Grieving Mother, Take Two (Sunrise)

Bright and early the morning of the 9th, Sunrise steels herself and knocks at Laerdya's door.

Laerdya opens the door in a state of dishevelment; her long white hair tumbles down to the backs of her knees and her dressing gown is clumsily knotted, as though her hands weren't quite able to make the motions smoothly. Her eyes are red from crying and she gazes out at Sunrise without recognizing her for a long moment. "You're... I know you," she murmurs, a line of tired frustration creasing her brow. "Dawn."

"Sunrise," she says gently, and smiles. "Close enough. May I come in?"

"Um. Yes," she says, though it seems the answer is given purely because she isn't sure what her options are. She stands back from the door a little.

"You're not resting," she chides as she steps inside, her voice still gentle. "Or taking care of yourself. You need to. I have questions for you about the investigation. We're following up several different leads, so some of them may seem a little random," she warns, "but its all to help us find Gwyn. May we sit? I can brush your hair while I ask," she offers.

She nods, tears springing to her eyes at the gentle scolding. "I can't meditate," she explains in a quiet wail as she finds a brush and sits on the edge of her bed for Sunrise to minister to her. "I see her. From childhood to now, stolen, taken, I see her. I see him. I see them both."

"Him?" Her brush strokes are gentle, working one section at a time in an attempt not to pull and hurt her. "Oh. Your husband?" She shakes her head. "I know. But we're going to find her."

"He betrayed me," she almost spits, the words sour in her throat. "But I... I loved him. I did. I loved him so much, once. I miss that. And having her taken, it... it brings back old memories."

Soft hands work through tangles. "He betrayed you? I didn't know that."

"He died," she says, her voice soft and sorrowful. "I tried so many times to bring him back. So many times. Every way you can think. He refused. He was human, you know, and felt he was 'too old'. That it was 'his time' to pass. I told him I would fix that. I told him our daughter needed him."

Her voice trails away, distracted in her grief. "My daughter. She is human, too. Half-human, all-frail. She ages so quickly. So quickly. She will die as he did, if I don't prevent it."

"We do have possibly good news," she says in a matter-of-fact tone while brushing. "From what we've learned about Korogur and how he operates, there is a very good chance he used deception rather than force to kidnap Gwyn. If so, she's still a captive and still in danger, but it means she may not have been physically hurt or badly mistreated yet. Obviously we don't know for sure, but based on what we do know I think we can be cautiously optimistic that she hasn't been treated too terribly."

She takes a deep breath, then moves past this. "I need to ask: who, besides you, is Gwyn close to? Who has a lot of influence on her? Does she have people she particularly likes or particularly dislikes?"

Laerdya turns with wide eyes to listen to this first part, hope springing up in their depths. "Oh," she breathes. "Oh, do you really think so? I... I've been so afraid that they were... That she was... Oh, if it please the gods, let it be true that she's not being harmed. I just want her back safe and sound, my little girl."

At Sunrise's question, she hesitates. "Well, she and I are very close," she points out, this being obvious. "She's friendly with Erdan, he's like an uncle to her." Her hesitation grows longer. "She... is polite to Luther," she says, her lips thinning with a trace of old anger. "She doesn't dislike anybody, though, not my dear Gwynnestri."

"Yourself, Erdan, Luther?" she repeats. "Anyone else? In or out of the tower."

Laerdya hesitates again. "Well, she's... friendly with the students in her age group, but her health doesn't really allow her to socialize. Andry is like an aunt to her, always giving hugs and treats. She visits the temple of Yondalla like the regular tides. Your... the other people said that is how Korogur spotted her." She wrinkles her nose. "We will have to do something about her schedule when she returns, and guards. Lots of guards. She won't like that, but it will be necessary. Rik will understand."

Sunrise makes soft noncommittal noises of agreement as she works through a tangle. "Okay, different question: between Flamerule 10 and 16, what happened to Gwyn? Did she do anything special during that time?"

"Flamerule...?" The frazzled woman who can barely remember her own name looks panicky at being asked to remember something two months previous. "I don't... It's... Gwynnestri doing something special?"

Frowning, she presses her fingers to her temple to think. "The... The middle of Flamerule, she was very sick. She had cold chills and vomiting and wouldn't stop shivering for days. She had night terrors when she slept, terrible dreams. Humans dream," she adds sadly.

"But whatever it was passed and she insisted on going to temple. I only remember because it wasn't her usual schedule. I suppose she wanted to give thanks for her recovery." Laerdya sighs fondly. "She's always been a good girl. Pious."

"She sounds like a wonderful girl," Sunrise says, smoothing a piece of hair into place. "I want to change focus for just a moment - you've been working on a cure, yes? How close would you say you've gotten? I know it's been a while since you've been able to focus."

"Oh!" Laerdya nods, some animation entering her frail frame. "I'm close, I know I am. This disease upsets me so much, you know. I mean, they all do, it's why I make cures, but this one! It's so brutal. Killing what should be protected. I know I'm close. I know I am. Luther wants me to make progress faster," she admits, turning sour, "but I've been taking care of Gwynnestri. And then she was taken and I've had trouble concentrating... But soon. Yes."

She nods slowly. "Have there been any interruptions in getting the supplies you need to work?"

She frowns at this, genuinely puzzled. "Yes? How did you...?"

She chuckles softly. "I told you we were good at finding things out. Can you tell me about that? How long has it been going on, and how has it affected your work?"

Her frown deepens. "Well, it's been just awful. Almost from the start, there's been interruptions. If I need dreamweed, suddenly it can't be bought for love or money. If I put in a large order for maiden's heart, I'll get one batch and then everyone is out. It's been dreadful, and slowed me down tremendously. Luther says the supply chain is volatile. Pirates and, and things. I don't really pay attention."

She nods. "Pirates and things," she echoes, a note of grimness in her voice. "Do you think you would have arrived at a cure sooner if you had plenty of everything you needed?"

"It didn't help," she agrees, nodding sorrowfully. "Anything is possible, of course, but yes, I work best when I have the materials I need."

She hums softly as she brushes, tangles worked out by now, brushing for the simple pleasure of gentle bristles on the scalp. "You told your husband you could 'fix' him being old," she murmurs. "You said Gwyn would age and die if you didn't prevent it. How do you plan to prevent it?"