GoldenHouou
antagoonist
Miraela Leonhart
Cainhurst Manor, Kieran's Chambers
Knowing the red text was not written with blood helped ease the situation, if only a little. It did not bring them any closer to finding her grandfather, but it gave hope that wherever he may be, he might still be unharmed. If the message truly was written hours ago however, that gave cause for hurry. He’d last been seen at lunch... a time that felt like a forever ago, in the light of everything that had happened since.
Miraela pulled her hands from the curtains and pressed them to her chest.
Ronaldo suggested the message could be pointing to the garden outside, and she jumped a little at the notion. Was there not a storm outside? They’d witnessed its rage but a moment ago!
Lucy addressed her worries before she could even voice them, informing them that the garden was framed by the manor and therefore safe from the brunt of the wind. For the rain, they had umbrellas. It... sounded like a plausible clue to pursue, the way Lucy put it, and yet Miraela hesitated to volunteer.
She looked to her father. He met her worried eyes with a firm nod and a reassuring smile. If she did not want to go to the garden, she would not have to. That’s what he seemed to be saying.
Miraela returned his smile with one of her own.
Cainhurst Manor, Parlor
The parlor was... different, from most other rooms they had seen in the manor so far. Miraela wasn’t sure if she liked it. It looked more homely than the others, less concerned with appearance than comfort. But... she had not grown up in homely rooms, she had grown up in extravagant ones, and her mother had made sure she knew never to expect comfort to matter more than a good impression. If anything, this room was the one that felt foreign to her.
When prompted, she offered a hushed “thank you” and helped herself to a cup of tea. Chamomile, for its calming properties. She needed all the help she could not to let her unease show.
She took a seat next to Ally and quietly settled into listening.
The first thing she heard nearly made her grip on the tea loosen. Orianna seemed to have forgotten about her son - who, at least from a glance, was still not present. Miraela shifted nervously in her seat. Her aunt did not seem old enough to suffer from dementia. Beatrice had made another appearance, as well.
Do you believe in magic?
Had she a choice?
Before she could answer even in her own head, the conversation shifted. Lucy seemed shaken from what had happened earlier, but the combined reassurance of most people present managed to bring her ease. Though she was glad to see Lucy feeling better, Miraela was not entirely sure she agreed with her father’s casual suggestion to discard courtesy. Mostly, she admitted, for selfish reasons. If she dispersed with formalities, what did she have left?
Something she did not want shown, she feared.
She took a sip of her tea.
From there, groups begun to form. Lucy, Violetta and Sybil volunteered to go to the record room. Briefly, Miraela wondered if she should go with. She did not want to go upstairs with Yuri, and the thought of braving the storm a second time was anything but appealing. Even if... that might have meant possibly being alone with two men, in a storm, under an umbrella, in the dark, with no one to see he--
Miraela practically drowned herself with her next sip. It took all she had not to cough.
Before she could recover and voice her preference however, the decision was made for her. Bianca approached her out of nowhere with a cheery greeting, seizing her wrist and pulling her from her seat towards the butlers. Miraela’s steps fell into a graceful walking rhythm fast enough, but her heart was a different matter. It beat loudly.
“B-Bianca,”she whispered under her breath, eyes darting between her and the men. She could not look at the latter two for long, though. The images she’d painted of them in her mind a moment ago were still too strong, and threatened to dye her cheeks an incriminating crimson. “Dear cousin, whatever are y-”
"Gentlemen, my cousin and I would be interested in coming with you to the garden."
Oh-- oh, no, Bianca was being straightforward again. She couldn’t pretend not to know her reasons for the decision - nor could she really condemn them, when she was guilty of similar thoughts. Miraela bit her lip. To contradict Bianca after such a promise would not only bring shame to her, but to Miraela herself as well. She had no choice now but to play along.
“Y-yes, quite,” she shuffled nervously for a moment, trying to fix up her presentable persona. “As I was part of the group to discover the text, I felt it my responsibility to see its investigation through. If you’ll have me.”
Have... me. The words brought a different meaning to mind, and she quickly cast her gaze down to examine her shoes. They were quite nice shoes indeed.
Perhaps going outside would not be so bad after all. It was suddenly awfully hot inside.
Cainhurst Manor, Kieran's Chambers
Knowing the red text was not written with blood helped ease the situation, if only a little. It did not bring them any closer to finding her grandfather, but it gave hope that wherever he may be, he might still be unharmed. If the message truly was written hours ago however, that gave cause for hurry. He’d last been seen at lunch... a time that felt like a forever ago, in the light of everything that had happened since.
Miraela pulled her hands from the curtains and pressed them to her chest.
Ronaldo suggested the message could be pointing to the garden outside, and she jumped a little at the notion. Was there not a storm outside? They’d witnessed its rage but a moment ago!
Lucy addressed her worries before she could even voice them, informing them that the garden was framed by the manor and therefore safe from the brunt of the wind. For the rain, they had umbrellas. It... sounded like a plausible clue to pursue, the way Lucy put it, and yet Miraela hesitated to volunteer.
She looked to her father. He met her worried eyes with a firm nod and a reassuring smile. If she did not want to go to the garden, she would not have to. That’s what he seemed to be saying.
Miraela returned his smile with one of her own.
--
Cainhurst Manor, Parlor
The parlor was... different, from most other rooms they had seen in the manor so far. Miraela wasn’t sure if she liked it. It looked more homely than the others, less concerned with appearance than comfort. But... she had not grown up in homely rooms, she had grown up in extravagant ones, and her mother had made sure she knew never to expect comfort to matter more than a good impression. If anything, this room was the one that felt foreign to her.
When prompted, she offered a hushed “thank you” and helped herself to a cup of tea. Chamomile, for its calming properties. She needed all the help she could not to let her unease show.
She took a seat next to Ally and quietly settled into listening.
The first thing she heard nearly made her grip on the tea loosen. Orianna seemed to have forgotten about her son - who, at least from a glance, was still not present. Miraela shifted nervously in her seat. Her aunt did not seem old enough to suffer from dementia. Beatrice had made another appearance, as well.
Do you believe in magic?
Had she a choice?
Before she could answer even in her own head, the conversation shifted. Lucy seemed shaken from what had happened earlier, but the combined reassurance of most people present managed to bring her ease. Though she was glad to see Lucy feeling better, Miraela was not entirely sure she agreed with her father’s casual suggestion to discard courtesy. Mostly, she admitted, for selfish reasons. If she dispersed with formalities, what did she have left?
Something she did not want shown, she feared.
She took a sip of her tea.
From there, groups begun to form. Lucy, Violetta and Sybil volunteered to go to the record room. Briefly, Miraela wondered if she should go with. She did not want to go upstairs with Yuri, and the thought of braving the storm a second time was anything but appealing. Even if... that might have meant possibly being alone with two men, in a storm, under an umbrella, in the dark, with no one to see he--
Miraela practically drowned herself with her next sip. It took all she had not to cough.
Before she could recover and voice her preference however, the decision was made for her. Bianca approached her out of nowhere with a cheery greeting, seizing her wrist and pulling her from her seat towards the butlers. Miraela’s steps fell into a graceful walking rhythm fast enough, but her heart was a different matter. It beat loudly.
“B-Bianca,”she whispered under her breath, eyes darting between her and the men. She could not look at the latter two for long, though. The images she’d painted of them in her mind a moment ago were still too strong, and threatened to dye her cheeks an incriminating crimson. “Dear cousin, whatever are y-”
"Gentlemen, my cousin and I would be interested in coming with you to the garden."
Oh-- oh, no, Bianca was being straightforward again. She couldn’t pretend not to know her reasons for the decision - nor could she really condemn them, when she was guilty of similar thoughts. Miraela bit her lip. To contradict Bianca after such a promise would not only bring shame to her, but to Miraela herself as well. She had no choice now but to play along.
“Y-yes, quite,” she shuffled nervously for a moment, trying to fix up her presentable persona. “As I was part of the group to discover the text, I felt it my responsibility to see its investigation through. If you’ll have me.”
Have... me. The words brought a different meaning to mind, and she quickly cast her gaze down to examine her shoes. They were quite nice shoes indeed.
Perhaps going outside would not be so bad after all. It was suddenly awfully hot inside.
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