This scene is only written, not coded, so the MC Nightshade that appears has a set personality (serious-ish), but once it's in the game, there will be different options and reactions. Since it's set when Rhona is 19 years old and the MC is 22, there's some spoiler-ish stuff implied (see if you can find it )
You rap your knuckles against the carved door, not sure how to proceed; there's no metal knocker, and it would be impolite to just invite yourself in, but it feels wrong to touch the decorations.
“Just a minute, please” someone shouts from inside; the heavy wood muffles the sound, but it sounds like Coriander.
Uh. Wasn't this Rhona's chamber? You take a step back and give the door a good look; the carvings take curling shapes reminiscent of stormy waters, rippling and waving. The oldest Faerwald daughter has painted flowers on hers; you didn't get the wrong room.
There's movement inside the room, a sudden thwack that makes you wince as you picture the impact, followed by Rhona's scream of, “Shade! Save me!”
The door opens so suddenly you worry it's going to pop off its hinges, and a set of frightened dark brown eyes met yours. You don't have time to react as the youngest Faerwald paws at your shirt and forcefully drags you inside, pushing you between her sister and her.
“Shade, please, please, protect me! She's torturing me!" she pleads, hiding behind you.
You give her the side eye, waiting for an explanation, and your eyes meet Coriander's weary gaze, who shakes her head in exhasperation.
Taking advantage of your bewilderment, the redhead grabbed your arm and dragged you along with her, slamming the door shut behind you. She giggles like a child who has had too much sugar, and it takes you back when you were little kids and spent your days running through meadows and climbing trees, or looking for berries in brambles.
You trot down the hallway like tumbling foals, tugging and pulling at each other as you laugh, and you're not entirely sure if she's trying to make you fall onto the ground or keep you from having the pleasure of meeting the floor face-first. Her cackle is loud and high pitched, unadultered, and it makes her eyes bright with joy.
It makes you wonder, when was the last time both of you had so much freedom in your hands?
You turn sharply to the left, but instead of following you Rhona pressed herself flush against you, keeping you in place. She glances up and smiles, and that's when you see it.
She looks different.
You don't know what Cora must have used on her sister, but you can tell at a glance that the palette she put on her is plain wrong; it makes Rhona's face look waxy, a stark contrast to her tan and freckled complexion. Yet the kohl outlining her eyes and painted lips give her a mature air that accentuates her likeliness to Coriander and Lady Faerwald.
“Stupid, I know,” the younger girl rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing the kohl even further, down her cheekbones. You can't help but smile at the dark grimace on her face; she looks both ridiculous and endearing. That's Rhona for you; childish and stormy and jaunty Rhona.
“I wasn't going to say that,” you tut, caressing the side of her face with your knuckles; the skin feels smooth and unfamiliar, the very flew blemishes of puberty covered in foundation and light dusting.
“Whatever. Cora has been using me as her personal doll all morning,” she pouts, rubbing her hip in brisk circles, “I also hit the edge of the vanity, I think I'm going to have a bruise.”
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“I have had worse back when Pepper threw me off of her,” she shrugs, tilting her head back to look at you in the eye, “can't believe that Mae can tame such nasty mare.”
Oh, right, Maetthere: he did ask you to relay a message to his sister in his last letter, since he wasn't even sure that she read the ones he sent to her. He mentioned something about a sibling's quarrel or something.
“He wrote to me; he said—“
She snorts, “Ignore him, that's what I have been doing the last year.”
You wrinkle your brow, and she exhales, as if asking a higher power for patience. She takes your hand in hers and leans against you, using your shoulder to rest her head. Short locks of strawberry blonde hair fall over her forehead, covering her eyes, but her voice sounds clear.
“We have grown apart; Mae warned me that I should start behaving more accordingly to my age and social standing,” she says, mimicking with her hands someone speaking, “or else I will be in trouble when I have to marry, like with that gross Sandalwood.”
Ah, that. You can see why she's so reticent of speaking with her brother then; as both of the younger Faerwald grew up, their views on The Society diverged to the point that they almost didn't see eye to eye anymore. You wonder when did Maetthere start caring so much about The Society norms. Still, Maetthere is somewhat right, and Rhona should thread carefully in case someone such as the son of Lord Sandalwood arises again.
“And what did you say?”
You rub little circles on her back, and Rhona throws her arms around your neck, locking you in a tight embrace. This is bad, you muse, aware that if any of the staff catches sight of you there will be trouble, but you find yourself unable to push her away. You return her hug, resting your chin on her shoulder.
“I told him that so much lemon balm and skullcap has rotten his brain.”
“Rhona, I'm being serious here.”
“I know,” she replies, her arms still around you, “I know.”
She doesn't say anything more, but keeps herself wrapped around you, relishing the warmth and closeness. Her embrace is tight, almost uncomfortable, but you don't have the heart to ask her to let go of you. There are a lot of things you don't have the heart to do when she's like that.
Just when you believe you won't be getting any more answers from her she pulls away and peers up at you. Rhona's eyes are dark brown, soulful like a doe's, boring into yours with unnatural intensity. Her mouth falls open, plump and glossy like a ripe fruit.
“Hey, Shade,” her lips curl in a smile, and before you can react she leans in and kisses you in the corner of your mouth, briefly touching your lips. “You're it.”
She ducts under your arms, running away from you, and her laughter echoes through the hallway. This is it, you wonder, smiling fondly at her retreating form, some things never change.
It unedited and raw and I'm sure that after a while I'll find 1000 mistakes, but I'll worry later I still have left some more to do and post
Oi, I need a bit of help; I have to ask you, what did you understand of this scene? I man, what do you think that's going on (between Rhona and Cora in the room, Maetthere, etc.)? Because it looks like some might misunderstand some things greatly, so I have to make sure of the way I word it