|Complaints and Conversation|
|Summary:||Kathryna, Jarod, and Hardwicke discuss clashing with Lady Terrick and with men in general.|
|Date:||December 14, 2011|
|Related Logs:||Clash of Wills and anything with Kathryna's NAUGHTY SPARRING.|
|Rockcliff Inn — Terrick's Roost|
|The Rockcliff Inn is one of the better inns within the town and it shows with the well-lit interior and the relative cleanliness to the other locations in Terrick's Roost. The tables are polished with oils and the floor regularly swept. A set of booths towards a darker rear of the Inn's bottom floor, just beneath the staircase, are where whores generally socialize and eye prospects from when not waiting tables. Signs over the undersized bar area advertise prices for ales and wines as well as several different choices of food to be served at the small eating area by the bar or in the main open area in its comfortable seating. A door behind the bar leads to the kitchen and cellar while another near the staircase leads to a private room that would appear to be off-limits to the 'wait staff' except for food and drink service.|
|December 13, 288|
Kathryna has now taken up full residency in the Inn. It's certainly not nearly so comfortable as the Roost was but, then, she doesn't have guards staring at her suspiciously everywhere she goes. And the fights she generally wins with no issue, so it's good for the ego! No fights tonight, not so far at least. The ironborn woman is sitting in her preferred table, back in the far corner of the place, with her back to the wall so she can watch everything. There's a large jug on the table in front of her, actually full of wine, and a mug of wine in her hand. She's a little storm cloud of anger in the back corner and no one is bothering her for it.
Jarod is back at the Rockcliff. He strides into the door like a man on a mission. And his mission? Kathryna, apparently, as he approaches her table direct. Storm cloud or no. "M'Lady Harlaw." Flourishy bow. "How's the drink tonight? Mind some company. I am on Roost business. And personal business. It's a mix."
Kathryna looks up, arching a brow rather clearly as she sees the bastard Knight approaching her little corner of stormy seas. She laughs huskily, perhaps just a hint tipsy, a hint mad… Or a hint amused. Probably all three? Either way, she shrugs, "I do not suppose it matters if I mind it or not, in truth. But you will have to get yourself your own mug, I was planning on drinking alone." But there is a casual, husky lightness behind her voice. She does not seem quiet so upset as the room might imply.
Jarod does, in fact, get himself a mug. First and foremost. It takes a good deal of waving to lure the serving girl back to their area, but he finally manages to get himself a cup. Which he promptly fills with wine. "Firstly, to the personal. You still in need of a sparring partner?" He adds, in case it wasn't obvious. "I've still some time in the late afternoons we could fool around a bit. Strictly speaking in bastard sword terms, I mean."
Kathryna cocks a brow, a hint of vague amusement deepening in her ice pale eyes. She lets him fill his cup before she takes a good gulp of her own, the wine dry and deep, an expensive vintage it seems. She's spending money at this inn, if nothing else. "…After all that has happened, you'd still offer? Of course I still need a partner. I let myself rush here like an unused blade and I'm as good as dead when I return back home. That was the base of the Lady and I's disagreement."
Newly returned from Stonebridge, Hardwicke still has the traveler's look, suggesting he hasn't even made it to the castle yet. He shoulders into the Inn instead, drawing off his gloves as he moves inside. His eyes light on Kathryna and Jarod with a slight narrowing of his gaze, though he doesn't move immediately for them. He moves to the bar. Obviously.
"Sure, what the hell?" Jarod shrugs, raising his cup as if in a sort of 'toast,' then drinking long. "Not on castle grounds, so as not to offend her household, but the Green's not a long walk, and there are some decent locations by the shore or in the woods for it as well. I respect the Lady of the Roost's command of her household, but she has precisely no authority to order in how I conduct my own training. I take my direction from Lord Jerold, Young Lord Jacsen, and the Master at Arms. Lady Evangeline is none of those. Besides…" He spots Hardwicke, flashing him his best cheeky bastard grin across the common room. Then back to Kathryna. "I want to."
Kathryna's still quite carefully watching everything — there is a reason she chooses this chair in the back corner — so Hardwicke's outfitted entrance isn't missed as he crosses the way into the room. She gives him a stiff nod, if he dares look in their direction, having some minor respect for the man considering their only real meeting. She then looks back to Jarold and smirks a touch more, "That is quite fine. I did not demand to her that I must fight on the Roost's grounds. I simply said I would continue to fight, I would have taken it outside the keep if she so insisted. But no… No, the old bitc-… bitty… insisted that I cease all together." Kate shakes her head, temper flaring again. She drowns it in some wine.
Hardwicke scowls at Jarod's grin and offers little reply to Kathryna's nod, but after the few moments it takes him to get an ale from the bartender, he does head their way. "Rivers," he greets Jarod. "Lady Harlaw." Gaze narrowed, he tries to catch up on the conversation.
Jarod manages to contain a smirk at the (somewhat) lessened insult to Evangeline. "The Lady of the Roost…" He stresses her title a touch. "…does not rule the world, much as she might like to think she does at times. She also does not get to lecture me on propriety. Very well, then. We'll make a regular thing of it." He takes a long drink of wine, looking up at Hardwicke. "Ser Blayne. Good day. In the mood for wine? I am sharing the lady's, I will admit. Happy to pitch in paying for the pitcher, by the by."
Kathryna waves it off casually, "No, no… I'm more than happy to buy wine for a man who is willing to keep me sharp. And I owe this old sod a drink anyway." She tosses a casual sort of wink in Hardwicke's direction, apparently no hard feelings over that fight that he helped pull she and Damara out of, even if Kate was over his shoulder at the time. She settles back a bit deeper in the chair and allows her ice eyes to return to Jarod. "Very well then. Shall we make it a set time? Each twilight?"
"The Lady of the Roost," Hardwicke retorts, probably predictably for Jarod, "is absolutely one to lecture you on propriety, Rivers." Looking sharply between them in the frustrated manner of one who has realized he has missed something in his time away, Hardwicke scowls at Kathryna's wink. "I can't imagine why."
"Well, she's welcome to give it a go, at least," Jarod replies to Hardwicke. Though he does not appear, really, in the mood to fight about Evangeline. At least, not until better armed. He fishes into his tunic and withdraws a letter, sealed with the eagle of the Lord of the Roost. It's handed to Kathryna. "Twilight it is. Cool hour, before dinner. Should be refreshing. Also, this is for you. From the Young Lord Jacsen. An apology and an invitation."
Kathryna cocks a single brow in Hardwicke's direction as he scowls at her…"That was a good night, you must admit. A good fight, no one died… I appreciated the back up. So I owe you a drink. Sit." She insists, waiting for him to come with a cup. She'll -even POUR- for him if he permits. She then looks back up to Jarod and nods encouragingly. "Aye, Twilight then. It is a set date…" Otherwise, she reaches and grabs at the letter. She doesn't bother turning away to open it, but carefully tugs open the seal to look down at the words.
"You interrupted my drink," Hardwicke says flatly of his last run-in with Kathryna. He does sit, but lifts the full tankard of ale he already has. "Fortunately, I found another." He frowns at the letter and finally asks, "What happened?"
Jarod lets Kathryna read in peace rather than answering Hardwicke, as to what's in the letter. He shrugs. "Not my seal. I'm the wrong one to talk on it. What fight?"
Kathryna chuckles huskily to the grumbling Hardwicke. She shakes her head to him, "The Lady Evangeline tossed me out of the Roost because I refused to stop sparring with the men, even just to keep in practice. I realize your ladies do not do such things, but where I am from, keeping as sharp bodily as you are in sword is often a matter between life and death. So, I left." She seems more amused and sardonic about it all than she is angered now. Maybe she's just drunk already. Then her ice eyes flicker back up to Jarod, "Ah… the ugly little pub down the way, the nasty one that all the low lives go to… we had a bit of a brawl there the other night. It was good fun."
Of all things, Hardwicke laughs aloud. It is not something he often does. "Aye, that sounds like her," he says before gulping down an ale. As he settles, he looks distinctly more at ease than normal. "Crawl back, I'd suggest. Sew something." His expert Evangeline advice dispensed, he snorts. "She came in raring for a fight and knocked around until she got one. I was /trying/ to have a drink."
"As my brother the young lord put it, if the Lady of the Roost had issues with your conduct, she should've taken them to Lord Jerold, who would've discussed them with you in a more…diplomatic fashion," Jarod says. "In any case, you've the House's apology and an invitation to return anytime you like. Do as you please, with whom it please you, though out of respect for her no longer do it in the courtyard. Should you wish it. The Rockcliff may be more comfortable for you, for all I know. In any case, my brother will endeavor to meet with you at his earliest availability…somewhere. And you don't have to sew anything." Description of the fight, however, gets a sound that's half-laugh, half vaguely worried exclamation. "And our soft Riverlanders gave you the fight you were looking for, did they, m'lady?" His grin crooks.
Kathryna looks back to Hardwicke as he mentions that she should crawl back. Now -that- half makes her sneer. "And why should I crawl back? I'm the one who comes here offering relations and trade. If the Terricks do not wish it, I know the Camdens do. But I started here first. So I have lingered out of respect. But I will not change who -I- am as a person just to have a conversation. So no. I am NOT crawling back with a sewing needle." She mutters coolly, not entirely twitching, but close. The thought of that alone pisses her off more than anything. She then looks back to Jarod, swallowing back a bit more of her temper with a good gulp of wine. "We shall see. I am debating if I have already overstayed my welcome. I shall take the night to consider it all. But aye, those soft riverlanders did. Though I'm half looking for another. I'm lucky I didn't start a fight with this whole damned bar last night after that mess."
"The young lord is still too young to be questioning his mother's authority in her own home," Hardwicke points out with habitually unwavering loyalty. He arches a brow at Kathryna. "If you're a diplomat, isn't it your job to get along with the people you've envoy to?" He snorts and takes another gulp. "Govern your temper better."
"Go tell him that, I suggest. The young lord carries the seal of the Lord of the Roost. It has more authority than his lady mother. Imposing as she is," Jarod rejoins in kind. To Kathryna. "Fair enough, though you'll get little resolution in the matter of your Greyjoy Pyke from the Camdens. Either way, my message has been delivered and my sword is yours whenever you wish it. Blunted, of course. I know how to treat a lady." He drinks more wine.
Kathryna half double takes in Hardwicke's direction, just staring at him a few moments. "And who the fuck pissed in your ale? Drink wine. It'll sweeten ya up." She growls at him, just as gruff as he can be, and then she looks back to Jarod and nods quietly about getting little resolution. "No, I will not… and so I sit here, waiting for that resolution, and hoping it might pave the way for more. It's is simply getting… frustrating. If you, the Mallister, and a few others with good sword arms weren't around I think I might just have gone insane by now."
"No idea," Hardwicke says with a snort. "Who pissed in yours?" He drinks his bitter, bitter ale.
"See?" Jarod grins at Hardwicke. As if he's getting more chipper while the other knight gets more grumpy. "Ser Aeric and I were just doing our parts for diplomacy in the Seven Kingdoms by knocking blades with the lady here. We're like ambassadors of peace, wherever we go. And don't mind Ser Hardwicke, Lady Harlaw. I've known him since he was a boy. He's always been like this."
Kathryna cocks a brow at Hardwicke, his commentary actually drawing a hint more amusement to her eyes. "…Really? That's all you've got, old man?" She laughs gruffly, shaking her head as she sinks back a bit deeper in her chair and allows a half smile to be cast upon Jarod before her. "He's cute. Like a grumbling storm cloud in your back pocket."
Kathryna says, "and aye… I do appreciate both of you, though I owe you BOTH a rematch once my head is back on fully straight."
Hardwicke scowls rather /distinctly/ to be characterized in such a fashion. "I'm in nobody's back pocket," he growls into his cups.
"Certainly not, Ser," Jarod concurs with Hardwicke, with a straight-faced sobriety that's somehow even more cheeky than his bastardly grinning. Gulp. And his wine is gone. "I think that's all for me tonight. Want to keep an even head. Lady Harlaw, I'll see you at twilight tomorrow, wherever you're bunking. Ser Hardwicke, I'll just see you."
Kathryna doesn't exactly pout as Jarod says he's leaving, but there is a small line of sadness to her eyes, "Don't suppose I could tempt either of you to stick around for a spar tonight?" She asks, but she also moves to stand as Jarod is going. She'll at least show the man a bit more respect. She seems to like the bastard knight.
"Unfortunately for me," Hardwicke replies to Jarod, but without any genuine heat to the words. He watches Kathryna stand to see him off with another quiet snort. "Not if Lady Terrick wishes otherwise."
Jarod's grin crooks again. "Now that you mention it, I wouldn't mind a turn this evening. I can meet you on the Green, if you want to finish your drink." To Hardwicke he adds, "If Lady Evangeline asks after me…" Which she totally will not, of course. "…do let her know why I'll be late for dinner, will you?"
Kathryna smirks JUST a bit more at Hardwicke, shaking her head, "Listen to Ser Jarod here, are you truly that much of the Lady's man? Do you carry her trail for her as well?" Kate asks casually, though it's definitely meant to be a poke at the grump of a knight. Then she looks back up to Jarod and gives a small wave, "Go on… I'd not wish to delay your dinner. I'll keep the old man here company and see you tomorrow."
"Ser Jarod is young and stupid enough to forget his duty," Hardwicke says with a crease of a frown. "I am not."
"I know my duty just fine, Ser Hardwicke. But I'll have my fun, too," is Jarod's reply to the older, grumpier knight. With that, he leaves a few coppers on the table to cover his share of the wine, and off he goes.
Kathryna turns her ice eyes back to Hardwicke, leaning a bit closer across the table, her mischevious grin dancing clear all the way to her eyes. She takes down another good gulp of her wine, shaking her head quietly. "Do you enjoy any part of life at all, Ser, or are you just waiting to die?"
"Well, I don't intend on sparring with you and killing myself with boredom," Hardwicke says dully.
Kathryna tilts her head to him, that trouble flashing through her icy eyes again. She shakes her head gently. "And you think that sparring with me would be boring? You are an old fool then. I have a strong suspicion my arrival here is the most damned interesting thing this town has seen in a long, long while." Yes, the Ironborn might have just a bit of an ego.
"Certainly the vainest," Hardwicke notes, dry and quiet. He finishes off the last of his ale.
Kathryna laughs hard at that, "Truly? You have not looked at the women that pounce about the Roost then. I have no care for mirrors and dresses." She shakes her head and sinks back, finishing off her wine and reaching for the pitcher. "More drink, Ser?" She moves to pour for him before he says anything, though he could no doubt stop her should he wish.
"And aren't you proud of it." Hardwicke lifts a brow, but doesn't argue as she pours him a glass.
Kathryna actually looks a hint surprised that he -lets- her pour for him, but she does. It's a good, dry wine, probably the nicest cask the bar has and she's paid for a whole urn of it tonight. She then tops herself off and scoops up the mug, gesturing respectfully to him. "To pride… If we didn't have it, we'd have nothing to fall from but our horses."
"Do you lot even have horses?" Hardwicke says with a dubious snort before taking a gulp of the wine.
Kathryna shakes her head again, though more seriously this time, not the dismissive gesture she often uses. "No. Not really. Horses do poorly in the sea. But I have been learning to ride from some of the men as it seems a rather dire necessity here. Goodness, there are parts of my thighs I didn't even know -existed- after a ride to Stonebridge, much less Tall Oaks!"
A particularly sardonic smirk alights Hardwicke's expression, though he doesn't comment on whatever the source of it might be. "Aye, well. Plenty of distances the ships don't cover here."
"There's an almost smile. You keep that up and I might start thinking that you've got a heart somewhere under all that gruffness and stubble!" Kate laughs out casually, just a touch in her cups with the wine, but not to the point of truly being drunk. "And aye… now I just need to -get- a horse so I don't have to keep borrowing. I think I've mostly got the hang of the bloody beasts. Temperamental creatures. Much like men."
"You're the second noblewoman in the space of a week to complain of them," Hardwicke says, vaguely unimpressed. "They're hardly so complicated." He takes another gulp of wine.
Kathryna tilts her head, amusement still lining her ice eyes, "…To complain of horses or of men?" Her husky voice inquires, content to give him all her attention now.
"Horses," Hardwicke says, annoyed at her amusement. "Have some complaints of Lord Camden do make?"
Kathryna grins a bit more, his annoyance all the MORE amusing. "…Not just of the Lords Camden, but most men in general, I would say. You all have hubris as large as your nether regions, if not often larger! And are prone to pouting or mouthing off like children, depending on the day."
"I suppose throwing a tantrum and quitting the house when we don't get our way would be better," Hardwicke says in a low grouch.
Kathryna stares hard back at him, much of her amusement disappearing. "I did -not- throw a tantrum nor quit the house. I would have been fine to stay. I would have put on a fucking dress and acted the fucking lady if she insisted. I simply refuse to cease training… I will not risk my life when I return home because an old woman cannot stand the thought of a lady with a sword. She is the one who would not give one little bit. I think she wanted me gone by hell or by high water."
Hardwicke laughs, a rough, uncouth sound. "Call it what you will, m'lady," he says, his voice lightly mocking.
Kathryna stares hard at him, "I call it honest, -Ser-. If you are so blinded by the old lady that you cannot see truth beyond her shining face, then I truly pity you. She is narrow minded and clinging to every feeble bit of power left to her."
Hardwicke leans forward, meeting her gaze with his dark eyes steady on her. "And you're a little girl visiting someone else's home whining when she can't have her way. Watch your tongue, m'lady. You're a long ways from the Iron Isles."
Kathryna meets his gaze just as firmly as his eyes are given to her, her jaw gritting and back going just a touch more safe. "I am no child. I am a lady and a warrior… I have earned my sword, Ser. Just as you did. I will not put it down."
There is something distinctly dubious in his huffed exhale, though Hardwicke does not give voice to any disagreement. He merely watches her as he sips his wine.
Kathryna sits back again, relaxing, just a touch, as he does not deny her words. She lets silence dwell between them for several heartbeats before she scoops up her wine and knocks back another good gulp of the stuff, "And you cannot tell me…" She finally starts, "You are not the least bit curious what it would be to fight a trained Ironborn? Lady or not."
"And who at the Roost have you bested?" Hardwicke asks in a particularly dry voice.
Kathryna frowns a bit more. "No one of note. It seems I best everyone from -other- families… Naylands, Camdens… but you Roost boys are tough. Probably why I'm all the more eager to raise the bastard sword to you. It's no true training sparring with those you know you can take. Those who you fear? Who are better than you? That is how you learn."
"Then no," Hardwicke says, his smile very slight. "I'm not curious." He tosses back the last of his wine.
Kathryna cocks a brow to him, keeping her smile there too, seemingly unflappable, "Scared you'll be the first one I actually beat, are you? I don't blame ya there. You are rather quite a bit older than the others."
"If you can't beat the boys, m'lady, I would suggest keeping clear of the men." Quite purposefully and pointedly, Hardwicke pushes his empty tankard towards her.
Kathryna laughs -deeply- there…"Oh, darling…I don't fight -boys-. I learned that lesson a long time ago. You would consider yourself one of the best blades in the roost, then? To call the rest of them boys?"
"I call Rivers a boy because he is one," Hardwicke says plainly enough. Smirking a touch, he says, "I make no such claims, m'lady. And I don't make any guesses on which in the Roost you've already…sparred with."
Kathryna tilts her head thoughtfully, eyes flickering towards the door where Rivers left a good while back, "You really think he is? Is he that untried? He's made a name for himself, untried or not. And you may be right. He was not quite the challenge. Your ship man, Mallister… he's the best fight I've had in years. Not certain my skull will ever fully recover, though I'm damned eager to go again." She admits almost hopefully.
"He makes a bigger name for himself, they're like to name a tavern for him," Hardwicke drawls. "If you're so eager to take another swing at Aeric, go find him. He's clearly more agreeable than I am." He taps lightly but expectantly on the rim of his empty, empty tankard.
Kathryna pours them out both more wine, finishing off the urn. She nods curtly, "I do believe I shall… but I think the same partners, much as in a bed… gets boring after a few nights. So… I shall keep looking." She sighs almost melodramatically, a laugh echoing on the edge of it, before she settles relaxed bakc into her chair and the last dregs of the wine.
Hardwicke snorts, but doesn't rise to the clear challenge of her words. He is not the most companionable of drinking partners, particularly when he's poked, but perhaps they shall finish off this last bit of the urn without killing each other.