wouldn't have been a difficult choice if Henry hadn't been caught up in the mix, but here they were, seemingly together.

The old woman's question of pregnancy brought a coy smile to Yvonne's cheeks. She lowered her eyes modestly, flicked a look at Henry and noticed his beetroot-red embarrassment. She couldn't help but giggle at that but felt fairly certain Mama Matilda wasn't kidding around, so she kept her composure. Not yet he hasn't, though he definitely be thinking about getting me pregnant now. Thank ye for that. It be a great way ta put tha order in for grandchildren. Yvonne was grinning happily at her own thoughts and the matron wasn't impressed at all.

"Hello," the hyena began unsteadily, an uncommon bout of nerves claiming her stomach. Awkward pause, but she found her voice. "Me name be Yvonne, of the dwarven clan Mythrilmantle." The clan name sounded fancy but she didn't include it for flair. It was a significant signed agreement of transparency, intended for Matilda's knowledge. Her clan name gave the lioness the hyena's identity and information on a person could be very valuable, especially if you knew how to exploit it.

With Yvonne declaring who she was should anything happen to the cubs (Henry included) Matilda could hunt down the hyena's pack in its own territory and hold every Mythrilmantle accountable for the transgression. Not personally of course, but you didn't reach her age without meeting a problem-solver or two. The cane she leaned upon was gently utilized and those wrinkles didn't indicate frailty - far from it. They were proof the matriarch had thrice the life experience when compared with the diminutive drow before her. The hybrid would never underestimate what the shrewd old woman was capable of.

Fear of the unknown was one of the most frightening fears experienced by humans. As the rowdy children descended into hushed silence, they stared, wondering why Yvonne looked the way she did. Her silver eyes passed over each of their faces. She'd seen these faces before. Anxiety, bewilderment and confusion, mistrust and suspicion, sneering and sniggering, uncertainty, wide-eyed wonder. Why can't I look normal? It hurt, all of it. Of course it did though she concealed it masterfully, focusing on Theo's beaming grin. She smiled so warmly at him but expressing her gratitude almost brought tears to her eyes. He was her little rock right now and this was not the time to reveal weakness.

In this moment her place was to show respect, for the matron of the house, for the wards in her care and for the house itself, territory in which she was currently trespassing - seemingly without good reason. Let's face it, the invitation of a child does not compare to the lady of the house's acceptance, and that acceptance had yet to be earned. Yvonne's opportunity at an extraordinary first impression was elapsing. The silence in the room was deafening. She could do so much more than this.

Yvonne spoke to Matilda and Matilda alone.

"When I learned there be an orphanage here I wanted ta offer assistance. Minding so many wee ones must be very difficult. I would like ta volunteer a hand. An extra pair of lookers ta keep an eye on the young ones wouldn't go astray. I'm well practiced in tha art of keeping a house clean, no stranger ta hard work and I know me way around a kitchen. Yer home be very beautiful in me honest opinion. Ma owns an establishment of similar size and splendor. Given a chance I could help set tha table, serve dinner and clean up afterward. Ye'll be having no trouble from this one, I assure ye."

With that Yvonne had said her piece and she lowered her head, her silver eyes cast to the floorboards. Her black hands held the edges of her equally black skirt which she gently pulled aside. The hybrid placed her right heel behind her left and bent her knees, back rigidly straight as she lowered herself into a curtsy, a curtsy which she held. Yvonne knew her place. She would stay here, painfully low, her eyes closed. She would not arise until the matron of the house allowed it. Comfort in her home was hers alone to give.

Matilda's turn to decide between kindness and cruelty.

[The Rambler]

"Hmm." Mother Matilda let out a distinctly non-committal noise as she studied Yvonne. The air was tense, though not with hostility, but more of an air of uncertainty, not that any sign of that at all showed on the old woman's face. Even bright, shining Theo began to fidget a little bit as Matilda judged the woman. Eventually, the white-haired woman rapped her cane twice on the ground, and swung her piercing gaze back to Henry.

"Well now. For a first guest that you have brought home since you began your travels, this one is certainly polite enough. Rise, girl. Guests do not help set tables, and for now that is your role. Oliver, Tamara, Hector." Three of the children straightened up. "You three are not guests. Go with Adrianna, set the table and begin bringing out the stew." Adrianna, a brown-eyed blonde, was apparently close to Henry's age, the only adult other than Henry and Matilda who called the orphanage home. She ushered the children in her charge away, and that seemed to break the spell on the others, who almost all disappeared, though they could easily be heard rushing about to washrooms and the sound of running water soon followed.

The other teens all headed off to their own chores, leaving Henry, Yvonne, and Matilda alone in the entry hall. The old woman was silent for a moment, before breaking the quiet. "I'll not say we need more help at the moment, girl. The older children look after the younger, and Adrianna and Henry, when this rapscallion decides to visit, provide ample role models. But talks of business can be saved for after dinner, when the young ones have all gone off to bed. Now come you two. Henry, do tell me how you met this pleasant young foreigner." As she questioned the musician, she was already walking at a stately pace down the hall. Henry blinked twice, and ran one hand through his hair, pushing some of the shaggy locks away from his face before he gave the dark-skinned woman a nod and followed after the caretaker.

"We encountered each other in a market, albeit unexpectedly. There was definitely an impact when we met, I can say that." Matilda paused at the threshold of a door when Henry answered her, and cast one sharp eye over her shoulder at the young man, who gave her a bright smile. The white-haired woman snorted and swept into the room, pushing the door open to reveal a long dining hall. The table and chairs weren't in peak condition, but did seem cared for - though it was easy to see that people of different levels of skill had repaired different chairs at times.

Matilda took her seat beside the head of the table, in one of the more intact and well-prepared chairs. Henry was thumped with her cane, which then pointed at some hooks near the door, and he let out a sheepish laugh before removing his pack and hanging it on one, then pulled off his travel cloak and hung it over the same hook. He turned his attention to Yvonne. "Do you have anything you need hung up, Miss Yvonne?" He tilted his head to one side.

Behind him, the children that had been named earlier were flitting in and out of the dining room, setting out plates with low, wide-rimmed bowls at various spots. Mugs and pitchers soon followed. Adrianna came in, bearing a large pot from which steam could be seen wafting upwards - and with it, came a strong scent of tomatoes and meat. This was set down at the end of the table, at the head of the table next to Matilda.

"You gotta sit next to me and Bubba. S'the rules, guests sit next to the people who invited them!" Bright, energetic, curious Theo spoke up, from where he was still hanging near Yvonne's side. He was pointing at the seat across from Matilda - the seat to the other side of the head of the table where the full pot of stew had been settled.

[Yvonne]

Yvonne arose, allowing her skirt to flow where it may. As simple as that. Now she was welcome at the orphanage - and so the age-old riddle was answered. What happens when an unstoppable force collides with an immovable object? They revealed their respect for each other - Yvonne and Matilda - and they each carried on unchanged, remaining themselves. Henry's escort continued to be undeniable and the lady of the house endured, unshakable. One would have her way one way or another - the other had everything the way she wanted it.

Three children were hand-picked to help Adrianna - a young woman close to Henry and Yvonne's age - set the table and serve dinner. Every remaining child knew what time it was about to become, and more importantly the tasks they needed to complete before it did, without another word from Mother Matilda. Nothing further necessary. No stragglers. Such was her influence over them, her power and authority.

Yvonne hoped beyond hope that, one day, she would wield the same unspoken, unthreatened sway over others. So much power that she needed not even exert it. Power enough that others merely did what they knew she needed done. No complaints. No questions asked. Her people would have an understanding. They would know she was doing what was right. They would realize she was a woman who could achieve the impossible. They would recognize they all had a vital role to play, to help her achieve a world free of suffering.

It seemed a distant dream, knowing her place in society now. Considered an outcast in her own homeland, and - as Matilda put it so eloquently - a foreigner in this one. She was an outsider in every land she had ever set foot - from Alerar to Dheathain, from Fallien to Scara Brae. She cared for every nation but it didn't matter where she was, the people that lived there looked upon her with disdain. One day, she promised herself, one day that would all change. She would make it so.

The diminutive drow gave Henry an affectionate smile. She laughed inwardly - though it touched her eyes - about his explanation of their meeting, its double-meaning. To be interpreted however one wished, and Yvonne knew by Matilda's snort which way she had leaned. They made their way into the dining hall, the heart of the house - a room that brought all-comers together in one place. She was moved by the matron's acceptance, to be welcomed into her home, to share a place among her family.

Yvonne had not forgotten her manners, unlike Henry. She'd not approached the table without cleansing herself of unnecessary articles of clothing. "Thank ye dear. Yer very kind," she answered fondly. Hanging her goggles up made her nervous, as the lenses were glass and could easily be broken, especially when childlike hands became curious. Her scarf was a lesser concern. Drawing it out long from her neck, she pulled it one-handed, looping it over the same wall-hook her goggles dangled from much as Henry had done. The rest of her belongings, her backpack and herb kit in particular she had left behind, in her room at the inn.

A familiar voice piped up beside her - a voice she was growing to love, a little more every time she listened to him - Theo, explaining where she was to sit and who to sit with. She was so impressed with his knowledge of protocol, with his willingness to give advice and share what he understood with people he barely knew. He was a remarkable little boy.

"Those be excellent rules and I'll be sure ta follow them ta tha letter," Yvonne replied adoringly. She bent down to his level - it wasn't far - and whispered to him. "Don't tell Henry, but I get ta sit next ta me favourite tonight," she confessed to the young one, causing both of them to beam grins and extracting another secretive giggle from Theo, her eyes flicking to Henry whom had naturally overheard. She pulled out the chair for the little one and he leaped up onto it with his notable energy, staring at her appreciatively. Henry was already seated to her left and she raised an eyebrow at him, contemplating how he'd managed to acquire a nickname like Bubba from the darling to her left, Theo.

Yvonne made certain that every adult, every boy and girl had taken their place at the dining table, and only then did she allow herself to sit. Her position at the table was a corner chair to Henry's right. The wandering minstrel was seated at the head of the table, while Matilda perched on the chair to Henry's left, across from Yvonne. The table positioning spoke volumes. The arrangement was telling, without words.

Matilda and Yvonne, while they were each Henry's greatest supporters in their own way, sitting closest to him, would also be at odds with each other. The grey dwarf needed to be very careful not to offend the matron, or allow their supposed 'business' discussion after dinner to degrade into an argument. Letting that happen might damage Henry's support structure and both sides were important to him. Likewise Matilda had to allow Yvonne at least a fleeting chance, lest she offend the man of the house. They needed to co-operate. When all was said and done however he would have the final say - everyone would need to respect his decision.

The dark-skinned dwarf kept her mouth closed. She would not even look at the food, not until her host bid her do so. I wonder whether they say grace here or not.

[The Rambler]

Henry settled into the seat at the head of the table, and let some of his tension fade. He was not stupid - he had caught the heavy air between his guest and Mother Matilda, but he was not about to interfere in their unspoken dance of wills. Both of them did seem to be settling for the dinner meal, so for now at least he could let things be. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled gently, then smiled to Yvonne, and looked across the table.

Adrianna and her helpers had brought in platters carrying the bread that he had brought in, sliced up. What wasn't in the stew to help thicken it, that was. In front of him was the large crock pot holding the rich stew, and beside it was a stack of bowls. Pitchers and cups sat near the spots that everyone was now filling, the younger kids squirming as they fidgeted in their seats. Henry cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself as he lifted his voice.

"Alright everyone. We're going to have a few moments of silence so you all can say your prayers. For those who don't worship, just remain silent and respectful." Of course, being kids, it was unlikely they'd be able to remain silent the entire time, but at least they would try, and Henry knew none of them would actively speak up. Silence held reign as his bright blue eyes swept along the table.

The smallest children were mumbling audibly, their words just barely below understandable. They tried, but they weren't used to being quiet normally. The older children did better, either only mouthing the words, or being silent as one observed the teenagers. There were a few who were different though - Mother Matilda was openly praying to the Thaynes, asking them to watch over those she had taken into her household. Adrianna and Henry were also different - the two eldest of the orphans were both silently watching over the table.

Henry nodded to Adrianna and slid his eyes over to Yvonne, curious to see if his impromptu guest was praying herself. From what he knew, the Aleran people tended to hold no faith in religion, and most actively disliked magic. Still, there were always outliers in any given group, so he wasn't immediately discounting the fact that she might say grace herself. He didn't let his gaze remain on her for very long, though, instead shifting in his seat and clearing his throat, breaking the hush.

"Alright you lot." He began ladling out the stew and passing it around, gaging each bowl for who it would end up with and filling it more or less depending on what he remembered their appetites were like. The loaves of bread were broken and spread around, at least one slice going to everyone. Henry filled a smaller portion for mother Matilda, and tore apart her slice of bread for her as she gave him a brief, tight smile of thanks.

"How much would you like, Miss Yvonne?" The man raised one eyebrow as he turned his attention to her, ladle hovering over a bowl for her. She was the only one he didn't know the actual preference for, so he was hesitant to overfill her bowl.

"Henry, Henry! Tell us about your travels! Come on, tell!" It seemed the children were eager to be regaled, and the minstrel gave the silver-eyed woman a sheepish grin as he filled her bowl partially.

"Children." The sharp word from Matilda quieted most of the youths down, though she swung her own sharp gaze to Henry. "They are not wrong to ask, merely in how they ask. Your letter home have been infrequent, young man." Henry laughed ruefully and rubbed the back of his head.

"Come now, I've not been gone that long! How much mischief could I possibly have gotten-"

"You forget that you did mention the bandits?" It was Adrianna who cut him off, and Henry paused and blinked, his eyes going wide.

"Yea yea, the bandits! Come on Henry, tell us about them!" This came from of the children who had helped Adrianna out in the kitchen - apparently, the little girl felt obliged to help out. Henry shook his head.

"Peace you lot, peace! Right. The bandits, the bandits... Ah, yes. I hat was when I saved the damsel in distress." The sounds of dinner quieted, and Henry saw Matilda raise an eyebrow. He grinned. "Oh yes. Three rather brutish men, attacking one woman alone in the woods. I could not exactly stand aside, so of course I went to help. And I proved how smart it is to pay attention in your lessons with the armsmaster in town - the bandits were quickly beaten! Arrows flew, and staves spun as they were taken out. Only -" Henry smirked and took a bite of his stew, slowly savoring it. He heard a whine, and chuckled before continuing.

" Only I found out that it was no damsel in distress - in fact, I ended up having to save the bandits!" He heard one of the young girls gasp. "Mmm, yes. They'd picked the wrong person to attack - their would-be victim was actually a kind of - now don't let this scare you - a kind of vampire. Thankfully, I was able to convince her to let the men go without killing them, at least the two that survived the attack. Rather nice woman, when she wasn't trying to kill someone." He laughed.

[Yvonne]

The Aleran wasn't praying to anyone.

The pervasion of sel darthirii enlightenment which had spread over her own dwarven customs, like tar over grass thousands of years ago saw to that. The dark elven way was all Yvonne had been taught. For the tutor of her youth to teach her anything more cultured would have been inviting punishment into their multi-functional home, if they were ever caught in the act of religious education. Possibly even death to her teacher, depending on the severity of the crime. Dwarven religion had been stamped out, their idols shattered into rubble and their minds brainwashed toward thoughts more experimental, mechanical and scientific. Their deities were abolished while their mastery of the pickaxe, the hammer and anvil was encouraged.

That didn't mean Yvonne had to like it. Far from it. It was funny really. Ironic. The same encouragement of broad-mindedness, free-thinking and progressive, revolutionary thoughts led her to question those that oppressed her. In doing so she had come to the conclusion that her dark elven overseers were in the wrong - that they should never have affected the peoples in their way all those years ago so monumentally, when they invaded her homeland. Everywhere that Yvonne had tread she had sought co-existence with the people around her, because of the way she had been treated in her youth. She may have given a disciplinary scolding to individuals who didn't co-exist peacefully with others, but tyranny wasn't exactly her thing.

She rebelled against tyranny, especially here, safely on the other side of the known world. Here at the dinner table of humans, not a dark elf in sight to dispute her actions - where there was no fear of reprisal - she silently said grace. Her back remained straight in her chair, her almond-shaped eyes closed plainly for all to see, those they dared flick a look when they should have been saying grace themselves. Hers was not a prayer to anyone in particular which she was aware of, and yet, she did hope for someone, somewhere out there to be hearing her.

Protect those which be unable ta protect themselves. Lift tha downtrodden from tha earth beneath ye and punish those that put them there. Guide tha outcasts of this world toward refuge and cast out into tha cold those that exiled them. If ye cannot then lend me tha influence ta do so for ye. I acknowledge ye have gifted me with refuge and sustenance one more time tonight and I will not squander tomorrow. For safeguarding me so that I might safeguard others, I thank ye.

Henry's voice brought her attention back to the here and now, her black eyelids receding and revealing silver. Her love interest was cradling a meal bowl in one hand and wielding a ladle with the other, wondering how much soup she sought. Yvonne smiled appreciatively - there were those gentleman's manners of his again, preparing her dinner for her - and she raised a humble open hand barely above the tabletop to slow him.

"Only a modest serving for me, thank you Henry. I be tubbly bubbly enough about tha middle already, no need ta encourage me," Yvonne divulged. The comment caused a ripple of giggles to cascade around the table throughout the children, though truthfully - as far as dwarven standards went specifically - she was lean with a tight middle and wide hips. She was definitely happy with her breaking of the ice, so many delighted smiling faces looking at her now.

Yvonne nodded softly knowing Henry had only partly filled her bowl, beaming a smile at him while the titters of their reactions quietened down. She relieved him of the bowl and placed it before her, not touching it yet as it would be rude to dig in immediately. Instead she filled her cup, from the pitcher nearest her with water, also leaving it be for the moment.

The grey dwarf listened closely as Henry unfolded a tale from his travels. She covertly rolled her eyes at how cliché the story was going to be - a heroic young man that arrives in the nick of time to save the damsel in distress, reluctantly called to action by his moral compass, overcoming overwhelming odds and saving the day.

Colour her intrigued when she learned the damsel in this story knew how to fend for herself, slaying and perhaps feeding on one of her aggressors-turned-victims, and the hero had to rescue the two foolish men which had underestimated the woman. Yvonne grinned, her eyes aglow with amusement and curiosity. Noticing the host of the table had begun to chew his stew the foreigner acquired her spoon, lifting a sip for herself. Mmm, deliciously simplistic. It could use a herb, some spices...

It was not Yvonne's place to question the meal set before her and she did enjoy it, truthfully. Difficult to be completely satisfied with a basic meal, that's all, considering her culinary skills were quite practiced. That said she'd been on the open road long enough to accept anything she was given. It be leagues ahead of tha time I fed meself on cave-slime and witchetty grubs. Perhaps all it required was a little more crunch, like that time in the cave. A piece of bread to go with her soup and she was quite content.

[The Rambler]

"Alright children, that's enough questions for your brother. Finish eating and wash up for bed." Matilda's soft, stern voice cut off any further questions from the young children that were clustered around the table, and the kids resumed eating with only mild looks of disappointment on their faces. Henry himself let out a slight chuckle and nodded to the matriarch of the orphanage, as he too focused on eating. Silence descended on the table as the boys and girls, young and teens proved their hunger, devouring the hearty stew and the loaves of bread that were on the table.

Afterwards, it was Adrianna and Lethro who corralled the younglings into actually clearing up the table, shepherding them away and leaving the table clear. When the last of the dishes had been taken away, Matilda calmly folded her hands together on the table in front of her. Henry leaned back in his seat slightly, his own hands dropping down to rest on the arms of the chair as he tilted his head to one side, eyes flicking between the two women.

"So then, Miss Yvonne. You hope to help here, at the orphanage. I can see that you are no stranger to hard work, and the children are not likely to think your skin tone strange, nor your size overly much - they are young after all, and not yet exposed to entrenched opinions of the region. But I must wonder on why this desire, to help near total strangers - do you merely hope to gain familiarity with the region and go your own way after a period of time?" Shrewd eyes focused on the dark skinned woman.

"Or do you, perhaps, think to work here to get close to this ruffian?" Henry let out a snort at Matilda's words, and shook his head slightly. The old woman didn't know it, but he had only met Yvonne this day, only shortly before the children found him in the village. He rather doubted the foreign woman was all that interested in him - he was a simple, rather boring man in his own opinion. His words died unspoken when Matilda cut her gaze to him, and he shook his head with a rueful smile.

"If the latter is the case, I hope you are aware that the vagabond does not spend much time here, visiting only once every few months or so. Or - is there something else propelling you to this possible opportunity?" Henry temporarily 'quelled', the old woman refocused her intense, studying gaze on Yvonne once more. Watching her, weighing her.

[Yvonne]

Yvonne sipped two more spoonfuls of her soup making that three altogether. This was the polite moment to enter into the conversation. She’d had a modest taste of dinner and the twenty questions had begun. The Alerian brought her napkin to her lips delicately, resettling it over her lap afterward.

“I offered me services ta keep meself busy, Mother. I don’t like ta rest on me laurels. Time be short and there be much ta do,” Yvonne explained, feeling unusually reserved beneath Matilda’s unrelenting gaze.

Was it how matter-of-factly she broached the subjects of her skin tone and lack of height? Or was it the civilized accusation she was going to leave this place before long regardless - she was essentially unreliable. Yvonne resumed her soup-sipping, tasting another three spoonfuls to give herself a moment to assemble her defenses, gather her resolve. It was folly to lie to an elderly woman and foolish to speak in half-truths. Their experience always allowed them to see right through you.

“In truth yer polite decline won’t discourage me - tha baker, tha blacksmith or tha local inn all may have need of me. It be an intention of mine ta ingratiate meself with as many of Stonevale’s inhabitants as possible. Yer orphanage be tha first stop toward proving ta tha people here there be more than one side ta dark elves. That one of us be worthy of trust and respect. That one of us can stand out from tha rest as kind and helpful,” Yvonne revealed, feeling somewhat insecure as she was laid bare before the old woman’s harsh scrutiny.

The half-dwarf took another bite of her bread, blinking her confused silver eyes many times, feeling long-winded like she had said too much and yet disconnected - said too little. She tried to keep the sigh from escaping her but it wouldn’t listen. At least it was soft.

“Yer right ta allude toward tha probability I may be moving on in time. Henry and I have it in common. Goodbye be a certainty but it doesn’t mean I can’t lend a hand here in tha meantime. I have allies and friends in far away places and one day their call will take me away from this quiet little burb,” the grey dwarf admitted, having a drink from her glass of water. The cool liquid felt cleansing and revitalizing.

Feeling better Yvonne concluded her little speech, saying, “That said I never forget where I’ve come from and I believe tha next generation after me be of utmost importance. The wee ones deserve tha best chance at a good life, a better upbringing than mine, because one day they will be tha ones influencing society. A rough time of it when young could have an adverse affect on them during their adult life.”

Yvonne fell silent. Her eyes subtly widened. She may have overstepped her place there - that last sentence could be construed as insulting to her adversary.

Yvonne, Yvonne, Yvonne… ye and yer big mouth. She glanced at Henry for support.

[The Rambler]

"Each and every one of my children bears a stigma of their own, child." Matilda's voice was steady and hard as she stared at Yvonne, her fingers laced in front of her. Henry himself had leaned back in his chair and was rubbing his chin, his eyes tilted up as he thought. Matilda continued on, her gaze boring into Yvonne's silver eyes. "Orphans, either of the War or of attacks on the villages in the area." Henry's eyes snapped towards the orphanage caretaker, his lips thinning into a hard line. The old woman tilted her head to him for a moment, considering him, then rolled one shoulder in a brief shrug.

"Hm. Well then." Matilda's eyes flickered away from Henry, and she seemed to subside. Her fingers drummed against her hands as she thought for a second before continuing.
"If you wish to help and will not be dissuaded from that course of action, then I will not argue that we do not need help. Very well. There is plenty of room here in this old house, even with the children all present we rattle like peas in an empty tin. I'm sure Henry can help you find a room to claim as your own. In exchange, I shall take you up on your offer of assistance around the house it will be pleasant to have another with etiquette helping me train the children." She let out a short snort after she finished speaking, and her imposing gaze swung back to the male in the room.

"Henry, how long will you be staying? I am sure the children are looking forward to spending time with you." Henry hummed and rapped his fingers on the table, the strikes against the wood falling into a tempo as he thought.

"I will probably spend a week or two here. I know the munchkins have missed me, and I want to see how their music lessons are progressing." Matilda let out a soft chuckle, a tired sound as she shook her head. "Oh come now, don't tell me they've all chosen other arts, at least one of them had to chase after me, right?" Henry was grinning slightly as he asked the question, and the old woman shrugged again.

"I know one of them has been sneaking into the music room to practice, but they hide whenever anyone else comes around. Other than that, no, most of them are only giving it the minumum of effort. You know how it is, my dear. You were the odd one out, not the norm." Matilda gave Henry a fond smile, and the man ran long fingers through his hair as he let out a rueful sigh. "Now then. I shall leave you two discussions, and do make sure to show her to an empty room." Matilda rose gracefully from her seat, and bowed to Yvonne once. Henry nodded, once, as the older woman strode out of the room purposefully.

When she was gone, he leaned back in his seat again, tipping it back onto its rear two legs. His knees caught on the table and prevented him from going back any further as he brought his hands up and laced his fingers together behind his head, turning his bright blue eyes to the dark-skinned woman sitting beside him. She was still eating, at a far more sedate pace than the children had after Matilda told them to finish. The musician hummed under his breath, a soft tune.

"You're not the only one, you know. I've heard of another drow wandering the outer lands, though he seems to stick to the Salvar region. Some kind of mercenary hunter, takes odd jobs for villages that can't afford normal hunting squads. I -" He broke off for a moment. "Not making light of you, miss Yvonne. Just letting you know that you aren't alone."

[Yvonne]

Yvonne felt thoroughly returned to her place as Matilda replied, the Mother’s tone bringing her back down to earth, the finality of her statement reminding her she was still a child in the eyes of this woman. She still had so much to learn, for all she had learned thus far and for how she’d been forced to maturity so swiftly. There was plenty yet in need of her consideration.

It was often difficult to walk the fine line between truly asserting herself and remaining behind the line in the sand of courtesy. For someone who had been bludgeoned to the point of near death as a child she easily overcompensated with who she was and the things she deemed needed saying. Others hadn’t spared her a thought back then - excluding her own mother, who was the most wonderful parent she’d ever known, and her mother’s girls of course - but everyone outside her front door had been hostile until Abel. So to keep others in mind as she made statements about her beliefs - let’s face it, she tried her best as she’d been tutored but there was refinement to be approached yet.

Henry’s astute rescue hadn’t escaped her sensitive silver eyes. She was more than aware of how effective well-timed facial expressions and body language could be in alleviating a potential argument. Neither was she ignorant to the notion that Henry had chosen to oppose his Matron’s line of thinking and side with the hybrid, brokering a peace between the three of them perhaps, but at what cost?

Yvonne had a sneaking suspicion the happy go lucky minstrel would, unluckily, find himself elbow deep in dish water after their next supper. He had crossed Matilda and while that was fine - we each make our own choices and follow our own path - there would be some kind of consequence for following a path the Matron didn’t necessarily approve of. The half-and-halfling decided she would be there to support him when the time came, wielding a drying cloth, battling the goblin-infested mountain of dishes together by his side.

She resumed her far more practiced skill of listening, holding her tongue and finishing up her soup. The baker’s bread was her favourite part of the meal, to be sure, her shifty fingers attracting the last crust from the middle of the table. She wondered whether this one had been the loaf she’d dislodged and subsequently caught upon their meeting. As she slipped the piece between her pillow lips and chewed thoughtfully, the conclusion she came to was that she would never know.

Yvonne had not anticipated Matilda’s bow before she retired for the night, caught with a mouthful of bread in her mouth - the drow-dwarf crossbreed offered the same respect as earnestly as she could in her chair, bobbing and nodding with an extended arm and hand at her side. She dared not chew until the Mother had paced from the room. When the elderly woman was well out of sight Yvonne turned back to the table, swallowing her food.

Her sterling silver eyes gazed into Henry’s wells of blue, smiling fondly over a subtle sparkle she found there. Yvonne loved how cocky he was being, confident in his equilibrium as he tenuously balanced his chair upon its back legs - it almost gave a feeling of floating above the ground and a person could draw assurance from the act. She placed the sole of her heel gently against his chair leg nearest to her, eyes flashing as she let him know his fate in the next moment was hers to decide. The little one could push him back into a clumsy, clattering descent onto the floor, or…

Yvonne lowered him down to all fours, receding her heel down the leg. As he instinctively gripped the table for safety she reached out to his hand with her own, soothing his sudden worry with her soft, caressing fingertips.

“That be a very smooth line ye have there,” she purred, smiling even more than she already was. “I bet it be effective on many of yer girlfriends. Does it mean I … have ye ta keep me company?”