|A Favor for Veris|
|Summary:||Gifts are exchanged between Lark and Veris, including a temporary favor for the squire.|
|Date:||24 June 2012|
|Related Logs:||After Be the Fucker, Not the Fuckee|
|Very's Tent - Seagard|
|Home of the Fighting Fuckers.|
|Sun Jun 24, 289|
Get up stupid early, check. Go down and taunt the other squires, check. Walk around aimlessly for a while under the guise of running errands, check. Prepare armor and weapon, check. Laze around half-sleepily under the guise of praying… in progress. Veris got up very early this morning to get a head start on his big day's checklist, and just look at everything he's gotten accomplished by the time the sun is brightly shining in the sky. Right now, he's in the clearing by his tent, just kind of… nodding off once in a while with a sword and oilrag in his lap.
Poke. Poke. Shoulderpoke. "Wake up!" Lark's voice is less impatient than infused with laughter to find Veris nodding off. She has a basket of goodies with her, just like a red-caped wolf morsel on the way to grandmother's house, and is — still, thank Seven — absent her harpy cousin. Her braids are worn down today, two thick plaits the length of her waist.
"Mmwhat," Veris mumbles, starting to and immediately starting to rub down his sword with the rag - probably exactly what he was doing when he nodded off to sleep. "I wasn't asleep, I was just - thinkin'." He yawns into his shoulder and blinks sleepily a few times, smiling up to Lark from where he sits on his stool. "Hey, your hair's all different," he points out, eyeing her long thick plaits.
Lark blushes and quicks an abashed little smile. "I… just didn't feel like fretting with pins, this morning." She sets her basket down, looking back over her shoulder. A nervous little bird. "I wanted to — just wish you good luck." Her cheeks are still pink. "And bring you breakfast."
"Well, it looks, um, good," Very says, gesturing to her hair. Her look backward draws his eyes too, though he doesn't see anything there. "Is your cousin back up and feelin' better, then?" he asks wryly, figuring that's who she's looking for. But then she sets down the basket and his eyes widen in surprise. He looks down at it and back up to her disbelievingly. "You did that for me?"
She sighs and nods, all worry-face. "She's feeling much better now." Sneaky bird snuck off — her liberty has an expiration date. Big eyes blink and flutter in surprise at his surprise. She laughs. "Of course I did. You need a good breakfast if you're going to win."
So she snuck out again to come see him. And in broad daylight this time. That puts a smile on Very's face just as much as the breakfast does. "Well, I surely appreciate it, little birdie," he says. "Been a little while since I had a real good solid meal, y'know?" Well, she might know. She might not. It's no great secret that the Roost has been suffering for foodstores. "I, uh. Have somethin' for you too."
Lark blinks. And beams. And blushes all the more, biting the corner of her bottom lip. "You do?"
Veris grins when she blushes again. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna take my pants off," he says with a chuckle, putting down his things to go grab the surprise out of his tent. It's just a small little thing, maybe three inches tall - a carving done out of wood of a man holding a glaive. It's even painted in Terrick colors. "It's not, uh, good, I know, but - well, I wanted to give you something for bringin' me paint and cookies that night. An' I figured, well, after all this, you'll be back to Stonebridge and me to the Roost, an' I can't escort you around no more, so." Wooden Very. Very Woody?
She snorts and rolls her eyes. "I didn't think that," she scoffs, turning an even deeper shade of pink. She laughs in delight, however, when he does indeed present Little Veris — just not the one he was jesting about. Lark examines the figure, grinning. "It's wonderful," she says, and seems to really mean it. "Thank you. I'm sure he'll keep me safe."
"Oh, you so did," Veris counters with a broad grin. "I know it ain't as tasty as a cookie, but… well, you didn't want my wood, so I figured you might keep me as wood." Of course he has to go there. As for the carving itself, it's not exactly a delicate piece of artwork and only barely distinguishable as him - the painting is better craftsmanship than anything else. "Maybe if you keep it around, Alona'll get sick again and then I'll be forced to escort you 'round again."
Lark snorts and kicks his boot with hers, dimples deep. "Shut up," she says, trying not to grin as she rebukes him for his innuendos. She puts his wood (har!) in her pocket (oh my!) and says, "I have one more thing for you. But… I'll want it back, if you don't mind terribly. It's just for the day. For you to carry for luck."
Veris just keeps grinning at her when she kicks him. "Wait, something else?" he says, making a face. "I don't have anything else for you, though! I thought I was gonna be the one surprisin' you with stuff." He snorts and shakes his head. "Okay, I'll give it back after today. What's your lucky charm?"
"Well, I'm not fighting in a melee so I don't need anything else," says Lark, glancing at him through her lashes. She toes the ground, then pulls a charm on a plain strip of leather from the neckline of her gown, slipping it off her neck. "I just… don't really have anything that's suitable for a favor. Not even a ribbon. So… I hope this will do." It's a tumbnail size pebble of polished smoke jade, wrapped up in a cage of tin wire to make it a pendant. She holds it out to him. "My father gave it to me. Said he found it just… lying by the side of the road on the day I was born, and by supper that same day he had a daughter with the same color eyes."
"Oh - oh," Veris says, finally cluing in that she's trying to give him a favor. And not just any ribbon or nothing either, but a stone that actually seems to be something sentimental. "I don't - are you sure? I mean." He rubs his thumb against the jade, feeling the texture of it. "This is, like, important to you." But he takes it from her unless she should hold on to it, holding up the stone so that it's in line with her eyes. "Same color eyes," he says with a smile.
"It wouldn't be lucky, if it wasn't important," Lark reasons, shyly. She blushes and lowers her lashes as he compares the stone to her eyes, then glances back up at him. "You don't mind, do you? That it's only to borrow? I feel like a churl."
Veris smiles when she blushes again and takes the pendant in his hand. "I'll make sure it don't get damaged. And I'll give it back to you at the end, I promise." He tilts his head. "Mind? Why would I mind? And what's a churl. Is that like some kind of chicken-squirrel?"
Lark snort giggles. "A churl," she tells him, "is a person who's miserly and greedy. Not generous. For a boy who's so clever, you don't know a lot of words."
"You're the one who said I was clever, not me," Veris says, laughing at her explanation. "And no, then, I don't think you're a chicken-squirrel. I think you're the opposite of that, considering everything you've given me in the last…" How long have they known each other? "Week."
"I haven't done much," Lark demurs, lashes lowering again. She examines the toes of her boots. "I — "
"LAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRK!" Who ordered the shrill harpy?
Lark jumps, looks around in a panic, and says, "Ihavetogogoodluck!" She moves to peck a quick kiss to his cheek.
HOLY SHIT SHRILL HARPY. Veris is just getting drawn in to her lash-lowering wiles when the voice shatters him out of that, making him jump. "Gods," he snorts, and laughs nervously. "I'll see you at the melee, little birdie! Cheer for me!"
"Win for me!" Lark tosses back, smiling bright and warm. Then she hurries off, leaving him with his temporary favor and basket of breakfast.
"Hate for you to leave, but…" Veris watches her go until she's completely out of sight. She's not bad to watch walk away, that's for sure. Then he digs hungrily into the breakfast basket that she brought. Good food for a growin' body!