|After the Night Before|
|Summary:||The morning after the wedding, a few visitors and residents mingle in the Fountain Court.|
|Related Logs:||A Wedding at Broadmoor, Part I and A Wedding at Broadmoor, Part II|
|Fountain Court — Broadmoor|
|Named for the lazy, masterful stone fountain at its center, the Fountain Court is less spartan than its counterpart on the northern side. Here, a trimmed expanse of healthy lawn dominates the area with a sense of peaceful tranquility, encircled by a gravel pathway that joins the overlooking structures. To the south, a towering archway precedes the grand staircase of the guest wing, and another serves as herald to the smaller South Gate, through which the green can be seen, past the calm waters of the moat.|
|January 28th, 290 A.L.|
"A hangover is when you open your eyes in the morning and wish you hadn't." - Anon
The 'morning after', as it were, finds most residents of and visitors to Broadmoor Keep still abed - it was a very long night. But the general household is up and about, as usual; the Lady Steward among them, even if she does look rather weary. Strolling idly around the fountain court, parchments in hand, the young woman reads with an oddly intent focus, not having to look where she's going. Years of pacing the same path have rendered it second-nature, even to tired feet.
Accompanied by her handmaid, sort of - Brigid has chosen to seat herself on the fountain's edge with some embroidery, rather than adoringly shadow every sunhurried step of her mistress - the Haigh daughter is quite plainly engrossed in the subject of those materials. Does she credit every document with such scrutiny? Maybe. The sun is shining cheerfully, casting warmth and birdsong over the open courtyard, but she barely seems to notice such things.
The celebrations may have gone on long into the wee hours, but iy seems that Lady Faline had retired before the end and as such, Mortimer had managed to get to his bed at a relatively reasonable hour. For now it seems that her regular guard is on duty up in the guest chambers leaving him free to go and see if a late breakfast/early lunch can be scrounged from the kitchens. As such he heads into the courtyard from the Grand Staircase intent on crossing through to the Long Gallery and beyond. There's a brief blink as he passes out into the sunlight and then a pause as he ensures he's not about to collide with the strolling noble, offering a respectful bow and a quiet "m'Lady as she passes.
It seems to be a habit of Aeron's to just 'appear' in random places. This either suggests how well trained of ranger he is, or maybe it gives credence to his mother's supposed supernatural prowess. Either way, one moment there was an empty spot of ground nearby the fountain, and the next time one would look there, the man seems to just be there, as if he had always been there the entire time or simply shimmered into exsistance. Or perhaps, he honed the art of being seen while not being seen. Not like he's bothering anyone either. Fact is, there's been a conscious effort -not- to be bothersome, resulting in that he's just admiring the fountain and the general landscape about him. It is a pleasant change from nothing but flood plains or swamp, afterall.
Abruptly halting her floating gait, the young lady looks up, only vaguely startled by the presence of an unfamiliar voice to rouse her from her reverie. Not recognising Mortimer, other than perhaps having noted his presence during the feast of the previous evening, the Steward merely offers a genial curve of her lips in greeting before replying, her tone even and soft. "Good morning." Sharp eyes take in the House colors adorning that sash he wears and, perhaps in a bid to rid herself of the thoughts associated with the parchments in hand, she ventures, "..you are among the Terrick household. I trust your Lords and Ladies are suitably attended upon, by our own staff?"
For the moment, Ceinlys doesn't seem to notice the Nayland lingering nearby. That stealthy movement of his is a damnable thing, for a woman who prefers to be aware of her surroundings and company at all times. But Brigid spies him, eyeing him for a long moment as her needles click-clack away. What's she even making, that's so simple she needn't bother observing her work?
"Aye m'Lady," Mortimer answers with another nod, "most suitably, thank you." Well, he has no complaints and he hasn't heard any from either Faline or Lothar, the two nobles present. His initial aim hadn't been to stop her progress, merely show the appropriate obeisances, but since she has now stopped he ventures a slightly tentative, "apologies if I'm keeping you from important matters but am I correct that you're Lady Ceinlys Erenford?" He is fairly certain he has it right, but not quite sure enough to go on with what he actually has to say. It's fairly clear though that his attention is all on the lady before him, so Aeron's arrival is entirely lost on him for now.
Somewhere in the back of Aeron's mind, he's registered that there's people talking somewhere around him. But he hasn't quite turned to actually look to see where the voices are coming from. However, there's something that's taken up his attention at the moment, causing the Flint-infused Nayland to keep his head pointed in a particular direction. Hazel eyes are flickering just slightly, gaze registering somewhere towards the fields off in the distance. Hands, that're slack against his sides save for his left hand, a single finger tapping against his leg in a particular fashion. As if he's counting off the seconds with each tap.
"Good." The young lady's smile is one of genuine satisfaction. After all, she'd take it as a failure on her part if any of her father's guests were unhappy. Rolling up her parchments deftly, keeping them in one hand as she folds her arms and settles to a more relaxed posture - as casual as her station permits, anyway - she nods in assent to the retainer's enquiry. "You are quite correct, Master…?" Arching a brow inquisitively, she leaves room for his name to be given in kind. Other than that, she seems unperturbed. He's likely not the first to approach her with some matter in need of discussion. But every one is different and she awaits his elaboration with polite interest written across her pale features.
Unbidden, her gaze flickers absentmindedly toward her handmaid, perhaps just to ensure the miserable witch hasn't nodded off and drowned in the fountain pond? No. Ah well. There's time yet. Blue eyes drift onward, inevitably, to note the Nayland a little further beyond. Given that she has no reason to call across the courtyard to seek his attention, the ebon-haired woman offers a mere smile and fractional nod, should he glance her way. If not, well.. that's one less person to consider.
"Trevelyan m'Lady, Mortimer Trevelyan," comes the easy reply, it's not as if that was a particularly hard query after all. He leaves off his specific job title though, as then he might have to go into why he's here acting as a guard instead of being back at the Roost doing his usual work and that'd just be boring for all concerned. His eyes follow her's a moment but even though Aeron has been spotted he isn't recognised so he simply turns back to Ceinlys instead. "Begging your pardon then m'Lady but I just wanted to say that I was glad to see Lady Hafwen looking so well yesterday and to wish all the best for her continued good health and prosperity. I know she went though quite an ordeal."
The cause of Aeron's sudden focus makes itself known; the cry of a falcon off in the distant, circling and most likely hunting for it's dinner. This brings an odd smile to the man face, as if somehow envious of the creature. Or something else. But to add perhaps a bit of oddness or maybe it just random luck, when Ceinlys looks over at him, giving that nod of recognition is the same moment his snap in her direction. An odd coincidence, as if he expected it or the ranger just has extremely good periphrial vision. Either way, there is a polite inclination of his head in return. Then Mortimer is given one as well, as his being in the nearby vincinity, before his focus then goes back to the falcon off in the air.
Ceinlys' expression clears further, first as the name is given. Then, as Mortimer makes mention of her daughter, the usually aloof woman thaws considerably, relenting to a warm smile that plays subtly across her lips. "Ahh, so this is the Master Trevelyan who led the search party from the Roost. A pleasure, indeed, to put a name to the face." Tilting her head slightly to indicate the great tower that looms over the holding, she explains, "My brother kept me well-informed of progress, though out. Your name did come up. Allow me the opportunity to express my gratitude for your assistance, Master Treveyan."
As with any mother, discussion of her pride and joy is guaranteed to elicit a pleasant mood for smalltalk. "She is indeed much improved. Though perhaps a little more shy than she once was. Understandably. A loss of innocence, I suppose, seeing the world through new eyes." A momentary darkness shadows her countenance as she recalls the horrors inflicted upon her beloved child. But she tries to set it aside in favor of further conversation. "This week has cheered her immensely, of course. She's very fond of the Lady Ilaria."
"Thank you m'Lady," Mortimer replies with a slight nod of acknowledgement, "we did what we could and your Lord Brother was of great assistance." Some of the other lords maybe less so, but he's not about to start mentioning anything along those lines now. He recognises the parental mood shift, he knows he's guilty of exactly the same when talking about his son, and returns it with a pleasant smile of his own. "It is a pleasure to here such," he then replies, "I wouldn't wish the loss of a child on anyone and am just glad we managed to return her to you, and that she has found joy in this occasion."
Given the general attitude, Aeron doesn't really to want to intrude on the conversation going on, as it seems the pair actually have something in common in the past the needs to be spoken of. So who is he to interrupt in that? And, like the past few days, he has no desire in actually drawing attention to himself. Well, at least not here, anyways. It'd sure be pleasant if he was able to enter and leave without incident and he sure as hell isn't looking to change that. Besides, he's hawk watching and that's not so bad.
Daryl steps into the fountain court at a casual stride, wearing his more typical Deputy leathers, and slowing just a moment to peek around. The first thing he happens to spot, coincidentally, is Aeron watching that Hawk, and that has him raising his brow in amusement, moving in that direction and laughing lightly, "Bird watching, huh? By the Seven, you should've been born in the north." The Ashwood slows, taking a second to look around, and when his hues settle on Mortimer and Ceinlys, there's a small raising of his brows and faint bite to his bottom lip, thoughtfully. Glancing back to the Nayland, "Were you about during the wedding? Hugging the walls like normal?" A small smirk shown, one hand lifting to the back of his neck as he finds himself peering away for a moment with a slow exhale of air from his lungs.
Daryl and Aeron are off to the side, the latter hawk watching, while Mortimer and Ceinlys are a little ways off deep in their own conversation.
"In the future, when she is ready, I would like to have Hafwen visit Terrick's Roost with me.. I would hate for her to think badly of the place, when men such as yourself were instrumental in rescuing her from her plight. Perhaps I shall write to Young Lord Ozric and arrange a meeting, in the coming weeks." Catching herself musing aloud, Ceinlys physically shakes off the train of thought, then raises her free hand to sweep back the resulting tumble of dark hair against one cheek, tucking it neatly back behind one ear. "I rather expect she would be pleased to meet you herself, if you find a moment later in the day, Master Trevelyan. When do you expect your household to depart, if I may ask? I would not wish to impede if you have a busy afternoon ahead of you."
As the young Ashwood Lord enters the courtyard, the Steward's attention is already solely upon the guard she converses with at the foot of the grand stairs. She hasn't noticed him yet. Until the familiar voice drifts across the grounds, that is, above the pleasant, constant rush of sprinkling water. Glancing aside, distracted only for a moment, she notes the young man striking up a conversation with the Nayland. They seem on rather friendly terms, really. How curious.
As conversation sparks up near the fountain Mortimer glances briefly that way to see who has arrived. Spotting Daryl he gives him a brief nod, they might hold the same responsibilities in their respective lands but the other is a Lord and he is most definitely not, so courtesies are given as a matter of course. And then to Aeron too, since Daryl seems to be conversing with him as an equal. Turning back to Ceinlys he states simply, "I am sure that Lord Ozric would welcome such a visit m'Lady." The suggestion though that he should meet with the little Lady seems to catch him on the back foot though, it's clearly not something that he had been expecting and it takes him a moment to actually proved an answer to her query. "I'm not entirely certain, although there was talk of sharing the road back with Lord Kamron and Lady Saffron who I believe are wanting to stay on for a day or so, what with the Lady's condition."
Aeron doesn't have to look to know who's voice that is, grinning somewhat. "I'll take that as a great compliment, Lord Daryl." he replies, continuing to the watch the bird. "Watching it hunt, rather. See the way it circles? In a bit, I suspect that he'll dive for his meal. Quick, precise, fluid, and instinctual. It's poetry in motion. An amazing creature, really." he explains lightly and, as if on cue, the hawk stops crying and dips toward the ground in a straight shot downward, vanishing into the field. "And you're also a good guesser." he chuckles, finally to face the Ashwood once his feathery friend has found it's meal. "More or less. When you don't know anyone and you're," another chuckle, "disliked as me and my family are, you tend to go out of the way so you don't implant your foot in your mouth. So while I wouldn't say I was hugging the wall, I was sure caressing them gently. And I suppose I've never been a huge drinker. Too many years of being on duty and not having the time for it. Old habits and all that. But I have no doubt at some point you'll find a way to get me lost in my cups." That said, he raises a brow. "I take it you had a pleasant night yourself, I hope?"
She picks her entrances and this day Freya approaches the groups from a direction that places her slightly closer to Lady Ceinlys and Mortimer than Lord Daryl or Aeron. She is wearing a rather nice respectable commoner dress. Too much work to do to wear a gown. her greeting is brief to Lady Ceinlys and Mortimer, "Mi'lady - Master Trevelyan," she says with a smile bright as sunshine. Her hair is a bit of a dishwater mop today - she hadn't had time to clean up properly since her last excursion on the road. After the curtsey she proceeds past the two having no business with them unless Mortimer or Ceinlys think otherwise.
Of course." replies the young lady, nodding her understanding as her glacial eyes return to the Terrick retainer. "I was surprised that she made the journey at all, to be quite honest. She must be exhausted. But there's no doubt my cousin was delighted to see her, so the effort was worthwhile in that regard." A soft chuckles escapes her. Poor Saffron, traipsing all the way to Broadmoor just to give Ilaria an additional reason to smile. "But yes.. if you find yourself with the time and inclination, do seek us out later. I would have her thank you too, for your part, just as she and I have done for others." That, and it's another excuse to show off the darling child, this time not covered in dirt and bruises, one would hope.
Recalling the presence of the rolled parchments in one hand, the Steward settles it behind herself, clasping the other there too a moment later. "Mistress Caul." A curt nod is afforded toward the retainer as she passes by, though Ceinlys' gaze is not unpleasant. Not even when it rakes over that unruly hair.
Daryl smirks a bit, watching as the bird circles and then eventually dive bombs in search of a meal, nodding his agreement with Aeron. "Quite the hunter. Ever consider training one?" There's a pause then as he talks about the wedding and he laughs lightly, "Well, I kept my word and tried to take eyes off you…Got a little too deep into the cups but the night…" He swallows a moment, eyes going blank for a brief second, a small, uncontainable grin rising."..Yeah, the night was good. I'd say the best wedding I've attended so far." He returns Mortimer's nod respectfully, deputy to deputy and then he watches Ceinlys for a moment as Freya approaches. His gaze tears away back towards Aeron then, "And Sabriel, she enjoyed herself? Was quite the reception."
Mortimer is not entirely sure he's qualified to comment on the trials of pregnant women, he'd missed the vast majority of his own wife's time in that condition due to Good King Robert's little war after all. Got back to find two more mouths to feed but missed the mood-swings and the cravings. Possibly not too bad a deal really, well, until you thrwo in the battles and dying screams of friends and all that. He offers a smile and a nod though to comment about it being worth it before greeting Freya with a similar nod and a "Mistress Caul." Then it's back to Ceinly and a promise of "I shall talk to Lady Faline m'Lday, and see if the time might be found." He suspects that there's a good chance it will be, but he doesn't want to promise anything only to then be proven wrong.
Aeron shakes his head. "Oh, I'd love to, really, but I don't have the knowledge and training for something like that. Not yet anyways. In the future…I've debated that. But," he pauses, the ranger took trading a glance with the other group nearby before going back to Daryl. His grin is a bit wider. "I do take a small sense of pride at being able to remain hidden in plain sight. It's a quite useful, you know. But good. Good to hear you enjoyed yourself, but I never doubted that. Fairly certain you're much better at allowing yourself to have a good time than I am." The mention of Sabriel gets a nod. "We didn't really get to see much of each other last night, but the few times I did see her, she looked rather ecstatic to be with family again. Left her to that, she can talk to me any damn time she pleases, eh? But, you'll make sure that I loosen the hell up at my own wedding."
"And I'd ask for details, but I suspect you're going to be mute on that, eh?" Aeron adds with a light smirk.
Freya is sporting a bundle of furs under one arm and appears to be headed out of the court - before she does so she curtseys to Daryl and Aeron, "Lords," she says politely with a small smile raking her small hand through the messy mop of spun gold hair that she sports. Then she is on her way again.
"Very well. I think you shall discover I am easy enough to find, should you need me." Turning, the dark-haired young woman gestures up toward the inner building that overlooks this peaceful courtyard, indicating the upper windows, tall and leaded. "The main offices are located above the Lord's Hall. I'll likely have further matters to deal with, for most of the day." Looking to Mortimer once more, the often unapproachable Steward smiles pleasantly. "For now, I should likely excuse myself.. I recognise a hungry man when I see one." Flashing a momentary grin, she points again, this time a little to the left of the same structure. "If you cut through the buttery, you'll find your way to the kitchens far faster."
Perhaps sensing an imminent departure - yes, she's sharp when it comes to that - Brigid rises from her perch on the fountain, tucking her needles neatly into her embroidery and stowing it all away in a bag slung over her shoulder. With a surly look in Freya's direction, the handmaid primly folds her hands and awaits her mistress, who's making farewells to the Terrick retainer, near the foot of the grand stair. Closer to the cascading water, Lord Daryl and Lord Aeron seem engaged in conversation, too.
"Mistress," Daryl gives a small head bob to Freya as she passes, before flicking his attention back towards Aeron, "Something to look into. Everyone needs a hobby. Mine's drinking." A small chuckle as he nods, "Perhaps I could learn a thing or two from you about be discrete. You should've seen the surcoat I wore," He shakes his head, laughing softly again as he recalls the night, "Details?…Half of them I can't remember, the other half aren't fit to speak of out in public." That grin of his refuses to leave his features, and there's another look towards the other group as he adds, "Ah, well the receptions are for the ladies to enjoy anyway, dancing and all that. Not to mention it's her family."
"I've found it's often harder to go unnoticed than the other way around. Or maybe that's because I've spent the majority of my life in the woods, hunting something or other. Bear, wolf, deer, the occasional bandit and even rarer Wildling." Aeron notes with an easy smile. "I think the reason I don't drink so much is because I'm a damn lightweight. I can't contend with those who put it away with more zeal than myself." He laughs a bit louder, as if expecting that kind of reply. "Really? But I've found that those tend to be the best kind. You make me a bit envious, Lord Daryl. Much more socially apt." That might sound a bit more honest than intended, but live the life of a ranger for so long and there might be times where you miss human interaction, but are just sucky at it. "Oh, she enjoyed herself. The one time I did see was before she went back to her room, looking utterly pleased. Glad she enjoyed herself."
Near the top of the staircase, two men move slowly, carrying an apparently heavy trunk between them. One is servant of the keep, and the other is a slender fellow who still bears his share of the weight easily enough until the corner of the trunk hits the wall with a dull thud. Nathaniel glances ahead of them, down the slope of stairs, to see whether the noise was enough to bring wrathful stares in their direction. When he does look, he notes some familiar faces, particularly Mortimer and then Freya, and nods to them while still heaving the trunk along its descent.
Faline follows her belongings while linked arm and arm with Suriya, her handmaiden. Their whispered musings to one another has been cut silent due to the servant's folly with her trunk. The Terrick female winced a little, "Careful, the very last thing we need during these good times is an unfortunate mishap Master Corbitt."
"Good to hear," Daryl responds to Aeron, chuckling a bit and offering a wry grin, "If you call getting absolutely wrecked off wine and ale and being escorted a way from the hall socially apt, then yes, Lord Aeron. I am a master. And yes…I will teach you. Practice makes perfect, and everybody has to start somewhere." He sets a hand lightly on the other man's back for a moment and motions towards Ceinlys with a tilt of his head. "Lesson one on being socially apt. Approaching people. Let me introduce you, I…Can almost guarantee you'll leave with your head intact." He motions for him to follow and then starts towards the Steward of Broadmoor with a confident, casual gate. "M'lady Ceinlys!" Comes his familiar voice, "Come meet a friend of mine." He approaches with a winning sort of grin.
With a polite nod toward Master Trevelyan, the Steward drifts away toward the main body of the Keep, passing toward the central fountain of the usually quiet courtyard. Alas for Brgid, though, she's almost immediately waylaid by the called greeting from the Ashwood Lord. Casting her blue eyes calmly toward he and the Nayland he stands beside, she offers each a faint smile, altering her course adequately to approach. "Lord Daryl, good morn to you." Her tone, as ever, is quiet and neutral, as befits a well-raised noblewoman. Clasped within both hands, as she settles them against the front of her silvery skirts, is a roll of parchments.. presumably ones that she had been perusing, before the area began to fill with passers by and guests. Turning her attention to Aeron more directly as she draws to a halt, Ceinlys inclines her head in formal acknowledgement. "Ahh, my cousin's betrothed. I trust your time here has not been too distasteful?"
Mortimer glances back up the stairs as he hears the thud from behind him. Ah, so maybe not traveling back with the Mallisters then. Still, given the length of time usually required to properly prepare a lady and her belongings for travel he may yet still have time to seek out Ceinlys later as requested. Immediate thoughts of food are cast aside as he calls upwards to Nathaniel, "Need an extra pair of hands?" It shouldn't take too long to get the trunk down and the stables are close-by the kitchens anyway after all.
"Well, I didn't hear about -that-." Aeron notes, smiling, yet shaking his head. "I think the last time I was that smashed I was…hell, hrm…" He actually has to stop and think about that. "The night my wife died, I think. Yeah. But I think I was well-within my right on that one. Anyways the whole being soc…wait…what?" There's a pause, eyes flickering. "You mean right now? Ah, I'm not even…damnit." he blinks and is suddenly being moving forward by the Ashwood right towards Ceinlys. "Ah…good morning." If he could be giving Daryl a dirty look for jumping this on him, he would be. Too late now, giving a bow to her. "No, my Lady, not at all. It's been quite pleasant, in fact. Just tried to stay out of the way, as I had no desire to make it distasteful for anyone else." The Nayland, at least, seems to be acutely aware of what people think of him.
Nathaniel looks at Freya long enough to recognize her, but no more before he returns his attention to the trunk. "I'm well enough, mistress!" he calls while he raises his end of the heavy chest slightly. "I'll be better once we've cleared the stairs." Then he shakes his head to the servant, "Raise your end or the bottom will ca—" Another thud echoes in the room and he looks toward the floor. "That might be good, Master Trevelyan, before this chest has further damage." He strains to lift his end almost to shoulder height. Then he peeks upper it to see a slightly scratched surface obi the bottom of the case. "He looks past the servant to Faline, and frowns. "Only the wood is harmed, lady," he advises.
Emerald hues glance from Aeron to Ceinlys, stopping on the latter as he offers back with a polite dip of his head, "Good morning. I hope the festivities of the weekend aren't leaving you too…Rattled? The ceremonies, they went to a very late hour, and the drinks were ever flowing. I have to say I'm impressed with what I saw that night." Still donning that shit-eating grin, he seems amused by Aeron's reaction, head tilting a little in a 'not bad, not bad' kind of motion as he greets the Lady smoothly enough. "Well, hard to find distaste in something you can't see." He teases.
This all coming from Daryl Ashwood, who seems to be in a good enough mood right now.
Faline kept one hand upon the railing of the staircase on her descent. Her attention was drawn to another, to Freya, a familiar face buzzing in her memory bank. "Quite well though not the same could be said for that poor trunk." She smiled, "I meant the hands Master Corbitt." just before another thud wrecked the halls again. Faline tightened her lips, concealing behind them the threat of laughter.
"I must admit, your conduct during this brief visit has been impeccable, m'lord. Perhaps I misjudged the name after all." It's gracious of her to say, considering that both her own family and those of the closely allied Ashwoods largely dislike their fellow Frey vassals. "And your devotion to the Lady Sabriel's happiness is.. very becoming. I hope you will both find contentment, once your vows are taken." That much, at least, seems heartfelt. Ceinlys takes a very personal interest in the matches arranged for the ladies of House Haigh. Shifting her gaze in turn toward Daryl, the young woman smirks wryly over his 'concerns'. "Utterly exhausted, m'lord. But I must confess to feeling a great deal of satisfaction." Shaking back her long hair, she includes Aeron once again in the conversation, steadily shifting her focus between the two men. Brigid hovers, impatiently, in the background. Staying or going? Make up your mind! It's palpable in her posture. But her mistress is apparently feeling quite sociable, today. "The festivities went smoothly, and I believe everyone had an enjoyable time. That is all I could ask."
The second thud has Mortimer moving back up the stairs and he's a few steps up by the time Nathaniel actually technically accepts his offer. Since the Haigh man seems to be handling his end without too much bother he makes to aid the courier. "Too much time riding around lifting paper," he teases gently as he starts to take a share of the weight, "not enough doing any real work." Glancing to the Haigh man once more he asks "on three?" and then lets the man do the count before taking the strain and starting the descent once more.
Freya nods at Nathaniel and Faline, "I would offer to help but this looks like 'mans' work," she says winking at Mortimer. She heads out furs under her arm.
Nathaniel shakes his head at Mortimer's comment, moving slightly so that the deputy can share the load, but not take it from him completely. "Not lack of muscles, but different muscles," he quips, "and a trunk well filled by the lady and her servants so that she doesn't need to bring /two/." With three people carrying now, the trunk moves easily for the next few feet. Nathaniel glances toward Ceinlys and then suggests, "You had business with the lady steward. I can find another servant to carry this to the wagon while I see the lady and escorts into the coach." To Freya he offers a friendly smile. "It's enough to see you and know that you're well, mistress. Good day and safe journey to you!"
Aeron can't help but roll his eyes lightly at Daryl. "You -are- good at this." he notes, rolling his shoulder slightly. "If it wasn't Lord Daryl here, I think I'd be off in the most emptiest of corridors, trying to take up the least amount of space." There a light self-admonishing grin to go along with that. "But thank you, my Lady. It is my hope that not all of my family are condemned to the same…'words' as some of other relatives." Seems he uses the term 'words' pretty loosely, sounds like he has utterly no love for his cousins. "Sabriel has been through much, being sent to Stonebridge and all. I only wish for the best for her and I can only hope to make it up to her." That seems quite genuine. "She helped me learn to live after the passing of my first wife, I would not be who I am now were it not for her help." A pair of glances is given between the pair of them. "Well, so long as everyone enjoyed themselves, I'd say things went off without a hitch then."
"Well, I, for one…Was glad to be apart of it." Daryl counters to Ceinlys, his smile falling into a familiar smirk as he chances a look towards Aeron then and the thunking of the chest earns a raised brow as Daryl observes the commoners from afar. "What're they carrying there?" He inquires curiously, and he replies to Aeron, "It's a gift. Offset by numerous faults surely." He talks up the Nayland towards the Haigh woman then, "Lord Aeron spent a large chunk of his time up in the north, so we can sometimes find common ground on our love for the outdoors. Sometimes." A teasing tone, and the Deputy gives another small look towards Nathaniel and Mortimer.
"Is the plan to leave that soon?" Mortimer asks as he maneuvers another step down the staircase. It's fair to say that tripping and breaking his neck is not high on his list of things to do so he's taking it slow. "If so I might take you up on that, but if we have a few hours yet then I can help get this as far as the stables at least, I was making in that general direction anyway." Freya's departure is given a brief nod although she seems long gone before he could actually offer anything beyond that so he turns back to Nathaniel and quips back jokingly, "different muscles eh? I understand, it takes such great muscle work to hold a pen just so."
How fortunate they were Gaelena did not attend. The halls might have been filled with the shrieks and cries of a very displeased lady. Not to mention the multitude of trunks to cart down the stairs. At the bottom Faline gave a small nod as Mortimer arrived to offer aid. "Yes Deputy, perhaps an hour or two if there is anything here you'd like to conclude before we return to the Roost?"
"You were glad to be a part of the drinking. M'lord." Ceinlys offers this pleasantly enough toward Daryl, though the twitch of a smile at the corners of her lips belies it as nothing more than a quip at his expense. Returning her gaze to Aeron, the young lady nods slowly, seeming to approve of his (voiced) intentions toward her cousin. But she presses him no further about it, arching her brows with interest as his friendship with the Deputy is further explained. "Ahh, I've always desired to visit the North. Young Lord Anders spoke so fondly of his homeland. Alas, I think it shall be some time before we meet again."
"The pen is a trifle. It takes different muscles to ride long distances, master," Nathaniel replies. Then he looks between Faline and Mortimer, and nods. "When you choose to leave, lady, we will be ready, even if I need to help the master here by concluding his business with that pen." Now, they are at the bottom of the stairs.
"And others yet to walk them," Mortimer replies as they reach the flat of the courtyard, he'd done all his campaigning on foot after all. Nodding his understanding to Faline he replies as they take a moment to regain their breath, "in that case m'Lady, if you can spare me, once we've got this to the stables I could do with a few minutes or so to attend to a request of the Lady Steward." He gestures across to where Ceinlys is talking with Daryl and Aeron before adding, "I do not think it will take long though."
"Indeed, I fostered in the North with the Flints of the Mountains, far north of Winterfell with my grandmother, Lady Shada. I left the Riverlands when I was little more than six years of age. Truthfully, I remember little of life here, much to my father's constant annoyance." That last bit is said a bit playfully. "As for the North itself, it is…" he almost gets a bit whimsical, a distant look in his eyes. "…hard to describe. The problems, the disagreements that happens here are almost unheard of in the North. There is only one word that matters anything to anyone; survival. The elements, the fauna, many things can be the end of you. The cold can be rather insidious, the silent taker of life in the night." Seems the ranger has a slight penchant for being a storyteller. "If you ever get the chance, my Lady, do try to visit. It is, and can be…a life changing experience. The first I laid my eyes on the Wall…still leaves an impression in me. Though I think that was my grandmother's intention. Though it was from a distance the tales do it an injustice. Far larger than believable. Tidbit of story given, he smirks over at Daryl. "Come now, Lord Daryl. You can drink, I'm a poor sod at it. You can talk to people, and I get the urge to run for the nearest collection of trees. In the North, I am on known ground. But here, you best me here in many ways. I hope you'll forgive me for that."
Not the sort of matters she had in mind, Faline follows the deputy's gesture towards a small collection of nobles. For a moment her dark eyebrows perked before asking, "What sort of request?"
"If ever a day should come when I think I could safely turn my back upon my family without risk of fire, m'lord, I shall endeavour to set my sights toward the ice." A slow smile has curved across Ceinlys' lips as she listened, seeming faintly amused to find the usually rather quiet and retiring Nayland waxing poetic. Whether she'll ever truly leave the realm of politics behind remains up for debate.. but everyone needs a daydream.
Turning her head as Brigid approaches, murmuring a few words in an aside to her mistress, the Lady Steward then looks between Daryl and Aeron, canting her head a little askance in apologetic manner. "If you will excuse me, my lords.. there are some matters I must attend. Do, please, enjoy the hospitality of my father and the newlyweds at your leisure." To the Nayland directly, she adds, "..It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Aeron. But.. I would advise against learning every aspect of social etiquette from Lord Daryl I am certain you can pick and choose the safer options, and elect common sense for the others, perhaps?" An expression of mock-warning is cast in the Ashwood's direction, before the Steward steps away, long strides carrying her toward the gallery that overlooks the fountain court.
Nathaniel nods to Mortimer. "Indeed, our bodies adapt to our lives. As I said, I'll see to the lady's belongings and her coach. If I have time, I'll saddle your horse along with mine, if you wish."
There's nothing nefarious in Mortimer's intentions, nor he believes in Ceinlys' so it's an easy, relaxed reply to Faline's inquiry. "It was her daughter that was the last of the children taken by the Ironborn bandits recently m'Lady," he pauses a moment to try and recall the Steward's exact words from before then adds, "she thought that the little Lady might appreciate the opportunity for a few words." And who is he to deny a mother and their daughter after all? Especially when they're both of the nobility.
Daryl smirks lightly as he responds, "The drinks and the bedding ceremony." A chuckle, "Did you hear the words coming from Lady Ilaria?" A small cackle as he recalls, then looking towards Aeron, "Well, if we must make it to a competition, I suppose the both of us will have to haul out to the wilds sometime up north and test survival skills, where you'll have advantage." Daryl looks towards Ceinlys as she makes her exit, following it some ways with his eyes, a lingering look. "I suppose I can be a bad influence…Good day M'lady!" A small smirk as he glances towards Aeron. "…Well done, then."
"Oh, I didn't -say- we had to make it competition, but if you're feeling so bold, Lord Daryl, I'm sure we could find some time to see how we fared in a situation like that." Aeron notes, cantering his head. "Was there really an argument? I don't think I was around for that particular. I thought I heard something about it, but I wasn't rightly sure. Wasn't sure if it was really any of my business to know." Watching Ceinlys depart, he smiles. "It was good to meet you, Lady Ceinlys. Do have a good day." Then a look back at Daryl. "Eh, anyone can be a bad influence, my sister tells me I can be as much." Pause. "…you're not just saying that, right?"
"I see." Faline addresses the explanation provided. "Who could deny such a request nor bar one from being carried out?" Then she looks to Nathaniel, "Tend to both if you will, I'd like to be off the roads before night falls." Both men were given their time to carry out whatever deeds or personal tasks they needed to as the Terrick woman departed from the courtly chamber.
Nathaniel bows to Faline and then nods to Mortimer. "Go," he urges, adjusting his grip on the trunk. "I'll deal with this for the rest," he assures. "I'll see you at the stables."
Daryl snickers softly at the offer for trying their luck outdoors, "Yeah, maybe sometime." His tone suggests he'd rather not. Explaining about what he said earlier, "Mmm, not the argument, but when we carried her to the bedroom, the jests and all that. Was too much fun." He half shrugs at Aeron, "Nah, i'd say you did just fine. That's her when she's being nice, though. And I was here to take any possible verbal beating she could dish out." There's still that faint smile on his face he can't seem to lose. "Anyway," A look around then.
Mortimer mirrors Nathaniel's bow and offers a quick, "Thank you m'Lady" as Faline doesn't object to his proposed plan of action. Slowly and carefully releasing his grip on the trunk so Nathaniel can take the strain steadily he gives the Haigh man a brief nod of thanks for his efforts then turns back to the courier. "I'll be back when I can, as I say though, I do not think it will take too long." How much is there really to say after all. With that though he's off and moving in the same direction Ceinlys did, offering Daryl and Aeron a respectful nod as he passes.