A heavy knock at the door jolted Eiren out of a dreamless sleep. He sat upright, panting at the shock.

"Mr. Adair, your presence is requested for dinner, sir." Dinner? Eiren cleared his dry throat and looked around for a clock, forgetting for a moment that he was not in the same room he was yesterday. The realization stunned him, and it was several hard moments before he could breathe again.

"Mr. Adair?"

"Just... just a moment," he replied, his voice cracking. He heaved himself out of the bed and groaned; in his fatigue, he had fallen asleep fully clothed, and the effect on his finely-pressed shirt was disastrous. He opened the door slightly and found himself looking down at the priest. "Ah," he said, taken aback once more by how short the man was. He can't be more than five feet. "I need to change, Father," he said, and the grey man nodded fervently.

"Of course, of course. Only, the Lord Van Wyk is expected back shortly." The priest looked up and creased his brow, sending a map of lines across his pallid skin. "It is imperative you be in the dining hall before then." It was Eiren's turn to frown.

"Why would it matter when I went to dinner?" The priest shook his head and wrung his hands together.

"It is not a desirable offense, to arrive after His Lordship for dinner."

"I suppose it isn't of importance if I am late to breakfast, or lunch, or evening tea?" Eiren felt himself growing cross, but there was something exceedingly... irritating about having his mealtimes dictated. The priest being the messenger for such irksome news surely didn't help the feeling.

"Mr. Adair, of course not!" The priest frowned even harder and shook his head. "Only dinner, sir."

"I'll be down in a moment," Eiren grumbled, eager to be rid of the conversation. He shut the door and turned to face his room. His suitcase had been placed by the window, presumably by that gibbering oaf, and Eiren nearly fainted when he saw it. It had to have been placed there during Caelony's tour, and stayed directly in the light of the sun for the entire day. Hastily relocating it to the other side of the bed and shooting a scowl at the window, he sat on the floor and rubbed the leather case softly. Though it had come from his father's house, the suitcase had served him well for many years; he would have hated to see it ruined in a day due to a solitary window.

Pulling the latch, Eiren stared into the soft pile of clothes. He pulled out the journals and slid them under the bed. His shirts were emptied by his feet, the trousers on his right. He briefly considered the shirts and selected a pale, bluish-grey one. Feeling no particular rush to dress quickly, he took his time, until he was clothed in something far less horrendous than his wrinkled clothes.

He made his way downstairs, wishing his shoes were not in the dresser downstairs. The house, despite its clean, welcome look, was exceptionally cold, and the steps had numbed his feet by the time he reached the bottom floor. An eerie darkness had descended in the hours he'd slept; with the setting of the sun, the candles that had warmed each room earlier had all been extinguished. The only light Eiren perceived in the gloom was off to his right, where he could hear Caelony's brash voice, and the gentle tinkering of dishes. With a heavy sigh, he made his way towards the light and tried not to despair over his expected dinner company. I'll be here far longer than this, he reminded himself grimly. It occurred to him that he had been fortunate enough to sleep the day away, and avoid the possible irritation the house's occupants would surely invite.

As he entered the dining room, the suddenness of the lights and the fierce smell of food hit Eiren rather powerfully. He blinked in the glare of the chandelier and what seemed like hundreds of candles - had they moved all of them from the rest of the house, just to light their dinner? Noticing Eiren in the doorway, Caelony stood up from the table and beamed.

"Darling!" She pulled out a chair beside her and slapped the table. "You're finally awake! I thought a few hours of walking had proved the death of you." Eiren shook his head and swallowed hard; the smell of onions and steak swirled hypnotically and reminded him how long ago he had last eaten.

"Hello, Caelony." He approached the table, passing the priest. "Is Van Wyk not in yet?" The priest put on a predictable frown.

"Lord Van Wyk," he sighed in response. "He has earned the title; I would ask that you respect it." Eiren turned away and suppressed an eye roll. "No, the Lord has not yet returned." Looking gleefully at the exchange, Caelony pulled a pitcher towards her and poured out a glass of red wine.

"Sit, love," she said to Eiren, and she handed him the glass. "Bele, how much longer will we have to wait before we enjoy the fruit of our chef's labours?" She poured out another glass and gestured towards the heavy platters of food. Though they were all covered, the smells that rose from under the silver lids were just as taunting as the visible food would have been.

The priest put his hands over his eyes and pressed hard.

"Is it a particular quality of youth," he asked hollowly through his hands, "to always disregard the proper forms of address for their elders?" Eiren looked briefly at Caelony and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have a... proper form of address?" Eiren asked, and the priest pulled his hands away to give him a firm look.

"Father," he replied, in a tone that stated how very unimpressed he was. Caelony snickered and he turned his gaze on her. "You, My Lady, are eight-and-twenty; I should expect a degree of maturity and respect in keeping with your age." This elicited a snort from her, poorly hidden behind her glass.

Before he could reprimand the two any further, the priest was interrupted by the sound of the front doors being forced open. Heavy footsteps shook the floor, and Eiren found himself wondering when the Estate had purchased a giant.

The giant revealed himself to be the Lord Van Wyk, with a large elk draped heavily over his shoulder. He looked at the assembled dinner party and paused.

"Eiren," he said after a moment, and he made his way into the dining room. Eiren swallowed and sat up straight, hiding his hands under the table and pressing his palms into his legs.

Elmund Van Wyk was tall and lean. A cold strength seemed to roll over his frame, reinforced by the ease with which he carried the large elk. His hair was long, longer even than Caelony's, and it was the same coal-black colour as hers. It fell in smooth waves over his shoulders and down his back, framing his open, intense face. He was dressed in iron-grey clothes and wore hunting boots that were a peculiar green, so dark they almost seemed black.

Though his face was calm and rather lively from his hunting, complete with coloured cheeks and vibrant skin, his presence still unsettled Eiren greatly. Was it the bloody deer, that left red lines across the floor and the arms of its killer, or did the feeling arise from the earthy wildness that the Lord emanated? Eiren privately decided he didn't care, nor did he suppose it mattered. He was quite sure that Van Wyk's presence would disturb him regardless of the circumstances.

He drew to a stop in front of the table, a seat or two away from the priest, and dropped the elk on the edge of the table. The priest flinched, and Caelony turned her gaze away, disgusted. Eiren stared, horrified, at the elk; its eyes stared vacantly but Eiren found that it seemed to look at him.

"I apologize for my lengthy absence," the Lord said huskily, and he threw himself down next to the corpse. "This one was... evasive." He looked past the priest and into the face of Eiren, who was still paralyzed by the deer. There was a stiff, awkward silence, and Eiren squirmed. This was not how he had expected to meet the Lord of Kelfordshire after so many years. After a minute or so of continued stress, on all but the Lord Van Wyk, it seemed, Caelony stood up and slammed her glass on the table. She marched out of the room, and Eiren stared after her, wondering if he, too, could simply leave. He jumped a second later - she could be heard yelling at the kitchen staff, though he couldn't make out any words. She came back in after a second, refusing to explain herself as she reclaimed her seat.

"Are we to wait until you make yourself presentable," she started coldly, "or may we begin dinner before it freezes over?" Eiren gawked at her change in voice; the priest choked at the presumption; Elmund Van Wyk merely bowed his head.

"Ah," he said, as though he had forgotten dinner was on the table. "You need not wait for me. I shall put on something more appropriate." And without another word, he had hefted the deer back onto his shoulder and walked out. His footsteps could be heard echoing throughout the house, each stair he passed crying out in protest.

The priest uttered a sound and threw his hands in the air before he, too, left the room, into the kitchen as Caelony had done. When he returned, it was with a heavy cloth and a small bowl of water. Eiren did not hear what he mumbled under his breath as he cleaned the table, but he felt that he did not need to guess.

"Filthy bastard," Caelony spat, and Eiren regarded her with a renewed sense of fear. A scowl cut deep into her brow, and her mouth was set in a hard line. She appeared very much her age then, and Eiren marveled at the speed with which her goodwill had disappeared. She did not touch her food, but sat back in her seat with her glass pressed sternly against her lips, as though holding back a cross word. Too nervous to start eating without Lord Van Wyk's presence, Eiren remained silently where he was. After a few minutes, the priest had largely cleaned the bloody mess left behind, though at the expense of his clean grey habit.

When Lord Van Wyk returned, he had appeared to regain some sense of character. He seated himself at the head of the table, a good six seats away from Caelony - who was the closest to him - and ten from Father Bele, who sat at the edge of the other end, not quite at the foot of the table. His dress was much more classical and befitting of his rank in society, but somehow, Eiren thought the dirty, bloody clothing the Lord had worn on his hunt lent a much grimmer impression. The current outfit his Lordship wore was chiefly dominated by a solid black waistcoat, faintly decorated with golden filigree. His hair was pulled back by a ribbon, hidden in the strands. He had let several locks fall about his face, much like Caelony had that morning. For someone who hates her father, their similarities are... striking.

The only way Eiren decided the Lord Van Wyk had not improved his appearance was somehow in his skin. Refreshed and colourful as he had been upon entering the house, Van Wyk had lost much of it when he rejoined the dinner party. His skin looked almost ivory, now, all the more striking when set against his dark hair and clothing. He had poured himself a glass of wine and sat back in his chair, looking over his hand at the table.

"Nobody has touched their food," he remarked. He looked to the priest and raised a dark eyebrow.

"No, my Lord... There was a matter of cleaning that needed taking care of." The priest looked down and sighed, before pulling a dish towards him. As he uncovered the food before him and began to scoop potatoes onto his plate, Lord Van Wyk turned his attentions to Eiren and Caelony.

"I am glad to see that you two are not as distant as you once were." Eiren nervously smiled and glanced at Caelony, who appeared to be struggling between admitting that her father was right, and biting back a retort that claimed otherwise.

"I don't believe there has ever been any animosity between us," offered Eiren, when he saw that Caelony was not inclined to say anything. This brought out a low laugh from Lord Van Wyk, which sounded suspiciously like a growl.

"I am not blind to the relationships within my house, Mr. Adair, nor am I unaware of the status of your feelings now... despite how you may have once felt," he added after a slight pause, before taking a deep sip of his wine and smiling slightly. "Still, I am glad that time appears to have rid you of your childish disagreements." Eiren had no idea how to respond to this; though he felt that Caelony had changed significantly since they last met, and was not the petty brat he had parted with, he still felt a hostile volatility beneath her outward smiling surface. The sense that she was not what she presented hadn't left him since he arrived. Still, how was he to explain this to the Lord Van Wyk, without embarrassing his bride-to-be?

"Perhaps it was time, my Lord. Time, and the presence of other women not so intriguing as your daughter." Caelony groaned under her breath and gave Eiren a dark look.

"Father," she cut into the conversation, "I'm sure Eiren wants nothing more than to be bothered with a decade's past mistakes, but would it be too much to ask that we eat our dinner in silence?" The priest shifted in his seat, but he remained silent; the insult of correcting the Lord's daughter for him had been corrected in the past, and though he did not agree with sitting and suffering through her rudeness, he was bound.

"Certainly," he acquiesced with a smile, "Only, you haven't begun to eat." He took another sip and gestured towards the table.

"I hope you have not grown accustomed to the steaks with the Luttons," he said to Eiren, and he pushed a plate towards him. He removed the platter with a practised gesture, and waved a hand before the food, sending the smell of cooked food under Eiren. "Our kitchens here are unrivaled in their skills with such." Although the steaks were half-bloodied, Eiren felt his stomach twist, and feeling as though he was doing something wrong, pulled a piece to his plate. To please my betrothed, or placate my liege? His belly tightened harder, and he smiled without humour. To satisfy my hunger, I suppose. The Lord watched him as he cut and put a piece of the meat in his mouth, hot blood dripping onto his plate, before smiling and refilling his glass. At his side, Eiren could all but feel Caelony's distaste, but he had been nearly a day without a meal. I'll face her pride when I'm not likely to faint, he thought as he without another word.

The rest of dinner was as quiet as Caelony had asked for. The priest ate little, and said less; while Caelony and Lord Van Wyk stiffly sipped their wine. Eiren finished his steak, and another, surprised by his appetite. With nobody else eating much, he finished dinner quickly, too put off by the silence to continue for long by himself. The group separated, and Eiren found himself in his room shortly. Caelony had stalked away to her bedroom, and the priest had gone outdoors, where Eiren supposed he had gone to isolate himself in the Abbey that clung to the edge of the estate.

He sat now on his bed, a journal in his lap as he looked at the window. He could just make out the moonlight, but the few candles he had around the room were at least bright enough to dim out the outdoor sight. After a few minutes, he heaved a dramatic sigh and looked down at the day's empty page. How much he longed for the presence of those beautiful sisters, or the cool, white walls of the Lutton residence! He considered this for a second, before scowling and shaking his head. No, not the sisters, they who have left me for dead. He clung to the idea that they had betrayed him, and he passed away many hours ruminating on his woes and his losses, until the candles before him withered and went out.