Drezda was far from all right, even now.
Oddly enough, she wasn't in this alone but Rosmilda, who had been caught up in the horror of her mistress's backlash, didn't seem quite as bad. Perhaps she was better at hiding it or perhaps the Hoxian had been too far gone to pay much attention. The latter was quite possible given how much time she'd been spending in one bottle or another in recent days.
The two women had been severely shaken in the immediate aftermath although the passive would likely have been distraught even without the chaotic magic given what Drezda had done to her before. The Hoxian had tried to comfort her, tried to comfort herself in the passive's presence. Neither of them had been anything close to well the following day, jumping at noises, each convinced that there was something whispering in their vicinity. Drezda had had to lie down, Rosmilda had fallen in a heap in the living room, both prone to dizzy spells. It had carried on for a few days but while the passive had gotten better, the diplomat had gotten worse in many ways.
Nightmares had begun to plague her from the moment she'd fallen asleep following the backlash and while it was initially distressing, it became progressively worse as her levels of tiredness grew. The nightmares disrupted her sleep, her disrupted sleep left her tired and thus made her more susceptible to the nightmares and their effects. The diplomat did something that she wasn't typically wont to do in order to handle the matter: she drank. A lot.
Most of the remains of Vortas had slid away on a wave of alcohol and hangovers, exhaustion and missed appointments, and anxiety. Unbeknownst to her until the change in season, Rosmilda had written letters of apology on her behalf, forging her signature and telling those who inquired about her that she was sick. It was... an unexpected kindness from the girl, an undeserved one at that. It gave her a chance to pull herself together somewhat although the woman was definitely sloppier than usual, shadows almost permanently affixed under her eyes, limping into the first season of winter just in time to be unable to leave the house for a few days.
The harsh weather of early Achtus had afforded both galdor and passive the chance to be trapped indoors together, Drezda making a serious effort not to fall into a bottle of alcohol, the two forced to converse. Rosmilda admitted that she was still in love with the galdor in spite of what she'd done, that she'd covered for her and done her best to care for the Hoxian but also all too aware that no matter what she did, the galdor would never love her back, could never love her back.
After that, the diplomat had fallen into a bottle anyway and the following day, something had changed in the redhead's demeanour, something thoughtful in the way she looked at the Hoxian, something else beneath the pain in her green gaze.
When the ice and snow had settled down, the weather sufficiently calmed to go out, Rosmilda told her that she had an appointment to keep. It was sprung upon her, the redhead telling her before running off to do something or other. Hence, it wasn't until they got into the carriage, the Drezda simply but elegantly dressed in a black Hoxian-style stress, that she had a chance to talk to the girl, already in motion as the passive slipped inside at the last moment.
"Rosmilda, who am I going to see? I understand that my um... illness inconvenienced a number of politicians and that rescheduling might have been necessary but... could you not have given me sufficient warning?" the diplomat asked, using a mirror to examine her appearance, hair pinned back from her face that perhaps only accentuated the bags under her eyes that she had tried and failed to hide with cosmetics.
"It was rather last minute. I was waiting to hear back. Lydis went to collect the answer this morning and I had other things to organise as well. Besides, if I'd told you sooner, you might not have come," the servant admitted, peering out around curtains, either not seeing or pretending not to see the new rigidity in her mistress's posture.
"What do you mean by that? I might not have come if- Where are we going? Who am I going to see?" Drezda asked quietly, ebony eyes flicking to the redhead. She was met with silence, a snap of the girl's necessary to elicit a response from her.
"Now... don't grow overwrought, I did it for your benefit-"
"Rosmilda..."
"- and it's really for your own good. You said a lot while you were drunk the other night and it was obvious that she got to you. You thought that I was her but then you were quite inebriated and the red hair probably looked the same to you. You'd never have touched me that way if you'd realised it was me because-"
"Rosmilda! What have you done?"
Even as she asked the question, there was an inkling in her mind of what the other was talking about. She'd had a dream during one of those stormy nights, a surprisingly pleasant dream perhaps brought on by the alcohol or so she'd thought. The woman had felt that she'd had sex or at least- That it was Rosmilda made sense but-
Khymarah.
She'd dreamt of Khymarah.
She'd whispered things hadn't she? Sweet nothings and her own doubts and insecurities and-
It had been a dream.
It had been a fucking dream.
But she remembered how Rosmilda had looked at her the previous day.
"Bash give me strength, what have you done? What have you done to me?"
"You deserve someone, you do but I-I-I can't be it. I know that so-"
"No, you haven't done what I think you've done because if you have I'm going to-"
"I've got you an appointment with that artist you brought home. You said a lot, I found out more and-"
The Hoxian made a strangled sound, hands clenching into the carriage seats, black eyes veritably popping out of their sockets. Her field pulsed, the mona within unhappy and the woman found herself reaching for magic before shying away with a shudder.
Not again.
"She knows that you're coming. You like art, I know you do and you like her so... make up some chroveshit. You're a politician, you're good at it."
The Hoxian sat, swaying in her seat probably more from distress than the vehicle's movements, gawking at the rather brazen and determined girl before her.
"You bitch! You scheming, underhanded little bitch! I can cancel, you know! I can cancel, just see if I won't!" the diplomat spat out viciously.
"Too late for that. People will talk," Rosmilda retorted, a grim little smile on her face as she watched her mistress's face crumple.
Outsmarted by a fucking passive!
It could have been a minute, two or an eternity gone by too fast when the carriage came to a stop, the passive getting to her feet to let her mistress out, giving her a chance to breathe and compose herself before she stepped out.
"I hate you. I hope you know that. You're going to regret doing this."
"We'll see. You're welcome by the way. In advance."
The girl knocked on the door for them, the Hoxian holding her cloak tightly around herself as she waited to be led inside, unsure how the Bastian would take her presence given the terms they'd parted on. Wondering what the woman must be thinking, assuming that she'd requested this appointment rather than her matchmaking passive's doing.
Oh clock the circle, how could she do this?!