|Dance in Market Square|
|Summary:||The commoners party it up in the Seagard Town Square.|
|Related Logs:||Tourney at Segard logs.|
|Market Square — Seagard|
Such things as the blacksmith and baker shops are the first completed and open storefronts while smaller establishments like the herbalist and commonplace clothiers still working outside their still-unfinished shops. Wandering merchants push about carts of goods from dawn to dusk, but when night falls this becomes the most quiet expanse in all Seagard. ||
|Mon Jun 25, 289|
Lit lanterns warm the edges of the Market Square against the coming shadows of night, a thick twilight drawing to a close with the sounds of laughter and carousing. For this night alone, the quiet ghost that lingers in Seagard will be pushed back and left unheard until morning. For now, there is joy. Music sounds from one corner of the streets and the center has been cleared, free of carts, leaving the stone square open for dancing. There is good beer and worser ale, along with more expensive draughts available for a bit of coin, and food sizzles tantelizingly. It is not a bad way to end a Tourney and a joyous engagement.
With the various Naylands inside the castle - for now at least (we all know what happened last time) - Senna has a bit of liberty. And with that liberty, she's ventured out to the party in the square, dressed in a sleeveless dress of dark crimson cotton. Her hair piled atop her head with a few tendrils snaking out at her nape, she moves through the crowds with quiet smiles and speculative glances.
Keelin has made his way to the dance, bruises all but gone, ears no longer ringing. It's a great day to be a knight. Or something like that. So, table and ale, and he's a content man, at least for the moment. He's settled in, nicely cleaned up, but just people watching for the moment.
Her Uncle had decided to stop in at the tournament, but a lamed horse caused them to miss each and every event, trailing in just in time to attend the dance. For a teenage girl, Sela sees little to no point of a commoners dance in the wake of a tournament — but then again, she hasn't really attended a commoners dance before. This little slip of a girl in boy's clothes has taken a despondant seat on a pile of freshly lumbered wood meant to be used in the morn to finalize the half-built wall of a shop behind her. Large, brilliant eyes critize the start of these things, and just as she is comfortable, some lout with a drum of beer thuds it down right beside her, giving her a start. "Oy! Watch-it!"
Garbed in a green dress that is thick with pale knots of embroidered flowers and thistle, Sofya perches atop at bit of a table that has been dragged out, joining Keelin. A pint of ale is already in her hands as she watches the dancers, then turns to flash the man a wide grin. "Are you going to take a turn again, you think? Or do you injuries leave you unable to dance?" She teases.
Alain Fitch might enjoy the music and food of parties, but he sure lacks the dress for it. The slender, dark-haired man is in simple work clothes that have at least been scrubbed clean for the occasion. He makes his way around the space, taking in the finer-than-daily-wear clothes and the ale and beer and things to nibble.
Candle light and with a glass of wine already in her Dania slowly makes her way to the to the dance she is dressed in shades of blue and green. Her moss green gown clings to her body and flare out at her lips. Blue satin ribbon trims the neck line and the wide sleeves of the dress. Around her waves is edged with the tracery of darker green leaves. Her long hair has been braided coiled up atop her head and is held in placed with a bone comb. She has a bounce in her step and she is all but glowing with energy and cheer as she reaches the dance.
Nathaniel wanders into the market, dressed in his usual dark colors and remaining at the edge of things to watch. He draws his cloak around himself. He looks toward a raised platform where local musicians are playing. He bites his bottom lip while he watches some other couples moving into the dancing area. Then he hears that sharp, harsh rebuke from Sela. He frowns at the man who has plonked the tankard next to her, and approaches. "Would you move that, please?" he asks the owner of the beer. He nods to the girl and says, "The young lady might like to keep her dress unstained."
Garbed in deep brown leathers, and a fine green shirt, Locke Septswood, is not nessecarely one to stick out. His hands are stuffed into the pocket slits of the leather jerkin that's worn over his torso, and left open so as to keep him somewhat cool. A knot of green ribbon is tied around one finger. Other than that- well it could actually be said that Locke is presentable. And not a mess that his knights often think him to be.
Keelin flashes a friendly grin to Sofya. "Oh, I think I can manage to take a turn out there, so long as you fine women aren't too worried about your toes," he says. He drinks some more of his ale, and is perfectly at ease and willing to flirt. Even if it does drive his sister to drink.
"Good thing that most of the finer ladies are at the other ball. I think my toes can handle it, they lacked your abuse at the Twins," Sofya teases with a click of her tongue. Her eyes are bright over the rim of her ale, mouth curving to flash him a crooked grin that is more playful than purely flirtacious. Keelin is pretty safe with a known element.
Sela has scooted down the planks of wood as if to avoid such an incident, even if she's wearing pants instead of skirts. Her bright eyes look up toward Nathaniel at his words, and she offers him a lopsided smile of thanks. The aforementioned lout grunts, looks the man over a few times, and then hoists back up the tankard to be plunked down somewhere else — this time perhaps by a prettier, older girl who doesn't look quite so sour. Sela tilts her head up to Nathaniel. "Thanks," she says to the man.
"Brother!" Dania calls as she makes her way towards Keelin. "You are looking lovely as always." She offers a polite bow of her head to Sofya. "Mistress Dale, it is a pleasure to meet you again." Her voice is warm cheerful and has an honest tone to it. She moves over to give her brother a kiss on his cheek. She is oblivious if she is ruining in flirting mojo. Instead she looks out into the dance seeing who is there and who has started to gather. She could be searching for someone in particular.
Keelin, it must be said, has been known to flirt outrageously with … just about anyone female. That is for sure. He gets to his feet at Sofya's comment, giving her a bow that would not be amiss up in the castle. "Then would you do me the honour of a dance, Mistress Dale?" he asks, his own gaze full of amusement. "And might I say you look lovely today?" He pauses to give Dania a hug. "Dani, sweet, have a seat, and a glass of wine, yes? Is Master Kain joining us, do you know?"
It is pretty bow. Finishing the end of her beer, Sofya hops down from the table in a flurry of skirts and with quite the grin on her lips, sketching a cutsey that is a bit too much like a dance move to be truly ladylike. "Why, fine Ser. I should be /quite/ delighted," she answers, pausing as his sister arrives. "Mistress Dania, pleasant to see you again. I hope you've been faring well, now that your horse has been returned?" Sohe inquires politely, arching a brow in amusement as she lays a kiss to Keelin's cheek.
Wesly wanders into the market area, his head hung just slightly. His long, floppy hair billows around his head. He's wearing a plain leather doublet with a deep green shirt beneath it, left unbuttoned about halfway, and a pair of leather pants. He looks dressed up, for a common squire. He looks around, shyly, and then finds a spot on the ground to sit and just watch.
Locke rubs his nose, before he is making for drinks, and thus where Nathaniel and Sela find themselves. Either, the poor bruised lad is clumsy, or he is simply not paying attention, but Locke does find himself bumping and slightly shoving at someone in his way to get a nice, cold, "Ale please." said cheerfully enough as he's reachin out to get some of the free drinkin.
Nathaniel inclines his head to Sela. "You're welcome, mistress," he answers her. "It's one thing when you know the person who sets a beer next to you. It's quite another when the person is some stranger who might spill it on you - and at a festive occasion like this." He waves his hand to indicate the area. "I wouldn't want that if I were in your place, and I wouldn't mind someone helping me to make the point." He shrugs and concluders, "So I helped you to make yours." He looks closely at Sela, and particularly at her left hand. Then he nods. "I hope that I didn't intrude if you'd prefer to be alone."
Drink seems not a bad way to go about settling into a party, so the small crowd around the thumped-down keg gains one more. Alain Fitch reaches for a mug and then waits for Locke to finish before he sees about filling it up. "Evening," he greets with a small nod towards the little cluster of people.
"I do not know Keely." Dania tells him honestly. "I am hoping but if not I will drink wine and perhaps dance a little." She tells him as she returns the hug. She goes to settle herself down on a chair. "Wine would be lovely thank you." She tells him. She looks at Mistress Dale and nods her head with a smile. "Indeed it is nice to have my horse back. I no longer begging for rides." She says to her. "He lost a little bit of weight but we will get the weight back on him. He is already scheduled to plow one of the fields when we return."
Sela cocks her head aside, sending a wave of dark honey forelocks across her bright gaze. Her freckled nose wrinkles. "No, no," she says perhaps a bit too hastily at his words. "No, you aren't intrudin'. I was just sittin' here, that's not much to intrude on." She scoots down the wood just a bit more and gesture to the open slats beside her. "Do you… want to sit?" She clasps her hands on either side of the wood beneath her.
Keelin chuckles softly. "Hold our table, Dani? And if some others come, get them to join us?" Seems reasonable, whether those others are Master Kain or well, most anyone who wants in on the fun. He holds out his arm for Sofya, still intending to dance, though he does catch a glass of wine for Dania on the way, sending it back to the table, along with a pitcher of ale. "Shall we, Mistress Sofya?" he asks, his tone slightly warmer, but not seriously so.
"Right fine, thanks." Locke returns to Alain, as he catches up the ale. A slight turn of his head over towards where Nathaniel seems to be giving some lesson about math and distances. A shake of his head before he is taking a pull. "You'd think at a fine party as this-that'd be a time of drinkin' an all else. Not a time o' figgers." And there is a loud slurp of his drink before he is turning back to survey the dancing folk. "Right like tournaments."
Alcohol. That is exactly what Senna is going for. Dodging a few wandering hands on the way, she makes her way toward the drinks, moving to edge around the table by Locke and Alain. "'Scuse me, gentlemen," she says, flashing a friendly smile as she reaches for a mug.
"So sweet to your sister," Sofya lauds with grin, linking her arm through Keelin's and allowing the detour for the wine. "It sounds like if its nothing he can't get back then. Good. If you'll excuse us, I am going to borrow your brother for a dance." She wiggles her fingers in a brief wave to Dania, then tugs the man towards the floor. Come on!
"That I can do, you two have fun." Dania does not seem to mind. Once she has her wine she settles herself to watch the dancers. That warm energy around her does not fade and a soft smile graces her lips. When she spots Daniel she offers him a warm wave of her hand.
Wesly watches everyone having fun, a bit longingly. He seems kind of like a fish out of water, and he begins to trace lines in the dirt in front of him, and he sighs.
Mug filled, Alain steps aside as Senna swishes through, watching her over the lip of his cup as he has a sip. "Who was talking figures about what?" he asks Locke before he glances around the party as a whole. "Good little gathering, this. But, who would say no to song and food if it's offered?"
Nathaniel again inclines his head to Sela. "If you're sure," he replies. He crosses in front of her and settles beside her, leaving the appropriate space between them for decency's sake. "Most people come here with someone, or … expecting someone." He nods toward the open space where couples, many in the bright clothes of summer are whirling to some lively gig for fiddle, flute, and tambour. He watches the couples, and then the trio of musicians, and smiles. Then he turns to look at Sela and asks, "Were you able to attend the tournaments? I know that many people were slowed by the trains around Stonebridge."
Keelin grins briefly at Dani and then heads off, obligingly as he's tugged by Sofya. Hey, he won't turn down a dance with a pretty lass. You never know, after all. Her comment on his sweet nature is met with a brow waggle. "Of course, she's my only sister," He replies. "But I can be sweeter still, for the right woman."
Locke is silent for a moment content to drink and drink. See this is what happens Nicodemus when you allow your squire to go carting off to parties. Wiping his lips when the mug lowers, the boy looks over to Alain, and nudges with an elbow "That bloke down there." he adds in the direction of Nathaniel and Sela "Figgers." And then in swoops Senna, a nod as he's nudged past- and a grunt for greeting.
"I've come alone," Sela explains, though really her uncle is perhaps looming somewhere. Maybe. She hasn't seen him lately. "No," she then says to Nathaniel as he sits beside her — respectful distance, of course. "I missed all the tournament competitions. I was slowed down by a lamed horse." She drums her fingertips idly against the slats of wood as she looks out at the dancing smallfolk. Her nose wrinkles a bit. "Was it good?" She asks. "The tournament."
"Easy there," Alain murmurs as Locke drinks his ale down like he's a fish. "You'll be upending your stomach before the night's much worn, you keep that up." He looks in the direction of Nathaniel and Sela, tilting his head as he considers. "Truly? Neither of them look the figures sort t'me."
Senna retrieves a mug for herself, flashing another smile and raising it in salute to Locke and Alain as she slips back out toward the rest of the crowd. Every now and then she glances toward the doors to the keep itself, watching the people who come in and out.
Sofya laughs at Keelin's wagging brow, throwing her head back in a toss of dark hair and bright smiles. "Oh, I'm certain that you can. Complete with cool cloths for their feet after you've stepped on their feet after a night of — dancing," she opines teasingly, footsteps boucning to the jaunty tune that is piped out.
Keelin's grin goes a bit wolfish, but all he says is, "Just so." He's more than willing to tease Sofya and doesn't mind being teased in return. "It's always important to watch out for one's feet after a night of dancing," he says solemnly. He does know the dance steps and he's graceful enough, but he has to concentrate to get them right and to try very hard to not step on his partner's feet. Still, he seems to be having fun dancing, even letting out a whoop or two at appropriate times during the song.
Nathaniel explains. "I wasn't there for all of it. I attended the first round of jousting. I competed in archery, but didn't fare well. Then a new knight of the house asked me to serve as his squire for the second round of jousting. I missed the knights' and squires' melee entirely." He shrugs and shakes his head. "From what I've heard, the parts that I missed were exciting, too." When he feels the vibrations on the planks that support them, he looks down at Sela's drumming hands. "Are you all right, mistress?" he asks.
"I'll upend my tomach or I won't." locke says with a glance back towards Alain. And then he's turning his head to get himself another, with a slight jerk of his thumb. A grin there as he shrugs. 'Eh they was talkin' figgers." Locke comments before draining down another gulp. One small frown showing on the man's face. "Hmm."
Wesly watches the others dancing for a few minutes, and then pushes up to his feet. He walks over to an empty table and sits. A candle burns in the center of the table, and he reaches out, sliding it closer, and he waves his fingers through the flame a few times. He closes his eyes for a moment, his lips moving just slightly as if he's talking to himself, and then he opens them, and begins examining the lines of wax dripping down the candlestick.
"Sela," she offers at the second mistressing, and she feels a small smile budding on her plain lips. "You can call me Sela." She puffs out her cheek a bit as he describes what he missed in the tournament, though she does smile a bit at the mention of the archery. "I've never seen the fun of shooting at a stationary target," she comments, though its not in a disapproving tone.
"Yes, but… wouldn't you rather not?" Alain asks of Locke. He lifts his own drink to his mouth, slurping loudly as he takes one sip. SLRP. This is the way to drink. He swallows, licking the froth from his lips before he shrugs. "Name's Alain."
A good natured roll of her eyes meets Keelin's rather wolfish angle to his grin. There is enough ego between them to not be harmed by some gentle teasing. "Oh, indeed. I understand that the morning after really tells the character of the dancers," Sofya opines with an all-too straight face. It breaks for a grin at Keelin's whoops and twirls, skirts flaring as she moves with a light footed grace. It is fun.
People watching is a pass time. Dania's blue eyed gaze falls on Wesly. "Careful or you could get burned if you are not quick enough." She says to him after a time. She looks comfortable as she sits there sipping her wine. There is a mild mannered look in her eyes and she seems to be enjoying herself.
Wesly looks up, his eyes a little wide, either surprised someone spoke to him, or terrified someone did so. "Huh? Oh… Me? I um…" He swallows, nervously, and looks downward, shrugging, not making much eye contact with Dania. "I'll be fine, thank you. I um… I make candles… so… I was just looking."
"Prolly. Though I did it fine three times yesterday." Locke announces as if that is some marvel. And then he is looking over to the other lad, or man is it. A nod given him as he raises his mug back to the other. "Locke." he replies. No not the awesome house in the North-rather short for Lockesley. A terribly long name in Locke's opinion. The squire grins for a moment. "You a Capelander then?" because Locke, totally isn't. "Like from Seagard?"
Nathaniel nods at Sela's correction. "Sela it is, then," he agrees. "I'm Nathaniel," he adds, offering his own warm, kind smile. Then he questions, "Do you shoot? I met a noble lady recently who spoke of shooting. Our master hunterx gave her a bow. That was rather generous of him considering the time and effort that go into making a proper bow." He looks at her hands again to see if they are drumming, and offers, "I'm not the best, but if you would like to dance, I would be honored."
"Ah you are chandler, it is a pleasure to meet you good Master." Dania tells him as she takes another sip of her wine. "I hope you are enjoying the evening?" She says to him. Her eyes drift over as she studies the others. Then her gaze goes back to him.
Keelin just smiles at Sofya, before he says, "I have to agree with that. I can't say I've heard any complaints." Ego, yes, it's there. "But I think it's the second dance that tells even more, the sober one." As the song comes to an end, he lets out a raucous WHOOP! and then he smiles at Sofya. "Thank you, Mistress Sofya, that was a very fine dance. You are as graceful as you are lovely." He reaches for her hand, and will kiss the back of it, if she will let him, before offering to escort her back tot he table.
"No, no… I don't shoot. My uncle is loads better'n me. I'm lucky if I can keep the arrow straight," Sela says with another little smile threatening her lips. "Its nice to meet you, Nathaniel." Her fingers have stopped drumming, quite still on the slats now. When he offers the idea to dance, her already large eyes widen just a touch. Damned be the blushing maiden, but there Sela goes as red consumes her cheeks. Prettily blushing is definitely not one of her finer characteristics, as she is as red as crimson. She turns her gaze to where the older partners are putting on quite a show, and she suddenly wishes she had worn a skirt. "Oh…" she starts, trying to sound casual. "Alright, I'll dance." She starts to stand from the planks.
Wesly nods, "I am. It's… a hobby, more than what I do, I suppose." He smiles a little, "My mother taught me, before I began my squireship." He follows her gaze out onto the dance floor, then back to her when she looks back. "I um… My name is Wesly."
"Ah, it is the drunken dances that can lead to the more suprising of partners," Sofya agrees wryly, a bubble of a laugh following her statement. "At least, that is what I have heard. I prefer my dancing to lack that decidedly unsatisfying hangover." She applauds for the players, grinning as Keelin WHOOPS!. "You are quick as you are dashing, Ser," she compliments with a pretty smile, allowing both the escort and the kiss. Once back at the table, she fetches up her ale and looks at her empty mug with a frown. "Now, this I will have to fix. If you'll excuse me."
"No, hardly that," Alain says with a smirk and a shake of his head. "I guess I'm from Stonebridge at the moment." He has another swallow of ale before he asks, "What did you do to manage puking three times?"
Late to the dance, Kell either overslept during his little restful nap or he was elsewhere by himself, enjoying the momentary quiet. But thirst for ale and probably some music has drawn him to the Market Square where the commoners are gathered for a joyous event tonight. Wearing a nice set of clothing tonight, by commoner's standard, the Terrick Sworn also shows up with his sheathed blade at his hip, appropriate to his current station in life.
"Got a clock to the head, an a clock to the gut in the squire's melee." Locke states with a frown. "I had hoped t' have remained an whalloped the Nayland Bastard who shanked me right. But, my boyo Brynner got 'im." Locke says with a bit of Groves Pride. "I was waitin' for someone. But, I think she may be stuck in th' other dance.."
"I am Dania Dorsey, it is a pleasure to meet you young Master. Who is your knight?" She asks curiously. She smiles warmly. "Are you enjoying the dance?" She notices her brother and starting to make his way from the dance floor with Mistress Dale. Her gaze goes back to Wesly.
Nathaniel frowns when he sees that intense blush that spreads over Sela's face. "If you don't want to dance, or you … don't know how, I'll understand," he offers. "I don't want to trouble you." He shrugs again. "You came to a dance. I thought to offer you a chance." He eases himself up from the slats, and then offers a hand to Sela. "I'm not trained like the fine lords up in the castle, but I'll not step on your toes."
Wesly furrows his brow just slightly, and looks downward once more, "My knight died in the invasion of the Iron Isles. I have not found one to take me on. I fear I'm running out of time." He shews on his lip for a moment, and then he shrugs, looking back at her. He looks around at the others dancing, "I suppose it's fine. I don't… I've never actually danced, to be honest, Dania."
"I've never really danced before," Sela admits as she takes the offered hand; hers is calloused, but not overtly so. It is really the 'T' branded on her hand that stands out stark against her wintry Northern skin. She offers him a small smile as she gestures to the floor with her freed hand. "But, I'm willing to give it a try. If I step on your feet, you should forgive me." She glances to the dance floor with a shy uncertainty.
"You're a squire… oh." Alain's eyes squint and then widen. "Oh, you were one of the bigger lads in purple out there. You and one of the stringy ones, half the crowd was shouting for. Suppose that warrants some vomit, then, one to the gut and one to the head."
"I am not certain how knight acquire squires but my brother is a Ser Dorsey. You should talk with him Master Wesley." Dania tells him. "Come and join us at our table we have room and promise I do have manners though I am a bit blunt at times." She smiles again as she tells him this.
Keelin smiles at Sofya, and nods his head. "Of couse, Mistress Sofya. And thank you again for the dance," he says easily enough. Now he settles back into his seat and glances at Dania and whoever she's talking to, but they're not quite near enough for him to hear what they're saying. He has his ale, the fresh mug that he'd ordered, so he takes a big long drink, with an air of enjoyment.
Locke beams at that. "Aye I was. " Though he has no awesome nickname like his knight did on the stones-or like Ser Hardwicke the Wall. Or whatever his name was from the Jousts in the twins. But he was one of the bigger lads. "We're going to make fine knights one day. For our House."
Wesly smiles, "Well, it depends. Noble knights often have their squires chosen for them by their families… Common knights often get to choose, if their sworn Lord has no objections…" He considers for a moment, and then nods at Dania, "I um… Okay. Sure." He rises, and follows her.
Walking through the large crowd of commoners, pausing to speak briefing to one or another that wishes a word with him, Kell finally makes it to the area where drinks are being poured and given out. Eager to quench his parched throat, the Terrick Knight asks for a mug of ale and accepts it gratefully. Bringing the mug to his lips, he takes a long drink.
Dania motions towards a table that has more than enough chairs for a number of folks. "Well I am sure you will be able to find someone. If anything he may know of a knight who is looking even if he himself is not." she tells him. She gestures towards one of the chairs at the table. Already there is a picture of ale sitting on it. She sets her goblet of wine down.
Where once there was no Sterling, just an empty spot around the outside of the party, now there is a Sterling, a half-empty stein of ale in his right hand. His left hand stays close to his stomach, thumb brushing over his fingertips.
Nathaniel shakes his head. "I don't think that I'll need to forgive you for that, then," he assures Sela, taking her right hand in his left in such and crossing his thumb over the bridge between her thumb and index finger. "We'll wait for a slower tune than this," he suggests. "Slow tunes can be easier for beginners."
Wesly waits for Dania to sit first, and then joins her, taking the chair she gestures to. "I would appreciate any insight he might share. Thank you." He does not serve himself any of the ale. "I had hoped to perhaps impress a knight during the squire's melee, but, heh… I um… It wasn't my best day."
And as Dania and Wesley come back to the table where Keelin is already sitting, he offers a smile. "Dani, welcome back," he says simply. Then his gaze goes to the lad, as he hears what is said. "We all have bad days in melee. Hope to the Warrior that it doesn't happen during a real fight," is his reply. "I don't think we've met. I'm Keelin Dorsey."
"Seems like," Alain agrees easily enough, "though I can't say I know a great deal about it. Not much inclined that way m'self. But, from what I could see, you fought well. Your house is lucky to have you both."
"We all have good days and we all have bad day." Dania moves to pour him a tankard of ale. "Here drink up and enjoy. Do you read or wright?" She asks him.
"Seems like? It bloody well is." Locke states before he is looking back to Alain. Still he's not going to complain if someone doesn't want to roll the route that he chose for his life. "What do you wish to do then? Or you are doin' I suppose."
"We all have good days and we all have bad day." Dania moves to pour him a tankard of ale. "Here drink up and enjoy. Do you read or write?" She asks him. She looks over at her brother. "Brother do you know of any knight looking for a squire? How about yourself." She pours her brother a drink and hands it to him.
The touch of his thumb to that branded webbing draws a shier smile onto her lips. "A slower tune, yes," Sela says in agreement as she looks over those flourishing across the dance floor. There is a touch of envy in her eyes at the twirling skirts and laughing faces. While they wait for a slower song, Sela tries her best at avoiding awkward silences. "Are you from Seagard?" the little Northern girl asks.
Wesly rises to his feet, and bows, "Ser Dorsey. Well met. I am Wesly Parala." He smiles just a little, looking at Dania. "I read better than I write, but I do, yes." He looks back at the knight, with some interest.
"Ah," Alain says with a dismissive shake of his head, "Already did what I wanted to do. Now, I work as I need, what and where varies, suppose. You lookin' forward to being a knight, then? Suppose I fancied the idea when I was a mite of a thing. What boy didn't?"
Sterling steps around the tables of food and drink, moving out into the crowds. He brings his tankard up to his lips, then lowers it again, keeping his left hand close to his stomach as he moves through the crowd. The discussion of knights and knighthood draws his attention, his slow, casual steps approaching the group.
When Sela asks about his home, however, he looks over to her and shakes his head. "I lived in Stonebridge until recently," he explains. "I've visited Seaguard occasionally, but not long enough to enjoy the place before now." He watches the women whirling like dervishes and their men trying to keep pace, Then he glances at the girl beside him again. "You're not from here either," he notes. "Your voice isn't like those that I've heard around town."
"I wanted to be a sailor truly, but bein' a knight fits me better." Locke announces before he is looking back to Alain. 'An what did you do that you wanted to?" Yes he asks questions, because it totally makes sense and all that. Totally the best question to ask. BTW.
"Ran with a troupe of entertainers for a time," Alain answers with a shrug. "Suited me, but it came apart. So."
Keelin gives Wesly a good once over, but takes another drink before he nods his head. "Well met, Wesly. Who was your knight, if you don't mind my asking?" he says. Dani gets an arched brow, and then Keelin pushes over her wine at her. Here, drink, woman.
Wesly takes his seat once more, and he clears his throat, "Um… Ser Talon Merrick. He was a sworn sword to the Roost." He glances at the ale he was poured, but does not take a drink.
With a alaugh Dania picks up the wine to take a drink. Her eyes slide over the area as if she is looking for someon. Not finding the person she takes a long drink of it. "I think some serious drinking might be needed tonight brother." She then has her attention on Wesly as she waits for him to respond to Keelin.
"Flint's Finger, up North," Sela says to the older boy still holding her hand. She is starting to wonder if she's ever had her hand held longer. She finally catches the change of tempo in the music, languishing into something slow and gentle with the proper pacing for new dancers. She looks around the floor once before she looks back up toward Nathaniel. "Shall we?" She asks with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Oh did it?" Locke asks back, now his beer though free is less interesting, as the man has fessed up. "You was a mummer then? I've only seen a mummer show once-though I imagine you'd be a fine one. Got the arms for it." Whatever that means. "Could you mum now? I bet a lot of these folk would throw coin to yer feet."
Keelin could definitely get in with drinking seriously, that's true. He looks over at Dania and offers her a sympathetic glance. "If you want. I'll make sure you get home safely, Dani," he offers. And then he turns his attention to Wesly. "How long had you squired for him? How old are you now? And was that your first tourney?" he asks, not so idly at all.
"Not precisely that, but close enough," Alain says before finishing off his own beer and tapping the bottom of his mug. For the suggestion of mumming, Fitch snorts. "Tell you what. I'll start mumming, you go on and start squiring, see if you can earn a copper or two yourself."
Wesly straightens his posture a bit, "I was squired to him for not quite six years, Ser. I'm eighteen." He nods, "It was my first tourney, yes. Ser Merrick believed a knight's prowess was proven on the battlefield, not in games." He smiles a little, "He took me with to fight on the Iron Isles. It was… Well, it was definitely a test, Ser."
Nathaniel inclines his head and shoulders to her. He answers, "We shall, miss—- Sela." he leads her out to the cleared space while the fiddler, flautist, and a new lute-player begin a slower piece with a melody that suggests a gently flowing river. "Flint's finger?" he asks while they dance, speaking more quietly now, probably so quietly that only she can hear while they glide over the modest square. "I've seen it on maps, but I've never visited there. It would be a long distance except by sea. Still, I wouldn't mind seeing it someday. If you will, I'd like to hear about it later."
Sterling settles in a pace or so behind Keelin, Dania, and Wesly, his eyes passing out over the dancers idly. At the squire's comment, the raw-boned man finally speaks up, his voice lower than might be expected for his rangy frame, "Your Ser Merrick's right. Tournaments are for Reachlords."
"I don't earn coin squiring." Locke says with a guffaw "I earn food to eat, a place to sleep, an my lessons." There. And then he is eyeing Alain for a moment. "What sorts of performer were you then? " AND WHY NO PERFORMING
"Brother there is no need for you to watch me." Dania tells him. "I will be quiet safe, thank you." She starts to sip her drink. "I should see if I can get them to just give me a bottle." She tells him. She looks back to Wesley and she nods and she motions for Sterling to come and join them. "Please come and have a seat and join in the conversation."
"Aye, that it was," Keelin agrees, having been over on those iron isles himself. "I tell you what, lad," he adds after a moment, and another drink. He glances back at the comment from behind. "Ser Sterling," he greets. "D'you know young Wesly here? He's looking for a knight to finish off his squiring sounds like. And have you met my sister, Dania?" Just in case he hasn't. Keelin then looks over at Dania and shakes his head. As if he's going to let her get drunk and stagger around lost. Please.
Wesly looks at Sterling, and he smiles, nodding, "Thank you, Ser. Ser Sterling." He gives a slight bow of his head to the knight. "Ser Merrick was practical above all else." He looks back at Keelin, waiting for the introductions to finish.
It takes Sela a moment to find her footing, but that ever adaptable girl follows his lead with little resistance. She smiles up shyly toward the boy as they grace about without much flourish, and without skirts its not quite a show as the other women. "It can be a pretty journey if you go along the roads as we did. I've never spent so much time on a horse though." She carefully looks behind her as they turn slightly across the floor. "I've never been to Stonebridge though, so we're even. Why do they call it Stonebridge?"
Alain peers right back at Locke and there is, definitely, no leap to perform. "I was an escape artist. Got put into things, had to get back out again."
Locke blinks and his mouth drops "YOU WERE AN ESCAPE ARTIST?" Locke almost seems to shout, because of the pure awesomeness of the claim. "Blimey, like they'd roll you up in chains an seal you in a barrel type mess? I saw that once in the pans. Bloody brilliant that fucking is."
Sterling looks over to Dania, eventually bowing his head a little. Keelin gets a moment's attention, "Have much trouble with the children, Ser?" He didn't actually get the other man's name, but there's a nice delay there to wait for it. He raises up his mug a bit, to show that he's already got a drink, then lifts it to his lips a moment.
Keelin sorta blinks at Sterling. "Keelin Dorsey," he adds after a moment, shrugging since it seems the other man didn't catch his name. "I don't have any children of my own to have trouble with. That I'm aware of," is all he says in reply, a little bit confused. (Cause he's not Kell?) He turns back to Wesly. "I tell you what, lad," he says. "Wait, where is it you said you were from?"
"It is a pleasue to meet you." Dania smiles sweetly at Keelin. Then she goes to finsh off her wine. "I will be back I am going to see if I can get a bottle and I am hardly a child." She tell Sterling as she gives him a cheerful smile. Rising from her seat she leave and when she returns she has a bottle.
Nathaniel continues to dance. He notices Sela glancing over her own shoulder, and while they whirl in slow circles, he murmurs, "You needn't worry. I won't run you into anything or anyone." Then he adds, "Like many places it's name comes from its landmarks. Not far from the current town is a an ancient stone bridge that runs over the Green Rill." Stonebridge isn't /that/ far from here. If you've come from Flint, you should be able to make the trip easily enough. You could ride there with one of the trading caravans. My work still takes me there at times."
Wesly smiles, "I grew up just outside of Terrick's Roost. Though, since I became a squire, I spent most of my time on the road with Ser Merrick. He was sworn to the Roost, but his duties more often were away from the Roost."
Sterling makes a slight gesture toward the purple crest, then shakes his head, "Right. One eagle. Not four. Sorry. Thought you were one of those idiot Terricks." For a moment, something that might approach amusement touches his eyes, and then he continues, "The ones who caught up to Jensen. Couldn't handle a few whining kids." Most men would probably watch Dania walk away, and make some smart remark about her certainly not being a child with curves like that. But he's not most men.
"Sure, sometimes it was a barrel," Alain agrees, moving to refill his tankard before taking a few of those ill-advised gulps. "Um. Thanks. Suppose."
"What all did they lock you in?" Yes, this particular Squire is spellbound now. And so he is taking a sip of ale. "Go on."
Sela is quite relieved at Nathaniel's promise to guard her steps for her, and she relaxes once more into their easy dance. "Thank you," she murmurs in reply with a shy smile pulling at her lips. She dips her chin a bit with that appropriate teenage girl coyness. "I will come see it. I'm meant to be going to the Roost, my father is there," she says helpfully. At mention of his work, Sela lifts her dark brows expressively. "What work are you in, Nathaniel? Hunting?"
Liss walks quietly through the square, just another peasant girl, her head ducked low, as she makes her way towards the castle.
Outdoor dances are short on walls to hold up, but Senna's managed to find a convenient place to lean, arms crossed loosely over her chest as she watches the ebb and flow of people in the square. A faint smile plays at her lips at the interplay between a young couple, and she waves at a passing hedge knight when he calls a greeting.
Keelin chuckles softly. "Not me, no," he agrees. "Though now that you say, I do recall something about it. Can I buy you an ale, then?" he asks, giving Sterling a shrug. "Call it all square that way." He then snaps his fingers, as he recalls Wesly. "Right. The roost. Once we get back, let's meet up and chat. And you can show me what you know, aye?" he suggests. "I'd like to know a bit more about you before I make a decision." NO matter what Dani says.
"Well," Alain considers, "There was the one where my hands were tied and I was put in a sack in a box and hung from a tree. Did a barrel a few times, sometimes it was rolling. Once it was a bag in a barrel in a pond. Things like that."
Hugh slips through the party on his way back to the encampment.
Wesly lifts his brows, "You mean you…" He slowly smiles, and he hops to his feet. "Yes, Ser!" He bows quickly, "Thank you, Ser. I am honored you would entertain the consideration, Ser." He bows once more, perhaps he's a little too excited, or maybe he's just been turned down enough he was worried. "Thank you." He looks quickly at Dania, "And you as well." He bows once more, and then scurries off, a bounce to his step.
Sterling hefts up his tankard as if to show he still has some, and then is suddenly and inexplicably bumped by someone in the crowd, spilling half a stein of ale across the ground in front of him. The ginger-haired knight frowns momentarily, looking over to the man who bumped him but is already passed, and then he looks back to Keelin, "It appears I'll take you up on that." He looks over to Wesly, then back to Keelin, "Squires." there's an amused sound to his voice, "Always so eager. Like puppies. Half of them piss on the floor too."
"I'm a retainer at the Roost," Nathaniel answers. "I help where I can, but my main service is to deliver messages, both on foot and by horse." The song is coming to its end at last, but he continues to dance with Sela until it ends. Although the music shifts to another lively tune, with the tambour player returning to make the group into a quartet, Nathaniel stops, releases Sela's hand, and bows to her. "You danced well," he compliments. "If your father lives at the Roost, perhaps you should wait and travel there with us. There's safety in numbers."
Hugh looks around wistfully as he moves along. He sees some of the squires and hears the music and grins. This party looks more fun than the other.
"You are welcome." Dania tells the boy as she scurries off. She shrugs her shoulders and she pours herself a another glass of wine. "Thank you for talking to him brother." She picks up her glass and takes a sip. She looks at Sterling. "You are a charmer good Ser." She says in her normal manner. She shakes her head and takes another sip of her wine. She looks at Senna and waves, as she thinks she may know her from Riverrun.
As the song comes to an end and brightens into a more lively tempo, Sela slides to a stop with that shy smile turning into a wider sort of grin. "Well… I will have to ask my uncle, but I don't see why it wouldn't be a good idea," she offers hopefully. Then she looks toward where the drinks are being had, and decides its time for her to whet her lips. She starts to step away, but she does look to Nathaniel to see if he will join her.
A new flagon of beer in her hand, Sofya makes her way out of the cluster around the ale keys and back into the general bustle of the party. Lifting her ale to her lips, she glances from side to to side as if looking for familiar features or at least someone interesting, waiting for them to catch her eye.
Senna tilts her head slightly at the wave from Dania, smile quirking. She starts to raise a hand, then pushes away from her leaning post to approach instead. "Good evening," she offers, taking a sip of her ale. "Do you know, you look terribly familiar, but I can't place it."
Keelin gives a glance to Sterling, and pushes the pitcher his way, a clear indication for him to help himself. "That was not quite what I was expecting," he admits a little ruefully. He catches sight of Sofya again, and waves her way, in case she's looking for a seat. As Senna approaches, he nods his head. "Mistress," he greets. "Can we offer you some ale?"
"You was tied in a sack?" Locke asks before whistling softly. Though the thing that causes his eyes to widen is the barrel in the pond. There he shakes his head. "You're a much braver man than I." Locke admits. "I couldn't handle that."
After moving about the crowd, speaking more to soldiers of the Silver Eagle than anyone else, Kell reappears in search for the source of ale once more. Seems like his mug is now almost empty and his priorities have changed from finding interesting conversation to more booze. Priorities are important.
Sterling shakes his head at Dania's comment to him, "That's not my job." He pours a new tankard, a long, slow pour that sends quite a bit of head up in the stein. Shrugging, he slides the pitcher back. "Neither's pouring drinks." Still, he raises up his mug in salute.
Nathaniel follows the direction of Sela's gaze, and then nods. "What would you like?" he questions, walking with the girl toward the area where the refreshments are.
"Well, you learn how," Alain points out, "before they drop you in the pond. They don't just do it straight away. Think I might be off for now. Take care, Squire Locke.He has another large gulp before setting the mug down. "Good luck with your knightin'."
"I was thinking the same thing myself. " She says to Senna with a warm smile. "Just in case I should introduce myself, I am Dania Dorsey." She motions towards Keelin. "This is my brother Ser Keelin Dorsey and I am afraid good Ser that I did not catch your name." This is said to Sterling as he gestures towards him. "Please good Mistress come and join our table." She adds on to her brother's offer of drink. She looks back over at Sterling. "Indeed, I will keep that in mind." She says that with a smile.
"An you, EScaper Alain." Locke calls out cheerfully enough with a wave of his hand, before he is sighing. And there, looking to his mug, he is nigh out. Well, how does that happen? And so he finds himself wandering over towards Sterling and his companion. After all they have a picther.
The diminutive teenage girl smiles up at Nathaniel softly as he steps up beside her where the refreshments are being had. "Ale," Sela says without hesitation, though she looks as if she has never had a mug of ale before, but there is something unfaltering in her tone. She glances over toward the others presumably close by, and she finds herself looking over each in reflex.
This party does look quite fun. Sofya ambles comfortably through crowd, slowing as she she spots a familiar face. A crooked grin quirks her lips, calling out a warm, "Squire!"
"Covered," Senna smiles easily to Keelin, raising her mug in demonstration. "I'm Senna Delacourt. Nayland retainer." She pauses, then her brows rise. "Ah, of course. The whole picnic debacle. You were in the group, weren't you?" she asks, apparently unconcerned about reminding Dania of the ordeal.
Hearing, Squire get called out, he turns his head before he is nodding towards a face that He's not seen in some time. "Misst'ress Dale!" Locke hollers back. mug forgotten as he turns and begins wandering in her direction. "I did not know you were here? Though I mean I should figger. Them Vances are friends with the Mallisters, Aye?"
Sterling lifts up his tankard at the query to him, "Ser Sterling Sharpe. The Banefort." He looks between Dania and Keelin, studying them for a moment, then he says, "Siblings." He looks over to Keelin then, adding, "Overprotective." One eyebrow twitches, then drops again. And he nods to Senna as she's introduced, although he doesn't add anything further.
"The Vances are friends with as many houses as they can manage," Sofya answers companionably, a wide smile brightening her face. She lifts her mug in greeting to the squire. "Lord Vance did very well in the joust, to be honest. You showed rather well yourself in the melee this past day, Squire Locke."
Keelin doesn't even deny it, since it's entirely true and he knows it. "Aye," he says with a nod. "We are siblings. Though I don't think I'm any more protective than any other brother." It's a half hearted protest at best and he nods to Senna easily. "There's plenty of chairs, feel free to sit for a while. Or longer if you like." He flirts by habit, unable to not flirt, perhaps, but it's a friendly sort of thing.
Locke bows his head in Sofya's direction. "I had a fine favor to inspire me." Locke admits with a twinge of a grin. "I was mainly hopin t' hurt the lug that was hurtin on a friend of mine." he adds, which he did. "I jus wished I could have done more." he says plainly, and there he looks back towards the dance area. "I believe I owe you one of them, Aye?"
"A time I would like to forget but yes, I was stuck in the cave. Interesting way to start a conversation, but I will take it. Thank you Sparrow my horse was found and is back to helping plow the fields." Dania tells her, her voice is warm and she sounds amused. She looks to Sterling. "I think that we are both over protective, a fault we share. Yous should see us on a bad day." She teases.
Sofya chuckles and says, "A girl caught your eye then?" Taking a sip of her ale, she nods her head as he explains his intent in the melee. "It seemed like you did just fine so far as that. That other lad had a fine showing, especially for how slight he is." A gesture of her hand rather unfavorably compares Brynner to a bean. Good thing he isn't here to see it. Her dark eyes skip from his features towards the dance floor, then back again, brow quirking. "Only if you'd like."
"Banefort?" Senna echoes, arching a brow at Sterling. "You've come a long way. Congratulations on the Mallister catch." She raises her mug in salute, then claims a seat near Keelin and Dania. "Forgive me," she laughs to Dania's reply. "I didn't think there was a particularly tactful way to point out where I recognized you from. I think I'd heard that you'd helped with Lady Muirenn's illness, hadn't I?"
Those brilliant eyes follow after Nathaniel as he makes his leave, and she casually reaches into the pocket of her britches. Sela peeks into her palm, looking down at the half-carved bird that she swiped from the Roost retainer's pocket a few moments before. There is a small quirk of a smile on her lips before she grabs herself a mug of ale. In her small, thieving hands, it looks almost too large for her. She purses her lips as she looks around at the new sea of strangers, half wondering if she should go back to her stack of wood slats.
"Aye she did. A fine member of the House I serve." he adds before grinning. His hands shoved down into the slit pockets of his jerkin. "She's nice." which is way of saying that he fancies someone. A glance back to Sofya, and his cheeks flush slightly. "Oh Aye, I would love to." Dance that is, of course. Locke can do some of that.
Keelin blinks at the comment about the Mallister catch, being as he's sworn to that house, like many others here in seagard. He goes quiet now, just drinking ale and listening for a bit.
Sterling nods to Senna, "Tried for a Frey. It got unpleasant." As if the Mallisters are an acceptable second choice. Just. He nods to Keelin at the other knight's explanation, but for all the chairs, he's still standing. Senna's words to Dania draws a nod from the man, something apparently clicking into place. He is indeed a quiet one, apparently. But listens closely.
"Banefort?" Senna echoes, arching a brow at Sterling. "You've come a long way. Congratulations on the Mallister catch." She raises her mug in salute, then claims a seat near Keelin and Dania. "Forgive me," she laughs to Dania's reply. "I didn't think there was a particularly tactful way to point out where I recognized you from. I think I'd heard that you'd helped with Lady Muirenn's illness, hadn't I?"
"I was brought to tend her; normally I do not play the role of a handmaiden. I am a healer and midwife for the Mallisters and I work in the surrounding areas in the Roost. She brought me with her to tend her but there is little one can do with no supplies and dirty conditions." Dania explains. "I am sorry if my response sounded contrite it was not met to sound like that. What do you do for your house?" She asks Senna..
A slow, soft smile curls Sofya's lips as the strong lad takes a turn for looking — rather sweet, really. "Aye, then. We can dance," she agrees, taking another dip of her ale before setting it aside on the table. Look at that blush. Adorable. "At your lead, Master Septwood."
Sela finds a quiet corner to nurse on her ale and watch the dancing.
"Much the same, actually," Senna answers Dania with an easy smile. "Though at the Mire. And I sometimes find myself serving as a handmaiden. Lady Roslyn needed an attendant, and since it's always nice for the lords to have a familiar healer should they manage to damage themselves in the tournament, I came to serve both functions. We escaped with only a few bumps and bruises this time, though. Just as well." She laughs, then takes another drink. "I think I've had my fill of stitching up guts lately."
Locke does that. Lead. Apparently, Nicodemus did teach Locke some moves, but they are a bit clumsy, despite the enthusiasm the boy displays. A firm and forward grip on hips, and Locke seeks to spin Sofya into the thick of it, with everyone. "See, FUN!" he calls with a laugh.
"It is a pleasure to meet a fellow midwife and healer." Dania tells Senna with a warm kind and cheerful smile. "I am also glad to hear that your charges faired well and are recovering. You and I should chat sometime and as I do not think the people here would enjoy me singing the praises of maggots."
Senna laughs to Dania's suggestion, though she's distracted by a passing knight for a moment, twisting in her seat to get a good look at the rear view. Nothing wrong with that. "Aye, I would be interested to hear how things fare in the Roost, as well. Last I'd heard, a number of the native healing plants were somewhat denuded after the occupation. Which is a pity, since many of them don't grow well in the Mire."
Into the thick they go, a shriek of laughter slipping out from Sofya's lips as Locke rather enthusiastically tugs her into the dance. Her cheeks flush with delight, feet kicking up into the steps. "Yes! It is rather better with music than raindrops, don't you think?"
Sterling shakes his head at Senna's words, "Guts are nasty. Good for slowing someone down though." Yes, he's a serious and true charmer. "Not many gut wounds in a tourney though. Any broken bones to mend?" Because he's asking purely out of the goodness of his heart. Of course, with the continued flat expression, it's hard to figure exactly what he's after. Besides lifting his tankard to his lips again.
"I believe so, Mistress Dale. I believe so." ht youth agrees with a laugh and he does try to twirl and lift. Of course there may be grabby hands, but he is a boy and he has been drinking and dancing. According to a septon he knew, those were the gateways to hell and damnation.
"Well, we should get together to talk then." Dania says to Senna she then looks at Sterling and she grins. "Ser Sterling, healing is lot like making love. You should never kiss and tell. Healing is the same, you heal but as a healer it is best to remain quiet." She tells him bluntly. Then she pours herself another glass of wine.
Senna wrinkles her nose slightly at Sterling. "Gut wounds are good for a slow death, you mean. Which is fine if that's your goal," she adds with a flick of her fingers. "Personally, I'd rather not have faith in the Seven to finish a job I started, though. You never know when someone like me might come along and stitch them up later." Apparently she doesn't share Dania's ethics on healing. "Most broken bones are simple, anyhow. And the more complex ones rarely heal properly. It becomes a toss-up of whether you risk them dealing with pain for the rest of their life, or you amputate to save the limb from going bad."
Any attempts of Locke that go past appropriate grabby hands earn him a quick swat of Sofya's hand and stern click of her tongue. On whole, the dark haired mistress is more than happed to be lifted and twirled as they spin around the dance floor like a pair of whirling dervishes. "That, is because I am often correct, lovely," she says, grinning up at him.
"Mistress Senna I think he means he wants to know who has broken limbs and not the differance between a simple fracture and a compound." Dania says to her then shrugs. "Each to his own. I should be goin. It has been a pleasure to meet you both." She offers them both a bow of her head.
There may be a few swats that come his way. But for the most part, Locke is somewhat appropriate. So hopefully, Nicodemus will be fine with his hand slippage. When the song stops, and after another has ended Locke does pull her from the floor, if only to go and find more drink. "You are eh?" a grin there. "A fine thing to be correct about."
Sterling shakes his head slightly at Dania's words, "Admirable. But not necessary." And then he shrugs slightly at Senna, "Slow down the friends too." And then a smile spreads across his lips, although it is gone again in a flash, as if it had never been there. The difference in morals between Senna and Dania causes him to look from one woman to the other, "No amputations needed this tourney?"
"Not under my care, thankfully," Senna answers Sterling, twisting a faint, wry smile after Dania. "Take care, Miss Dorsey," she says with a polite dip of her chin. "A pleasure speaking with you. I'm sure we'll meet again some time." Once the other woman has departed, she shrugs one shoulder to Sterling, looking him up and down. "You seem like the sort of fellow who's well able to tell who's been broken when they're dragged off the field without needing confirmation from me."
Dania downs the last of her drink and offers them both another smile. "I shall and I hope the two of you do as well." Then she moves to leave. Yes she is different in how she does things, but then again all healers are different. Soon she has disappeared into the crowds.
If he isn't, well…Sofya probably won't be telling him. Those slaps do get harder with the increasing number of handslips, like correcting a too large puppy. Still laughing and flush cheeked, she follows Locke from the dance floor and towards the ale. "I rather think so. So how is your new life, seeing as your Lord is a Lord and not just a knight?" She wonders, snatching up a new ale and lifting her brows archly.
"Well." Locke says there as fresh mug is hoisted to his mouth, and a draught breathed in. "Mm." How does one put it? "Well, it's right fuckin' different, Miss Dale." he adds. "I certainly got a little more responsibilities..But." a shrug. "It's not a life I'm used to. Havin' coin we can use, or nice clothes."
Liss comes out of the castle, looking faintly relieved. She fingers the neckline of her dress which is torn at the shoulder seam, a reddish bruise growing underneath it. But she looks calm, if a bit tired, as she steps out into the square.
Sterling shakes his head slightly, "I don't watch the tilts. Boring as fuck, and twice as useless." Especially for a left-handed man. "Melee can be useful. See how other men fight. Missed it this time though." He lifts his tankard to his lips again, wiping beer from his upper lip as he lowers it, and then carefully wiping his hand on his pants. "So just curious." Because knowing which knights have been hurt beyond bruises wouldn't be useful at all if something happens in Stonebridge.
"Mmmm," Senna hums to Sterling, looking him over again as she takes another sip of her ale. "Is that the sound of a man who knows real war, or a man who's just crap when he has to show what he can do?" she asks, a faint smile playing at one corner of her lips.
Sterling blinks flatly at Senna, "If someone sees you do it, what's the point of doing it?" Once more, the tankard rises and falls. There might be just a hint of a smile there on his lips, but it disappears quickly enough, as with all of the previous expressions that played over the man's rough features.
Liss makes her way through the square, looking relieved as it seems to be populated with regular folks, and not all those shiny, brightly-coloured nobles who just stepped on her in the castle. She pulls the neckline of her dress out to peer at the damage done to it, and sighs, pulling her little white cap off and shaking out her dark hair. She also slips off her shoes, which don't seem to fit right, and carries them as she pads, barefoot, across the market square.
That is certainly how one might put it. Sofya snorts softly into her mug of ale, shoulders twitching with amusment. "The life of a retainner, whether sword or one who works with their hands is a busy one…but a good one," she says. Her tone says rather more, taking pride in serving her house.
"Ah. That sort." Senna raises a finger to that, then taps it to the table. "No wonder you're from the Banefort. Hard to find those sorts of knights here. Robert's war drove most of them to other parts of the seven kingdoms, where people use their brains instead of their house sayings."
Sterling shrugs his shoulders, "I'm a courier. People wouldn't believe I did great deeds even if they saw 'em. So no point in showing off." Yes, because that's liable to put the cat back in the bag. "Open battle is bad for thinkers anyhow. Too many big strong jackasses with big swords who are already too close." He frowns in thought a moment, then nods, "You're right about the sayings though. 'Reach Beyond Thy Grasp.' 'Honor and Glory.' Both those get people killed. Lots of 'em."
"I like it." Locke defends. "Don't get me wrong, but I liked us bein' a bit more freer and not beholden too." there, that's better. "But, you know. A man should be happy enough with his lot." Locke adds on before draining more ale. "An this is a fair share better than what I'd expect."
Liss sees the bar and heads to it, on her bare feet, digging out her purse and frowning, faintly, at its contents. Lint, mostly. As the barkeep looks at her, inquiringly, she shakes her head, ruefully. "No, never mind." she tells him, with a warm smile. "Spent it all on a better cause." she says, with a little half-shrug.
"Aye. Well, you keep yourself fine and make that young lady of yours smile, Squire Locke," Sofya bids as she drains her ale. The young squire gets a fond pat on the shoulder, accompanied by a smile. "I'm sure she'll be looking forward to be seeing you now after you dashingly carried her token. I'll bid you good night though." She hands off her ale pint, then slips off into the crowd
"Night Sweet, Miss Dale. May th' Seven an all that." Locke calls as he waves his hand. There's a pause for a second as he looks over and off into the crowd, before he too is off drifting. Most likely to get more ale before trundling back to the Groves camp.