Letters from Rudrig

[Dissero]

His laughter diminished as Verie explained their dire situation. Always with the dour outlook – 'the flowers will wilt' – he wondered if she was more her mother's daughter than she cared to admit. Eyes narrowed, he watched her, and chuckled once more at her query of colors.

"Gods no, black or white," he waved a hand dismissively at that,"it's-" he was about to comment that not everything was black or white, Sith or Jedi, but stopped himself. He couldn't have that conversation with her. Would she really even understand it? Merovign had no idea what she knew or did not know of either end of that particular spectrum. He would need to find out sooner or later, but it was a conversation he deeply dreaded.

"It's blue," he said finally, smiling easily, "but I like many colors. And I do think that's what this place needs. I was going to have my sister help me pick out some artwork for the place, but she's rather busy shadowing our mother on Kuat. Why don't you help me instead. We'll take a tour through the Fine Arts Academy tomorrow and stop at the gallery."

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Blue. She made a mental note and then folded her arms around her stomach and took a few tentative steps back towards the kitchen, where the flowers sat. She tried to picture blue accents -- napkin rings, perhaps? -- but if it were her tastes it would have to be subtle, for too much color posed a similar problem as too little. But it would all depend on Merovign's tastes, and they were as enigmatic to her as this illusive position he mentioned but hadn't explained.

"Your Lady Sister is much more talented with these types of things than I, I'm afraid. I'm not sure I have an eye for the visual arts." She unfolded her arms, suddenly self-conscious, and clasped her hands in front of her, glancing to the side and then down. Verie cleared her throat and then looked back up. "But I'd be glad to lend my eyes if you think it would be helpful, of course I would. Ah -- is there someplace that I can, um, freshen up?" She needed to dispose of the flower in her hand and she wanted to throw some cold water on her face and fix her makeup -- no doubt it could do with freshening after the ride.

 

[Dissero]

Nishka quivered, tail lancing out as she cast a quick look at the doorway, hearing movement outside. The Bothan caught her tail in her hand and began to stroke it nervously, "Then you are not?" she seemed to look relieved to hear this, but the wild look quickly returned.

"You musht be careful, the Mashter ..." she took a few steps closer to Verie, "ish a dark man. He shmellsh of ash and death, can't you shmell it?" her voice squeeked. There were footsteps outside the door. Nishka gave a low whine, "You shouldn't shtay, it ishn't shafe-"

"Verie?" Merovign called from out in the hall.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutesh!" Nishka jumped, made for the door and bustled out through it as soon as they hissed open, nearly toppling Mero in the process.

"Did she?" Mero peered through the door, putting a hand on the frame to keep it from sliding closed again, "Did you...get her name?" He cracked a grin.