Private In The Bleak Midwinter | Invite Only

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

"Oh, I'd love to not talk about it." Dorian assured her with a charming enough smile.

Then he listened quietly to her segway into her family history with cigars and smoking. It made him blink several times during the dialogue. He knew, intimately, that families could be complicated and complex. But he hadn't quite encountered a family this difficult. Smoking, not because you got enjoyment out of it, but because a family member that was dead would be annoyed about it?

That was a new level of pettiness.

"Mm, it was the first thing that he actually offered me, he knows my taste for cigars." Then a soft head tilt there. "But you haven't had one yourself? Now that is a disgrace."

He smirked mischievously there and then pulled a thin case out of his inner-pocket.

It opened up and out came just the type of cigar that Reima had been talking about. Two of them, even.

"Would you like to have a taste together with me?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima raised an eyebrow. "My Lord Duke," she said quietly, as if scandalized by the very suggestion. "If my brother didn't know any better -- and luckily for you he really, really does -- he might think you were a bad influence. Somehow I suspect it's rather the other way around. I'm afraid I would freeze to death before I could smoke my way through even half a cigar, but -- if you're willing to share, perhaps?"

She paused a moment, took another drag of her cigarette. "Then again," she mused, smoke billowing from her lips which were, under her lipstick, slightly blue. "Don't you need a fancy -- cutter thing -- and a special kind of lighter?"

She leaned over, stubbed her cigarette out, and tucked the bud into the trash can. "Well... go on then. I'll just take a puff."

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

And the Duke did notice the slightly blue quality her lips were getting.

It made him embarrassed and feel slightly guilty. He immediately pulled off his coat, not giving her a moment to protest, wrapping it around her shoulders. Luckily underneath his coat he still wore a warm jacket and they were at the very least sheltered against the wind.

"There, now your brother cannot accuse me of being a bad influence, without also acknowledging what a heroic type I am." A slightly crooked grin there as he pulled one of the cigars out. Putting the case with the other one back into his backpocket. With practiced ease he used a small cutter to prepare the cigar and offered it to Reima.

"Ladies first, ma'am. First taste of the evening, a honor, I assure you."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"Truly," Reima interjected as he swept his coat around her shoulders. "There's no -- but -- I see there is no dissuading you." This last bit a little under her breath as he settled himself back down on his bench. "Well, you'll fit right in here, I can tell you," she muttered as she drew the coat a little tighter around her. She wondered what George -- to say nothing of Natasi -- would make of her entering the house smelling of his friend's cologne. It brought a faint if sardonic smile to her face.

"Thank you," she said stiffly. She watched him work the cigar, examined the way he used the little cutter to snip the end, and then accepted the cigar from him. Another murmured thanks and the Princess leaned in to allow him to light it before settling back. She took an experimental puff, then a few more, seeing the end of the cigar glow faintly each time, but without feeling the intoxicating smoke until the last time. Smoking a cigar, it turned out, was quite different to smoking a cigarette.

Reima coughed unglamorously after inhaling a drag from the cigar. It was simply more than she was expecting, and she was overwhelmed by it. She turned her head away from it, coughed into her gloved hand rather than into his coat, and offered the cigar back to him. "Blimey," she muttered. "Perhaps my mother is right," Reima added with a polite rumbling in her throat, some residual smoke still pouring out of her nostrils, like a painfully slender dragon. She settled back into the bench and tucked her ankles under the seat of the bench.

"Have you been to Galidraan before?"

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

"Sadly gentlemen are all the same. From Chandrila to Galidraan, from Coruscant to Tion." Dorian teased her while sitting back and slowly rubbing his hands as she took her first experimental puff.

She fared better than he expected her to.

"Well, look at that, a consummate professional." He continued to tease. "I remember when I took my first smoke of a cigar, I was coughing for minute-" And there Reima began to cough, causing Dorian to chuckle softly.

"Guess I spoke too fast or perhaps I jinxed you." Accepting the cigar from her with an inclination of his head. His own puff went far easier and with less drama, but that was because it wasn't his first time. He knew how to inhale, slowly, steadying his lungs before exhaling again. The burn was pleasant and George had been quite correct.

This was a rare pleasure.

"Galidraan? No, this is my first time. George always spoke of it, but I never had the pleasure before." A glance towards her. "Is everything as you remember? Often memories of youth and realities of today do not match up quite as well, at least in my experience."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima quirked a brow at the question, then nodded. "I'm sure it is exactly as I remember. I've been back since then, a few times. Most recently to buy this pile of bricks back from the fellow who bought it from me. It's -- rather a long story -- but all is as it was in my childhood because my brother and I made it so not too long ago. There are little bits that are different, of course. The portrait in the grand hall is of my mother, now, not my grandparents. There is a new cipher on a column in the colonnade -- George's cipher, which quarters my mother's with my father's. Silly little things like that which are of such dreadful importance to people like us."

She didn't say us because she didn't know it was true for him. Things might well be different where he was from.

"My brother wanted to surprise my mother with the house. She didn't know we'd bought it back yet, you see, so we came here for Life Day instead of Foxfield. Foxfield is -- warmer, at least -- but Herevan is home for her. And for him, I suspect."

She didn't know if it was home for Reima Vitalis, not quite. But she had a bed there, and a dresser with some clothes, and a bit of jewelry, so she supposed it was close enough.

"Where are you living now, with... everything?"

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

"I have purchased a pad on Aegis." He answered calmly as he took one more drag from his cigar before passing it back over to Reima. If she wished to try again after the last time anyway. "Foxfield- or I guess Herevan now? Keeps dragging me off to this adventure or that. So I figured while the Empire is running ramshod through the Core Worlds, it would be wise to own a place close-by your brother."

A soft shrug.

"I try and visit my estates, but it is a risky affair currently. The Imperials don't meddle with the nobles that much, as long as we tow the line, but you never know when the Emperor might be in for a different mood. The rebuilding is slow." As he had mentioned... his estates had been burned down during the initial onslaught.

The bigger dimension was that the Empire looked suspiciously on him because of the tragedy. What self-respecting Duke wouldn't wish for revenge after an event like that?

Especially one who was ex-military himself.

"And you? If I recall George mentioned you were looking for a place on Aegis. Did you manage to find something proper?"

A pause then.

"Do you not find yourself at home here?" A bit more gentle a tone.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"Technically," Reima said, preparing to gear up into a nobility law nerd, because someone had to, "The County of Herevan is now a subsidiary title to the Duchy of Foxfield. It helps that they share a border, so in theory it's all of a piece. I guess he can be whatever he wants -- Herevan here, Foxfield there, and Your Royal Highness when we're in the Heirate, although I think he hates when I curtsy to him." A wry little smile there. "I just call him George or else Your Lordship when he starts getting too big for his britches."

She folded her arms under the coat and listened to the way he described the challenges of returning home. That did make sense. She was surprised that he would even try. That took guts.

"I ought to have a flat or something in New Sterandel," Reima confirmed. "We -- that is -- well, it's not easy living in the shine of the palace lights. It's very nice and you can get food delivered at any hour of the day or night, but there is always someone there. Watching. Whispering. I doubt whether my mother or my brother cares if I leave the palace at midnight or three in the morning or seven o'clock at night, but I am entirely convinced that someone always tells them."

The question about feeling at home here caught her off guard a little. "Here?" She glanced over his shoulder at the imposing fortress that was Herevan Hold. "Not especially. This place is Fortan territory through-and-through. My name is Vitalis. And more than that -- I do not figure into the dynastic plans that this place represents, not really. Besides, my work is in New Sterandel."

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

A soft chuckle there and nodding.

"It is difficult to be part of the Royal Family. So many additional expectations. My cousin is the King," He elaborated there. "His father and mine were brothers when his father ascended to the throne by chance of fate. Luckily for me my cousin has several sons and each has several children too." A little theatrical exhale of relief there before shrugging.

"The pomp is nice, I suppose, but you are not your own person. You represent the nation. You have to treat your family as extension of the nation too. I don't envy George, one day that will be him, and he will have to do things he will hate."

Looking out to the landscape as he mulled that over.

"And he will have to do it without showing any emotion." But then a smile towards Reima. "Lucky for him he has us, yes? Keeps him from having too big a head."

Nodding at her explanation.

"I can understand that. Foxfield was your father's originally?" Dorian asked curiously. "So do you feel more at home there then?" The Galidraani nobility were a tough nut to crack sometimes. So many lines, so many estates crossing each other. Aegis and the Heirate were a bit more... to the point, in that sense.

Perhaps it was simply more similar to his own planet, that could be the familiarity.

"And what work is that, Lady Vitalis?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"I can see why you would think that," Reima said cheerfully. "But no. Until recently it wasn't comfortable... maybe it wasn't safe, either, for us to be here at all. Foxfield, Herevan, Sterandel, Calavar. Even today, people feel the effects of the Sith Imperial Occupation are powerful reminders attached to our name. They blame us for the abuses the Sith Imperials visited upon their ancestors and their friends and neighbors. If it had just been mother, maybe I would be away from the whole thing, but they called it the Foxfield Accord -- the document that memorialized Galidraan's capitulation to the Sith Empire. It's essentially a stain on the family escutcheon. So -- Galdiraan can be fun when you're invited to the right parties and I simply wasn't."

She paused a moment. That sounded particularly shallow. It was true, but it was shallow.

"In my defense," she said, lifting a gloved finger. "I am a socialite. That's sort of what I do. Go to parties. Plan philanthropy. At least, that's the Galidraani version of me. In the Heirate, I'm a member of the royal family. I have lots of engagements -- opening hospitals, giving awards, charity meetings. It sounds like... not a lot," Reima said with a defensive shrug. "But there is something to it. The people there respond when one of us shows up, speaks to them, shakes their hand, sits with them for a few minutes. I may not be a fighter pilot anymore, or a military officer, but that's what I can do. I take it seriously. And it's more fulfilling that the parties here, even if I was being invited."

Dorian Rothmere ​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

Nodding again, slower now.

He could not hope to understand what it had felt like for Galidraan to fall under the aegis of the Sith Empire. While the current Empire that had conquered the Core was led by a Sith Lord, the Empire itself was fully Imperial in that regard. The two things weren't comparable, different indignities, different horrors.

"It's a tough situation to be in." Dorian said finally. "But my cousin he negotiated a peace between the Empire and our world. Can't say I agree, for obvious reasons, but I can't blame him either. He has to think of the whole and one world cannot stand against a whole Empire. Not ours, but Galidraan would not have been able to either against the Sith."

A shrug.

"Not to discount the feelings of the Lords and Ladies of Galidraan, of course. If the Gods are kind and my world is freed, I will punch my cousin in the face... and then pull him back up to his feet afterwards."

He chuckled at her description.

"I understand the sentiment. I was in the military myself previously. I only got out a few years ago, when my father became more frail and a steady hand was required at the estates. But I understand the desire to do more... and to always feel like it is not enough. Because how does what we do now compare to putting our bodies and blood on the line for honor and country?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima nodded along. "Quite," she said simply. Idly her mind went to her the Skywalker Order of Merit award that was sitting in its velvet case in some room or another back in the Heirate. A piece of metal she had quite literally bled and broken to earn -- not knowing it was coming, not expecting it to come, and being rather more than faintly embarrassed when it came because to her she had just been doing her job, the works he had signed up for.

Now, thanks to the circumstances of the Alliance, and him -- Reima could hardly stand to look at the thing.

"It's a very strange world to live in," Reima mused aloud. "I am retired from the Galactic Alliance, and though I would dearly love to serve in the Renascent Heirate's Royal Aerospace Force, it has been expressly disallowed. Something about unit cohesion and discipline and conflicts of interest. As if I would simply go around making unruly demands because my mother is who my mother is." She waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, my demands are never unruly, they are simply what ought to be done."

Reima Vitalis kept her insecurities deep, deep, deep, deep down. Never on the outside, ifs he could help it.

"Anyway, my mother has also instructed that I will be the colonel of one of the units of the household guard. Which sounds like a real rank, but it isn't. It seems a bit -- like fraud, almost. But it's what people expect, it's what they want." She shook her head, her coiffed hair shifting minutely. "And here I am talking to a stranger about it because it sounds like something he'd understand. I would make a very poor intelligence operative, as it happens."

She shrugged.

"At any rate. What do you do with yourself now?"

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

The tragedies of being Royal.

Too important to do any actual important work and instead being relegated towards things that didn't matter. Things that looked good in op-eds or columns and that was about it.

Nothing that you could actually screw up and make the Monarchy look bad. Oh, yes, Dorian knew of this, even if he didn't have any direct experience with it for himself. But he was or had been close to his cousin, in their youth before he took the crown, Gustav often talked about it. How he wanted to serve along with him, how he wanted to go out there and make a difference.

But he hadn't been allowed and that was that.

"Oh, you don't strike me as unruly at all, Reima." Dorian assured her, dead-pan, not even a smirk on the face. "You seem like a true picture of peace and tranquility, in fact."

Okay, the smirk was in the tone, instead of on the face.

He shrugged, a bit helpelessly.

"Before this I had a Duchy to run. We don't have a Constitutional Representational Monarchy, so I did have to actually get my hands dirty and govern the region." Stroking his jaw there. "That is over with for now. Instead I have been busy liasoning with various entities throughout the Empire. I travel deep in their territories whenever I can, finding new connections, making bridges between parties."

He paused there and thought about it.

"That was awfully vague, wasn't it? I foment rebellion, Reima. I am a fomenter, I suppose."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"Oh," said Reima bluntly, leaning back against the back of the bench. "That sounds -- very dangerous, actually." This intrigued her. Anyone who was interested in making life difficult for the Empire was of interest to Reima. She may not have had a formal commission with the Galactic Alliance anymore, and the Renascent Heirate was much too small to stand up to the Empire in any significant sense, but it was heartening to see that there were those out there looking to stand up to them.

She gathered the coat tighter around her against a sudden breeze that blew flurries across the courtyard. She glanced over at him, forcing a smile as he noticed her shiver. "Nothing like a Galidraani winter," Reima said with a smirk. "Except perhaps a Galidraani summer."

She folded her arms around herself within the coat and considered. Perhaps there was something she could achieve without running afoul of any of Natasi's blasted rules and the government's desire to leash the royal family. "If someone were to want to contribute to that... fomenting," Reima said delicately, glancing over at the Duke, eyes narrowing a little. "How would one go about it? Do you need money? Resources?"

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

"Dangerous, yes... frustratingly difficult? Also, yes."

Dorian did not mind admitting it. He wasn't here to prepare to be more than he was. Just a man doing his best, but the amount of successes they could claim were fair and few in between.

"It has been surprisingly complex to capitalize on the mistakes of the Empire. They lost their whole fething Death Star they somehow managed to cobble together in what, a year? And yet the strain on the rest of the regime has been remarkably little." He scratched his chin, taking another deep drag from the cigar and passing it back to Reima Vitalis .

"But we are causing some pain here and there. Outposts we take out, blinding them, getting refugees out. Feeding revolt groups with weapons from old Alliance depots."

A shrug as he rubbed his hands together, warming them up a little, softly laughing at the mention of temperature. "Yes, well, my homeworld is thankfully temperate. Nothing of this nonsense."

He glanced towards Reima at her question.

Then towards the Manor were her brother, one of his closest friends, and mother resided.

Back to Reima now and it didn't take a genius to see what was going on behind his eyes.

"Wouldn't it put you in a tough spot? I am told Aegis is strictly neutral in these matters."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima reached over and took the cigar, studying it for a moment as if it were something that was potentially dangerous. She put it to her lips, took a slow breath, and this time managed not to choke as if she was coughing up all of her internal organs one at a time. She took a moment to savor the taste of the Foxfield Gold t'bacc, to feel its subtle euphoric sensation take hold before she exhaled.

She handed the cigar back to him. "It would," Reima confirmed. "It would put me in a tough spot. If anyone found out. Do you intend to tell anyone?"

Dark eyes studied Dorian's for a moment and they cooled a little. Not quite enough for the Duke to experience the famed Fortan glacier, where a Fortan woman's eyes could go from the texture of heated chocolate to the texture of frozen mud with a sudden shift in the mood.

"I don't," she went on, eyebrow raising. "I'm not proposing to write you a personal check, you understand. Nor to hand over a collection of tiaras in which I have been famously photographed." Reima settled back again. "But I have liquid assets. They could be used to purchase untraceable things. Precious metals. Gems. Which could then be liquidated to provide you the funds."

She glanced toward the house. Was it her imagination, or had a curtain twitched on the first floor? She wondered whether it was Natasi or George who was spying. It was unlikely to be Dyrn, but never say never. She suspected they were just a few moments away from finding out. "What Aegis doesn't know won't hurt it. Much of my fortune is right here on Galidraan. Not subject to Aegis' government. Or its royal family."

Dorian Rothmere ​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

Calm browns met Reima's steely gaze without hesitation or looking away whatsoever.

"Your secrets are safe with me, Princess, that goes without saying." But Dorian inclined his head regardless out of respect, only got a brief moment however.

So the Duke caught her attention gliding towards the estate.

The shuddering of the curtain.

Uh oh.

"Anything you can spare, I will gladly accept. I don't do paperwork but when you have some time I can lead you through the process so you are secure in knowing your funds are put to good use."

A dry expression cast her way. "Rather than purchasing me an estate of Galidraan or something like that."

The curtains ceased to move. Which was a rather ominous sign.

"Would you like to place a wager who was observing us from the safety and comfort of the estate?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima smirked. "Oh, yes, well -- let's be sure that we don't take comprehensive notes on our criminal conspiracy," she told him, nodding her head officiously. She wanted to say that being a friend of her brother's was enough evidence of his good intentions, but that seemed slightly patronizing, and this seemed to be a point of pride for him. "Yes, I think that would be fine," she answered seriously. "I trust you, but then again this coat is of very high quality and if I'm not much mistaken is from one of the better, very exclusive core-based luxury menswear line, so it does make sense to be sure I'm not subsidizing your decadent lifestyle."

She dug in her purse for a breath mint and popped it into her mouth.

"I'd bet that it was my mother -- Her Majesty -- twitching the curtains. Whatever the deed or title says, whatever the law says, as far as she is concerned this is her house, and that," she said, gesturing vaguely towards Herevan Village, "is her village and the people who live in it are her responsibility. Credits to croissants, she was checking to see if anything was on fire out here. Shall we say -- twenty credits?"

She sucked the mint, willing it to dissolve quickly, freshen her breath. Neither Mother nor George could very well shout at a guest for smoking outside, where the smoking area was, but Reima suspected she would be granted any such courtesy, especially if they smelled a cigar on her breath. "But if you'd like to make it more interesting, how about a flutter on who comes out first? I'll wager another twenty that it's George."

Dorian Rothmere​

 

[Dorian Rothmere]

Reima Vitalis

His eyes flicked to the mint and then back to her face.

"Oh, dear, are you going to get in trouble if they smell the smoke on you?" Dorian asked with some measure of sympathy. He remembered when his father was still alive. No matter how old he was, how he had gone to a war and back, the old man always assumed he had a right to have an opinion on anything Dorian did or did not do.

Exhausting, really. But ironically when he passed away from illness Dorian missed him something fierce.

"George..." Humming softly there and thinking about it. "No, I do think it will be your mother. If she feels so responsible for everything, I cannot see George outrunning her to get through the door first and making sure I am treating you with dignity and respect."

Teasing her a little but then deciding to stand up, offering his hand to her.

"Shall we get ourselves presentable for when he or she shows up?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"I see that you have had parents as well," Reima observed dryly around the mint. "Yes, I'll definitely get stick if my mother thinks I've been smoking a cigar. George, too." She worked the mint around in her mouth. "It's astonishing how they never let go." Only death was a release.

"Yes -- very astutely observed," Reima said, in regard to the Duke's answer as to who it would be through the front door. "But you forget. Natasi Fortan is a creature of tradition and by tradition it's the host who greets guests." She pondered this a few moments, then gave a half-shrug, skeptical of her own reasoning. "Then again it's possible that I am not considered a guest -- I'm just Reima. Nothing to get agitated about. So maybe you're on to something."

Reima took Dorian's hand quite the wrong way and hustled to shrug out of his jacket and pressed it into his hand as she stood. "Thanks ever so," she said bracingly. "Turns out I nearly froze to death with it. Without it I'd be frostbitten by now." She smiled tightly. "We'll talk more about that -- fomenting -- I hope?"

By then the door was opening, and both turned to see who owed what to whom. The slender frame of Natasi Fortan emerged, clearly having wrapped herself hastily in a fur coat. "My darling, what are you doing out here in the cold? Come inside, both of you, it's nearly tea," Natasi called from the doorway. Reima glanced at Dorian. "Even, then," she observed before heading off toward the door, pausing to drop into a curtsy before her Sovereign, then rising to exchange cheek kisses with her mother. Reima was bundled inside, where a pair of footmen were waiting to take her coat, her hat, her gloves, and any sense of independence she possessed.

"I hope she hasn't been corrupting you, Your Grace," Natasi murmured as she let him pass before pulling the door shut behind them.

"I absolutely was," Reima said cheerfully.

Dorian Rothmere​