|Basking in the Fire|
|Summary:||Kamron and Saffron share a moment on the beach — but are of course interrupted by Punbah.|
|Date:||08 June 2012|
|Related Logs:||Little bit of everything.|
|Coastline, Terrick's Roost|
|The Cape of Eagles looms out over Ironman's Bay, a vast, blue ocean inlet, that spreads its watery depths out beyond the horizon. The path that leads down to this coast winds down behind the towers for several hundred meters before arriving at the rocky water's edge. Rather than sand, the coast is covered with innumerable smooth and rounded stones about palm-sized. They stretch up and down the coast in all directions with the battered remnants of driftwood scattered about. Above the beach, one every mile or two, are towers with a large bell and mallet atop them which are to be beaten to warn of an incoming invasion. A small dock is being constructed of thick northern timbers, with mooring space for two large ships, or perhaps a half dozen smaller craft.|
|June 8, 289|
The afternoon is warm, with only the slightest breeze blowing off the water. The waves are low, just sputtering incursions onto the pebbly beach, and next to non-existent out away from the underwater shelf of the shallows. But there is still movement on the water, as limbs splash in syncopation, driving a figure around the rockout outcropping at the base of one of the cliffs and in toward that thin, cliff-wrapped beach, if a collection of pebbles and a few patches of grass can truly be called a beach. Above the high-tide line, there is a neatly folded swath of undyed linen, collected by a pair of boots, a dirk rapidly approaching the definition of 'short sword,' and a belt-pouch — although the latter item is tucked carefully into the toe of one of the boots.
There is something almost unearthly about the young maiden standing on the beach to meet the Mallister Knight. She is dressed in garb that embodies the colors of an ocean storm with ruffs of fine white lace to simulate tide caps. Tied about her throat is a scarf of fine silk, its long trails whispering about her neck in shoulders in the soft, warm breeze. She stands before the strewn clothes, though she wears a soft smile as she regards the sputtering, splashing figure in the ocean waters. Her expression is smooth, but warm with laughter in her pale eyes. That laughter soon turns to mischeif as she steps over the clothes so she acts as a barrier between them and their owner. She cups her hands around her mouth and calls out to the sea. "Haloooo, Prince of the Sea! Have you come to rescue me?"
Kamron raises his head at the call, treading water for a moment. Laughter rolls in with the waves, and the figure out in the cove ducks down once more and continues stroking inward. A short time later, he can cease swimming and plant his feet on the rising seabed beneath. Wiping his face with one hand and casually making sure that his clothing doesn't stick too closely to his frame with his other hand, Kamron slogs up out of the low waves, "Did you need rescuing then, Oh Woman Who Came From The Sea?" Luckily, the Mallister is swimming in breeches and a loose linen shirt, although they do cling a bit scandalously about him as he walks up onto the shale. "It seems that you already dealt with the Boring Weasel yourself, and so you're not in need of rescuing anymore." Most scars are hidden by the clinging wet shirt, but it bunches a little oddly across his stomach, just above his waistline, where it covers the puckered scar left there by Rodrik Greyjoy.
"Now, the Woman Who Came From The Sea saved herself, Kamron," Saffron points out warmly with a smile dimpling at her cheeks. "Just as I have done… but if you wanted to save me, I would allow it." And she gives him a narrowing of her eyes, though her smile remains. "Just this once." The Banefort still holds her ground before his clothes, her hands clasping behind her back. Even as he may do his best not to let his clothes stick and silhouette his frame, she finds herself still biting at her lower lip as if to hide the grin. A blush threatens at her cheeks.
Kamron shakes out one leg, then the other, trailing off water down on the stones and oh-so-subtly bagging the legs of his breeches so they cease clinging quite so much. "And just what is it that I'm supposed to save you from, My Lady?" He glances around for the guards, minders, maids, or other escort he clearly expects, and then turns his gaze to searching for his boots and other clothing, finally spotting a bit of cloth sticking out from behind Saffron's skirts, "I have to say you're in a better position to save me than the other way around, Lady Saffron. I seem to be without a means to get dry, or boots to protect my tender little feet on the way up to the cliffs."
Oh, Saffron is completely without minders — though there does appear to be a huffing and puffing figure in the distance trying to catch up to his charge. Poor Punbah. The Banefort continues to smile, and she sashays herself a bit to further hide his clothes and boots. "Now… do I save you out of the goodness of my heart, or do I ask for payment?" Her pale eyes glitter with amusement — warm and soft, though there is a hint of something there. Something desperate. She drops into a small squat, lets firmly together with ladylike preciseness. She plucks up his boots, though she still appears to be waiting for his answer.
Do Kamron's eyes brighten a bit to see that figure so far away? Surely it must just be the last rivulets of water trailing down from his hair as he scrubs his hand over it. He walks slowly toward the woman in her lady-like squat, actually able to tower over her for a change. "And just what payment might you want from the poor scion of a younger son?" There's a quiet teasing in his words, even as he once more flutters the quick-drying linen of his breeches. "We do not have glittering gold or shining silver so readily available." Of course, with water on his face and clothing, he glitters and shines just a bit in the sunlight.
The Banefort slowly stands from her squat, her gaze holding his as she rises. As she does, she keeps her gaze almost demurely adverted as if to avoid a scandalous look. Perhaps due to some unevenness on the beach, she stands even with his height despite their mere inch of difference. She still holds his boots, cradling them against her stomach now. Her gaze considers his for a long moment, pale eyes roving over his. "Will you ask for my favor, Kamron? For the Mallister tournament?" She asks, tilting her head a bit with a flourish of red forelocks. "Not Lady Ghost's… but mine?"
Kamron doesn't look away from that round, open face that rises toward his own, although the question draws just a little chuckle from him, his lips curving into a wry, amused grin, "You're just a little too impatient, My Lady." The words are spoken quietly, out of amusement rather than chastizing, "I was waiting to see if I will ride in the tourney. I may have some business to the south." Not that there's much south of Seagard but Ironman's Bay and maybe Oldstones. "Although I'm loathe to miss Lord Mallister's tournament, I would also rather get this business settled as quickly as possible."
Disappointment rocks her warm expression, and she deflates down into her heels. "Oh," she says as an initial response. "Oh… that must be very important business if you are missing Lord Mallister's tournament." There is a touch of something there — curiosity mixed with worry. She drops her gaze from his a bit, and she starts to step back to give them a greater breath of space. "I had hoped… I had hoped you would wear my favor before… before…" There is an unsteadiness to her words before she releases a soft sigh. "Mistress Morla informed me this morning that my Lord father has been sent a betrothal offering… she won't tell me where." Her brow furrows. "I suspect somewhere far from here if she's so hesitant."
Kamron reaches out with his right hand, aiming to touch the back of Saffron's left hand, "It won't be anything dangerous." Humor sparkles in his eyes for a moment, "At least, it shouldn't be." One eyebrow arches at the mention of the betrothal, but it's a mild expression indeed, compared to the surprise he showed at the news of the courtship to the Frey. "Another one already… I knew you were a catch, Lady Saffron. I did not know quite how quickly you might be pursued." Laughter just barely touches the words, but he smoothes it away, letting his smile warm and soften like chocolate in the sun, "I will promise you this, however. If I am able to ride in the tourney, I will ask for your favor, My Lady, and I will do it in front of as many people as I can arrange for."
"It shouldn't be dangerous?" Saffron asks as the touch to her hand stalls her almost retreat. Its amazing how lovely that pink color flashes over her cheeks at both his fingertips against her skin and that warm smile. Her heart has done a strange leap. It catches her offguard. "My guess is my father had a few options in his pocket," she says softly in response to being pursued. She brightens a little at his promise to ask for her favor should fate allow. She breathes in deep, still clutching his boots. "Can I give you something now?" She asks in a hush. "Just in case?" Still, a bit of a ways off, is the trundling shadow of Punbah. He has started to wave his hand as if to get their attention.
Kamron shrugs a little helplessly at the question, and his hand probably should drop away, but it stays there, lingering unconsciously. "Well, if you give me something now, what will you give me if I don't have to run this errand, My Lady?" A teasing chuckle returns to his lips, "No no. I won't have you giving me a second-rate favor now or then. I expect the very best if I'm going to get a favor from a woman who actually exists." There's a vague sort of tingling running up his right arm, not at all unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really. "I'll tell you what. If I am called on this errand, I'll ask a favor of you before I go. That way you can present it to me whether I ride in the tourney or not."
Unconscious steps have brought her closer to the Mallister knight, and Saffron smiles shyly at his words. "If you promise, Ser Knight…" she whispers to him. But before he can say another word, she takes a hasty step back to widen the space between them, and a breeze sweeps in the open gap. "Your boots," she says in her normal tone, offering them to him with innocence. Punbah has huffed and puffed his way up to them, stopping a few yards away. He braces his hands against his legs as he bends over his knees; he holds up his hand to ask them both to wait just a moment. Hold it, really. Then he breathes deeply through his nose and straightens. "You were quite fast, Lady Saffron… I almost lost you…"
Where the heck did that guard come from? Kamron blinks as the warmth before him is replaced by the swirling breeze and an offer of boots. Clearing his throat, he looks up, taking the boots with his right hand as he spots Punbah and holding them up for the guardsman. Oh, now he's left a wet spot on the leather. Oh well, that was probably going to happen anyhow. "Afternoon, Master Punbah." Stepping around Saffron and carefully gathering up the towelling he brought down with him in place of his boots, he lets one end trail down before him, cutting off clear view of him from knees to neck, and then drying off his face and head with the other end. "I was just scouting out locations for good cliff-diving. Will you be joining us in the leap of faith?" Oh Kamron, you shouldn't torment the poor guardsman. As he raises the towel to dry the back of his neck, in a moment when his mouth his mostly hidden, he murmurs, "I always keep my promises, My Lady."
Saffron maintains a respectul distance, though it is not hard to catch taht whisper. Again, her cheeks flare pink. "Good," she murmurs back before she smiles brightly to Punbah. He is smiling back in his good-natured personality. "I will be joining you only to watch you rebound off the sea, Sah," Punbah says jovially. Saffron begins to help the knight pick up some of his clothing with very little comment until she can fade out the blush. "I have been spreading the news of your cliff-diving, Ser Kamron… you might have all of the Riverlands showing up."
Kamron chortles at Punbah, moving on to dry his shirt with the cloth, shifting it around as necessary to keep finding dry areas to wick up the moisture. "I don't think my ego's gotten quite that big yet, Master Punbah." His eyes cut to the redhead, "Your Lady Saffron here does quite a good job of needling it when necessary." Not very often, really. He seems to have a deep-seeded streak of humility down there somewhere. Thank his mother, most likely. He chuckles at Saffron's words, "I doubt we'll get any Naylands or Charltons, but I expect that you, Lady Anais, and Lady Briallyn at least will keep all of our egos in check by needling appropriately." Arching one eyebrow, he notes, "I forgot to ask, where is Master Timmen? I hope he's not feeling ill…"
"I do not needle… I gently deflate," Saffron says in a feign reproachful tone. She shakes her head a bit with a brilliant smile, and she tilts her gaze away a bit as if looking at the Mallister is dangerous. Then she gives a small scoff at the mention of the Naylands and Charltons. "No, I suppose they will be quite busy…" She breathes out her nose. "Poor Cherise," she frowns in earnest. "Three days free and arrested once more." Then she looks back over toward Kamron at his question, but before she can answer, Punbah pipes in instead. "Master Timmen is off to the Banefort, sah. He was sent along by Sah Sterling with some letters for Lady Banefort. He even carried a letter from Mistress Morla."
Kamron arches an eyebrow at Punbah's words, laughing lightly at the point in all that which actually catches him by surprise. "A letter? Whomever Mistress Morla has chosen must need quite some explaining. A raven could have carried a name oh-so-easily." His torso more or less dry, Kamron crouches down to dry his legs and feet as well, "I'm sure the Naylands will treat her courteously, Lady Saffron. They will probably even let her walk about the garden if she wishes. I bet she will want for nothing, save the ability to depart the Tower." He chuckles softly then, adding, "Although there's every chance I could be wrong, so please don't 'deflate' me too hard if that proves to be the case, My Lady. So who is it that you have invited to watch me and the other men try to break our fool necks? Or to take part in the precedings?"
"Oh, yes, Sah," Punbah says earnestly, his big face open and smiling. "Timmen and I have been talkin' about what lordling will have to face the fire next. I say a Vale lord, but Timmen seems convinced they are sending her up to the North." Saffron casts the man a glare, though he smiles. "I disagreed, Milady. Your temper would melt the Wall." Now, she snorts, turning her attention toward Kamron once more. "That is want enough," Saffron says in regard to Cherise before she up tilts her chin gently. "As long as you don't actually break your neck…" Then she pauses. "Well, obviously the Westerlings and the Haighs, I suggested it to the Flints and the rest of the Terricks."
Kamron scoffs at Punbah's words, "'Face the fire' indeed? You do Lady Saffron wrong." The chastizing is gentle, teasing, "I think you might instead mean 'bask in the glow of the fire.'" One blue-gray eye winks closed toward that fire, even as his grin places across his lips. "I'll try not to actually break my neck." He gestures about the cove even as he's moving over to drop down onto a convenient stone and pull on his stockings, "That's why I've been scouting the area out. Trying to find a good place that won't get anyone killed, but will still provide a bit of excitement. I think I've found one or two, although which ones we can use will depend on the tide. I think I might gather everyone up on Monday…"
"You are right, sah," Punbah says with his hands coming up in defeat. "I will tell Master Timmen that he has done our Lady wrong." He smiles to Saffron, who looks mollified by both men. Then she looks back over toward Kamron with a brighter smile. "Monday," she repeats. "That will do." She looks over toward Punbah who gives her an anxious look before she smiles over toward Kamron once more. "Master Punbah is trying to silently inform me I'm expected back at the Roost." She gently offers his folded clothes, stepping closer to him as she does.
Kamron pulls his belt-pouch out of the toe of one boot, then pulls on his boots and takes his belt and dagger from Saffron. If his fingers might brush over hers just a little, well, that's only natural, isn't it? And if the hand-off takes a heartbeat longer than it should, well, he's probably cold after having been in the water and now standing (in the sun, but we'll ignore that) in his damp clothing. "Thank you, My Lady." Slinging the now-wet towelling over his shoulders, he grins a little crookedly, "I should probably return to the Roost myself. For propriety's sake," he holds up one hand defensively, "Not that I mistrust the honor of Good Master Punbah, might I escort you as well, Lady Saffron?"
Saffron softens at the touch, and his words. She inclines her head gently. "Of course, Ser Kamron… I would never turn down such a concern for my safety." She then gestures for him to follow her to the Roost. Behind them, Punbah is grinning like a right idiot.