Alma: The dressmakers's arrival is announced by one of Cormun's demons shortly after.

Helena: Well, we shall be as demanding as his reputation requires, and as inspirational, leaving enough to him that the designs will be truly original. :-)

GM: When he arrives, Cormun addresses your mother as Helena (charming old snake), a compliment which Alma accepts briefly and then deflects. Cormun's business manners are atrocious, but he's quite witty in person, although he discusses nothing of import outside of your designs.

Alma fairly quickly takes over the initial design stages with thoughts of her own, which Cormun accepts with more grace than you might have anticipated. What she has in mind seems a bit racy for tea; enough to cause a stir among the more conservative, at least. Her thoughts run to something asymmetrical, with a fairly conventional wrap front and pant on the right, and off the shoulder and small-bows-large-openings on the left, covered in more modest moments by a diaphanous lace shawl that trails to the knee on that side. Abandoning the shawl would leave her fairly well dressed for a dance club. (not sure where this idea came from exactly - must be channeling my inner Carson today ;-) ) Cormun asks several times if she's serious, as this was clearly not what he thought he would be doing today, but seems intrigued.

Helena: I let her have her head and her way, enjoying her mood.

GM: She has a ball, flirting harmlessly with Cormun, chatting about lots of nothing with you, and just being more centered and relaxed than you've seen her in years.

Would Helena match Alma, mirror her (flip left to right), or try something else? Aside from logical adjustments for differences in figure, would you look for the same level of daring, something more conventional, or push the envelope a shade farther?

Helena: Since our human forms have somewhat different coloration, I would expect to mirror her (switch sides in the assymetry) and have a few differences in color: i.e. clearly designed by the same person specifically making looks to complement one another and not compete directly.

GM: As there is a hint of Conjuration involved, the dresses are completed on your bodies within the hour, and the effect is quite breathtaking - he has arguably outdone his last, best commission for the two of you. "You should let me take this the rest of the way one day," he muses, "and structure a threen (weekend) theme around the progression."

Alma: Alma raises an eyebrow in your direction, teasing up a devilish smirk.

Helena: I meet her expression with a grin of my own, staying in the mood.

Alma: "Cormun, we'll let you know a few turnings hence, but I think you can count on our commission."

Alma also asks for two-place stays for demon-form in the current dress....

Helena: Hiding my surprise, I do the same.

Alma: Emboldened by your willingness to play along, Alma grins broadly. "I have an idea for us for afterward..." making no effort to elaborate. The last time she tried to surprise you with anything, you were not nearly so tall - in your childhood, between her long periods of 'rest' in distant (to you) 'medical resorts.'

Helena: "As you say, Mother." I nod / bow to her.

Alma: Her smile broadens further as the plan unfolds in her mind.

Helena: To Cormun I add, "These are magnificent. You've outdone yourself."

Cormun: "Inspired by fine models, mesdames." You can see him fighting the urge to gush, trying to maintain his 'expensive' detatchment. It would take little prodding to get a sitting / fitting scheduled to have the full collection he mentioned made, but he won't make the first move; to protect his reputation. ;-)

Helena: After he takes his leave, we have some time (a night and part of a day, I think?) before the actual tea. I'd suggest dinner for us and Loren all together, then sleep for me before rejoining Alma and travelling with her to the tea.

Alma: Alma likes the idea, and leaves contacting him to you while she changes back to house clothes before going off to inform the ways staff. Pausing at the ways curtain on her way out, "Thank you so much, Helena. I... I don't know how to say... all you've done...." She looks a little misty-eyed.

Helena: I think of a hundred things to say, but in the end I just hug her and turn away to get changed.

Alma: She nods, sniffing up enough composure to set the staff to work. ;-)

GM: The dress is neatly stored and you're back in street clothes. Contact Loren straight away, or is there something(s) else beforehand?

Helena: Nothing else I can think of. I actually do go find him at the Estates (or his office if the staff say he's still there).

GM: The staff does indeed direct you back to his office, where you find him hard at work, genuinely busy, but perhaps also seeking to lose himself in his duties. His penmanship slows but does not halt. "Helena." His free hand gestures toward a comfortable chair across the desk from his before resuming its support of the other's work.

Helena: I sit, smiling at his repeat of an old familiar gesture. It is how I most easily picture him. After a few moments, I say, "Father, would you be free this evening to have dinner with Mother and me? She is feeling quite well today."

Loren: He arranges a pause in his labors at last. "Did she take the truth of your appointment well, or has that revelation been delayed?" He stacks what he just completed and takes the next piece of business from his inbox. "Today's events have put me behind, and there are more than a few things I'd be loathe to leave unfinished. I will eat eventually, but are you sure you'll want to wait for me?"

Helena: (Does it seem odd to me that he responds this way? It reads a little cold; is he usually uncomfortable or disinterested in visiting with Alma?)

GM: (This is not particularly unusual for Loren. Remember, he has live through (Helena's age) years of somewhat good and frighteningly bad days with Alma, and taking too much from an upturn makes her next breakdown that much harder to bear. He still loves her, but his suffering by proxy over the decades has not been insignificant by any measure, including costing him a fairly prestigious placement in the Intelligence community.)

Helena: "Consciously, she took it very well. Unfortunately she was unable to entirely control the memories, and I had to hold her form stable so that she could get past it. Still, she did get past it, and she gave up to me some part of the burden she has been carrying. I have... concerns about that, but the sudden improvement in her is more than worth whatever it is that has happened."

Loren: "I am glad you could manage. She has tired so of doctors and treatments; I'm sure your support did her much good." He pauses, putting his work aside. "Do we need to discuss your concerns away from her, or did she just frighten you?" the last part said with no sarcasm or lack of respect.

Helena: I think on this a moment before replying. "If you have time in the next couple of days, I think I would appreciate you taking a look. It's certainly something I should get checked before I return to Amber."

Loren: "I can certainly make time, but my 'diagnosis' will be a layman's, at best. What is it that I'll be looking for?"

Helena: I shake my head. "I'm not entirely sure. A memory? Something from the time of her capture I believe. It was driving her shapeshifting."

Loren: Loren draws your Trump from its place on the top of his deck and sets it down in front of him in the space he'd cleared on his desk. "Given the JRS' interest, perhaps we should not wait." He poises his hand above the card with as little drama as he can manage, given that he's about to be searching through your mind for a memory of the event that nearly destroyed the love of his life. "If you are prepared...."

Loren gives you a moment to settle more comfortably into the chair, and then makes contact with the card, and through it, your mind, far more intimately than your usual communication. Although he is by far the superior in this realm, the extreme depth of the contact allows you to feel snippets of his dismay at the encounter in Arden with Julian and Fiaral, his barely suppressed outrage at the confrontation with Julian at the embassy, and his concern and confusion at the events with Alma.

The contact breaks, and Loren flips your Trump face down on his desk, his ordinarily disciplined expression wrinkled with puzzlement. "I follow your memory of the event well enough to understand why you asked, but I could find nothing of hers passed to you; no hidden memories, no pearl... nothing untoward at all. Perhaps it was just an emotional byproduct of your rescue..." probably not meaning to imply that you imagined it, but still sounding that way.

Helena: I nod slowly. "As I experienced it, the thing seemed to have some intelligence or voice of its own. I accept your counsel in this; do you believe I should investigate further with the doctors here?"

Loren: "They would likely report every word to the JRS, who would assume that your curiosity was not yet satisfied...." He leaves the consequences to your imagination. "If you are still troubled when you prepare to leave, I will see if I can make some discrete inquiries; an 'advisor' that could follow you to a safe distance, perhaps."

Helena: "I will consider this. I presume it would be inappropriate to consult the Lord General..."

Loren: "Not necessarily inappropriate, but it could prove to be a fresh minefield, and frankly, odd as it might be to say about such a being as he, I'm really not certain of the man's qualifications in this particular realm."

Helena: I frown. "Yes, I take your point in that regard.

Loren: "I will begin my inquiries now, and hopefully they won't even be necessary."

Helena: "As for the timing tonight... I don't mind waiting; if we get hungry, Mother and I will just snack before your arrival."

Loren: "If you can wait, I would love to enjoy dinner as a family. It has been a very long time for us..." said with some melancholy.

Helena: "We can indeed. I would like that very much." (Does Alma have a dining room in her quarters, or should I escort her to my place?)

GM: Alma has a quaint corner, like a breakfast nook, that seats three comfortably at a low round table with cushions (four if they are friendly and all eat with the same handedness *g*). I'd imagine that Helena has some fond memories of meals there, sparse as those occasions might have been. There is a larger dining area in Loren's part of the Ways, but that was used far more formally, and is generally ignored these days.

Helena: "I'll have something brought around to Mother's, if you could join us there."

Loren: "I'll be along as soon as I can, Helena. Thank you, my daughter... for everything." He rises from his chair when you get up to leave, his reserve trembling beneath his formal visage; pride, love, and gratitude leaking from the 'cracks' in his emotional armor.

Helena: I smile a little and bow to him. "Thank you, Sir. We will see you when you can get away this evening."

Loren: Bowing in return, "I'll be home as soon as I can."

GM: What next? What sort of preparations did you have in mind for snacks & dinner?

Helena: I will shop briefly for snacks (top-end things, the equivalent of fine cheeses, fresh bread, fruit) and stop at one of the better caterers to have something delivered: something simple but made from the best and freshest ingredients -- and that can be served at room temperature or chilled.

GM: Those arrangements are easily made. Anything else before returning to Alma?

Helena: If I have extra time, I would like to closely review the Patternfall Treaty documents. Specifically, I'm trying to figure out if there are any provisions to make charges of war crimes in specific cases from one side to the other, or if there are provisions for the registration of vendetta.

GM: I would suspect that Alma is waiting, but you've never heard her complain when your father brought work home. Let me know if you want to delay going back / read in front of her / wait until you go home / other, and I'll give you more info.

Helena: I will wait until after dinner. For now I'll go directly back to Mother's.

GM: Your food order shows up around the time you do. Alma greets you warmly, and helps you unpack the snack trays. She already has a bottle of wine chilling that - while not a perfect match to your order - seems very pleasant, and not nearly port enough to make you silly before dinner.

Alma: "Are you all right?" she asks, offering you a glass. "You look a little troubled."

Helena: I smile, genuinely. "I am very all right. What happened... what passed between us this afternoon is troubling, but so... good. I am well in my heart, Mother. Honestly."

Alma: She pauses in her work to take your hands in hers. "Your Father and I did our best to shield you from my condition. I am sorry that in doing so, we might have failed to prepare you for some of the realities of it." After a breath, "You saved me a great deal of pain today, Helena. Please, don't be troubled. Whatever else, I have never felt so free of my wounds... my memories of that time... and I have you to thank for it. When I said before that no one else would understand as you do, I didn't realize how true that really would be."

Helena: "I am sorry that in shielding me, you both lost someone who would share that burden with you for so long. You mentioned my... sisters? How long has that grief gone unshared?

Alma: Alma takes a breath, tries to tell you... and her nerve fails her. Eyes closed, collecting herself, she finally manages to whisper, "He spilled them. They never had a chance to root and grow. Stillborn, all, as little more than a few cells each. Only you, my brave Helena, hid so well that his magic could not find you in me."

Helena: "It is no longer. I love you both. I hope my actions will always bring you pride and reflect well all the strength you have given me." I stand and bow to her, quite formally, before pulling her to me to hug her. I allow myself a few tears, though in honesty they are mostly of emotions tinged with happiness.

Alma: "You are all we could have hoped for and more." She weeps openly in your arms, but her tears, too, are as much joy and relief as anything.

Helena: After a time I lean back from her, smiling and reaching for napkins from amongst the dinner things. "Come, let us sit and drink until Father can join us. We could play cards if you wish... You know all about the best parts of my interactions in the new mission, as well as the less pleasant ones, I presume?"

Alma: "The only things of yours I remember clearly are the parts where {The Donor} hurt you, one way or the other. I want the rest, please," said with a gentle urgency.

Helena: But even so I will reiterate any interesting things I have learned; fashions or tastes in food or furnishings that I like; my dismay that the strong influence of the Royals' tastes seem to have so inhibited the development of independent art or fashion in their realm; possible links we may create with the Golden Circle's trade routes; and so on.

Alma: Alma devours it all, reveling in little stories about fish sandwiches and carpentry and the designer Flora sent. You play a few hands of Cold Nines with the minor arcana of a Trump deck and drink lightly while your mother tries to relate the few good memories she has from around your first years of life. She doesn't remember your delivery, but she remembers when she first saw you, and tries to relate the joy she felt nursing and changing and caring for you when her mind and body could bear it. With a little effort, she manages to recall all of your nursemaids, and tell you something special about what each of them brought to your first years. You may both be on your second napkins for the crying, but I daresay neither of you regret a moment of that afternoon-into-evening.

Helena: I join in with anything I remember of them, adding bits or telling her bits I remember that go along with what she is saying.

GM: You share a closeness that had been missing a long time, or perhaps had never had a real chance to blossom between you before now.

Loren arrives, not as late as you might have feared, with packages under his arm. Alma lights up anew to see him, and they share a moment of affection too infrequently seen in this house - although not so intense that Helena feels uncomfortable.

Helena: (Given how she starves to see them happy, I doubt much between them would make Helena uncomfortable!)

While they greet one another I tidy and lay out the table for our meal, so that I am standing by, smiling, when they are ready to join me.

Loren: After a bit of whispering as the kissing dies down, Loren and Alma come to the table, arm in arm. Loren holds out a small jewelry case to you, beaming with pride. "I would have been earlier, but this simply couldn't wait."

Your ambassador's bars are inside, apparently with King Merlin's compliments.

Helena: I take them with a suitable bow in third-person-deference to the king. I can't help it; I am beaming, completely pleased. "Ah. Thank you very much for bringing them. Convey to His Majesty I am honored and hope to serve well."

GM: Loren: "I took the liberty of conveying almost exactly those words on your behalf."

Helena: I smile sunnily to him and nod in thanks. I pocket the box and sigh, content. "Well, please. Let us eat."

GM: Loren helps Alma sit, although she scarcely needs it; both honoring an old, unspoken ritual long standing between them. It is quiet at the start of dinner, with your parents almost too lost in each other's presence to eat. How does Helena comport herself?

Helena: Quiet, happy, a little mischievous if they seem open to a tease. I will drop hints to Father about the dresses we're having made... and the scandals of past dresses.

GM: Loren pretends to be only mildly interested, but you sense a growing 'steam' in the looks between him and Alma. You're about halfway through your meal when they both yawn in unison and start to make excuses to retire for the evening. *eg* Loren makes it clear that you're welcome to finish your meal before you leave, and Alma winks at you like a co-conspirator when she encourages you to take it with you instead. There's the least hesitation on Loren's part, and then a fresh smile, for daughter and wife.

Helena: I tell them that I, too, am very tired, and I have much to do, and so on :-)

GM: They both bid you a fond, if distracted, farewell, and then head arm-in-arm toward Alma's bedchamber.

Helena: I depart with a bag of the little desert rolls and a bottle of wine, head back to my Ways and lie around eating and drinking, reading the blasted treaty, and playing with Boss until I am truly tired.

GM: The war crimes section of the treaty is so arcane as to be nearly indecipherable without a lawyer, a translator, and perhaps some magical discipline beyond your ken. Perhaps both sides intended to make such prosecutions impossible without the consent of all signatories.

As for the declarations of vendetta; to declare, one has to renounce quite a few rights - essentially exposing oneself to the possibility of being slain and leaving your kin no recourse under the law without exposing themselves in kind. It's more of a dueling agreement than a House War arrangement.

Boss enjoys the time you give him, and he's very much in the mood to run, so by the time you're done with the treaty morass, he's quite willing to tire you out the rest of the way.

What's Helena's usual routine at home before turning in?

Helena: When at home, this is about it: a walk, some reading and some wine. I am missing my physical workout today, but given other events I think I shall go easy on myself in that regard.

GM: That formless dream comes again, but this time your memory begrudges you a few images out of the nothing; an army campsite, rolling blue hills glistening with morning dew, green and white tents with Julian's symbol. You recall someone - Benedict? - speaking a word of power from close behind you, and then a sensation of falling before blackness engulfs you. Instead of awakening shaken, as before, sleep continues to claim you for a time, punctuated with strange flashes of color and sound instead of any coherent dreaming.

When you do finally awaken, in human form for the first time in weeks, you relish the comfort of your own bed for a moment before realizing that things are not entirely right in the room. Someone has put fresh sheets on the bed, and you're wearing an oversize Jesby Jormungandrs jersey (from the Fraternity Games League) in place of your usual sleepwear. You feel fresh from the shower, lightly perfumed, well fed and ready for the day ahead... but perhaps not as fully rested as you would like.

Sitting up, you see the sheets you went to bed on wadded up in the hamper, stained and torn in places, and there's an open matchbook on your dressing table with something written on the inside. As you're taking all this in, the greeting chime rings at your Ways entry; if your clock is right, it's probably the sedan chair, coming to pick you up for the tea. Your commissioned outfit is still where you left it, neat and ready to go.

Helena: I throw on a robe and go to the door to ask ten minutes. Then I go back and check the note in the matchbox.

GM: The lantern man / demon wrangler nods and settles the sedan chair. "As milady requires," in Old Chaos Thari.

In Recon Shorthand, in handwriting strongly resembling your mother's, the matchbook message says, "Didn't use your face, didn't use your place; reputation damage (symbol for approximately equal to) zero." This is followed by a stick finger sketch of the hand signal for 'quiet /danger.' It looks like the matchbook is for an upscale crash-dance venue in the Greater Hendrake Ways called 'The Rattle.'

Helena: I send Boss outside while I quickly slip into the outfit. I sweep my hair into an updo with appropriate jeweled pins, leave a note for my servant not to clean anything today, and head out.

GM: Boss whines a little when you come to get him from the living room, but goes right back to his usual self once he gets a sniff of you, and dashes outside to do his business and romp. After the shower, you realize that you don't recognize the perfume you were wearing before, but there's nothing new or missing among your toiletries. You see nothing else out of place as you place your note to the help.

Helena: I pocket the strange note. I plan to check my security tapes after the party, but won't make myself later to check them now.

GM: The lantern man offers you a hand up into the sedan chair, and then bids the demons rise to walk. You scheduled yourself a bit of grace time (I'd imagine), so you might only be about five minutes behind schedule at this point, and Alma and Hanla aren't the types to quibble about such small things. What sort of things are rattling around in Helena's mind in the five minutes transit to pick up Alma?

Helena: Leaving my place, do I see anyone odd hanging about, or get any strange looks from the staff in the Ways?

I have some consternation over losing what is apparently a significant amount of time, but can't think of a way to get to the bottom of it until after the tea is over, and so put the concern aside for the time being.

GM: Nope, no odd looks, but your staff isn't extensive, and your Ways is a tad remote. There's no one around who doesn't belong, and security looks as alert as ever.

(Would the Jormungandrs jersey be from Helena's collection? Autographed? ;-) )

Helena: (It seems unlikely, unless it's something from a long time ago, one of the times she went with her dad as a teenager, in which case she'd have kept it as a memento even though it's not something she'd normally wear. You tell me :-)

GM: (The jersey you were wearing is far more recent that the one hidden in your closet, but looks to be a few sizes larger - you couldn't sleep in the old one without some sort of bottom (or an agenda ;-) ). The only autograph on the new one is of a player whose name you don't even recognize.)

Alma is waiting at the high point of the Ways as she promised, looking radiant and eager for the event ahead. How much of the her troubles has Helena been able to leave behind, do you think?

Helena: (She can't help but continue to be puzzled. She does at least feel sure she has a reason to have a blackout... or a whatever-it-was, given her strange experiences of the day before. So... she is somewhat bemused. Her main concern is over what public offenses she may have given or may have been given on her behalf...)

I greet my mother brightly, "Sorry to be late. I slept in." I help her step up into the palanquin, pausing a moment as we admire ourselves in our clothes. "Are you well today?" I ask as we are seated.

Alma: She hugs you lightly, to spare your dresses, but plants cheerful kisses on both your cheeks after the moment of mutual admiration. In the light of the Ways Main, surrounded by the palanquin frippery, the effect is even more delightful than at the fittings the day before. Her shawl is partly cast back, teasing the world with a bit more skin, and she appears to be loving life.

"I am..." and she sighs like a schoolgirl in mid sentence. "I am deliriously well, {Brave Beloved}, and thinking wonderful mad thoughts." The light in her eyes almost makes her look the younger of you two today. "Did your well-earned beauty rest serve you as kindly as my few hours of quiet entanglement?" winking to imply many hours of not-so-quiet entanglement beforehand. Her hand curls lightly over yours, hoping you share her joy.

(They didn't advertise it, but Helena has long thought that they were rarely 'together' since her 'loss' - so either they were more private than you realized, or last night was truly momentous.)

Helena: I do indeed, and my return smile shows it; it made me so happy just to see them together last night, let alone to hear of her continued happiness today. In response to her question, however, I assess my state of rest... do I feel tired, physically?

GM: Being with Alma and sharing her joy has taken the edge off, but yeah, you do feel tired - or maybe drained is a better word for it. The sensation is almost like after giving blood; lightheaded, lethargic, that sort of feeling. If you keep going as you are, you think you'll shake it off eventually. You can feel your body working through a meal, replacing whatever you gave up at a decent clip. Eating again might improve your condition and your mood even more.

Helena:
"I'm a bit tired, actually," I reply to her. "I am definitely looking I to whatever marvellous things Hanla has put on for tea." I smile and chat with Mother for the rest of the short journey, quite looking forward to seeing our hostess and to enjoying her always-interesting guests.

Alma: A bit of motherly concern passes over Alma's otherwise glowing mood. "Perhaps we can sneak you a nap before my surprise this evening, then..." leaving an opening for you to beg off, but not a particularly large one. Otherwise, the conversation is light, and Alma offers no hints as to what might be in store for you later.

Helena: "We'll see, but I'm sure I'll feel more refreshed after lunch."