In Which Viridis Sees the Purpose Served

March 16, 1180

"So..." Searle began, no doubt out of a desire to say something but an inability to decide just what. "I hope the trip wasn't too tiresome."

Viridis fought to keep from cringing. Whatever a man said to his estranged daughter--or his estranged son, depending on how much Landus knew--after so many years of silence, it certainly wasn't that. Some self-centric corner of her mind mused that he might have been keeping his distance for her sake, to avoid any further reminder of her own lack of a child. If it was that, she wondered if she ought to leave the room, but Searle's hand was cold and trembling around her own under the table. He wasn't distant. He wasn't uncomfortable or guarded or cautious.

He was scared.

Tivalia, though... not so much, not if her face said anything. But perhaps that was by her own design. Her mother had been stoic too. "It wasn't."

Other than, Viridis guessed, the fact that it had been made at all.

"I, uh... I wanted to speak with you at your grandmother's funeral." A segment of Tivalia's lip disappeared behind her tooth. Both of the girl's grandmothers were dead, both in her lifetime. She may have been wondering which one he meant. Viridis didn't have the heart to point that out to Searle. "Your mother--"

"Don't blame it on my mother."

Searle let the thought drop and relapsed into the silence. There was little anger in Tivalia's voice, but that might have been half the effect. It was too easy to dismiss the anger of a sixteen-year-old. Whatever the tone was--whatever emotion for which Viridis had no name--was not so easily brushed aside. "Just... I'm tired, all right? And my mother is tired too."

"Your mother hasn't seen me since--"

"No. She sees you every time she looks at me." Landus glanced over at Neilor and Neilor himself scowled in confirmation. Tivalia, however, let her eyes drop to her lap. "She sees that you're not there. She sees everything she ever had to do on her own, everything you should have been there for. And she sees a need to make it up to me somehow, and she sees that you'll never make it up to her. Don't tell me when my mother last saw you. She's seen you a thousand times for every time you've seen her."

Viridis glanced over at her husband. He had nothing to say to that, because there was nothing to say to that. It couldn't have been whatever long-winded, heart-wrenching speech Tivalia had spent the entire journey preparing--that had been forgotten at the sight of Searle, if Viridis knew anything of such things--but nonetheless the purpose had been served.

"I... take it you'd rather not talk just now?"

It was a weak offering and everyone at the table new it. Nonetheless, Tivalia took it. "Not now. I need to think."

Searle closed his eyes, likely in agreement. None of the three visitors spoke, but no one made any move to leave. Not sure what else to do, Viridis caught Landus's eye. "I take it you're all hungry. Should I tell the housekeeper to start on supper?"

Landus looked to Neilor for an affirming grunt before nodding. Tivalia managed a grimace; it was, as any of Viridis's sisters would have called it, 'fake as hell', but it was still an effort. "That would be nice. Thank you."

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