Velaris’ TRUE scourge
Ressina took a deep breath before entering the Town House that belonged to the High Lord and the High Lady.
She usually wasn’t that worried about speaking to them but this time—well, it was easy to get along when everything was going well, or at least when they were on the same side.
This time, however, things were different.
The situation was dire, and they couldn’t keep silent any longer. Not when all the damage they were suffering was brought by the actions of their royals.
She suddenly felt Madja’s hand on her shoulder; the healer nodded encouragingly to her.
Beside her, Sevenda, a chef in one of Velaris’ best restaurants, had an equally resolute expression on her face.
They crossed the threshold.
“Ressina, how good to see you”, the High Lady, Feyre, greeted her. “How are the painting lessons going?”
Beside her, the High Lord, Rhysand, was smiling warmly.
Ressina felt, if possible, even worse.
She wasn’t enthusiastic of being the one who had to speak for the town, but nobody else dared and—
If not me, who?
As usual, the couple was accompanied by the members of their inner circle: Morrigan, the two Illyrian guys, and that weird little lady with the strange eyes.
“They are progressing well, my Lady, thank you for your interest. Many young artists are finding their style.”
“Marvellous.”
“Did you want to talk to us?” asked Rhysand.
Ressina exchanged a look with her companions.
“Um, yes, we—actually, perhaps it would be best to keep the conversation private.”
The High Lord raised an eyebrow: “You said it was a matter of public order.”
“It is, your Highness.”
“Then there’s nothing you can’t say in front of my most trusted advisors.”
Ressina hesitated. “I know, it’s just—”
“Are you unhappy with the reconstruction? We are doing our best to provide the necessary funds. I am aware that it’s difficult to bring manpower, since Velaris is hidden, but—”
“It’s not that. We are very grateful for your help. It’s just…”
She could tell that the High Lord was getting impatient. “What is it, then? Speak!”
“It’s the sex, your Highness”, Madka blurted out.
Feyre blinked.
“The… sex?”
“It’s disrupting the quiet. It’s too much!”
Ressina cleared her throat. “Please, allow me to explain. We are… exceedingly pleased with your, a-hem, marital bliss, and I think I’m speaking on behalf of the whole town when I say that we were all rooting for you.”
She looked at Madja and Sevenda, who, after a brief pause, nodded.
“Yay”, Sevenda said, half-heartedly.
“And it was with great, um, happiness, that we witnessed your first… intimate interactions.”
“What do you mean witness?” asked the Hight Lady, who, after blushingly violently, had become pale.
“The, well, act seems to always come with side effects,” Sevanda explained, as delicately as she could. “There’s the roaring of course, which, while disconcerting, we can deal with.”
“It’s kind of weird though,” Madja added.
“Madja, please…”
“Well, it is! You go on about your day as usual and suddenly beast-like noise come from this house, or the House of Wind? People get scared, they think wild animals or armies are attacking.”
Feyre seemed shocked, while the High Lord’s face was an unreadable mask.
Next to them, one of the Illyrian guys, the one with the scars, seemed equally impassible, while the big one was silently roaring with laughter. Also Morrigan seemed amused, while the other one… well, she seemed to be checking her nails, oblivious to the whole conversation.
Weird lady.
“Yes, it can be—anyway.” Sevenda resumed. “It’s not that much about the roaring, it’s the earthquakes.”
“Earthquakes?” Rhysand repeated.
“You might have noticed that when you, um, climax, the mountains often shake. It may seem like nothing to you, but for us…”
“It’s a catastrophe!” Madja exclaimed. “It’s like living in a perpetually seismic area. We keep building and rebuilding, but you know how hard it is to work when objects fall around you all the time? It’s dangerous too.”
“We are trying to cope,” Ressina hastened to add. “We have started distributing helmets, and children are taught to hide under tables…”
“Oh, that’s what the helmets were for,” the weird lady—Amren, Ressina remembered—quipped. “I thought it was some kind of fashion. They look hideous.”
“They are not aesthetically pleasing, granted, but they saved many lives. But still…”
“The ecosystem is being impacted too,” Sevenda went on. “Animals are scared. They are confused. They don’t feel the mountains are safe anymore.”
“We have lots of traumatised squirrels,” Madja solemnly said.
“Traumatised squirrels,” Morrigan repeated, barely containing her amusement.
“Also the boars are starting to roam the town, it’s—I’m sorry, your Highness, but we can’t go on like this.”
“And that’s not all,” said Ressina.
“It isn’t?” the High Lady asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.
“It’s…”
That was the most embarrassing part.
Ressina looked at her companions, but they averted her gaze.
It was up to her, as usual.
Rhysand sighed: “Please, do go on.”
“It’s just that… sometimes, when we look at the sky, we can’t help but notice…”
“Please,” Feyre exclaimed, “don’t tell me it’s what I fear.”
“I’m afraid it is, your Highness,” Ressina said.
The High Lady buried her head in her hands.
“Actually, the first time, there was a full moon, and all the kids of the local elementary school were out for an astronomy lesson…”
A sound that could have been a repressed laugh escaped the lips of the scarred Illyrian.
“Oh no,” Feyre cried.
“They had… telescopes, your Highness.”
Sevenda nodded. “The families had a lot of explaining to do that night. There was a lot of talk of birds and bees…”
Madja shrugged. “Not that much explaining was needed at that point.”
An embarrassed silence fell.
“On the bright side, a lot of teenagers seem to have taken a sudden interest in astronomy,” Ressina said, attempting an optimistic tone.
Madja scoffed. “Please, they are just hoping to see some action, those little perverts.”
“That is becoming a problem too, your Highness, they stay up all night, and then the next day they can’t concentrate during lessons—” Sevenda sighed.
“Fine, I understand,” the High Lord cut her short. “Is that all?”
“There’s the problems of the droppings, your Highness,” Ressina whispered, her face on fire.
“Droppings?”
“You know… from the, a-hem, act. When you are finished, all this liquid is expelled in the atmosphere and—” Ressina took a deep breath, “where do you think they fall?”
“We try to take it with humour, people say it brings good luck, but still, it’s pretty gross,” Madja went on.
“It takes a toll on the restaurants and cafés, especially the ones with the outdoor area. There was the infamous case of the soup—”
“Fine, FINE!” Rhysand exclaimed. “I think I have a clear picture of the issue. Thank you for the information. Now please leave.”
Ressina, Madja and Sevenda didn’t need telling twice, and they all but ran towards the exit.
Inside the house, there was an awkward silence.
Rhysand observed his inner circle.
Feyre didn’t seem to know where to look, while Cassian had an annoying grin plastered on his face. The others were suddenly busy observing invisible spots on the floor.
“So… what about the squirrels, Rhys?” Cassian teased.
“Oh, shut up. We are going to pretend that this conversation never took place. This is my rule as your Hight Lord,” Rhysand stated. “But, I need you to take a solemn vow.”
Feyre finally raised her eyes.
Rhysand took a deep breath, and his voice sounded imploring. “Please, don’t tell Nesta.”
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