36th Ash, 122
It was to be the first meal Stefan had taken at the place he'd thought of as 'Home' since the city had fallen. He wasn't used to eating food that couldn't be held in one hand and consumed while working anymore. In all honesty, he wasn't used to eating sitting down anymore. The clothing he were was his own, it was clean, crisply pressed and it bore no resemblance to any of his uniforms. It felt odd. The act of letting his personal serving man dress him felt like a ritual from a forgotten time, like something he'd read about in a volume of ancient history.
He allowed it, and the use of a few luxuries for the preparation of their dinner. It was no fancier than what they would have considered a normal dinner just for the family before the events of the last season, but many things were more scarce now.
As Dienerin fastened his cuff links he looked around the room in which he had been the happiest in his life. It didn't feel like his anymore, didn't smell like his. It had been used to house several refugees before they had been rehoused in apartments on the Windworks ship. The tall, slim him who often seemed to know what he was thinking cleared his throat and said that it would take time before anything felt the same again. Stefan gave him a long look as he allowed his hair to be combed just so, but in the end he nodded. The acknowledgement was more to keep the peace, to keep his thoughts to himself then it was a belief in what had been said.
When he was ready he met Delia in the hall, standing and waiting a few minutes outside her door rather than stepping inside to observe the last of her toilette. He offered his arm, complimented her choices of dress and jewelry and then led her toward the sitting room, where, he had been informed, his cousin had been shown when he arrived. They met Eitan with Luca on his own arm, who looked as though she might decide to give birth at any moment. She wasn't full term yet, and Stefan's logical mind acknowledged that even while the part of him that experienced real life tried not to eye her worriedly.
The couples entered the sitting room one at a time, Angevin's first, for the Hall belonged to them, then then Dornkirks. All of whom bowed or curtsied and made their greetings to the Private. He was in his dress uniform, which was, so far, the only way Stefan had seen him and seemed somewhat overwhelmed. Stefan had often felt that way in company as his age and it didn't put him off at all. If anything, it endeared the younger man to him.
They had just finished the official introductions to the wives when the butler stepped in, bowed and told declared that dinner was served.
It was to be the first meal Stefan had taken at the place he'd thought of as 'Home' since the city had fallen. He wasn't used to eating food that couldn't be held in one hand and consumed while working anymore. In all honesty, he wasn't used to eating sitting down anymore. The clothing he were was his own, it was clean, crisply pressed and it bore no resemblance to any of his uniforms. It felt odd. The act of letting his personal serving man dress him felt like a ritual from a forgotten time, like something he'd read about in a volume of ancient history.
He allowed it, and the use of a few luxuries for the preparation of their dinner. It was no fancier than what they would have considered a normal dinner just for the family before the events of the last season, but many things were more scarce now.
As Dienerin fastened his cuff links he looked around the room in which he had been the happiest in his life. It didn't feel like his anymore, didn't smell like his. It had been used to house several refugees before they had been rehoused in apartments on the Windworks ship. The tall, slim him who often seemed to know what he was thinking cleared his throat and said that it would take time before anything felt the same again. Stefan gave him a long look as he allowed his hair to be combed just so, but in the end he nodded. The acknowledgement was more to keep the peace, to keep his thoughts to himself then it was a belief in what had been said.
When he was ready he met Delia in the hall, standing and waiting a few minutes outside her door rather than stepping inside to observe the last of her toilette. He offered his arm, complimented her choices of dress and jewelry and then led her toward the sitting room, where, he had been informed, his cousin had been shown when he arrived. They met Eitan with Luca on his own arm, who looked as though she might decide to give birth at any moment. She wasn't full term yet, and Stefan's logical mind acknowledged that even while the part of him that experienced real life tried not to eye her worriedly.
The couples entered the sitting room one at a time, Angevin's first, for the Hall belonged to them, then then Dornkirks. All of whom bowed or curtsied and made their greetings to the Private. He was in his dress uniform, which was, so far, the only way Stefan had seen him and seemed somewhat overwhelmed. Stefan had often felt that way in company as his age and it didn't put him off at all. If anything, it endeared the younger man to him.
They had just finished the official introductions to the wives when the butler stepped in, bowed and told declared that dinner was served.