|A Pretty Piece of Tail|
|Summary:||In which Jarod, Anais and a few retainers go hawking.|
|Related Logs:||None in particular|
|Stables and Kennels — Four Eagles Tower|
|The Tower's Main Stables are nestled into the corner of the courtyard near the portcullis to facilitate quick, easy exits when required. The rear of the structure is backed right against the interior wall of the castle with the heavy wooden roofing gently sloped down towards the slate out front, the floor of the stables kept to dirt. Thick wooden beams are plunged into the ground and serve as a base for the walls between each stall. Hay serves as most of the flooring in the area with a large stack of it off to the side. Each stall has a thick layer on the ground to serve as bedding, with most of the space dedicated to horses though a few have pens of dogs and hounds. An enclosed structure at the end serves as dry storage for riding equipment and saddles.|
|Fri Sep 16, 288|
It's late afternoon in the Roost, when most people are starting to return to the castle in preparation for dinner. Anais, however, is not most people. She has her usual handmaid, Nina, and one of the Banefort guards with her in the stables, waiting as her horse is saddled for a ride. She's dressed rather plainly, in a much-mended riding dress of brown linen with a leather bodice, and Nina already has her falcon in hand as the trio waits.
Jarod is not most people, either, as he also comes into the stables dressed more for riding out than as if coming in for the day. Spurs on and all that. He proceeds to the stall where Symeon - his rather utilitarian courser - is boarded, though he slows and offers Anais and company a quick grin and jaunty half-bow as he passes. "My Lady Banefort and entourage! How does the day find you?"
When not in armor he favors tunics in shades of green, with dark brown breeches and sturdy leather boots. While not particularly flashy or expensive clothing it's generally all of good make. His sword is generally worn at his waist, belt tied with a sash bearing the purple-and-gold colors of House Terrick, signifying the House he's sworn to.
"Jarod," Anais greets, smile touching one corner of her lips as she watches after the knight. "We're well, thank you. We were just going to see if we could catch the last of the sun and maybe go for a bit of hawking. It was a long, long day of writing letters and invitations, I'm afraid. You?" she asks, tipping her head to see where he's headed. "Going out as well?"
"Aye, I fancied a ride and had the time for it," Jarod replies, patting his horse on the neck as he gets the beast saddled and ready. "I will now be terribly rude and ask - without an invitation - if I might accompany you. I've been dying to go hunting lately. I'm thinking of getting a party together and going down into the woods near the borders of Stonebridge. Scare up some deer, or boar perhaps. Maybe ask Ser Bruce down there if he wants to meet me, make a fine neighborly weekend of it. But hawking in the remaining daylight sounds like much less work."
"Not rude at all," Anais smiles swiftly. "I was just trying to decide if you were on important business and inviting you would be an imposition," she laughs, stepping to the side as a stableboy brings her dappled grey mare forward. "I'd be glad for the company. Nina and Conrad are good company, but I think they may be growing tired of hearing the same things from me over and over again."
Jarod chuckles at that. "I am always up for a bit of fun, Anais. If you know nothing else about me, know that. And I've got plenty of tiresome stories you lot haven't heard yet, and I haven't heard all of yours, so they'll seem very new and entertaining. Do you hawk often?" Symeon settled, he leads his brown stallion out of his stall. "I'm not much for hunting with birds, but it's an interesting sport when I've the opportunity for it, and more women engage in it for leisure than other such pursuits."
"I used to do it all the time at home," Anais nods, mounting her mare without any assistance from a guard or stablehand, settling her skirts properly around herself afterwards. "I used to do a lot of things all the time at home that I suspect I'm finished doing for a bit," she smiles ruefully, leaning down to take the peregrine from Nina, hooded. "Swimming. Riding. Going places with minimum supervision. Now, however, I really must be…better behaved."
Jarod swings himself easily into the saddle, shooting Anais a somewhat puzzled look. "Finished? What makes you say that? This is fine country for swimming, and riding as well. The supervision'll get easier once you're married, I figure. I think, given some of my fair lord brother's past antics, everyone's just a bit paranoid." He smirks. "Or you just need to acquire some companions that are into sporty matters. I'd offer my services, but I'd make a poor hand-maiden." He sends a page off to procure him a falcon, and glove on which to hold it.
"I think you'd look lovely in a dress," Anais grins, settling her reins comfortably in one hand as Nina and Conrad take their own horses. "And no doubt you'd quite enjoy the days full of embroidery, gossip, and reading stories. But I suppose there's that whole captain of the guard business to be seeing to. I suspect you're right, though," she sighs softly. "Once Jaremy and I are wed, there will be a bit less pressure for /supervision/. But then, there will be pressure to produce an heir, and to behave appropriately for that, and to begin taking responsibility within the household."
"I've got the legs to pull of a skirt, I think, though the depending the cut of the neckline, the bodice might be a bit traumatic for all concerned," Jarod says with a laugh. He fixes the falconer's glove to his hand, and his bird arrives in not-too-long. He clucks his tongue at the creature as it gets situated on his arm. "I'm curious, Anais. What do you deem is expected of you as an 'appropriate' lady of the Roost? And who is it that's made those expectations so clear and limiting to you?"
"Mmm. Well." Anais grimaces faintly at the question, glancing around the stables a moment. "My mother raised me with the appropriate expectations, of course. That a lady should behave properly, and not embarass her father or her husband. Should take responsibility for the running of the household, to see that it goes smoothly. Those were things I always knew." Once the others are ready, she starts to guide her horse toward the courtyard, voice lowering. "And then there was Liliana, who seems convinced that I've overstepped some very important bounds by trying to guide Jaremy during that incident with the Oldstones steward."
"You should see if my sweet sister will go riding with you sometime," Jarod says. "She's better in the saddle than me. I've always been curious who'd win a race between her and Jaremy, though I figure she's too nice to do anything but let him win." He chuckles. "I'm surprised Jaremy hasn't taken you riding more himself, really. He's always been fond of it, and he's never seemed to think it improper to do it with a woman before. We used to go all the time when we were younger with…" He trails off for a beat. "…well, with all sorts, which occasionally included ladies, and it never scandalized anybody beyond repair. Anyhow. I don't think you've behaved improperly at all, nor would riding or swimming or anything else make you seem anymore than a spirited girl who my brother might enjoy being married to." Mention of Liliana just seems to puzzle him. "More trouble between the pair of you? I'll confess, Anais, that boggles my mind. Seems all very noblewoman's troubles, which I have even less of a head for than politics or cyvasse or…other strange and complicated things."
"No more," Anais shakes her head, shrugging one shoulder slightly. "Just more of the same. I tried to…apologize for being short with her, and she insisted that she was in the right, and I got angry again and…You're right, really. It's silly stupid noblewoman stuff, and best if no one - including the noblewomen - has to deal with it." She glances to the tower as they ride by it, pensive. "Jaremy's been busy, of course. All of this with Stonebridge, and Oldstones, and Amelia, and now the wedding. It's probably best we don't go out riding too much," she smiles ruefully. "We might go and do something foolish."
"A little foolishness never hurt anyone terribly, so long as they didn't get caught," Jarod says with that bright, boyish grin of his. "I always figured part of the reason my fair lord brother got into so much trouble is that he never learned how to do it in ways the whole world didn't notice." He rides at an easy pace next to her, mood losing a bit of its lightness at mention of Amelia. "Very sad business, that. I hope he's managing it all right. I've not really had time to have words with him on it. Part of me figures it's best to give him space, part of me doesn't want to let stuff fester, you know?"
"I know exactly what you mean," Anais nods, steering her mount more with her knees than the hand on her reins. "I think right now it's best if he just stays involved in the wedding details. There's very little to break there, and he can feel useful, and it needs to be done. Perhaps when that all goes well he'll feel less like he has to do things himself to make a point." Her smile quirks as she looks over at the knight, amused. "I'm glad someone can stay happy, though."
"I wish he'd stop *trying* to prove himself and just…do it, in little ways, every day," Jarod says. "That's all our lord father expects, and I figure it's the only way to go about life without driving yourself mad. Anyhow. Aye. Perhaps the wedding'll give him something to throw his enthusiasm into." He rides with one hand on the reins, though he doesn't bother to do much more than course-correct his horse. The courser plainly knows the roads here very well, and it bright enough to keep in-step with the small party. "Let's not talk of Jaremy, anymore than we should talk of Lady Liliana. Tell me about Banefort. And all the supposedly improper things you used to do there. I don't fancy they were *too* much different than what Jaremy and the lot of us got up to as children, though he might not admit it. That's all right. I'm here to tell his stories for him, and I make them *much* more entertaining."
"Ah, that sounds perfect," Anais laughs at the offer of juicy gossip tales, letting her horse follow after Jarod's as he escort trails behind. "There are eight of us Baneforts, of course," she begins. "Starting with Quenten and ending with Gwyneth. And the Banefort itself is…Well, it's not a /large/ castle, though it's quite defensible. So our parents encouraged us to venture out of the castle, in the interest of not being besieged with children at all times. I spent a good deal of time at the docks, actually," she admits.
Jarod chuckles. "Few docks here, though I hope our connection to Banefort will make us more of a proper port. It'll off-set some of the trade we've lost from no longer having Stonebridge as a vassal. And perhaps improve it some. Stonebridge is just a river port. Better dealings with merchants, particularly from the West, if you've got your foot in the sea. Not to mention it'll give us a chance to build up our defenses along the coast. Ships and such. The Cape of Eagles is good land, but it stretches long, and it's sometimes difficult to keep defenses tight on all of it from Four Eagles." As she speaks of her siblings, he grins. "Perhaps it was much the same with us. Encouraged us to roam the woods and the shore so we'd keep out from under foot. There weren't *quite* that many of us, but there were a lot of us clustered around the same age, so we made a merry army of children, and I'll concede I wasn't the best-behaved of lads, for my part."
"You?" Anais laughs with mock disbelief. "I can't imagine. You were surely nothing but sunlight and agreement." Keen eyes watch the woods as they ride, looking for anything that might attract the attention of her falcon. "When I was thirteen, I had the worst crush on the shipwright's apprentice," she chuckles. "I used to sneak down to the docks whenever I could. I told my parents I was learning about the shipwright trade, and wouldn't that be useful? To be fair, I did help him a good deal."
"Oh did you now?" Jarod doesn't sound particularly scandalized. If anything, it seems to please him a little. In an obscure fashion. That grin remains on his face. "And what happened with you and that shipwright's apprentice, if I may ask? And I swear, I'll not tell my fair lord brother or another soul. I'm quite good with secrets, believe it or not."
"Nothing all that terribly interesting," Anais chuckles, though her smile twists crooked at the memory. "There was a good deal of kissing practice, but being a shipwright's apprentice tends to mean travelling. And he was a few years my senior, so he found himself well away from the Banefort after all. It was a rather wild period for me, though. When my father left to join Lord Tywin's host for King's Landing, he took most of the able men of the Banefort with him. And when he did, I insisted that the master at arms instruct me in both archery and the use of a spear, in case the Ironmen should attack while the men were away."
"Did they?" The idea seems to chill Jarod a good deal. Ironmen striking a castle defended only by girls. "That's a hard duty to put on one not raised for it, my lady. But in the absence of anyone else to man the walls, I can't call it wrong. There are some castles in the North where - they say - daughters are raised like sons because they haven't anyone else to maintain a proper garrison against wildlings and such. I'd like, for my part, for such things to be left to professional soldiers. But at times the world is not so ideal."
"There were a few skirmishes, but nothing like a real attack," Anais shakes her head. "And, to be honest," she adds with a low laugh, "I'm reasonably certain that most of what they taught me was just to humor me. I was all of eleven or twelve when the war started, and my head full of tales. The threat of attack was much greater in my mind than it was in reality. I keep up with the bow some," she admits, glancing over to the knight. "Though I've more or less lost the knack of the spear. Which is just as well, I suppose."
"Still, my lady, the want to defend your own home is admirable. Particularly for one not best suited for it. Were your father and brothers a part of the taking of King's Landing?" Jarod asks, though he seems half-reluctant to touch on the subject. "I wasn't. After the Trident I was allowed leave to return home and took it. To see the men who'd marched with the Terricks buried. Along with Lord Tordane, and his elder son. I thought we might be called back to fighting later but…it was not to be. The way the city came to Good King Robert."
"They arrived with Lord Tywin's force, aye," Anais answers. "And came home the richer for it." There's no shame in the idea of looting King's Landing, or whatever else may have happened during the sack. "And came home alive," she adds with quiet gratitude as she looks to him at the mention of Lord Tordane. "I'm glad it was King's Landing for them and not the Trident. I've heard too much of the losses there."
There's no obvious distaste in Jarod's manner at the idea of looting King's Landing. Though he offers no opinion on it one way or another, and if anything he's careful in his neutrality. "Those were ugly times," he notes, simply and gravely. "I pray never to see their like again. King's Landing, though losses were fewer in number, I suspect those who were there would say much the same." He urges his horse to a slightly faster pace as they get farther along the trail, though it's nothing too jarring for his bird. "I look forward to meeting your elder brothers. I'd like to speak with them about improving our naval defenses, if we are to get some warships out of this union. Though we are near the sea, the men of the Roost are not by tradition sailors. But perhaps that shall change. I'd be intrigued to learn the arts of fighting at sea, myself."
"I'm hoping my father will be here," Anais confesses, catching her lower lip between her teeth for a moment in a rare glimpse of uncertainty. "And if he's here, I'm sure he'll be glad to speak with you about naval defenses. We used to go inspect them as a family at least twice every year. When I was younger, I didn't realize what those sailing trips were. But as I grew older, I came to understand. My father was checking the watchtowers and the defenses along the shore himself."
"I look forward to meeting your father as well, though I figure he'll be more tied up with my lord father, and Jaremy," Jarod says. "Still, I look forward to it as the opportunity presents itself. I'm sure Jaremy will be much interested in the uses we could put warships to as well. Perhaps you'll make a sailor out of him." He grins at the notion, slowing his horse a little as they get farther into the woods proper. The hawk on his arm flaps its wings, though it does not speed off in search of prey just yet.
Anais laughs, grin flashing. "That would be interesting. I think it's best we play to Jaremy's strengths for a bit, though," she shakes her head, pausing as they pass into deeper woods. "I'll be glad to see a harbor, though, and ships in it," she admits, loosening the hood over her falcon's head. "And my family. My brothers. Is that silly?" she muses. "Of everything, I think I miss my brothers the most. I always felt safe with them."
Jarod shakes his head. "I understand that very well. I was talking with…well, with a friend of mine who'd had a very different sort of upbringing recently. And she made it occur to me, I've never really been alone in my life. Growing up it there was always my brothers and sister, and even the Tordane children, when they'd come up from Stonebridge. Which was often enough, and we were of a like age. Even when I went off to squire with the Mallisters, Jace and I went together." He loosens the hood on his bird as well, which makes the falcon's attention prick toward the trees ahead of them. "So I don't figure that's silly at all. I don't imagine I'd do half so well as you, if I had to go off to a new place all on my own. Well, not quite. Cayt must be a great comfort to you. You two seem quite close." A thing of which he seems to approve very much.
"Cayt is very much a comfort," Anais agrees. "Though not so well-known as all that. We used to pass through his mother's village when we went to the hunting lodge, or to check on the herds. So I /knew/ him. It's only recently that I've come to know him as my brother," she admits, falling silent for a moment to think, crooking a finger to brush it down the chest of her falcon. "But I'm glad he's here all the same. He's…refreshing. And always honest. I know I can trust him to tell me things that other people won't."
"Your father didn't acknowledge him directly?" Jarod's less surprised than curious. He raises his arm as his bird seems to grow restless. Perhaps she's spotted something. "Though it's plain your lord father's done well enough by him, however he came to it. It was very good of him, and yourself, to fix him up with this opportunity to squire for Jaremy. Cayt's a good lad, and seems to be making all he can of it. And it's a very rare thing for one such as him to get the chance to be in service for the heir to a noble house, and much of how a knight it seen, at least at first, comes from who he was squired with."
"Not that I knew of, no," Anais shakes her head, then falls silent a moment to direct the bird to hunt, launching him in the air with a soft whistle. "And I'll admit, I was surprised when he sent Cayt. Maybe it's his way of making up for not acknowledging him earlier. My younger brothers will have an easy enough time finding places to squire, knights to follow, should they choose that path. Cayt wouldn't have the same opportunity if Jaremy and I weren't marrying."
"True enough," Jarod says. "It took my father some doing to get me placed in the Mallister ranks. I ended up squired to a former hedge knight in their service. Common-born man. Butcher's son, specifically. Ser Vernon Mullard was his name. It rankled me some at first, I'll admit. Jace doing service for Lord Jason himself, me to my sworn. I can't imagine how I'd have turned out if things'd been different, though. I got to adore Ser Vernon. And I was surprised how little it mattered, once we were among the other squires. We were all of us just whelps to be trained, all were together, just boys all doing the same kind of grunt work, didn't so much matter how you'd come by it."
"Just so," Anais agrees with a small smile, looking over to Jarod once more. "I can't think of a better place for him, though. He's…delicate, in his own way. Certainly not in manners," she chuckles, smile slipping crooked. "Seven know, not in manners. But in himself. All of this is even more new to him than it is to me. And for me, it's exciting. I always wanted to be somewhere closer to the center of things, where the things you hear in stories actually happened. Sometimes it gives me butterflies the size of dragons, but it's exciting for me. I don't think Cayt ever dreamed of this sort of thing, really."
Jarod gets a laugh out of that. "Is that what we are, my lady? Close to the center of things? I'm not sure much of consequence ever happens here. At least, not much that's of consequence of King's Landing. Riverrun perhaps, on occasion, though I pray we soon do Lord Tully better honors than perhaps we have of late. As for Cayt…he's a good lad. Bit rough around the edges, perhaps, but the manners are easy enough to learn, really. It's like learning the colors of heraldry, or the use of a sword. All about practicing, until you've got the movements right. Courtesy is an armor in itself, Anais, no less so for such as your half-brother and me than a lady. He has a good heart, it seems to me. He'll manage it. He tries very hard, which is half the battle."
"More than half, I think," Anais murmurs her agreement, gaze turning skyward as her falcon's circle closes in preparation for a dive. Her guard moves to follow the direction of the dive, leaving Jarod and Nina to protect his ward in the meantime. "But it's a treacherous sort of armor, Jarod. Full of weak points and prone to failure under stress." Absently, she reaches up to tuck a flyaway strand of pale hair behind her ear. "Do you think Lord Tully will come?" she asks nervously.
"Good steel is surer, that's a fact," Jarod says, inclining his head to the retainer as the man moves off. Then his head tilts up to watch the progress of Anais' diving bird. "And far simpler, hence why I prefer to spend my days in armor and not at court. Still, believe it or not I do know how to mind my manners. Part of the lessons you learn. I figure having fun in life is a lot about knowing which rules you can break and get away with, my lady, and which you can't." As for Lord Tully. "Don't rightly know. He didn't come personally to Lord Ryker and Lady Isolde's in Stonebridge. Or so I understand. Not like I was in attendance. His son Edmure was at the tourney, though. Perhaps he did. The Mallisters are held in good esteem at Riverrun, and the Terricks with the Mallisters. I hope we might be due for an appearance, from his household if nothing else."
"I suppose it's silly of me to be so interested in who comes to the wedding," Anais admits, looking over with a sheepish smile. "It isn't as though it matters. Not in any real, practical way. Just in the…Well. In the catty noblewoman way," she laughs, reaching up to rub a hand at the back of her neck as her bird shoots down into the woods after its prey. "To be honest, I would be perfectly content if no one but my mother and father came. Well. And Jaremy. It would be somewhat more complicated without him."
Jarod does laugh at that. "It would indeed, I'd imagine, though we've a spare brother - and perhaps a few cousins - to donate if he gets stupid." Though he adds quickly, "I'm sure he won't, of course. Just having a laugh. Just a joke. And we'll be a fine union of eagles and…what is the symbol of Banefort, precisely? I've not quite been able to figure its meaning. Anyway. We'll be an impressive united front in the seas against the Iron Islands, and something to put proper fear back into the Naylands. It'll be quite grand."
"It's a mysterious fellow in a black cloak," Anais answers Jarod's question, amusement tugging at one corner of her lips. "They don't really make for poetic joinings like heraldic creatures. But it is properly intimidating, don't you think?" She shifts a bit on her mount, pausing to pat at the mare's shoulder. "I've wondered if he isn't meant to be the Stranger. Or if there's some tale of our ancestors that involved hiding in a cloak and skulking about until he achieved his goal."
"Poor luck to put the Stranger on your shield. The face of death. I suppose it might put some fear into your enemies, but fighting with death on my surcoat…it'd just make me wonder when He was coming for me. I'll stick with my wing, I think." Jarod looses his falcon on that note, which speeds upward and dives into the trees. It seems to be going after a different prey than Anais', at least. "Are you dedicated to any one of the Seven, Anais? I am a follower of the Warrior's path, myself." Unsurprisingly, probably.
Anais considers that question for a long moment, silent. "I'm not certain," she finally admits. "I've never been…the most devout person. And I'm not sure I think devoting myself to /one/ aspect is the way to do it. They are, after all, seven faces that work in balance, aren't they? So…I guess I feel like it's more appropriate to pay homage to each in turn."
Jarod nods to that. "I'll never impress anyone with my devotion, I'm sure, though I try and live by the virtues as they call to knighthood. In my fashion." He smirks. "Which others may find fault with, but I muddle through all right, I think. You think yours got something?" His eyes strain after the direction her falcon, and retainer, went.
Anais hums slightly to his question, chin tipping up as her guard starts to emerge from the woods. "Looks like a rabbit," she answers after a moment, though bird, prey, and guard are all well out of the usual range of sight for such identification. "To be honest, though, I wouldn't mind if he didn't catch anything. I like hawking because it's a good reason to go out for a ride, mostly."
Jarod continues to squint to confirm the rabbit-ness of Anais catch, though he can't just yet. "I don't know about that, m'lady. It's all well and good to say we just play at sport for fun but…" His grin crooks. "…more fun if it's a little bit competitive, I figure. I'd like to come back with something, for my part. Be a good story to tell over dinner, rabbit-slaying in the woods with the Lady of the Westerlands and such."
"Well. There is /some/ company in which the competition is definitely the point," Anais agrees with a laugh. "But I don't think I'll count you among it, Jarod. I'm just as glad for an excuse to go out and ride and chat without worrying about someone catching me with more questions about the wedding. And if there's a rabbit in it, I'm sure the seamstresses will be glad of a bit of fur to trim something or other in."
"I'll help my catch outweighs yours all the same, Anais," Jarod says with a chuckle. "But, aye. I'm many things, but catty isn't among them, and I don't figure we'll ever be competing on the same field. And I'm happier for it. Between you and Lady Liliana, you ladies scare the seven hells out of me sometimes." He urges his horse forward to meet Anais' oncoming retainer and get a look at her rabbit. Or whatever creature her bird has preyed upon.
It is indeed a rabbit, a large and healthy one with thick brown fur, more easily visible as the guard comes closer and returns the falcon to Anais' wrist. "That's because you're not as stupid as you pretend to be," she informs Jarod cheerfully, winking over at him. "It's a wise man who knows when not to step between a pair of unhappy women."
Jarod laughs some more at that, winking back. "I pretend to be nothing, m'Lady. Though I think people often mistake dislike of complication for simple-mindedness. Which is fine by me. Well, that's a pretty one right there." He's referring to the dead rabbit. "Wonder if mine managed to net anything. Let's go see." He gets his horse moving again on that note, toward the general area where his bird dived, tongue clicking again.
"A pretty piece of tail, no doubt," Anais suggests innocently, not quite hiding a grin as she follows the knight. "A squirrel, perhaps." Because that's everyone's first assumption about pretty pieces of tail, right?
"I'm always on the look-out for such," Jarod replies jovially, as to pretty pieces of tail. And when he finds his falcon, it has indeed caught one. A squirrel, that is. The knight looks down at the catch with visible bemusement. "Huh. Well. Maybe I can…make a luck charm of some sort out of the tail. Or slay another dozen of them and make a pair of gloves. Squirrel gloves'd be rather dashing, I think."
"They would not," Anais assures, grin flashing across her features as she stifles a giggle. "Though you could make a lovely scarf of the tails," she suggests. "Little tails hanging all around your neck. It would be a boon come winter, no doubt." She slips the hood back onto her falcon, smile easy. "You'll have to come hunting again, though. Many times, if you want enough tails for a scarf."
"I will at that. Many hunting expeditions, for my Scarf of Many Tails," Jarod says, dismounting so he can properly attend to his bird's catch. He *is* taking the squirrel back to be skinned and turned into a fur-something-or-other, of course. He hands the squirrel corpse off to Anais retainer, then mounts up again and fixes his bird back on his wrist, and hoods the creature. "We'll make another fine day of it. For now, let's head back, before it gets dark. Cookie can make a decent stew out of yours, I think. My cat might like mine."
"A nice piece of tail for your kitty," Anais says slowly, holding back a wicked grin. "I think I remember a song along those lines from the docks back home," she chuckles softly, shaking her head. "Maybe I'll share it with you the next time we go hunting for more tails for your scarf. Henceforth, all squirrel tails shall be delived to the brave Ser Jarod."
"I might've heard that one, or one very like it, over a cup of ale before. Though neither of us should sing it, lest we make poor Jaremy blush," Jarod says with a laugh. "C'mon, Symeon." He urges his horse back toward the Tower on that note. Whistling to himself as he goes.