Her eldest sister, Dasille

"Even when we were young and she was bullying me and Kiraea, my sister Dasille always seemed to know everything that happened at home. She would often get us in trouble, just by knowing when a certain person would be in a certain place, and frame us for her pranks." Tri'lanna says, "If anyone would know where someone is in this house, it will be her."

She closes her eyes and sighs, "Let's just hope she'll actually talk to us, and not do something worse."

After getting all your things and checking to make sure you haven't forgotten something, you leave the room. Tri'lanna leads you down several long, decorated hallways and up a flight of stairs towards her sister's study.

As she approaches the entrance, the elfmaid hesitates briefly. Tri'lanna glances over at you and then gives a swift knock on the door before pushing her way in.

Looking over Tri'lanna's shoulder, you get a good look at Dasille, who is sitting at a wide, lacquered desk and pouring over several sheets of paper. Among those letters you see inventory lists, trade agreements, requisitions, and what looks like personal communiques. Lady Morianara may be the mistress of the house, but it looks like Tri'lanna's eldest sister runs all the day-to-day functions of the mansion.

When Dasille notices you staring at the sheet, she quickly replaces the paper she's reading with another, seemingly at random. She continues scanning it, ignoring you and Tri'lanna.

Not waiting to be invited in, Tri'lanna is in front of her sister's workdesk in less than three strides. "Where's Ceinwyn?" She says, cutting right to the point.

Dasille slowly skims the trade order, deliberately taking her time. Her eyes seem to trace every word and it is maddening, how slowly she is going. You are beginning to understand why Tri'lanna was so hesitant to speak to her. When the elf finally reaches the bottom of the paper, she lifts her head up. "Hello sister. I didn't hear you come in." Dasille nonchalantly utters.

"I ask again, where is my friend, Ceinwyn? You know, don't you?"

"The girl? Hmm..." She says idly, tapping her finger against the stiff parchment. "A servant told me that there was a human girl poking around the family archives. Or perhaps a rat. No difference, really. In any case, it seems that your friend was trying to be discreet, because she locked the door behind her. The archive's spare key is around here somewhere. I'm sure I could remember where...If you ask nicely."

Tri'lanna turns her head towards you again, like she's looking to you for answers or perhaps support. Your eyes meet hers, and something passes between you two. You are not certain, but you feel like Tri'lanna is relying on your presence here. As if you act as a shield to her sister's passive-aggressive behavior.

"Please Dasille, I need your help. Please." She pleads, her head bowed.

"Quel're, Tri'lanna." Her words do not sound like a reply. They are spoken with derision and condescension. "Or have you been among the dogs for so long that you only understand common?" Dasille finally turns away from the paper and stares at Tri'lanna, waiting.

"Quel're," Tri'lanna's mouth twists and, with her head still bowed, she quietly mutters, "Daideshiriai."

A smug grin plays out on Dasille's elongated features, "Very good." She says in a cool tone, "You still know the proper words and proper respect when the situation demands it. Perhaps Mother is right, perhaps there is some hope for you yet."

Tri'lanna's sister promptly turns around and returns to her parchment, ignoring your stares. The silence in the room is punctuated by the dry rustling of old paper and the occasional scratch of the quill. Your Elven companion continues to watch Dasille, expecting a response, but as the seconds draw out, none is given. Only after a full five minutes, when this bizarre waiting competition could go on no longer, does Dasille finally speak up again.

"You're still here, Tri'lanna." The elf says without looking up.

"I-I still need the key, Dasille."

"That? Oh, I don't have it. I believe I gave it to Flem, or somesuch, so that they could clean the study."

"W-What?" Tri'lanna sputters, "So you....there was...I...you said-"

Dasille laughs at her, but with a smile that goes no further than half an inch either way. "I never said anything about having the key. You're still so young and naive, aren't you?" Her smile slips and she turns back again to her papers. "I wish you a good evening."

You look at Tri'lanna through the corner of your eye, standing there, trembling in fury. By the way her lip was quivering, you think for a brief moment that your Elven friend will scream like an Alraune and fling herself over the table to get at her sister. But Tri'lanna whirls around and storms out of the room, leaving you to catch up as you hear Dasille's soft chuckling fade away.