With her skirts held in one hand, she nods and bows and makes herself as pleasant as possible with her hand being led as she is introduced to each member of this Hold, all that they see too. Well-wishing or otherwise. Paraded before them to every kind of inspection that she dutifully goes through without complaint.
Because in truth, where her wife might be silent - Lakshmi herself is certainly not. She seeks to engage with each person as they come. To make her presence known to each of them. How devotedly she puts each name and face to memory. This is her life, now, and she will make the best of it that she can.
At least, until there is a name that she doesn't know. Her mouth opens, curious, looking up because the snap of tension of in her new wife is sudden and absolute. But her response is a gently reassuring as she could be. "It is very far from the deserts for a Tambe, isn't it? But both our families hope to expand the trade now that we are one." Diplomatic, playing off with an air of laughter that lets others do the same with her words.
It's careful, slowly, that she looks out of the corner of her eye to watch Magni, her breath held.
He makes an approving sort of sound, faintly surprised but warm enough. Apparently taken off-guard that she would respond, but appreciating it, and giving her a renewed appraisal before he moves on, and the next person arrives.
"Forgive me," she murmurs, before taking a step back. There is business to attend to, maybe letters she can write, work to be done.
She cannot leave, though, without essentially abandoning her wife, and she stops herself before she can even begin to turn.
Her stomach flips over itself, as her wife begins to leave her grasp, alone in front of all these people. Which would be an embarrassment that she'd never lived down. Not on what amounted as their wedding day. Her face heats up, panic tinging in her features, as she catches her hand before she can go too far, turning with her and the worry of so many watching them that, she smiles, straining, but continued.
"My Wife," Do not leave her alone with all of these people. Rather, thinking rapidly as she can, she motions Magni's mother close and with her eyes lowered and a truly apologetic gaze. "Forgive me, my journey was so long, I think I am beginning to tire."
Let them sit down, where at least they could have a barrier to everyone prying in. Give Magni a second to get away.
Magni looks to Lakshmi, and her expression is too much contained. The apology in her gaze is hard to parse, the strain that pulls at her. Fjorleif's hand briefly rests at Magni's forearm, squeezes fleetingly.
"Of course, my dear." Not willing to undermine Magni's authority, she looks to her daughter. Magni is capable, has proven herself able to carry her father's mantle, and she must snap out of the haze that her failed engagement has brought down on her if she is to allow them to carry on.
A blink, and Magni feels more returned to her senses, and rests one of her hands at the small of Lakshmi's back, as though to steady her. "It is very warm. Perhaps we can visit the balcony or—" Or, uh? "Or retire for the evening."
"I am - " what would be a good thing to divert from everything that has been said, that would - merit them leaving. " - cold, actually. I am afraid we southerners aren't used to your northern winters."
This had to be winter, surely? She didn't care what anyone said to tell her different, this was utterly freezing. The clothes helped, certainly, but this would take some getting used to. In more than one way.
Granted there is an easy distraction with the clap of a hand, a raucous bit of laughter. "It's your wedding night, Lass, I am sure you won't be cold long, aye?"
She can't help, she flushes and immediately drops her gaze. Which earns yet more laughter. Swallowing dryly, trying not to think about the conversation they'd already had about that topic.
"You forget yourself, sir." Magni's voice is louder, for once, cuts more harshly across the laughter. "Though perhaps that's what passes for manners and good breeding in Millertham."
(Fjorleif listens, watches, makes mental notes on the behaviour of Mr Mortimer Walsham on this occasion. She will have to spend time educating Lakshmi on their network, the understanding and observations she'd made over the years.)
Mr Walsham, faced with the looming giant of a Jarl, blusters a little bit, before he stands down. Doubtless the crassness would not end with that, and Magni sighs internally. What nightmare had they inflicted upon Lakshmi? She looks back to her wife, and doesn't linger on how to break the time of year to her.
"The drawing room, then." Smaller, a good fireplace, a good retreat.
Carefully, this time she reaches for her, earnestly. Looking to take her hand so that she could be led away. Stepping in to be close to her, the seeming intimacy for what was supposed to be a newly wed's behaviour with each other.
The reach— she responds to, taking Lakshmi's arm in her own, drawing her closer. Stiff, still, shoulders too upright, but she so wants to be protective, doesn't want to give the jackals room to tear pieces off them. Fjorleif must stay with the company, carry on the party, but she speaks softly to Lakshmi - thanks her for quick thinking, touches her back briefly in a gesture of soothing that one might offer to someone not feeling well, and smiles with genuine warmth as they draw away.
She can see to the party. Her daughter is a capable Jarl, but she is not blind to her present struggles.
So they make it to the drawing room, and Magni feels almost shaky as she closes the door behind them and exhales a shuddering breath. Pull it together. Get in control of yourself.
Lakshmi doesn't linger once they're away from prying eyes. Stepping away from her to stride towards the fire. Her hands lifting as she goes, holding them where they had turned icy to the tips.
Not really sure what to say after - that. But in her best attempt at some humour for both their sakes, she tries: "I am sure we must go back out eventually." Considerate for them to, after all, at least to bid farewell to the guests.
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Because in truth, where her wife might be silent - Lakshmi herself is certainly not. She seeks to engage with each person as they come. To make her presence known to each of them. How devotedly she puts each name and face to memory. This is her life, now, and she will make the best of it that she can.
At least, until there is a name that she doesn't know. Her mouth opens, curious, looking up because the snap of tension of in her new wife is sudden and absolute. But her response is a gently reassuring as she could be. "It is very far from the deserts for a Tambe, isn't it? But both our families hope to expand the trade now that we are one." Diplomatic, playing off with an air of laughter that lets others do the same with her words.
It's careful, slowly, that she looks out of the corner of her eye to watch Magni, her breath held.
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"Forgive me," she murmurs, before taking a step back. There is business to attend to, maybe letters she can write, work to be done.
She cannot leave, though, without essentially abandoning her wife, and she stops herself before she can even begin to turn.
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"My Wife," Do not leave her alone with all of these people. Rather, thinking rapidly as she can, she motions Magni's mother close and with her eyes lowered and a truly apologetic gaze. "Forgive me, my journey was so long, I think I am beginning to tire."
Let them sit down, where at least they could have a barrier to everyone prying in. Give Magni a second to get away.
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"Of course, my dear." Not willing to undermine Magni's authority, she looks to her daughter. Magni is capable, has proven herself able to carry her father's mantle, and she must snap out of the haze that her failed engagement has brought down on her if she is to allow them to carry on.
A blink, and Magni feels more returned to her senses, and rests one of her hands at the small of Lakshmi's back, as though to steady her. "It is very warm. Perhaps we can visit the balcony or—" Or, uh? "Or retire for the evening."
no subject
This had to be winter, surely? She didn't care what anyone said to tell her different, this was utterly freezing. The clothes helped, certainly, but this would take some getting used to. In more than one way.
Granted there is an easy distraction with the clap of a hand, a raucous bit of laughter. "It's your wedding night, Lass, I am sure you won't be cold long, aye?"
She can't help, she flushes and immediately drops her gaze. Which earns yet more laughter. Swallowing dryly, trying not to think about the conversation they'd already had about that topic.
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(Fjorleif listens, watches, makes mental notes on the behaviour of Mr Mortimer Walsham on this occasion. She will have to spend time educating Lakshmi on their network, the understanding and observations she'd made over the years.)
Mr Walsham, faced with the looming giant of a Jarl, blusters a little bit, before he stands down. Doubtless the crassness would not end with that, and Magni sighs internally. What nightmare had they inflicted upon Lakshmi? She looks back to her wife, and doesn't linger on how to break the time of year to her.
"The drawing room, then." Smaller, a good fireplace, a good retreat.
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Carefully, this time she reaches for her, earnestly. Looking to take her hand so that she could be led away. Stepping in to be close to her, the seeming intimacy for what was supposed to be a newly wed's behaviour with each other.
If things were other than what they are.
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She can see to the party. Her daughter is a capable Jarl, but she is not blind to her present struggles.
So they make it to the drawing room, and Magni feels almost shaky as she closes the door behind them and exhales a shuddering breath. Pull it together. Get in control of yourself.
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Not really sure what to say after - that. But in her best attempt at some humour for both their sakes, she tries: "I am sure we must go back out eventually." Considerate for them to, after all, at least to bid farewell to the guests.