|Crashing the Party|
|Summary:||After their talk, Damara and Kathryna return to the Rockcliffe for a drink and find Dafydd /still/ there.|
|Date:||16 Nov 2011|
|Related Logs:||Ladies and ladies, Gods|
|Wenches and beer!|
|November 15, 288|
The night is no longer young, not by a long-shot. The moon has risen and it begins its path falling once more, and still the Inn has a few patrons remaining. No such thing as 'last call', not with those who hold the coins, and thus.. hold their glasses of ale.
Seated out at a table, voices rise and fall, laughter, good-natured argument, and once in a while, words can actually be discerned from one of the few men that are seated. Surrounding the men, in various states of sobriety and propriety are women, easily identified by their metier. They hang upon the men, one is seated upon a lap, toying with jaw, ear.. finger winding down the path of a throat, all obviously.. finished with 'round one'.. or 'two', and looking to gain more pay for their most pleasurable of tasks.
At this table, Dafydd, the youngest of the Lords Camden, is seated, and it is his lap upon which a "lady" sits. The conversation is merry, and his voice, for those who can recognize it, rises on occasion to best another of a companion..
"Oh.. no.. no. You can't even begin to believe such." A broad smile sits upon his face. "The only bollocks he has belongs to his mule.." At the pronouncement, the table rises in laughter once more, making that particular area the loudest by far…
The retinue is mostly asleep save for one, the Mistress Damara. After seeing to the horses and the others that had come with, the falconer accepted of the Lady Harlaw some time back at the Inn - especially since the Lord Camden had yet to return. It is through the door the two come, Damara leading in the simple blouse, ties undone a little. All vestments of leather armor are gone and she carries just her belt with it's dagger though her thick dark auburn hair is yet in the braid though it may be frayin and wisps of hair pronounced about her face.
Her jade eyes take in the groups here and there and she heads for the bar, thinking perhaps a room above has been taken by the Lord and a 'lady'. But the last comment sounds familiar, the voice does at the very least and she hesitates from ordering as she looks to her companion and makes a motion with a nod of her head towards the table.
Kathryna has even relaxed a bit herself! Still in her leather long coat, but she's undone the ties on her black bodice to reveal the comfortable shirt beneath and she seems to be smiling just a bit easier than she was before. There are still some unhappy grumblings as the Ironborn walks in the room, but people seem to be getting accustomed to the shockingly pale face. She walks with an easy comfort at Damara's side, body language alone saying the women have probably spent the good part of the evening together.
Then her ice eyes notice the nod given in the direction of the lord and Kate just blinks. She laughs, good and hard, shaking her head slowly, "And he was so delicate and blushing about it earlier. Good to see a man living up to his wiser head's recommendations." She mutters, mostly under her breath to Damara, as they continue to walka cross the way. "Shall we join him and make this horribly awkward? Go check in, if you wish. I shall get us ale."
There is a good measure of ale at the table, and Dafydd takes yet another draught of his glass, but as he does so, the "lady" upon his lap steals it away, sniffs it and swallows what little there is left. Then, it is up to her to refill it, which she does.. carefully and lovingly (as lovingly as a whore can!) and hands it back. The Camden takes it again, and with the laughter going on around him, joins in. He leans over to speak to one of his table companions, and as he does so, his hand slips into a convenient 'hole' in the side of the whore's bodice— flesh obviously will be meeting flesh there. His voice is low, in comparison to what it had been, but the result is just the same.. the men lean back and laugh. It's a relaxed evening, certainly.. and as of yet, Dafydd hasn't noticed the entrants…
"Men are men…they just don't like to admit it in front of other nobility or women." Damara says without taking her eyes off the scene for a moment. She sees enough and then finally nods. "Sure, I think they might take offense if we drink their ale so let us get our own..here." She slips a hand to her pouch, widening the string to allow her fingers to pull out some coin before offering it to Kathryna - insisting if need be. "I will go see if we are welcome.."
With that, she nods to her the Ironborn and weaves her way amongst the tables, dark braid swaying down her back as she finally comes to stand beside one of his companions in an opening of the table that is no occupied. It is between Dafydd and another man as she lifts her voice. "Having yourselves a good night?" She asks of the men.
Kathryna scoffs quietly, waving off Damara's coin. "Let me. I am not in such hard straits, truly. You might get the next round if you wish to be such a stubborn bitch." Kate mutters, though it's said with certain affection. Kate then lets Damara head off to her lord, Kate herself moving for the bar and shouldering between a few of the men there to get at some ale. She puts down a silver to pay for it, giving the bartender a long, cold look. This would not be the time to give her an issue about serving her drinks due to her heritage.
The first that truly makes note of the presence is the whore that is happily seated upon Dafydd's lap. She takes hold of his hand, now settled against her flesh beneath her bodice, and holds it there, a brief show of possessiveness. This is her coin, and she won't give it up quite so quickly or easily.
Then it's one of the men that notes her appearance, and reaches a drunken hand out to encourage Damara to join them.
Dafydd, however, is a little slowish on the uptake, the drink having taken some of his wits. Looking up, he blinks, the smile there a remnant of a jest only seconds ago. He doesn't move his hand, held as it is, though he's not making much of a show of *ahem* its placement. He doesn't rise in her presence, and there's a touch of slurred annoyance that reaches his tones, though his expression doesn't truly carry it.
"Aye.. that I am.. and I could easily recommend such an evening to my brother.. should he be up to it." Hearing a jest within the words, the others laugh..
"But I'm sure he sleeps, planning of the morrow, making his speeches ready for ears that simply refuse to hear sense." Dafydd pauses, and with his free hand, draws the ale up and takes another swallow. In doing so, however, there's a little bit of a weave, even while seated. He exhales loudly, and with pleasure. "This.. this is a good night." His official pronouncement.
"Perhaps I will.." Damara returns to Kathryna, smiling faintly in her own way. But it is the eventual reply upon arriving at the table that makes a brow lift. Dafydd's comment about Sarojyn joining them is possibly meant to poke at her but the Mistress shows no sign of it doing so. "I am sure his Lordship would like the company for himself, but some Lords have too much responsibility at the moment to partake of such a wonderful evening." Is that a counter?
She smiles to the man that invited her, pleasantly enough and says. "I would love to join the rest of you…but I fear there aren't enough seats." She just shakes her head, giving a look to them. "However will there be room for two more?"
Apparently, the inn keep has decided the annoying Ironborn is around for good and arguing is no longer worth it. Kate recieves two drinks without much wait time and scoops both the heavy mugs up, carrying them in the direction of the rowdy group and large table. Her ice eyes trace across the other men there, and the whores, a flash of something momentarily in her gaze. Jealousy, perhaps? Interest? It's gone too fast, but there is something there when she looks at them, all quite so warm and happy, lost in the pleasures of the flesh. She shakes it off while handing Damara her ale. "Mistress." She offers warmly with a smile that is probably only serving to annoy those who dislike the Ironborn.
She then looks back to the men, chuckling huskily, "Mm… I suspect they have their fill of women at this table. Besides, women like you and I come equipped with far too many pointed parts to comfortably sit on a man's lap…Not that I wouldn't try." The grin on her mouth is entirely teasing and troublesome.
"You don't need to bother your pretty little head about something like a seat, miss.." one of the other men begins, a broad smile playing on his face. He reaches out to the Hawks' Mistress, his intentions clear— to pull her down into his own lap, a gesture to echo Dafydd's own coddling. "I'm sure there'll be room for another.."
Dafydd's own lap toy turns about to settle more fully upon the Camden's lap, her hips grinding into his as she makes herself comfortable. Taking hold of his head, the whore makes sure that she's got his attention by placing a kiss firmly upon his lips. His own reaction is no different than any other drunken male's.. he responds.. and it's a long moment when the pair are.. ignorant of what goes on about them. But the moment does end, and he shifts her position slightly, his hand gliding further in while blue, slightly blurred, eyes blink and look up at Damara.
It takes him a moment to process what she's said, and then the addendum— Two? And it's not Saro—
And the brute next to him.. and.. who else..?
Dafydd looks up and beyond, catching sight of the Ironborn as she arrives beside Damara… Oh..
Taking the ale that is offerd to her, Damara doesn't see the questing hand as she thanks Kathryna. It seems she will be trying a lap tonight. Some of the drink sloshes over the side of the mug, along her hand and soaking into the sleeve of her shirt. While still more lands on her thighs and similiarly does the same. The Mistress is trying to keep the thing level as her back end is not firmly planted in the man's lap. "I meant for chairs.." She starts to explain absently as she looks at the man, a bit of surprise still left in her jade eyes. Fingers lift to wipe at a few splotches along her neck and face, then switching hands with the ale to shake out her soaked arm. "Going to go and ruin a perfectly good drink.."
The look on the Ironborn's face is a touch teasing, and mockingly pouting as Damara is pulled down into a lap and she is not. She laughs huskily, "Aye, there are two of us. Though I suspect the man now owes the mistress a drink after that… Less than smooth offering of a chair. I think we have much catching up to do with the gentlemen, Damara." Kate laughs a bit deeper again, leaning her hip against the table, halfway between the very distracted Dafydd and his man beside him, even if her presence has brought a bit of tension. She drains a good few gulps of her ale before setting the glass down and looking across those assembled. "What? You think the salt seas will wear off on you toying with an Ironborn?" She rolls her eyes and leans back, reaching for a chair from another table instead.
Now that Dafydd is up for air longer than a couple of breaths, there's a moment of confusion, or rather, puzzlement at Kathryna's words. But, before he can truly put them all together, the other gent needs a speaking to. The woman he's dragged upon his lap, and he knows is readying to paw.. is.. is..
Disengaging his hand from within the whore's bodice, he pushes the unwilling wench off.. and hopefully up and onto her own feet. That means she's now also in that tight area between Dafydd and the other man. There's a look of insult upon her face, but the Camden isn't paying much attention. He, himself, is trying to draw a sobering breath and is failing horribly at it.
"Leave that one—"
Kath's sound of petulance, at least it is in Dafydd's ears, brings blue eyes around as he makes the unsteady attempt to rise in answer to her words. That one.. Given his druthers…?
The man, now with Damara in grasp, is loathe to let her go and says as much in slurred tones. "You have yours, Lord.. and she offered.." before, "I'll refill your cup as many times as you want.." How could that sound any more suggestive?
"Oh, you can have my seat.." Damara says faintly while she leans over to try to set the rest of what is left of her ale down on the table. But it is the movement of Dafydd that makes her pause. Jade eyes lift and she watches him try to rise. The Mistress shifts in the lap and begins to try to pull herself up, bracing a hand on the mans knee to do so. "My Lord…I am fine..," as if to say she has this in hand. Even sober it's becoming somewhat of a hot mess and she wipes at the trail of ale along her neck, trying to get rid of it all.
Filling her cup. The falconer tries to disengage as smoothly as possible, turning to give the man a faint smile. Jade eyes meet his and she clears her throat. "I am sure you could find some better company…ser.." She doesn't know him, thank goodness. But then again, had she, the man would not have touched her, drunk or not.
There is just a moment of apology in Kate's eyes as she looks at Damara and the odd situation the falconer has gotten herself into. However, she also trusts the woman to -well- take care of herself. Kate laughs…"Let the boy up, Mistress, so he can get you another ale. Then you can take his seat and he'll have to find someone's lap to invade!" Kate commands teasingly, a warm, full laugh behind her voice. She doesn't linger pressed between Dafydd, whore, and other man too long, having claimed herself a chair that she now pulls into a small space on the otherside at the table.
The Ironborn then plops down, barely spilling her ale, and she grins as she sits back, taking a look from the drunk Dafydd to the whore he has just abandoned from his lap. She grins at the woman and pats her own lap. "Come, come…plenty of seats for everyone. And I promise I do not smell quite so much as any man. Sit! Sit… have a drink." She grins, offering lap and ale to the whore. Yes, it is possible that the iron born just stole Dafydd's woman.
Finding himself on his feet, Dafydd looks.. dubious. His hand looks for a sword, but it's set aside in deference to company and the less martial of activities. Besides, there's no need for steel.
Muddied thoughts make it difficult to follow Damara's words, but from what he's seeing, there's no real danger— though the Hawks' Mistress does wear the alluring ale parfum. Alluring for the brute, that is..
As far as the man is concerned, he does take note of the sweet smell of woman and ale all wrapped into one package and tries to lick the path in which her hand has gone to aid in the cleaning of her neck… but the shifting of Damara's seat makes it a little more difficult.
That, and the fact that Kathryna is.. distracting. Or rather, the Lordship's reaction to the Ironborn is distracting.
Dafydd stares at Kathryna, his lack of coordination and potential disorientation in fuller display now that he's free of the whore and on his feet. He's trying to comprehend what it is she's—
Again, he's at a loss.. completely.
The whore, now rejected by the thoroughly intoxicated Dafydd (he's probably too drunk for 'communing' anyway!) gives the lady's lap serious consideration, but she's not seeing any copper involved anywhere, so she begins to decline. Unless, of course..
Damara stops moving just as soon as Kathryna begins to offer the whore a seat. Pausing, the mistress parts her lips in some surprise and then looks up to Dafydd. Hot breath. That is what does it for her and she shudders as the man licks her neck. All thoughts of this being safe and able to be fixed flee slightly as she reaches a hand out to press at his shoulder and sit him back from her and away from her neck.
She stands then, thrusting at his arm as she feels herself squirm on the inside. "Really…really?" She asks at him and bumps into Dafydd during her rush to vacate the seat if she can, possibly even stumbling if he tries to hold on. Poor Lord Camden, his night ruined by sober women.
A warm grin decorates Kate's fuller mouth as she sees the woman's searching for something. Oh yes. Of course. Kate drags out several coppers, smiling widely, "Come here, darling…Here… So you do not -lose- these…" And she carefully drags her fingertips suggestively up the woman's hip, slipping the coopers into whatever pouch she might wear, but the last is saved to be temptingly placed between the woman's breasts. "Mm… Now you see how warm my lap is?" And, sure enough, the woman having been abandoned by the VERY drunk Dafydd, plops herself down into the Ironborn's lap.
Now warmed by a whore, ale, and having probably earned some shock and male-cred among the other men at the table, Kate raises her glass to all those still left among them, "To warm nights in this warm land!" And she gulps back a good drink of her ale before offering it to her whore's lips. Damara is given a slightly worried look, especially as she struggles free. "Mistress, relax! It is clear the Lord has…" And then here eyes narrow. He's looking a bit unsteady. "Lord Dafydd…?"
He's good! He's got his balance, even with the world spinning as it does.
Dafydd's blue eyes watch as the Ironborn's 'scene' unfolds— the whore more than happy to plant herself down and offer up…
That's not supposed to happen!
Damara's struggle and subsequent 'freedom' from paws garners the Camden's attention soon after, but like all things when mixed with a great deal of drink, his reaction is much too little and much too late. Her bumping into him causes his fragile balance to be completely lost and down he goes, his hand reaching out to try and couch his fall, but the rule of 'too little, too late' once again rears its ugly head. Down in a pile where he's not entirely sure where he begins and ends, Dafydd hears only buzzing now where words were once spoken, the smell of woman and ale the final scent actually consciously recognized before his entire world goes completely black… and he is out.
Rubbing at her neck, she can hear the man cursing behind her as he tries to grab at her hip. Damara is gazing down at Dafydd, a bit of surprise mixed with concern. But it seems he's alive, really nothing like that would kill him right. There is an audible cry and oof as she is landed straight back in the lap of the man who had her. The Mistress mutters and narrows her gaze. The others are laughing it up now, the Lord a pool on the floor worth the attention.
Sighing a little, she shakes her head and pries herself free again from the hold of the man. She is straightening, smoothing her blouse which is a bit askew and pushing her braid back over her shoulder before she takes to a knee next to the Lord, "Little too much.." The one Camden sworn is given a look over her shoulder. "Get your Lord to one of the rooms…that is if you can stand any better…" But she is lifting a rather slack arm and laying it across her shoulder, slowly lifting the Lord to his feet. "Oof…" He's heavy.
With the collapse of the lard Lord, Kate just laughs. She's seen men go down from illness and men go down from drink, and she knows this is the latter, so she doesn't look too worried. "Bloody hell, you tree men are weak. Can't hold your drink, can you?" She rubs the whore's side warmly, almost reassuringly, "See? Much better off with someone who has iron in their spine, my dear!" The only brief look of worry in Kate's eyes is the glance she gives Damara as she sees the falconer help the younger man with the drunk Camden lord.
"Be safe, Mistress. If you somehow get free of the poor drunk lord, you should be able to find us down here again!" But it seems Kate is not abandoning her woman or her ale to help with a man who would, no doubt, hiss at the thought of her help. She settles back at what is left of the table as the group clears the drunk man to a more private room.