|At a Loss|
|Summary:||Desmond speaks to Garett about Danae's… stunt!|
|Crane's Crossing Inn|
|While Crane's Crossing is technically an Inn, it caters to the traveling nobility almost exclusively. The floors around the hearth are finely crafted stonework, as are the slate blocks that the firepit is constructed of. The rest of the floor is done in stained oak that matches the few long tables and the chairs. The rest of the main room is furnished with plush couches and seating to entice visitors to delay their leave. A full service kitchen provides food of all kinds as well as high quality ales and wines. Also available are several women to provide hospitality to the lonely or those in need, the quality of them to be beaten by but a few in the Riverlands. A hallway near the kitchen leads off to the rear of the building and several up-scale rooms.|
|Apr 30, 289|
Desmond is… up, for once, in just his trousers and bandana, as most of his clothing is still drying, draped over the chairs. He's perched at the table, near the window, cleaning armor. It happens to be one of his own pauldrons, but Garett's lacquered armor is also stacked up across the table. Every now and then he peers worriedly out of the window. Bri ought to have kept his head above the water, right? Surely he's not in a ditch somewhere, right?
Garett retruned late in the night, staying out long enough to speak with Briallyn, trying to find some kind of solace. He had come home and directly went to sleep. Earlier in the morning, he gotten up and left and only now does the door open, his enterance quiet. Still looking rather subdued and probably rather miserable, he glances over at Desmond, acknowleging him. No, he not out in a ditch somewhere, though he likely feels like it. "Morning." he utters, closing the door behind him.
"Morning," Desmond quickly responds, setting the pauldron down with a *clank*. "Are you all right?" Dumb question. The squire swallows. "Is there anything I can do for you, Ser?" Also probably a dumb offer. Desmond rubs his brow through his cloth, staring at the table. Decidedly, he remains seated - Garett dislikes any fawning, this much he knows.
The sigh comes from him suggests he realizes that Desmond is a bit…tense. "Desmond." he says, looking from the table where the armor sits, then over to the window. "Your presence is enough. But, really, don't be so jumpy. There's nothing to be jumpy about. I'm not going to snap at you or yell or anything. Just. Calm down." His voice, normally so hard and cold, is anything but. It sounds weak, crestfallen, even. Somber, but without the emphasis it normally carries.
Desmond doesn't find calming down very easy, certainly hearing that tone. But he slows his questioning and closes his eyes briefly. "All right… Did you sleep at all? You…" he smiles a bit, trying to joke, "You look like hell. I mean, worse than usual." Reach across the table, he pushes a chair out, offering Garett a seat if he doesn't collapse on his bead instead.
"Do I ever?" Garett's grin is bitter. "I don't think I even got much of it, really. But I think I expected that." He indeed does look like hell, dark rings under his eyes and his posture being nothing of familiar in how the Knight carries himself. "I'll be alright, just want to make sure I don't do or say anything stupid until I'm married. There's a pitcher of apple cider that he brought up with him last night and it's brought over before he sits down at the seat opposite Desmond. He pushes the chair against the wall, setting his head against it. "I doubt your family was ever this…well, this."
Desmond is all too glad to pick up on that grim grin, "You /do/, at times. I've seen you look even… /youthful/. When you're pleased. When you're with Lady Briallyn." His smile turns a bit sadder, and he nods. "It's wise to lie low for now. I am sorry. About, well… your sister. I didn't know her very well, but I always thought that any sibling of yours would be just as… Just as strong and steadfast. Just as earnest. Just as true." He shakes his head. "Not the case here, I fear." At the mention of his own family, he lifts an indifferent shoulder. "It's hard for me to trust my siblings. They were cruel to me. Mother never intervened." His indifference wavers on a bit of spite. "I haven't seen them in a long time, save for my twin. She and I… We are close, yes, and we 'get' each other. However, I know she has her own wants and needs. Her own agenda. There are only a few people I fully trust, and you are one of them."
"We have all had such different beginnings, to of brought here, in this point in time." Garett says. "I'm sorry you were treated in such a way. You deserve better, Desmond. But I, like you, trusted so very few people. You. Briallyn. Danae. But long before either of you came into my life, it was always Danae. Always. And now…to say I cannot ever trust her again after this, do you truly know what that means to me?" It's a question he doesn't really expect an answer to. "I still go over it in my mind. I underestimated her desires. I find it hard to believe that she has done what she has for the good of the house. The action seemed to self-serving, even if she really did love tha man. And if he had lived, if he had won…" he shakes his head. "And I found about this after the fact? I would have finished what Ser Rygar had started."
Desmond acknowledges Garett's sympathy with a small nod. "I /have/ better," he feels the need to add. "I know it means breaking away from someone who had given you a lot of good memories in your youth. Memories… are important. We're all striving to make good ones. Good things to look back on and smile. They may start out good, even wonderful, but at any second, they can be tainted, poisoned, by the person attached to them. I always try to keep that in mind. Everyone, /everyone/ can be treacherous. Even brothers and sisters. I'm sorry it came to this for you. I don't know that it was for the good of the house. It will cause us trouble. Lord Roric is going to do what he needs to. Lady Danae was very indignant about all of it. I imagine there's going to be more of an investigation when things settle."
"It's just so hard to believe." Garett sighs. "Maybe that's my fault Desmond. I kept looking at Danae like she was still a child. Perhaps she resented me for it. Maybe really loved that bastard, Gods, I hate saying that, I thought I could almost respect him after speaking with him. And I don't want my opinions to be colored by my feelings." Pouring cider into his cup, he sips. "I don't know where I should stand. Do I love her? Hate her? Resent her? Or…there are no answers. I don't have one, neither did Bri. Fact is, I don't expect anyone to have an answer for me. It just…it makes me feel sick, Desmond. It's not a matter of care for the house. I'm sorry, but I'm not looking at the reprecussions for the Westerlings. I'm looking at a sister breaking the trust of her brother. A brother who would've stood by her through anything. But how can I? How can I justify it to myself? Is that even possible now?"
"Maybe she did really love him. People do insane things out of love, apparently. Look at this as a fever. You're going to feel sick for a while. There's nothing for it. Do not expect for her to come to you. Do not expect anything from her anymore." Desmond has that fang out and is rolling it between his fingers. "Don't hold out hope. If she wishes to reconcile, she will. It may pain you, but it is Lady Danae who is losing out here. Betray people, and sooner or later you'll end up all alone. Siblings cannot see the wicked in one another when they're young, otherwise you might've never wanted to /know/ Lady Danae, let alone love her. Garett," he begins, oddly sans title, "We might benefit from leaving Stonebridge for a while."
"It's so hard to imagine that. I don't know if I could ever think her wicked, Desmond. Does that make me weak? For not being able to cut ties so cleanly with her as I've done with so many others? That I've not cared what they think of me." Garett is nothing like the cold and hard man. Much like the night before, he appears very human. Very hurt and very numb. "But you. Or Bri. But esepcailly Danae. Because I've known her the longest. I just wished I knew what the intention was. If it was for power or for love. If for power, it could be easier to hate her for it. If for love, I would resent her for berating me and disliking Briallyn when she has done -far- worse. And I do admit for wanting to call her little more than a cheap whore and slap her across the face for shaming not the family, but me." His head droops a little. "I don't know what to do, Desmond. For the first time in a long time, I'm at a loss." Pause, to sip from his cup. "Briallyn wants to take me to Broadmoor. But it always seems like when things become difficult, I leave. That almost seems cowardly to me."
Desmond remains in contemplative silence for a long moment, unsettled by Garett's numbness. "I'm telling you to wait. Wait this fever out. See if she comes to you. If you cannot bear to wait, then you'll have to go to her and get answers. But merely having to /go/ to her should tell you something. It seems to me that she doesn't care." The squire's tone grows strangely cold, distant. Garett would find it rather similiar to his own typical voice. Perhaps Desmond being a bit too hard on Danae here, though Garett should be used to Desmond's relatively cheery demeanor vanishing completely at times. "Lady Briallyn has kept you from drinking…?"
"You both have." Garett replies. "No, I can't go to her. I already did once and I almost did something that I might regret later in life." Rising from his chair, he offers Desmond a wane smile. "I think…I need to go for a walk. If you see Briallyn, tell her I'll be back later. I just need to…get away from things for a bit. Get some air." Moving for the door, he sets his hand on the knob. "You're a good man, Desmond. Better than me. And I wasn't joking about you being a Knight. We'll have a small ceremony and then that'll be that. You're your own man now." He holds that gaze a bit longer before exiting the room.