|A Lucky Button|
|Summary:||Kamron and Saffron discuss recent events and might flirt just a little. Percival creates a ruckus.|
|Related Logs:||Terrick problems, betrothals, tournaments, oh my.|
|The Tourney Grounds, Seagard|
|Outside the tent of Kamron Mallister, amidst the banners of The Roost and Seagard|
|17 June, 289|
The pageantry of Seagard is at its finest, purple and silver banners alongside the purple and blue of House Redwyne. The first round of tilting has been completed, and the archery tournament as a whole has just finished. As evening descends on Seagard, Kamron has already enjoyed the sights of one of his several homes. Of course, it's not the home that he remembered it as — rebuilding has changed whole sections of the city, leaving it somehow slightly foreign. And so he's back to his pavilion on the tourney grounds. He could probably be staying in Seagard Castle, but there are a host of Redwynes to lodge, and so he does not impose. Instead, he is settled in a folding camp chair of canvas and wood, a sweating cup of some fruit-scented drink on a little table between him and another chair. His left spaulder is in his hands, being folded back and forth to test the play of the metal plates upon one another. Percival could probably be doing this, but the squire is instead in the tent, either repeatedly falling over or ransacking the interior in search of some lost item.
Whatever whispering in stride that Lady Saffron Banefort lost during her time in captivity has returned — and perhaps even redoubled, providing her with a ghostlike glide and silence. The quietest of silk has embraced her nimble curves in the color of sunkissed green. It is simple — a flourish of neatly pleated skirts, cinched eyelets to draw in the torso, and flowing sleeves that move around her like wind-swept leaves. Her cinnamon-fire hair is is loose down her back, though a dozen of small white flowers are braided up in a lefthand lock. A braided belt draws eyes to her hips, though most are quick enough to find those bright pale eyes lest something wicked befall them. Trailing behind her is the new maid Hara Weatherfell. The woman looks dazzled by everything they pass, but she has managed to not lose the Banefort on their path. Kamron's pavilion is her destination — big surprise. She reaches it with a bright smile on her lips, though she's not intending to fully sneak up upon him. "Ser Kamron," she greets with a few more feet yet to be gained.
Kamron settles the spaulder over his left forearm, banging down on it with the heel of his left hand, and then finally appears satisfied. He's hefting up the piece of armor and turning back toward the tent to shout something at the squire within when lovely movement catches his eye and the knight bounces to his feet, an easy smile slipping across his lips as he bows, "Lady Saffron. A pleasure to see you." He gives a vague nod to the new maid, he probably should do better, but his gray-blue eyes are still taking in the fall of green skirts, the braided belt, the corsetted bodice, the fiery mane with its white sparks of floral decoration, and the freckle-laced features below. He gestures to the armor now hanging limply in his left hand, "Just making sure everything is prepared for the melee."
Saffron laughs in a brightness that would probably sent his squire to blush, if not the knight himself. "My eyes are a little further north, Ser Kamron," she says in amusement. Hara has slipped up to the left of her lady's left, and the dark-haired woman dips into a well-practiced curtsey to the knight. Saffron continues to smile at the Mallister. "Though I assume you like the dress," she half-inquires. "My first finished project." She says as she draws the skirts out to show off the entire garment. "I have grown tired of the seamstresses, and decided to take dressmaking into my own hands. Luckily, I assisted my sister in such tasks before, so I'm not a complete inept."
Kamron laughs a little ruefully at her first comment, obstinately turning to face in the direction of the distant Wall and cocking his head to one side, "Really? I see no enchanting eyes of blue in that direction, My Lady." Laughter touches his lips as he turns back, his gaze firmly settled on her face now, his eyebrows rising with pleased surprise, "Quite nicely done indeed, Lady Saffron. Particularly for a first attempt. I would never have guessed it anything but professionally stitched." He gestures to the second chair, stepping over to hold the back of it if the lady chooses to seat herself, and then moving back to stand behind his own seat, "Which sister might this have been?"
"Kamron," Saffron says at first in a soft and far from earnest irritation. When he does return to her eyes, she is all dimples. "Well… a lady must always be humble… I did say it was my first finished project." She has to grin a bit as she steps forward to capture the offered seat. She sweeps the green skirts around her as she does. "My dear Terras was quite the creative seamstress. When my father had little time for me, she would take me up to her rooms and have me help her with dressmaking. Terras was… far more patient than the Septas were in that lesson."
Kamron doesn't even look down Saffron's dress when he's helping her to her seat. Not that he's not enjoying the view from his peripheral vision, mind you. But he's also keeping his attention on her words, and he circles around his chair to carefully settle down into the canvas sling of its seat once more. "I apologize that the seating is not more sure. It's so difficult to transport any sort of chair that doesn't fold up." The apology is honest, but it's also amused, as if even offering it to the former wild child is a joke unto itself. The mention of Terras draws his lips down into a slightly frown, and he bows his head slightly, as if he might be offering a quick prayer for the departed sister. Still, he nods obligingly at the description of her, "There always does seem to be someone in the family who actually likes to learn from the septas or the maesters, doesn't there, Lady Saffron? Neddie — my sister Nedra — " He really shouldn't use the childhood nickname in front of others, "Was generally that person in my own family, after a certain age, at least." Letting out a self-deprecating laugh, he adds, "She really had to, by default."
"I will take care, Ser Kamron," Saffron says in regard to the chair. There is a slight fondness in her gaze as the knight commits a prayer to her sister's memory, though she also does not comment upon it. Instead, she nods her head gently in regard to Terras as she was when she lived. "My mother aways said that Terras was softer, gentler… more like a flower than a stone. Perhaps it was because she was always sick, and never could really indulge in things the rest of us girls did. She always took well to the Septas and the Maesters. She would have made a wonderful wife and mother, had the Gods seen fit to give her that blessing." Saffron shrugs her shoulders a bit, and then she smiles warmly to the knight as to not fall victim to her own sorrow. "It must be good… to have your sister so close."
Kamron starts to lift his near hand to the cup beside him, then realizes that not only does he still have a spaulder in his hand, but there's only one cup there. Laughing a little ruefully, he sets the armor down and gestures back toward the tent, "Will you take a cup of cider, My Lady?" Probably luckily for the both of them, the Mallister is just outside of arm's reach of the Banefort, what with them both settled back into their sling-back chairs, so he cannot give her a hand in comfort. "And yes… she's been looking at how she can help out around the Roost as well, but just having her around is very comforting. I'm glad she's able to come out and meet the other ladies of the Cape as well. Talon Point isn't the end of the Cape, but sometimes it feels like it."
"If its not that much trouble, I would gladly take a cup," Saffron says with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Maybe if the Gods allow, I will get to see Talon Point one day." There is almost a shy smile threatening but its quick to sober as the Roost is brought forth. She sighs, leaning back carefully in the chair as she does. "I'm afraid that not even Lady Nedra could truly help the Roost with its current state." She offers a thin smile, though it would serve better as a frown. "I've started to wonder if the sea will not just rise up and swallow it whole just to put an end to it all."
Kamron nods at the response, half-twisting in his chair and calling out just loud enough to be heard over the clatter from inside the tent, "Percy! Another cup of cider." And the sounds stop immediately, there's an almost imperceptible delay, and then he's peeking out from inside the tent, intent on seeing just who has come to talk. There's a little squeak, and then the tent flaps fall again, and there's a bit more clattering as the squire responds, "Be right out!" Kamron shakes his head slightly, then offers an equally soft smile at the Banefort's response to the mention of Talon Point, "I'll see what I can do to arrange a visit." His smile takes on a slightly more mischievous cast, although it too fades at her commentary on the Roost, "Well, I hope we might all still be able to help the people of the Roost, even if those of Four Eagles are… more troublesome." And here comes Percival Ryger, carefully carrying out another cup of cider. He sets it down, bows to Saffron, nods to her new maid — after looking at her curiously for a moment — and then snatches up the spaulder and darts back into the tent.
Nothing is said from the Lady as she accepts the cup of cider from the squire, though she does glance his way as he looks over Hara. The Roost woman offers him a hesitant curtsey as if she's not sure if he is meant to receive it or not. She is still learning, after all. Saffron has not allowed her eyes to leave Kamron. "I don't know if I would use the word troublesome, Ser Kamron… unless you find wildfire to be only troublesome." She frowns a bit. "Its no wonder that my cousin has yet to carry Lord Jacsen an heir… how can they expected a stressed womb to carry any child?" There is a touch of worry in her voice. "Not that Anais is making it easy on herself, mind you."
Kamron glances over at the next nearest of the tents a little warily as Saffron weighs in a bit more heavily on the situation at Four Eagles. He takes up his own cup, then half-turns his head to once more call to his squire, his eyes shifting back to the Banefort across from him, "Percy… why don't you go back to looking for that lucky button of yours?" And after a moment, the crashing and rattling continues, loud enough to mostly mask a quiet conversation outside. "I would say that is putting it mildly, My Lady. Lady Anais is coming at the Terricks like Good King Robert after a Targaryen, from everything I've heard." He shakes his head slowly, taking a sip of his cider, "I've been hoping to talk to Lord Jacsen about the situation, to tell him just how much Lady Anais did for the Roost while he was ill." He shrugs his shoulders a little helplessly, "I don't know that I feel fit to tell your Lady Cousin how to comport herself, but the Terricks are a stiff bunch. As stiff as the Mallisters, some might say."
Saffron flinches a bit at the sudden noise, though she definitely understands the purpose behind it. She looks momentarily toward the now loud tent before her pale gaze settles on the Mallister once more. "I have heard something from the Banefort pavilion that she had a meeting with her mother. Perhaps my aunt spoke some sense into her, I don't know." She worries a bit at the fine silk of her gown, smoothing her fingers over the material as she looks down into her lap. "If I can confess something, Ser Kamron," she begins looking to him with a slightly demured look. "I worry that I must start being concerned for my own reputation if judgement is being cast toward the Banefort women."
Kamron freezes just a little at the mention of Lady Banefort being here at the tourney, although the slight hitch in the lowering of his cup is followed by a little outlet of air and a smile. He bows his head a little at the confession, "I bet that people will take you at your own merits, My Lady. For all your Lady Cousin's fine qualities," there's a hint of teasing that even he cannot keep from his voice, "and your own occasional bursts of wildfire," that's certainly not said in a mean spirit — if anything there might be a bit of rueful fondness behind the words, "anyone who cannot see that you are two different women, and yourself generally the much milder, thoughtful, and kindly of the two is a fool, Lady Saffron."
His words draw a fine pink color to her cheeks, and she looks aside with that renewed shyness. "Thank you, Ser," she says almost at a whisper. "But, I must maintain my own reputation here in the Riverlands. There are only so many Baneforts they have to base us upon. If I'm to find myself a strong alliance through wedlock, I should try to make sure that I am… apart from the rumors." She almost looks down at her hands in a touch of shame.
Kamron laughs softly at her concern, shaking his head. He leans heavily forward in his chair, although he still could not quite reach the arm of her chair were he to extend his own arm, "Do you honestly think that any of the ladies of the Cape who have made your acquaintance would allow a single harmful rumor to spread about you, Lady Saffron?" Okay, so maybe he underestimates the value of a good rumor, "From what I've seen, you've made a fine impression on one and all." Then again, he didn't see the few scowls sent in her direction in that dirty little cave.
Pale eyes lift to meet his gaze, and she holds his eyes with a natural steadiness. "Not on one and all," Saffron points out. "I'm certain that there are some who could find me just as careless as they see my cousin. A man does not want a wild, careless wife," she says, and something in her tone sounds as if she is quoting another — Mistress Morla perhaps. This is perhaps not the first time she has said such things, especially after that final jump from the cliffs, her hand clutched in Kamron's. Perhaps she finds herself an unwanted thing.
Kamron takes another sip of his cider — definitely alcoholic, this one — chuckling softly as he lowers the cup again, "You mean there are some immune to the famed Banefort charm?" He holds up one finger to forestall immediate comment, adding, "Or perhaps it's just the famed Lady Saffron charm." That's a little less teasing, a little more complimentary. Shaking his head slightly, "I do not think many see your Lady Cousin as careless, My Lady. Perhaps it could be said that she cares too much about some things, but I do not think many would accuse her of being careless." The other matter takes a bit more silence and thought. Eventually, he opines, "A man could do much worse than a carefree," the word is carefully chosen, "adventurous wife, Lady Saffron." There's a bit more silence from the knight, and then he clears his throat a little, "You mentioned that your Lady Aunt was here. I presume that means Lord Banefort is as well. Has your Lord Father accompanied them?"
Again, Saffron wears a lovely shade of pink on her cheeks athis compliments. With a tilt of her head, she regards the Mallister with those blue-flamed eyes. "Yes, but a man could perhaps also do much better than an… adventurous wife. I have found none yet that pronounce that as a trait they wish their wives to have — unless you mean adventurous behind closed door." And she smirks with only a small touch of mirth. The conversation is allowed to drift from what Saffron believes is her own weaknesses. "My Lord Uncle has come with his wife, but I have not seen hide nor hair of my father. It would not surprise me if he has gotten himself distracted with the Reach Knights running around."
Kamron begins to laugh at Saffron's blushing rejoinder, but then her additional comment draws a coughing laugh from him, the need to look shocked at her comment warring with the want to laugh uproariously. He settles on washing both sounds down with a long swallow of cider and shifting a bit in his seat. That gives him enough time to decide to settle on a polite chuckle. The news of the Banefort presence draws a slow nod from the Mallister, his lips pursing a little, although Bernard's possible pastime draws another laugh, "They do look pretty, don't they? All shiny and bright?" Sour grapes from a man with a chipped and battered breastplate? Not quite. Mostly just amusement and perhaps a tiny touch of scorn. And now the cider is gone, and the crashing from inside the tent ends with a bright, "I found it!" There's a pause, and then a carefully wary question, "Did I find it, Ser Kamron? Or should I keep looking?"
Saffron is all manners of soft red at his laugh, cough, and eventual swallow of cider. She shakes her head a bit with a small smile pulling at her lips. "That's not what interests my father… he wants to see if they were trained to be more than tourney knights." At the sound of Percy, however, the Banefort girl knows that their time is nearly done. She smiles to the knight as she pulls herself from the chair with grace and precision, not even daring to let it crumple beneath her. "You found it, Percy," she offers the squire gently before she looks back down to the knight. "I will see you at the joust tomorrow, Ser Kamron?" She inquires softly.
Kamron shakes his head at the explanation of Bernard Banefort's interests, "We won't see that until the melee, and even that's a stretch, My Lady." Percy's words cause the man to lean forward and rub at his temple, although he seems to be trying to rub out laughter rather than frustration. And then the green-clad lady is rising, and so too is the knight. From the tent: "I found it!" Confirmation of the words of the Banefort. Kamron nods his head, "I'll be there, My Lady, although I'll be in the stands rather than a-horse. I'm saving myself, and your favor, for the melee."
"You will sit with me then," Saffron says in a soft, but firm note. "Perhaps you can see if there's things I yet know about jousting. It will give us time to plan the tour of Seagard you promised me." A proper distance is maintained from the knight as she offers him a gentle curtsey. She smiles to Hara, who has been staring at one of the passing Mallister knights with a touch of awe. "Away we go, Mistress Hara," she says softly to the new maid before she begins to step away. It is a few strides between them before she casts him a soft, familiar look. There is almost a hint of longing in those blue eyes.
Kamron bows at Saffron's orders, "As My Lady commands." Straightening, his grin takes over again, "And, of course, as it pleases me." He's silent as she gathers up her maid, and when she turns to go, he inclines his head again, "Good evening, Lady Saffron." And when she looks back, he's still standing there, his little wooden cup dangling from the fingers of his left hand, still watching her walk away. And for a wonder, he's not even watching the sway of her hips or what the dress does for her ass as she does so. Just watching her, and smiling just a little.