The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[NPCs]

"And the rest?" Her voice is low, a bare murmur, and the bubble of deference around the Matriarch makes it very unlikely anyone can overhear them naturally. The various magical protections Claudia had mentioned, just in case Coquette was used to using magic during conversations-- proof yet again that Claudia knows very, very little of Coquette's upbringing-- would make it just as plausible someone would overhear unnaturally. Perhaps that is why Feythal is allowing melancholy of all things to colour her voice. Melancholy and... regret?

[Coquette Blacquin]

"The... rest? I'm afraid I don't-- ah." As Faythiel taps the golden thread, she nods, suddenly understanding. "A birdcage. Birds are commonly kept as housepets, but to prevent them escaping, they are clipped so they cannot fly and put into cages. They make pleasant songs, you see. Little whistles and melodic chirps. There is a saying about gilded cages being just as uncomfortable as plain metal ones," she adds. "So there is an element of metaphor."

[NPCs]

Feythal had listened quietly, attentively, to Coquette's explanation but it's not until the merikos drow gives that last admission that she nods slightly, a hint of tension fading as she does. "I have heard of birds of course," she murmurs. "Eaten them, several kinds. But I have not seen one in this shape before, only ones more... feathered orbs with actual necks. Foul creatures, even if their flesh is among the more appealing surface foods."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Geese," she says, with a knowing nod. "Very unpleasant beasts." 

[NPCs]

"Geese," she repeats the exotic word with a faint wrinkle of her nose. "And what name has this bird? A more graceful one than 'geese' I might hope?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"A cardinal, grandmother. Cardinals are songbirds, bred for their pretty music."

[NPCs]

"Cardinal?" Feythal purses her lips for a moment. "Is that not Common for... something that is both fundamental and valued? Tch." She shakes her head slightly. "Such a crude, fragmented tongue." Without any warning, she shifts back to, "and you see yourself as such? A trapped bird, good for only frippery?" 

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I stitched this on the way here, thinking of my life with... my former wife. The way she saw me, the way she treated me."

[NPCs]

Feythal hums softly, a thoughtful, considering sound, as she studies the design a moment look. Finally, she looks up at Coquette, gaze imperious, calculating. "I would be interested in a second piece, one made while you were thinking of your life now."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Yes, Grandmother. When I have settled in, I shall reflect on my new life and produce such a piece."

[NPCs]

"That would be well done," is the soft reply. "Though I wonder... what thoughts have you so far on this new life of yours? Not the one you expected or hoped for as a girl, I am sure. Nor, perhaps, even as recent as last season."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Now? We're doing this now? "I hardly know what to think, Grandmother. It has been mere days. I have been focused on finding my place, learning how to behave all over again. It is very different, despite my former wife's claims about her heritage."

[NPCs]

Thankfully, Noir's hedge of an answer gets a soft chuckle instead of a scowl. Or worse. "Understandable, I suppose." She tilts her head back then, her gaze meeting Coquette's. "Finding, learning... Perhaps a tutor would be helpful? Yes... But whom?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Grandmother?"

[NPCs]

"I shall think on it for now," is the absent reply. "You should go back to your new wife and... try... to enjoy the rest of the feast. They-- well, some of them at least-- mean no true harm in their antics." She says faintly indulgent, as if speaking of small children making faces at each other or the like. Perhaps, to her, they are.