Ingress of the House of Arch

He smiles down at her, slightly. "I am enjoying the party and my fruit punch."

"What are you doing here, other than causing a ruckus?"

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"I was invited," Mary informs him, haughtily and with great dignity.

She rather spoils the effect a second later by adding, with a child's temper, "Because I am not evil!"

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Aphelise is still smiling, speaking as though to a child. Since, well, he is. "Are you so sure?"

He twirls his glass of fruit punch. His slightly nasal voice sounds amused. "Evil would want to ruin the party, and you seem to be quite intent on doing so, replacing laughter with angry yelling."

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This comment receives the look of scorn that Mary feels it deserves.

"I should not be yelling," she points out, patiently, "if you were not here."

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"Yet, everyone was invited."

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"The witch was not," Mary retorts, head high, "and you are her friend. So you ought not to be invited either."

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"Then they should have thought of that sooner, hm?" He grins.

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"You could fix it," Mary suggests, "by going."

She glowers at him. "If you are not wanted you ought to go. And you are not wanted!"

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"It may be best if you set an example, little Mary, being the pillar of excellence you are. You are certainly not wanted, so perhaps you should leave."

He may be enjoying this little diversion from his true reason from being at the party.

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Mary does not stamp her foot.

But she's coming awfully close.

"It is Ingress' party," she snaps, "and Ingress should rather have me here than you!

You, you are only a stupid evil son of pigs who is not even brave enough to say he is evil - you only hide behind the witch!"

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His upper lip curls in a sneer of disgust. "Do I?"

Coming down until their eyes are level, the Black Rider meets Mary's eyes, holding her gaze as a snake holds the gaze of a little bird it intends to consume.

In his eyes, his ice-bright, ice-cold eyes, is the desolate howling of a midwinter blizzard, the icy wind rushing down out of the north to bring with it the crushing, killing cold that numbs the senses until they subside into the darkness. The cold of fear and of death, the cold of the black nothingness between the stars, the endless dark of space. In his gaze is the suffocating, mind-bending malevolence of the Dark. Behind his eyes stretches the abyss that is the heart of the Dark, the bottomless chasm of malice and hate born in every man's heart out of ignorance and fear, upon the edge of which stands this fragile, mortal girl.

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*Mary grew up in the heat of the Indian jungle.

It never agreed with her, but all the same - she's never felt the cold, not really, not in anything more than some snowball-play outside the bar.

The closest she's come to this sort of cold was the storm on Midwinter's Eve. But that storm wasn't aimed at her, and this one is; and Mary is a child of the heat.

She wraps her arms tightly around herself, and tilts her chin high, but it's not enough, not near enough -

- until her fingers brush the stem of the the apple blossom pinned to her dress.

The silvery flower blazes up, shining brightly; and in the middle of cold and winter and fear is an apple sapling covered in blossoms

(silver on the tree)

and that means spring; and spring is warmth, and Mary's gaze jerks away from the Dark Rider's.

They're at a party, that's all; and all around them are people laughing, and the room is full of light.

(But the blossom on Mary's chest has withered and died.)

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At a party, and there is a young man standing quietly behind Mary, having approached (relatively) quietly through the crowd. Wellard's hand brushes Mary's arm to let her know he is there, as he glances from her to crouching figure of the Black Rider.

"Miss Mary, Mr Aphelise. Good day." No smile, but his tone and look are pleasant enough, even if his eyes are sharp.

(He is dressed for the party, apparently, in the sort of uniform a royal commanding officer would wear, for Wellard's time.)

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The Black Rider's smile is twisted as he gets easily to his feet. His voice, however, is totally normal. His ice-sharp eyes are flat. "Good day, Henry."

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"Wellard," Mary says, still sounding a little stunned as she turns to glance at him; then, her voice sharpening suddenly: "You are still ill."

A short pause, Mary's face visibly changing as she follows this thought to its logical conclusion - namely, that Wellard and the Black Rider should not be in the same vicinity - before she takes a stiff, determined hold onto Wellard's hand.

"You must come with me," she says, loudly. "I must talk to you."

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Wellard and the Black Rider have already talked on this day, earlier. Mary is a little late for that.

He gives Aphelise a nod, before blinking at Mary. Wellard could quite argue this, however-

"Most certainly. If you would excuse us, please?" A glance to Aphelise, before stepping back to let Mary pull him away.

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"Of course."

He sips his drink. "Enjoy the rest of the party."

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"I hope you eat an icing flower and choke and turn blue and die," Mary says, politely, and then pulls Wellard hastily through the crowds to the other side of the party.

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...

Wellard is coughing and wincing, as they walk away- 'cause.... ow.

Finally, they get far enough away and Wellard stops, sitting down at the first available set of chairs. He eyes Mary.

"Now, if I am to avoid Mrs Rowlands, what about yourself?"

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"He was not meant to be here," Mary says, with a ferocious scowl.

"This is a party for Ingress; evil people ought not to be here!"

She fixes him with a sharp look.

"You are coughing. Ought you to be up?"

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"I would gather as much- and the others here will hopefully keep an eye on him as well." Wellard nods at Mary, then smiles wryly.

"Dr Tam said I am fine to be up and around, as long as I am careful." So there is entirely unspoken.

"Now. Are you alright?"

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"Yes," Mary says, tossing her head back with an air of unconcern.

It is, perhaps, a little overdone.

"My apple blossom protected me. I am quite all right."

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He eyes the withered blossom pinned to her dress. "Perhaps so- but Mr Aphelise is a person to stay away from, I've been told. Even for you as well." Wellard smiles a bit wryly.

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Mary's scowl deepens.

"I only went to tell him to leave. I do not want to see him - not ever - but I at least know he is evil. Many people might not."

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