Triss sat on the steps of her parent’s home in Talant, head resting against the wall beside her. The crisp scent of the ocean wafted around her. The ocean’s waves were calm. Soothing. She could see her yacht floating gently at the docks a bit in the distance. The sun was getting ready to set, its light dancing across the waters. She had missed being home. Friends from the navy greeted her readily, bombarding her with questions about Regalia. Her parents did much the same while also inquiring about the ring on her finger. Letters could only do it so much justice. All in all, it was a pleasant visit. The Allorn Empire had not changed… too much about Algassai, and that was a relief to Triss. Footsteps approached from the path up the hill. Triss turned her attention to the noise as a messenger jogged up, offering a wave. “A letter for Arton Aduro. This the right place?” the man asked, digging around in his bag before pulling out a sealed piece of parchment. “Mhrm, you got it,” Triss replied, standing to take it. “I’ll get it to him, thanks.” The messenger dipped his head, turning to make his way back down. “Ulley protect!” his voice rang as he made his way. Triss exhaled through her nose. That time had long since passed. "Dragons guide you." she muttered as she turned, making her way back into the house. She drifted on toward to her father’s drafting room where he sat at his desk, working away. Sketches and schematics of boats lay scattered across various counters. A workaholic as always... some things never change. She walked over, sneaking a hug around him. “Hey, dad!” she chirped as she placed the letter upon the desk. “Gah-! Void, Tryphona… Going to kill this old heart someday, you know that?” he asked with a sly smile. “Whatcha got, here?” he mused, taking the letter in hand. A wax seal holding the Aduro family’s sigil closed the letter. Arton perked a brow, peeling back the seal before opening the letter. Triss pulled away from her hug, now wandering about the room, looking at some of her father’s new drafts as he read. Arton drew a quiet breath as he removed his eyeglasses from his face, setting them on the desk. He rubbed his eyes. “Tryphona… Take a seat, hm?” he said, nodding to a chair nearby. Triss perked a brow as she did so, scooting closer. “What’s wrong?” she asked, crisscrossing her legs in her chair. “Your cousin, Cellica…” he started, taking a moment to find words. “...There was a, ehm. An incident in Daenshore. A riot, to be more precise. She was.. Found at one of her friend’s plantations..” he continued, gritting his teeth for a moment. “She’s passed on, Tryphona.” he said softly, heavy eyes resting on her. Triss blinked. She reached for the letter, taking it with a trembling hand as she started to read for herself. The closest person she had to a sibling. Her best friend growing up. The only cousin she really ever knew at all, for that matter. Just… Gone? She continued to read, feeling her heart jump as she read just how Cellica was found. She choked out a cry, letting the letter fall. Arton reached forward, pulling Triss into his arms. No words were spoken. The sunlight peeking through the windows slowly waned as night took hold. -x- The upcoming days were certainly not ones Triss thought she’d experience. Mourning with family. Planning and preparing her cousin’s funeral. Attending the funeral itself. Confusion and anger took turns fighting over Triss’ mood. Why were there riots? And why did it have to be her that was taken? Someone who had only ever lived to give back and serve. Where Triss fought with a sword and spear, Cellica had fought with love and compassion. Where Triss served in the navy, Cellica had only ever served in the likes of an Almshouse. What kind of cruel fate was this? A fate where the one with blood on their hands continued on? A fate that robbed the world of one who had dedicated themselves to giving back to it? -x- These questions lingered on her mind as she made her way back to Regalia. As the harbor of the Holy City came into view, the faux-Isldar drew a breath, trying to get her thoughts together. She would unpack… Say hello to Elena… Return to Cillian to inform of her return from her trip… And then, see what caused the riots, if anyone here knew anything. Anything at all, just for closure. That was her goal. After the yacht had pulled into port and docked, Triss made her way down the boardwalk. She walked by a noticeboard before a couple of weathered pieces of parchment caught her eye.... Triss felt a lump in her throat as her breathing hastened. She shook her head. From disbelief? A feeling of… betrayal? Regardless, she had enough. She tore the sheet, stuffing it into her bag. The Fin’ullen stomped down the boardwalk, seething.
