|Cave of Storms|
|Summary:||Saffron and Kamron talk and plan in a cave during a brief storm.|
|Related Logs:||None in particular.|
|Rocky Cove, Terrick's Roost|
|To the west of the path leading down, the beach extends below a cliff face and takes a turn inland where the terrain above has collapsed down to be claimed by the pounding waters below. It has formed a small, almost private cove with jagged rocks in the water at the cliffs while the ocean has relaimed most of those from the beach. Due to the elevation of the cliffs, the top of the tower to the north is just barely visible despite the relatively short distance.|
|8 August, 289|
Kamron has started to learn. When you have bad news for Saffron Banefort, or news that you think she isn't going to like, you take her to somewhere wild. He's taken her and her entourage out for a ride, which was pleasant enough, until the rains swept in. He's found a little cave to keep the rain off their heads, and although it leaves the horses (and perhaps the guards) out in the wet, it at least presents enough shelter for the ladies and the nobleman. "Not exactly what I had in mind, My Lady. But squalls do happen." He doesn't sound all that sorry, for all that. There's even a bit of a crooked grin dancing around the corners of his lips.
Saffron has not learned yet, however, that when Kamron does take her somewhere wild, he had bad news or news she won't like. The ride — an escape as it were — from the wedding plans and the rising tensions on the cape. Shygirl needed the ride, and Saffron needed the air. Even as the storm swept in, she enjoyed the first bits of rain on her face and the saturation of wet through her cinnamon-red locks. She relished in it until Kamron and her guards encouraged getting out of the rain. Now she sits close to her betrothed in the cave, arms folded across her knees. Mistress Hara is with them, but she has given the pair a bit of privacy to talk. "I don't mind the squalls," Saffron confides in him, her lips curved with a warm smile and gentle dimples.
Kamron laughs softly at the response, reaching out to touch her elbow gently before he shrugs his shoulders, resettling his axe a bit across his knees. "I didn't mean metaphorical squalls." His fingertips tighten just a little on her elbow, just enough for emphasis, "You're not cold, are you? I should have turned us this way well before I did."
"I'm not cold," Saffron reassures him with a small glimmer in those pale eyes. She leans in, touching her lips to his cheek to prove her warmth. Then she casts a glance over toward the storm beyond the cave — thunder rolls. "I actually like the storm," she says with a tilt of her head. "I don't think I've ever been happier than in a storm." She casts a glance to him with a small quirk of her lips. "Well, I suppose now that I'm in a storm with you, I can be doubly happy." Then she gathers up her wet hair, pulling it over her shoulder in a mass.
Kamron leans into the kiss on the cheek, then looks up at the peal of thunder, "It's a lot more fun on land. I've only seen a few at sea, but that's a whole lot less fun." He leans back against the narrow wall of the cave, his left hand settling on his own knee, fingers spread so that they can brush hers as well. "Once, I even got seasick." Laughing softly, he looks at at the sheets of rain that are now soaking the horses outside, "The only way to make it better," his eyes flicker over to Hara a moment, but only a moment, before they return to Saffron, "would be for some lightning, My Lady." And on cue, there is a flash outside, which causes even Three to shift uncomfortably outside.
The Banefort laughs in a soft, secretive sort. "Yes, lightning," she agrees in a soft murmur, with a flash of heat in her eyes. She looks out to see the sky becoming luminous with the crack of light. Shygirl has started to huddle up next to Three, giving a soft and uncomfortable whinny. Timmen is petting her gently, giving her comfortable noises beneath the pittering of rain. Saffron slips her fingers around Kamron's forearm. "Some Cape boy you are, getting seasick. I don't know if I can marry a man who can't handle a little squall."
Kamron scoffs at that, "You remember the winter storm nine or so years back?" That would make him about sixteen. "It must've hit the Banefort too. I was out on a little fishing skiff with two other men." He shifts his hand so that it rests on the stone between them, drawing her hand with it so they can lace their fingers together. "I'm pretty sure all three of us were emptying our stomachs, but I can't be sure. I was too busy trying to remember to use the lee rail." Laughter laces the words. However horrible it may have been at the time, he can evidently laugh about it now.
"I remember," Saffron says softly, her smile just as gentle as her tone. "I was… eleven, maybe twelve." There is a small laugh bubbling at the back of her throat. "It was the first time my mother told me the stories of the snarks and grumpkins. My mother has a wicked side to her," she explains with full dimples. "Apparently, they were the only stories that frightened my uncles when they were children." There is a fondness of this winter memory, perhaps to counteract the green-hue that colors his. She gives his hand a squeeze, fingers comfortably laced.
Kamron shakes his head, "That's the best time for snarks and grumpkins, when you're stuck in the dark, with wind howling all around." He glances out into the storm-darkened skies, and his crooked grin widens, "Evenings like this, really." Looking out further to the incoming storm, he cuts his eyes over to his betrothed, "So you get it from your mother, My Lady?" Oh, that is far too innocent, and rather a good bit of teasing as well.
Saffron laughs with a warmth that could melt away any winter. She scoots closer to him on that little seat within the cave, pressing her thigh into his to share the heat beneath their clothes — a barrier between their skins. "Once you meet my mother, you will see how much I get from her… the color of my hair, the storytelling, the wickedness," she murmurs softly before she presses her lips to his cheek again, this time lingering a bit. Hara clears her throat a bit, as if to reminder them that there is still someone here. Saffron colors a small pink before she distracts herself by teasing her fingers through the tangles in her hair.
Kamron tenses his thigh alongside hers, not a nervous gesture, but one given with a sidelong grin. "And I'm sure you get her beauty from her as well, My Lady. For you certainly have more than enough of that to go around." The lingering press of her lips to his cheek redoubles his grin, but he leans back at the clearing of Hara's throat, glancing over to the maid with an almost-amused grin, "Thank you, Mistress, for your careful watch."
Hara offers him an almost apologetic smile. "Five weeks more, Ser Kamron, and I will not have to watch quite so carefully," the maid offers before she returns to her needlepoint — something to busy her mind while the two talk. Saffron is still pink at the cheeks, though she does offer both Kamron and Hara gentle smiles. Then she focuses on Kamron once more. "So, when will you be heading to Stonebridge?" Saffron inquires, tilting her head.
Kamron shakes his head at Hara, "Then you won't have to watch me at all, Mistress Hara." He chuckles softly, then looks back to Saffron, a wry chuckle lifting to his lips, "I was trying to ease into that, My Lady. As soon as we hear word of the levies moving. I'll probably check in every few days." Reaching over to pat her hand — and then carefully taking it back with Hara watching — he adds, "And Percy and I will carry a very large Mallister banner every time we go more than a league from Terrick's Roost."
"You were easing a little too slowly… I would be grey by the time you started talking about it," Saffron says with her own wry voice. She does squeeze his hand however, and she smiles a bit to him — though it feels a little forced. "And what exactly do you intend to say when the levies do move?" She asks, only a hint of disappointment in her tone. "Can we not just leave Stonebridge to the Naylands and Charltons?"
Kamron shakes his head with amusement, "And you'll be so lovely with a little ash in the fire." His hand rises up to trail along the dampened flame of her hair, although he's careful to not actually touch the skin behind that fire-fall. "I'm not planning on saying anything. I'm planning on watching." He sighs softly, "Although if I can say anything to stop the bloodshed, I will. At this point, I don't care who controls Stonebridge, so long as they care for the smallfolk there."
Saffron blushes again, a little pink rising up to her ears. She turns her chin aside a bit, letting him touch that fire-fall with ease. "Careful with those promises, or I will be disappointed when you set me aside for a pretty young Riverlander." She brushes her fingers against the back of her neck before she shakes her head a bit. "Do they need a Mallister watching?" The Banefort sighs, looking out toward the storm. "But there is nothing I can say to convince you otherwise," his wife-to-be resigns.
Kamron arches an eyebrow, "I'm going to set you aside, am I, My Lady?" The question that follows draws a shrug from the man, "I don't know, My Lady. If you think I can do more good staying here, I will." The words are quiet, but they're sober, and honest. And then he flashes his trademark crooked grin, "And who is this pretty young Riverlander that I'm going to find, and why would I ever prefer her over you, Lady Saffron?"
"You don't think you will be disappointed when I start to ash and a firebird doesn't rise as beautiful as I am now?" Saffron inquires with a small tip of her chin, a small smile budding at her lips. "You will bring me comfort, but my comfort is not all that matters. Go, but make sure they know you are there neither in support of Nayland nor Charlton. I do not want to get wind that weeks before my wedding, you are bringing the Mallisters into their conflict." She frowns a bit. "Promise me."
Kamron nods simply, "I promise, My Lady. I'm just there to see if a peaceful solution can be reached. And if it can't, I watch." Turning sideways on his rocky seat so that he can face his betrothed a little closer, the knight leans his forearm against the cave wall, "I can only imagine your beauty maturing with age, My Lady. Not that I've particularly thought it over, but I'm imagining it now." And he certainly doesn't sound disappointed.
Another pink flush rides up her cheeks, and Saffron offers him the smallest of smiles. "Thank you," she whispers, perhaps to both his compliments and promise. She draws him close to her, and with all the innocence she can feign in the presence of Hara, she presses a kiss to his lips. "Do you know what I would like?" She murmurs in the wake of the simple soft exchange.
Kamron covers the quick little kiss with a brush of his fingers along the lock of cinnamon hair trailing the side of her face, shifting it away from her youthful features. "What is it that you would like, My Lady?"
"A walk in the rain," Saffron says, gathering up his fingers with hers and starting to stand.