| Agreement Between Gentlemen |
| Summary: | Ser Gedeon Rivers and Ser Jarod Rivers are finally honest about what they want. |
| Date: | 01/04/289 |
| Related Logs: | Soooo many logs. Anything Ged/Jarod, really. |
| Players: |
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| Tent — Harlaw Island |
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| You know what a tent looks like! |
| 1 April 289 |
Now that Ten Towers has been reclaimed and General Mallister is recovering from his duel not-quite-to-the-death with Rogr Harlaw while the army awaits their next orders, it's back to waiting and sitting and waiting some more. The dreariness of the weather is tiresome and more than one soldier has been heard muttering about their readiness to be off 'this seven-forsaken isle'. Gedeon Rivers, for his part, has kept any complaints he has to himself. He's currently in his tent, looking over a copy of a map of the Iron Islands, and chewing on a hunk of something that was probably bread before it went too stale to be called such any longer.
Ser Jarod Rivers is, as he ever does, trying to keep his spirits as upright as possible. He's frequently seen about the cookfires joking with the Terrick men he now leads, visiting the wounded Lord Mallister, beating his squire about the encampment during morning drills, and other such activities that kill both energy and time until they're off this 'seven-forsaken isle.' In that spirit of time-killing, he approaches Gedeon Rivers' tent this evening. The sound of whistling precedes him. The tune is an upbeat drinking song, a warbling version of 'Lord Jerold's Lament,' for those who know that particular song.
Gedeon Rivers does, if only because he knows Jarod Rivers who sings it with a regularity that borders on irritating for anyone who's had enough of the tune. The blond knight straightens up from his map and glances towards the flap in expectation.
Perhaps making the song irritating is part of Jarod's goal in singing it for frequently. He does seem to relish the irritation it prompts in certain people. He times finishing the chorus with his opening of the tent flap, stopping only after a high-pitched flourish. And flashing Gedeon a boyish grin. "Ser Rivers. No fish tonight?"
"Not yet, but the evening's early," Gedeon replies, giving his stale bread a disapproving glance. "No wine?"
"I don't think the Ironborn have much care for wine," Jarod says, unhooking a skin from his belt. He ever carries it. At times it's armed with water or - more often - more entertaining substances. "Some of the men found a cask of squid mead in one of the abandoned houses, though. Hasn't made me go blind yet." He takes a pull, to prove it's not poisoned, then offers it to Gedeon. "Figured we could share a drink, or few. Been too long."
"Really?" Gedeon asks, his tone as skeptical as his arched eyebrow, though he reaches out to accept the skin. "I was under the impression you hadn't an interest in drinking with me, these days. Or, really, doing much of anything with me, save serving it the same army." He tips the pouch back for an experimental swallow, one eye squinching shut. "Well. That's. A drink."
"Aye…" Jarod says, shifting his eyes some from his boots to Gedeon when his aversion to drinking with the Other Rivers is brought up. He chuckles, a touch sheepishly. "Right. Figured it was time to put an end to that." As for the drink, he smirks. "I think it things go to shit for us, we can use it as some sort of siege weapon. It's got to be flammable. But, like I said, I've had enough of it to where I'm pretty sure it's not going to kill me."
"All right," Gedeon allows, after a thoughtful moment, for 'putting an end to that'. He has another swig of the brew before offering it back to Jarod. "If it's not flammable, you could probably use it to polish armor," he offers with a small cough. And then, with a growing smirk, "Not much of anything keeps you down for long, Jarod Rivers."
"I get knocked down, but I get up again," Jarod replies to Gedeon, taking the skin back and sipping from it. He must have sort of deadened his tongue to the taste of it by now, because he manages it without a grimace. "No other way to do it, really. Anyhow, wanted a bit of a break from the Terrick encampment tonight. Figured I'd come over and see how you were getting on. Lord Ser Anton not found you a new squire yet?"
"Not yet, war has a way of interrupting such things," Gedeon replies with a shrug. Nevermind that he was squireless for a span of time before the war began. "I'm sure, when we're all back home, I'll find a suitable lad for the post."
"You were rather squireless for a time before the war as well," Jarod notes, handing Gedeon back the mead-skin. "I suppose it's not so bad getting along without one, if you don't mind looking after your own gear. More privacy for your tent, at least. I guess I'll be lacking in one as well soon. I should get Rowan knighted proper after we're done with the squids. Not sure it'll be simple to find a replacement once that's done." Not that he sounds particularly mournful about that.
"I never had one, before the one I did have," Gedeon replies with a shrug. "There wasn't really anyone to squire in Braavos, and then, when we returned to the Riverlands, well, I was already used to doing for myself. It never felt pressing." His brows lift a little for that second bit and he breathes out a soft 'ahhh.' "So that's what you've been sitting on all this time. You're going to knight him after the war. And, what about…." a finger twirls idly in the air, "the other thing,"
"Said I would when I took her back on," Jarod replies with a shrug. "Earned it as well as anyone could. Seems time to have it done. Presuming we all don't die horribly in the interim, of course. There's always that." He eyes Gedeon's twirling finger. "What 'other thing' are you on about, Rivers?"
"Well, I mean, who are you going to knight, exactly?" Gedeon clarifies, leaning back in his folding chair which creaks mildly in protest. "What secrets will been kept?"
"She-" Jarod doesn't bother with pretense on the acronym when they're in private. He never particularly has. "…wants to be a knight as Rowenna Rose Nayland. And so, that'll be that. She wants no more secrets, Seven help her for it. And neither do I."
There is a soft laugh and a slow shaking of his head as Gedeon thinks on that. "Well. That is going to be a moment to witness then, isn't it."
"Will at that. After it's done…well. She'll have what she wanted, I suppose." Jarod shrugs. "And I guess I'll get used to caring for my own armor again."
"Oh, I don't know, she might stick around to polish it for you. Always wanted to serve the Terricks after all," Gedeon points out with a faint smirk, "and I thought things were going well between the pair of you, the way you flash that favor about."
"That'll be up to Lord Jerold, I suppose." And Jarod's plainly skeptical of how his lord father will take to a lady Nayland knight, but there's little else he can say on that. "Though I think I'll do the polishing of it myself. I think…we want different things, she and me. Always have, I just never could quite admit it."
"I thought that had changed," Gedeon murmurs, holding his hand out in silent request for the skin. "What is it you want, then, if not her?"
Jarod takes a drink, a long one, before handing the skin back to Gedeon. "As if you don't know, Ser Rivers. I think it's always been pretty obvious, really. What is it you want these days, anyhow?"
Gedeon accepts the wineskin, (well, meadskin), clearing his throat before knocking back a swig. And a second. And a third. Then, it seems, he's ready to return Jarod's gaze. "The same thing you do, if I understand you correctly."
"You understand me correctly if I…err…think I understand you correctly," Jarod oafs along as he watches Gedeon swig. He shrugs, grinning slight. "About time we cut out the middleman, I figure. Or…err…middlewoman. I'm poor at sharing."
"Really? That song you're so fond of suggests otherwise, you know," Gedeon points out, smiling faintly. His movement is a bit awkward and a bit cautious as he pushes to his feet. Peering up at Jarod, he frowns. "Gods, but you're tall. How inconvenient."
Jarod flicks the favor he wears upon his wrist with a thumb. "Rowan's not the only one with a cover to maintain. Man's got to keep up his reputation in a world like this." And then he reaches forth to kiss Gedeon Rivers. In a manly fashion.
Very manly, indeed, in that there are no women present. As Jarod bends down, Gedeon reaches up to grab a couple handfuls of his shirt and jerk him the rest of the way. Their mouthes meet and if Jarod kisses Gedeon, Gedeon surely kisses back.
Jarod is jerked downward, in a very manly way. "We wasted a lot of time, you and me," he observes, when he has a moment to breathe. "Though I guess it was obvious all along, looking back. I wonder if Rowenna'll still be all right being our beard?"
"Looking back, everything is obvious. It's seeing things beforehand that we're poor at," Gedeon opines, licking his lips thoughtfully. "I thought you said she was through with secrets and lies. Though I suppose, if she actually…" a small smirk finishes the rest of that thought.
Jarod frowns. Pondering that. "Aye. That is a problem, isn't it?" His brow furrows, as he engages in some very serious Ser Rivers Thinking. It always looks like so much effort. "Maybe she'd make an exception for us? We can be charming, when we put our minds to it."
"Well," Gedeon considers, giving a soft shrug, "I suppose it couldn't hurt to at least ask. But, tomorrow. I can think of better ways to spend tonight."
"As you like, Ser Rivers," Jarod replies. Then, with a grin, he adds, "However you'd like."
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| APRIL FOOL'S! |
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