|A Fiery Mermaid|
|Summary:||Talking, Swimming, Blushing, Smooching — and chaperones!|
|Related Logs:||None particularly.|
|A small cove, Seagard|
|26 June, 289|
The outing has been delayed long enough for the day to begin to warm, but the little cove is not far — barely outside of Seagard proper to the wilder south. Kamron leads the way, riding ahorse with Percy following after at a bit of a distance with a roll of cloth behind his saddle. The Mallister man is a bit quiet on the short ride, pointing out places here and there he used to stop to pick berries, or to throw rocks from the 'cliffs' which are barely more than waterfront hills here. It is but a few minutes' ride, well within walking distance for an active boy, and then they arrive on a little cut in the coast were a stream comes to the sea. The south side of the cove is rocky and steep, while the northern side is lower, leading down to a grassy sward and a pebbly little beach. "And here is my swimming cove, My Lady. I say 'my' cove, but really all the noble children came down here now and then."
After days upon days of fine clothes — wildfire silk, moondrop gowns, and oak-leaf satin — Saffron has returned to that soft sky-blue cotton dress. It is simple, but sweet in purpose, and once more shows that the Banefort has enough money to be plain now and then. Her hair is done in a simple twist to pull it off her neck and out of her eyes. She is all smiles as her betrothed expands his tour, though she is earnest in her admiration for each little detail. Her chestnut palfrey has sobered quite a bit since her detainment with the bandits, but she still tries to play with Kamron's Three now and then. "Its beautiful, Kamron," she comments softly, Hara following along on a rounsey.
Three, the old horse with an older soul, tends to just give the palfrey a sort of 'really?' look as he steps along calmly, not being drawn into her horsey games. Three's master, on the other hand, is much more easily drawn into games by his female companion, where 'games' means 'conversation.' Looking about the little cove again, he laughs softly, "I suppose it is, My Lady. It seems a good deal smaller than it did before." Nudging his horse down onto the little trail leading to the beach, he leans over closer to his betrothed, pointing out a boulder across to the southern side of the cove, "Behind that rock, there's a little cave." He laughs softly, "Probably too small for me now, but I used to crawl in there to whisper secrets with my friends."
"You were a great deal smaller too, Kamron," Saffron points out. Warmth floods her expression as he leans toward her, and she tilts her head with a budding smile. She smiles toward her betrothed as he leans toward her to point out the cave, and the corner of her lip quirks up with amusement. "And what did you whisper about?" She asks coyly as she nudges her own horse down the path.
Kamron straightens up in his saddle again, laughing softly, "How horrible and icky girls were," He shrugs a little helplessly, "How I was going to be a knight of a Kingsguard like Barristan the Bold. How that was the best thing ever because it meant I would never have to get married." He laughs again at that, defending previous-Kam, "I was like… eight, alright? I thought that anything sticky enough to make a girl squeal or sword-like enough to hit something with was the height of fashion." As they settle down into the cove, he swings a leg over Three and dismounts, coming around to offer Saffron entirely unnecessary help down from her own mount.
Amusement glitters in those pale eyes, and Saffron is all dimples at her betrothed. "That's okay. While Anais was playing kissing games with the boys, I was beating them up. Neither you nor I expected to find ourselves suitable matches." As he comes around, she swings a leg over and dislodges her other foot so he can feel useful in catching her as she slides off the palfrey. An immediate kiss is give to his cheek as her feet alight the ground once more. The chestnut shakes out her coat, tail flashing flirtatiously to Three.
Kamron reaches up to Saffron's waist as she slips free of her saddle, lifting her down lightly, his smile doubling at her kiss. "And yet here we are." Three looks sidelong at the palfrey, snorting softly, then lowers his head to nose at the sparse grass. Percy comes riding up, dismounting himself to take the leads of all three horses, even as Kamron offers out his hand to his betrothed. Apparently, so far out of the way, he's willing to hold hands rather than offer up his arm. "What do you think of the coast near Seagard then, My Lady? How does it compare to that of the Banefort?"
"Here we are," Saffron agrees with a wide smile. Her fingers twist up with his, pressing warm palm to warm palm. She steps out toward the pebbly beach, her arm brushing across his with each stride. "It is similar," she comments quietly. "The docks, the rocky shores, though what with the rebuilding, Seagard is looking far more refreshed. I would say that our homes could be brothers." As they walk along the grassy bald, she begins to kick off her simple slippers, leaving them behind her. She smiles over to him as her feet sink into the soft grass, growing accustomed to the ground before she will venture out onto the peebles.
Kamron slows as she starts to slip out of her slippers, half-turning toward her and smiling down as she leaves them behind. "Refreshed, but I bet the Banefort still looks as you remember it. Outside of the walls, there's so much of Seagard that's new." There's a long delay as he once more starts walking companionably down the grass to the beach, his hand swinging in hers, and then he finally inquires, "How much training do you have with the blade, My Lady?" There's no displeasure in the tone, just honest curiosity.
Her toes wriggle about the grassy blades, and she looks ever more relaxed with each step she takes wiht her shoes abandoned. "Its spirit is still Seagard," she offers him with a smile. At his question, however, there is a small hint of embarrassment. She looks down at her feet and their swinging hands as she continues to the border of grass and rock. "I started when I was six when we started, but that was just flailing sticks around. My Lord father began actual technique training when I was eight. We use to practice every week — unless I got into trouble, which happened more often than not." She hasn't looked up to him yet as she speaks, as if afraid to see judgement in his eyes. "When I was fifteen, we swapped from wooden swords to blanks…" Now she casts him a worried glance, waiting cautiously for his reaction.
Kamron chuckles softly at first, although his eyebrows rise at the mention of 'every week.' The caveat on that has him chuckling again, but once more, his eyebrows go up in surprise as she mentions blanks. "Really? And you were still working every week on the sword at that age?" He squeezes her hand lightly, turning it palm-up and brushing the ball of his thumb over her smooth skin, "Your hands don't feel like you work with a blade that often, My Lady." He's trying to keep surprise from his voice, or any sort of judgment. He does quite well at the latter, not quite so well at the former.
Saffron shakes her head a bit. "No, the older I got, the more time passed between our lessons. But, we would always go out on my name day. It was our… tradition." She colors lightly at her cheeks as she looks down at her toes. Then she looks up as he touches her hand, and she offers him a light smile. "I don't know what to say to that. Maybe I have good hands." She pauses, before carrying on with a slightly more defending tone. "I know its not terribly ladylike… but I find comfort in it. My father had very strict rules to our lessons, and what it meant for a lady to wield a weapon. I would never assume your duties, Ser…"
Kamron shakes his head at her commentary at her hands, "And every time you went out when the lessons got further apart, you came back with blisters and raw spots on your hands?" Raising up her captured hand to press a kiss to its back, he shrugs slightly, "I told you before, My Lady, I have no complaints with a woman who can defend herself, so long as she doesn't think to be a fighter." Pressing his right hand to his collarbone and splaying out his fingers, he adds, "It's my job to be your first line of defense, but if I cannot be there, perhaps it does my heart good to know that Bear will not be your only remaining defense." A few steps further draw them to the edge of the pebbles, "What were your father's rules, Lady Saffron?"
"Yes, there were those. Tended to anger my mother, as there always seemed to be an important function," Saffron looks down at her hands, as if she has never noticed how soft they have become and the cleanliness of her own nails. She looks up at his question on the rules, and she laughs brightly. "A lady must never attack first," she recites with old habit. "A lady must never kill, only debilitate. A lady must always yield if she is outnumbered or the opponent too skilled." She pauses then, her brow wrinkling with thought. "There is another, but I can never remember it…" She is the first to dare to step out onto the pebbles, her feet carefully navigating across the shore.
Kamron nods, "Always an excuse to make you scrub up and put on new clothes." He grins at that, a shared memory. He follows out onto the pebbles, directing their path generally across the little cove toward the boulder and its cave behind, "Can never remember it, or never want to, My Lady?" The knight teases mercilessly, although there is a light laugh behind the words, "They are good rules, however. Although certainly better for a sword than an axe."
"Oh! A lady never oversteps those sworn to protect her," Saffron says as she noodles up that memory. "That's what it was." Then she offers him a broad smile, full of dimple and mirth. She delays their forward strides to dip down to pick up a pebble, balancing it in her hand. "I'm afraid I'm starting to become rusty — no pun intended. I should try to look into a refresher." Though she doesn't at all seem to suggest he should offer it to her. She glances toward where they are heading, and she brightens softly. "Are we to be sharing secrets, Kamron?"
Kamron laughs softly at that, "I can see why you might want to forget that one." He frowns thoughtfully at her admission of getting rusty, but he doesn't immediately respond, giving her hand a squeeze and then letting it go so that she can play with the pebble. In fact, he even crouches down to scoop up a few himself, tossign one into the water's edge. After all, he's a boy, and boys like to throw things. The soft question draws a glance and a smile, "So long as it's not another one about what might have happened after a melee, My Lady. I'm not sure my heart could handle that." The words are teasing, but the invitation is serious.
His words cause a wonderful pink flush to ride up her cheeks. "I will refrain, My Lord," she murmurs shyly as she tossing the pebble from hand to hand. Saffron ventures closer to the water, tiptoeing into the calm surf. She eyes the surface of the sea here before she skips the stone thrice across it before it is gulped up by the ocean. "What secrets would you like to tell me?" She asks, unable to hide that coy interest.
Kamron returns to frowning in thought at that question, "I don't know that I have that many secrets, besides little things from childhood like stealing my sister's doll when I was seven." He tosses another rock into the sea, gathers a third in his right hand and bounces it lightly, "You know that I was betrothed once before. And that the betrothal was broken from her side." That's half a question, half a statement. "It's no secret that I was happy to see it broken, although the lady seemed quite amiable. But perhaps it is something a little shameful that I was so happy."
The water laps up the tops of her feet and her ankles, and the shallows are starting to warm in the morning sun. She feels her hems become heavy with the wash of the sea, and she smiles at the feel. Saffron turns her pale gaze toward him, head tipped with interest. "I had heard, but only from other's about that betrothal." She chortles a bit. "Your one two my near three is still hardly worth whispering over." Another quiet pause prevails before she tilts her chin a bit. "I'm happy it was for naught." Then she wades a bit more into the waters, her cotton dress darkening as it absorbs a bit more wet.
Kamron arches his eyebrows as she continues to wade into the lapping waves, but doesn't protest. Catching the stone he's tossing, he lobs it idly off to the side so he doesn't throw it out past her head. "As am I, My Lady. It would have been a shame to have met you when I was already some three or four years married, that we could only be friends." Balancing carefully on one foot, he pulls off one boot and stocking, tucking the cloth up into the boot, tossing it up above the tideline, and then shifting to repeat the process, "Are we swimming, then, Lady Saffron? Should I have Percy fetch the towels from his horse?" Because he's coming to know the wild lady of the Banefort, and thought ahead.
"That would have been… terrible," Saffron admits with a breathlessness, and she smiles at the waters, head gracefully bowed. She doesn't want to think what she would have done if he had been married — would she still have wanted to kiss him? She glances over to her betrothed with a sudden widening of her smile. "I should like that," she admits brightly before she looks up toward where Percy stands wait. When she looks back to the knight, there is a touch of mischief in her eyes. She steps backwards now, further wading into the surf. "Come swim with me," she says in a heated, teasing tone. A tempting little Sea Spirit she is.
Kamron nods his head in agreement with her assessment of what might have been, the statement of intent causes him to turn back up-beach, whistling once and waving his hand to get Percy's attention. The squire doesn't need to be told twice, gathering the bundle from behind his saddle and sliding down to the ground (okay, more like tumbling, but it's onto grass). Kamron looks back to his betrothed, and that come-hither voice and look draws a laugh that is far too warm for his own good. He unbuckles his belt and adds it to the pile of his boots, then unbuttons his jerkin, adding the vest to the collection of leather. He takes two steps toward the surf, just letting the water wash over his toes, and then stops, grinning as he remembers the favor tied about his arm. Reaching up to untie it, he tosses it too up the beach, then starts to wade after Saffron, "You're going to get that dress all salt-stained, My Lady." Actually, she probably already has, but… you know. He has to protest something.
He might not have intended it to be an invitation, but at his words Saffron laughs with the full force of warmth. She holds up a finger to stall him a moment as she reaches to her back to untie the ribbon that laces up the dress and loosen it. She wears a simple shift beneath as she did the day of the cliff-diving, though it is a bit darker in color to add some modesty. She skips up the surf a bit as she pulls the dress over her head, tossing loose her cinnamon-fire hair. The dress joins his own clothes, balled up and tossed. Now she wades back toward where she had left him, sweeping past despite the weight against her strides. "Now you have nothing to protest over," she proclaims before she takes a shallow dive into the surf.
Kamron opens his mouth to protest again, just because he's like that when he's yet unmarried, but instead he just closes his jaw and shakes his head in amusement. That doesn't keep him from watching the way the shift clings to her lower legs, or the way it drifts and billows around the rest of her. And then she's diving into the water, leaving him standing up to his ankles in the surf and looking a bit silly. Laughing to himself, he slogs in deeper, "Hara is going to kill me for letting you do that. Since she'll still have to clean the dress." But the words are laughing, and really only half-thinking, as his eyes look over her water-sheathed features. At least he's down to his waist now, which makes things a good deal safer all told.
"I will tell her it was for the greater good," Saffron announces once she has surfaced. Her cinnamon-red hair clings to her pale features, and there is a small smile budding on her wet lips. She pushes through the water, sliding onto her back to half-float. She taste the brine in her mouth, and the salt gently burns the edges of her eyes, but she almost enjoys it. A puff of white cloud crosses her vision as she stares up at a sky, and its pure simplicity draws a smile on her lips.
Kamron finally dives himself, although it's more like a ship being launched than anything aerial, given that he's already up to his waist in the water. He surfaces a moment later, bouncing in shoulder-deep water alongsider her and laughing softly, "And which greater good is that, M-" and then he stammers just a little like Percival, looking at her floating on her back in a wet shift, "My Lady." Tearing his eyes away, he splashes more of the cool water over his face, scrubbing away with both hands.
"Of seeing you stumble over yourself like a squire," Saffron comments with a mischeveious tilt to her lips. Then she sinks her legs down, righting her frame and allowing the water to bob about her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Kamron," she says with genuine remorse. "I promised not to tease you." Her arms and legs move slowly in the water, toes extended to hold herself steady. A bit of seaweed clings to her soaked hair, deep brown in the sea of darker red.
Kamron swim-walks closer, into arm's reach, to gently coax that seaweed from her hair, "No My Lady. You should do what is comfortable." His eyes meet her own, and he smiles crookedly, "Really. I would like you to be able to relax around me. After all, there has to be someone you can relax around, besides your Lady Cousin." He bobs in the water just a bit, chuckling softly, "I can talk with you just fine looking out to sea, or in toward the land if you prefer." His hand stays extended after the seaweed is dragged away, floating just off her shoulder. His voice quiets softly, "You're a very beautiful woman, Lady Saffron." Somehow, he almost manages to swallow the proper 'Lady,' leaving her name standing near alone. "The most desirable I've ever known, if you'll allow me to say so. I like looking at you, even thought I know I should not do it yet."
The water laps up around them as another wave sweeps in, and she bobs closer to her betrothed with a soft smile pulling at her lips. Her fingertips dare to rest on his shoulder, steadying herself in the soft moving wave. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Kamron," she says softly as if something or someone might overhear her. He draws another pretty pink blush onto her cheeks, and she looks aside a bit. "You are quite desirable too," she murmurs almost to the sea than the Mallister himself. Then she glances boldly into his eyes. "There is no harm in looking, Kamron. There is still much to see when we are wed… there will still be surprises." That color sinks a touch deeper. "My honor won't be threatened. And out here?" She gestures. "Who would know if you looked?"
Kamron bobs up and over that soft little wave, his right hand sinking a little to brace her elbow — utterly unnecessary, but pleasant. He's heard her assessment of him before, and so he manages not to blush, grinning a little crookedly instead. "I'm sure you will always manage to surprise me, My Lady. But on my honor, and for yours, I should not be looking at you in something that conforms so." Perhaps that half-smile touches a little sad, because he adds, "And I would know, as would you. Just because no one is looking is no reason to forget propriety." And as if to give lie to his words, his other hand comes up to touch her cheek with salt-washed fingers, drawing her in for a brief, warm kiss. At least, it was probably meant to be brief. Instead, his lips fall into hers, curving into a smile against them, lingering there to taste the salt and the sweet.
Saffron matches his disappointment, though she does still smile with ease. "Your honor does us both justice then," she comments idly. Another little kick of her feet, and she is bobbing closer to meet that kiss. Her eyes flutter shut, breathing in through her nose as her lips are occupied. Another bold moment, and her arms are wrapping slowly around her shoulders, pushing the water out between them. She does not attempt to turn the kiss beyond the press of lips, though heat is certainly offered through her side of the exchange.
Kamron's arms wrap about her naturally, and the motion of the ocean sets them together from knees to lips, something that makes his own reaction to her closeness rather evident. Kamron isn't exactly thinking at the moment, and so the press of lips lingers, stretches, and then there's a loud clearing of the throat from ashore, Percy looking rather bashful and all that, but still clearing his throat again. The Mallister knight's eyes flicker open even before he draws back, searching over Saffron's features, but draw back he does, closing the embrace with a light peck as if to sooth away some of the heat coming from both of them. He sighs out a breath, draws in another, and lets it out in another sigh. Yup, that's a two-sigh parting, and he still doesn't trust himself with words.
A noise escapes her as another kiss comes to a tragic end — part disappointment, part desire. Saffron sinks down into the water the moment he releases her, the little peck felt as she draws the ocean up to her eyes. Her cinnamon-red hair blooms out from her shoulders, looking soft and wispy beneath the water. A sidelong glare is cast toward the shore, but then she sinks completely under in hopes that cooler water will leech the heat from her cheeks and… elsewhere.
Kamron blushes as well, and he even drifts just a bit backwards, ever-so-slowly releasing from about the Banefort maiden from his embrace. He gives a wave to Percy that is a heartbeat away from a very, very rude gesture, then twists slightly, reaching down to adjust his breeches beneath the water. He apparently trusts the woman to come up from beneath the water when she's out of breath, especially when they're close enough to shore that she can stand up if she needs to. What he doesn't think about is that the water's relatively clear, and she's underneath it, so she can probably see exactly what he's doing if her eyes are open.
Indeed, those bright blue eyes open briefly underwater and she gets a curious sight. She is very polite, as there is not a single grope to be given — though her fingertips do touch his hip in a whispering gesture. A small rush of bubbles are seen as she sighs out a breath, and then makes that ultimate decision. What happens next is not as gentle. Like a leviathan, she bursts from the water and grabs him with what she hopes is enough surprise to drag him under.
Kamron starts at that touch on his hip, taken by surprise since he was quite carefully looking elsewhere. And then she comes out of the water in a burst of red hair, pale arms, and dark shift, and he barely as time to draw in a breath before he's dragged under water, his feet going out from under him in a roll of pebbles. Despite the surprise, and despite the sting, his eyes open underwater, seeking her features out even as he kicks sidelong, staying underwater longer than absolutely necessary.
Everything loose seems to billow and bloom around her as she casts him a broad smile under water. She kicks out her foot, sliding across him with a serpentine quality and another soft kiss is placed upon his lips there under the safety of the water. When she cannot hold her air much longer, she bursts back through the surface. As if she expects retaliation, she kicks hard against the water as if to put some space between them. Her warm laughter fills the cove as she does, and she turns to swim backwards in order to spy her betrothed.
Now he is more free, and so his lips move against hers beneath the brine. And then Kamron's betrothed is gone again, and her quick departure stirs up the water around them, clouding it so he must close his eyes. He shoots up to the surface not long behind her, letting out a breath with a spray of salt water and then drawing in another as he wipes his face with one hand. As soon as he can blink stinging eyes open to find his target, he gathers his arms up in front of his chest and pushes a wave of water after the fleeing girl, his own laughter rising to meet her own.
Saffron's arms fly up in defense against the Kamron-made wave of water, though just in time for another wave to sweep up behind her from the natural roll of the ocean. There is a burst of laughter from the young woman, though its shortlived as the multi-front attack sends her under the water with a wet gulp. Like a stone, she sinks as she draws her legs up to her chest. She sweeps low against the sandy bottom, trying to stealthily approach her betrothed — if only her hair didn't glow like embers beneath the clear waters with the sun shining down.
Kamron straightens up for a moment as she goes under the water, concern flickering across his features, and then she's shooting toward him, and he laughs aloud, sloshing backwards through the chest-deep water, although he's careful to keep his movements short to keep from clocking her in the head with his legs. There's a glance toward the shore, a bit of mischief painting his features, and then he too is slipping beneath the waves, a sweep of his arms sending him down and back toward the bottom of the pebbly beach so that she might swim right over him without much effort.
It is very hard to stop underwater, especially when one was going full throttle toward what use to be someone's legs. She indeed flashes right over him, though she is putting on the brakes with a quick whoosh of her arms. Unfortunately, and we all know what happens here, her shift keeps accelerating along. She hastily tries to push the cloth back down, pinning the fabric between her thighs to avoid flashing her husband-to-be. She has to surface, taking in a gulpful of air and sputtering with right giggles.
Kamron helps a bit in that slowing down, as his hands come up as she swoops over him, reaching up to rest on her hips and hold her above him for just a moment, air leaking out around a crooked grin as he looks up at her face through salt-blurred vision. And then he realizes he's seeing a lot less dark shift and a lot omore pale-and-freckled legs. His hands should probably release then, instead they drive down, brushing the shift back into place — and quite coincidentally brushing his hands along the outsides of her legs from her hips down to her knees. Maybe his thoughts are not quite so pure as the facade he puts forward. And then she's bursting to the surface, and he turns about underwater, shooting a few paces away before rising up to the surface. He's not laughing, but once he's got a breath out and a breath in, his roguish smirk is definitely and fully in place, "I'm starting to think you stayed under intentionally to force us to rescue you at the cliffs, My Lady…" the accusation is not serious.
Even as she laughs, there's a breathlessness to it. Her skin still tingles where the pressure had been felt from his hands, and her cheeks are prettily pink. Her head dips a bit, a coy smile building on her lips. At his playful accusation, she snaps a splash in his direction. "My feet got tangled in my shift," she says hotly, though her eyes glitter playfully. "I was fine until then." Closer to the shore now, she casts him a broad smile. She graces forward through the water several steps, rising slightly on the balls of her feet as if to press a kiss to his cheek. Instead, her voice is murmured in his ear — and for a maiden, it is heated through. "I should have stayed without."
Kamron raises an arm to block part of the splash and takes the rest to the face and chest with a sputter. Lowering his arm again, he tilts his head to receive that kiss, and then blinks at the whispered words he receives instead. He has to twist his hips as she closes, his left hand settling once more on her hip. He turns his head slightly so that he can murmur to her in turn, "I feel rather terrible about it, but I almost wish Lady Katrin had caught Lady Roslyn instead of you, then I might have gotten an arm around you then." There is a blush on his cheeks now, half for the thought and half for the admission.
A low, throaty laugh is given in response to his words, and she smiles softly. "You can have your arm around me now, Kamron," she murmurs back as she holds his gaze. Then there is a soft call from the beach, and Hara is waving her hand to the pair. She points up to the sun to indicate the time, and then gestures to where she has laid out the heavy cloths and a blanket. A basket of food has been assembled. Saffron sighs, smiles, and returns the wave before she looks over to her betrothed. "Lunch," she explains. "I had her pack it."
Kamron's fingers rub gently at her hip through the thin cloth of her shift, "Can and have, Lady Saffron." He looks up at the call, a frown already on his face, and then he smooths it away to see that the sound isn't an interruption to their play, but rather a call to food. Smiling a little apologetically to his betrothed, he pushes away from her, into shallower water, even as he grumps quietly, and with a hint of amusement, "It seems that we were both too prepared." And there's Percy at the water's edge, holding out a rolled-up length of towelling to Hara as he tries to shake out another with his other hand. The poor squire just barely manages not to drop the towel, but it's a close-run thing and he tries his best.
A strange, but not completely alien, sensation rolls through her pelvis as he rubs her hip, and it causes her to sink a bit in the water with shy surprise. Saffron is happy for the distraction as she begins to follow him to the shallow water. Dark or not, as she emerges from the waters, the shift clings wonderfully to those bloomed curves. It is perhaps enough to make even Percy blush as she reaches out to take the offered towel. It is drawn to her chest, and she mops her face with it first. There is a smile toward Hara, who wears an expression of greater knowledge and wisdom — a widow herself, she knows these things. Saffron colors lightly before she glances to her betrothed. "We shouldn't stay out much longer… I know much of the tournament is closing down today."
Percy was planning on Hara taking the towel to Saffron, and so he's caught trying to hand it off while looking quite distinctly in another direction altogether. That causes him to drop the still-rolled towel, and he has to go chasing after it. Kamron, for his part, stays out in waist-deep water for a moment, his head turned out toward the rocky cliff to the south, but his eyes turned toward the curvaceous figure escaping the water's embrace. He lets out a ragged breath, sinking into the water a little bit more as he mutters, "Fucking -three- fucking -months-…" Clearing up his features with a grin again, he adjusts his pants and slogs out of the water, directly to the towel Percy has recovered. Patting his face and front dry, he nods, "I'll probably have to stay at least another day. I want to be at hand if Lord Mallister wants anything of me." There's a pause, "If you don't mind… I'd like you to stay with me?"
Saffron is here to embarrass the squire, that's for sure. She laughs softly, but kindly, to Percy as she continues to dry off. At his words, she turns her head to him with soft smile that warms to those dimples instead of bringing them to full force. "I would love to, Kamron." She begins to wring her hair out in the towel as she steps toward the blankets and the picnic spread. "It would be nice to see Seagard more relaxed after the tournament." Then she drops gracefully onto the blanket; the sun is high enough and the air warm that she can already feel the fabric start to dry.
Kamron ruffles up his hair with the towel, and then wraps it around his waist, over his pants and shirt. It looks a little ridiculous, but it will keep the heavier blanket from getting wet, and it protects what must be protected in case of any further temptation. You know, like a pretty woman lounging in a wet shift within arm's reach. "It's a lively city even when there's no tournament going." There's a pause, "Although I must admit I'm hoping to speak with a Reachlord or two, through Lord Mallister if nothing else, before we leave too." There's a moment's pause, and then he sprawls out on the blanket, tucking his left arm behind his head and patting his chest lightly in invitation for her head with his right. "And I think the packing-up can spare us for another hour or so, My Lady."