Tags: Ofira Ee'everwest |
Mina Ee'everwest
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Teyla Sal-Soren
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Baros Sal-Soren |
Rance Valere
Of all the things she could say about the
interloper, that he agreed to this ceremony did soften the edge on her thoughts, which had been stewing more than usual, since her request for a one-on-one meeting with the man had proven difficult to fulfill; in truth, the spinning up of a
new government under the month-new queen was certainly a larger undertaking than the coronation itself had been, after what the past year had put upon them all, to the point that empty time was far dearer than ever before, and what was empty was full with exhaustion. After this ceremony, the second in a month, she hoped life would settle into a new rhythm, just predictable enough for true progress to be born, once again.
She was here, not so much under her political title, but as the head of her house, a house that today was marking the addition of new children, new souls to light the still-new walls of the rebuilt estate for years to come, with all that life brings: laughter, tears, sadness, but joy in abundance. So she hoped. Of all the things she could say… but Teyla had always beaten her own path, and Alora had never loved the eldest of her sisters any less through it all. Even if, at times, she struggled to understand her decisions. To love, to leave judgement to whom it belonged, to bestow grace; at times, recent times, this was hardest, but to witness the happiness of her sibling, regardless of who was party to the creation of it, at once brought her peace.
And in other moments, made her ache.
Eyes closed, a delicate sigh escaping her, worn thoughts dissipating, Alora’s steady gaze lit up once again when the the second-oldest of the Ee’everwest women arrived, carrying her youngest boy. Alora’s youngest nephew, one more life to balance the feminine air of Evenfall. There would be plenty of time to be with family, today, once the ceremony began, so her field of view changed, sweeping from family to those already gathered, looking on them less as the forest, her people as much as the queen’s, and more as each tree with its individual branches, some she had grown with - like Lenna Praxon-Trozky, one of her oldest friends, whom she had seen much more in the past year, only due to the strife her husband’s homeworld had suffered. And others.
Common threads, woven from time…
An unfamiliar voice pulled on her ear, and the familiar lilt of one of her youngest siblings in response to it drew her wandering gaze backward, just as the owner of the unfamiliar voice seemed to be beating a retreat. Eyebrows lofted in distinct curiosity, and her back turned away from them - Alora made her way over to Ofira with measured grace, but her attentions remained split, between Fi, and the new face that sat atop the uniform of a law enforcement officer. Curiouser and curiouser.
"Fi..." she dropped evenly as she came up beside the younger woman, speaking only
just loud enough that it might be heard by others, in the almost-neutral, parental tone that showed she was, in some small ways, like their mother,
"...a friend of yours?"
Her steady, blue gaze was, however, fixed on this man, much as many other eyes were, but it was her particular attention, elbows cupped by her hands, one finger tapping, that drew the brunt of the hushed tittering. For as much as her words evoked her mother, it was her father that many of them saw in the way she carried herself.