A Difficult Job

A quaint house in Stormwind's Dwarven District. The main floor held the coffee table, a few plush couches, and a walkway towards a dining room and kitchen. The home was well loved, decorated with a family portrait, and bookcases filled with books. For now, it was just them.
Emrys and Wynevra, the strained siblings.

"Do you have any idea how much harder you make my job, Wynevra?" he huffed. Pleasantries had been exchanged moments before, his tea was offered hot. The young lad with bound blonde hair and venom emerald eyes eyed his sister that sat diagonal from him. He was dressed for the visit: a button down, slacks, and a tie. Always proper.

"Tch. You come into my home, I ain't seen you since Winter's Veil before the last scourge invasion, and that's like the third or fourth thing you say to me? We can't start with, 'Hello sister, how are you?'" She contrasted him in many ways. Olive skin, brown messy short hair, and brown-garnet eyes. Her face was decorated with a few scars and piercings along her brow, lip, tongue, nose, and ear. She was dressed comfortable for the home: loose fitting pants and a shirt.

He stared at her for a few long moments. He'd rather be doing paperwork. "Hello, sister, how are you?" he echoed, voice flat.

Wynevra scowled. There was the family resemblance. The way their eyes voiced their displeasures in life, the way their nose wrinkled in discontent, the pull of their lips into a hard frown. "You don't actually care." she rolled her eyes, "After everything I did for you..."

Emrys scoffed. "You left me in a barn to die by fire, Wynevra."

"For fuck's sake, I was fourteen! Let it go, I've more than made up for it!" Her hands raised off her lap, palms flat as she gesticulated her anger.

"And I was twelve! And no, you haven't." He remained still. He went to sip from his tea, "And even if you had- you make it worse, literally every day. What would father think? What does your boyfriend-or-fiancee think? You have a step-son. Are you even clean?" His words were cold, delivered relatively evenly. He was scolding a child rather than a twenty-four year old woman.

Wynevra squinted her eyes at him. "I am clean, I have a step-son, and my boyfriend is well aware of what I get up to and accepts it." she harumphed as she went to cross her arms. "Is this about that encounter with House Matheredor? I didn't even see them, I was down a hill, and yards away. They stopped me at the door to a friend's house. They approached me."

"The Duke does not want to see you, and he saw you." he stated firmly. He set the tea back on the coaster and rotated it so that the handle was parallel with the straight of the table. The table wasn't straight...and that bothered him. "So, you need to be unseen, unless it is directly to come to me."

"Oh, fuck off. Adorlan can get the fuck over it. I **bled** for that motherfucker." her finger went to point to the scars at her face- one at her neck, and one at her temple. Then, her hands went to her thighs. "I tucked his children in at night and told them stories. I loved him. I used my blade for him. I protected his apprentice from gettin' fuckin' merc'ed. And how did he repay me for that, huh? He sent fuckin' Aldritch to whip me in front of everybody and I still got the Light-damn scars on my back."

"Aldritch was a traitor, I hung him myself. And we've been over this. You broke Adorlan's heart, betrayed his trust, and while you saved his apprentice at the time; you killed a fellow House member in the process. From the reports I read, a clean decapitation. You're lucky you only got whipped. If I was in power at the time, I would've executed you myself and finally, you tried to release the Dollmaker. Uncle Cadfael." He stared at her, hard as he delivered his opinions and the facts cooly and without mercy.

The Dollmaker, however, was in front of her. They both knew it. She didn't know that he knew it.

Wynevra stared at him, hard. Garnet eyes portrayed a similar venom that he had. The moment hung in the air. Temptation rose. She could tell him now. Break whatever spell Adorlan suppossedly had over him, or, so she thought. She tried to release her brother from execution. Her hands gripped at her pants and her lips pursed.

"You promised to talk to the Duchess about Bruce. Did you ever?" she asked hollowly.

"I did no such thing. And besides, do you really think I could convince The Duke to introduce The Duchess to you? Give me a break. You're never going to meet her, Wynevra." He couldn't handle the coffee table being unstraight any longer. He set his hands to it and went to aligning it straight.

"I don't want to meet her. I can leave the house. Please. Just talk to them. It's not for me. It's for Bruce. He's fifteen, Emrys. He deserves to see again and you said his ailment was arcane. Look at me." She leaned forward in her seat to look at him straight.

His attention shifted from the coffee table to her.

"When were you going to tell me you got married?" Her gaze lowered to the ring on his finger.

"Engaged." he corrected.

"Am I... going to meet her? Am I invited?" she searched his expression, her own softening a little.

"House Matheredor members are not allowed, except for me because we're related, to engage with you except to defend The Duke. No, you're not invited." He folded his hands between his knees.

"C'mon, Emrys. Defend? I ain't a threat. Adorlan's my ex, and ya'll are my friends. You're the Inquisitor. You make and enforce the rules. If anyone can make an exception, it's you and Adorlan. Just one day, or two. One day to meet her, and one day to be there for you on your special day. You'd be invited to mine..."

He sighed. "No." Like a parent that had denied a child a treat umpteen times, he shook his head with exasperation. He parted his hands to wave one, to physically shift the conversation. "I came here for a reason. Please, do you understand how many people told me my sister was whore-ing about as soon as I arrived on the training field? Do you understand how that damages my reputation? Do you understand how that undermines my ability to run a tight ship?" He looked at her sternly. "Knock it off, get your shit together, fuck inside wedlock and then maybe, maybe I can plead a case for you to get the exile lifted. Frankly, we have a better chance of seeing the moons collide."

Wynevra deflated. Any hope she had shattered in that moment. Her throat got tight, and her lower lip quivered. She hung her head and set her weight on her forearms, which leaned on her knees.

"Get out. I ain't gonna take this shit in my own house. See you... whenever you decide to drop by again, lil bro'." she fanned her fingers in a lackadaisical wave goodbye.

Emrys looked at her for a hard moment. His message had been delivered. He stood from the couch then, and meandered to retrieve his coat. He hadn't even finished his tea.

"Her name's Sky Matheredor." he informed flatly. His gaze lingered onto her bent over form. There was no emotion there. No sadness. No pity. Animals had more feelings for their dinner than Emrys had for Wynevra. "Have a good evening."

The couch wasn't straight.

He reached for the door handle and let himself out.