| Dibs |
| Summary: | Rosanna pays a visit to Gedeon to ask some questions and make an offer. |
| Date: | April 24, 2012 |
| Related Logs: | All the Geddy stuff. |
| Players: |
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| East Bank — Stonebridge |
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| The east bank of the stone bridge, where a pavilion has been set up while Ser Gedeon remains exiled from Stonebridge. |
| April 24, 289 |
It is curiosity as much as anything else that has Rosanna strolling on down to the Stone Bridge. Certainly word has gone around of a certain pavilion belonging to a certain knight and possible future Lord of Stonebridge. What lady /wouldn't/ be curious? Rosanna is fully decent with guard and handmaiden as her stroll brings her along the east bank. "Well that's certainly a pretty tent," she announces. "Not very much a tower, though."
And in the tent lives an equally pretty knight, though he's sitting outside of it just now with his maile armor resting on his lap as he checks it over for any opening or missing links. He glances up as a familiar voice rings out and then stands to offer Rosanna Groves a bow. "My lady Groves," he greets, "It's not very much of a tower. I expect that's why they call it a tent."
"Well that is very eloquent of them." Rosanna's curtsy is idle, almost distracted, but her smile is warm with mischief. "I /heard/ you are supposed to have a tower of your very own. I'm glad to know this isn't it."
"I am," Gedeon agrees with a quirk of a smile he can't quite fight off, "but I believe someone else is living in it at the moment. It's terribly inconvenient."
"That /is/," Rosanna agrees, full of sympathy. Such sympathy, I tell you. "Did you ask them to leave nicely? I find that manners can make quite a difference in these things."
"I even smiled," Gedeon answers, his eyes widening at the thought that his winning grin was not enough to send the invader's packing. "I mean, really, what more could I do, beyond that? So I figured, politeness be damned, let's just have a fight to the death."
"Seems terribly messy." There is something beyond the blithe humor of Rosanna's countenance, there in the cant of her head and the focus of her gaze, that suggests she is not entirely ignorant of the stakes at hand. "Can't you think of anything else?"
"Stones are easy enough to clean, a few rains should wash away whatever mess is made," the blond knight replies. Sobering a little, he adds, "I'm afraid not, my lady. Ser Rygar planned it that way."
Very slightly, Rosanna's lips purse. "Sometimes," she tells him, "I do not understand you men and your ideas of 'honor.' It makes you do such spectacularly stupid things."
"Well, my lady, I have more time then I should know what to do with just now," for all Gedeon was doing something until Rosanna arrived, "so tell me what it is you don't understand, and I shall do my best to enlighten you."
With a cloud passing over the sunshine of her humor, however bratty, Rosanna says, "I am not a child, ser. /I/ do not need enlightenment." Undercutting the weight of the moment is a haughty sniff.
Gedeon shrugs a little, "Very well, my lady, then I shall make no further attempts to do so. But, tell me, how may I serve the lady Groves this evening, since she has decided to grace me with her company?"
Rosanna looks, however briefly, even more put out by his agreement. Then the expression smooths away to something more pleasant. "Do you think that you would be a better Lord to the people of Stonebridge?" she asks a bit more neutrally.
Gedeon considers a moment before he nods. "I think I would be, yes," he replies. "What do you think, my lady?"
Ignoring the question, Rosanna continues. (It is possible only one person is necessary for this conversation.) "And what good do you to to anybody if you're dead?"
"Oh, not much of any, I shouldn't think, save to the Naylands," Gedeon allows with a nod. He quiets, waiting for Rosanna's next question which doesn't entirely require an answer.
"So it's really terribly selfish, isn't is," Rosanna says, managing to look down her nose at her despite his distinct height advantage. "All of this 'honor?'"
"Men are terribly selfish, my lady. Honor is meant to temper us, channel all of that wanting and anger into something good," is Gedeon's soft reply. "I did not propose this duel, Lady Groves, but being so publicly challenged, I had to answer."
"Honor is what makes yo care even more about yourselves," Rosanna counters with another sniff, "and less about everyone else. I should think that it ought to be the other way around."
"I care what the people of Stonebridge think of me, my lady," Gedeon argues with a shake of his head, "I care that they should be proud to call me their lord."
"They will think nothing on you if you are dead, Ser Rivers," Rosanna says, brows arching. "Honestly."
"And less of me if I had refused, my lady," Gedeon counters calmly, "And I do not intend to die."
"Well," Rosanna says in a brighter voice. "That is certainly reassuring. I thought you were just going to lay down and let Ser Rygar make a mess of your head on the bridge."
"My lady, I did not know you cared so deeply for my well-being," the blond knight muses, pressing one hand to his heart.
"Well, apparently one of you is going to insist on dying, and you are far more agreeable than Ser Rygar." Her nose even wrinkles at the thought.
Gedeon laughs, a sudden, surprised bark that pops out his mouth before he quite realizes it. "Well. Good enough, then," he allows, still smiling. "And I apologize that this duel has so put you out, my lady."
"Well, I suppose there is nothing for me to do but accept it." Rosanna purses her lips again, considering him. Then her eyes brighten with mischief once more. "Is it true that Lady Danae gave you her favor?"
Up lifts one brow and Gedeon has a surprised blink for that question. "Is that what you heard, my Lady Groves?"
"Well, it's what everyone is saying," Rosanna tells him in a blithe tone. "That you summoned her and asked for her favor. Really, it's rather a dull rumor."
"As rumors go, I should have to agree," Gedeon replies, which is neither a confirmation nor a denial, really. "And what have you been occupying yourself with, my lady, when your hours are not filled with lecturing exiled knights about the fallacies of honor?"
"Apparently listening to them avoid questions," Rosanna says with a slight huff. She wanders closer to lean over and peer at the armor he was working on before her arrival.
It's just a maile shirt with sleeves, heavy and well-made, but no more than a common knight's fare. Gedeon holds it up for Rosanna as she peers. "Have you an interest in armor, or just in what in the world I'm doing with it on my lap?"
"The latter." Rosanna studies the armor for a moment more before straightening up with another sniff. She considers him, head canted and gaze steady. "Are you scared?" she wonders.
"Checking for weak links or broken ones," Gedeon answers, his fingers brushing lightly over the maile, making it rustle against itself. "Not constantly, but I've moments, I suppose."
For a very brief moment, Rosanna looks the slightest bit impressed. "Well, that was more honest than I expected," she says, continuing in that light, idle tone. "Men are always speaking of courage and fearlessness, but I never could believe all of it. Nobody wants to die."
"No, of course not, but wanting to die and being willing to die are different," Gedeon answers, "And courage and fearlessness would have no meaning if one didn't fear. There's no feat, then, nothing to overcome."
"I suppose," Rosanna says airily. "Do you really think the Naylands will simply leave if you win?"
"They'll have to, once I've pledged myself to the king. I doubt they'll go quietly or gracefully, but yes," the knight replies with a small shrug, "I do believe they'll go."
"Well, everyone knows they 'have' to," Rosanna says, arching an impetuous brow at him. "People don't always do what they have to, though."
"They do when enough spears are pointed at them," Gedeon replies, turning his attention back to his armor, rolling it a little so he can begin to study the next section.
"You know," Rosanna says, sliding her gaze over to him with a hint of annoyance, "you make it very difficult to discern whether or not you can honorably accept a lady's favor. You ought to have one if you are so determined to fight to the death, don't you think?"
Gedeon arches a brow as he lifts his head to study Rosanna. "You know," he points out calmly, "you may wish to be careful there, my lady. Technically, I am still a commoner, and so I am not sure, even were I to accept a favor, that a lady could properly say she gave it."
"And what name do you go by now, ser?" Rosanna wonders.
"I call myself Gedeon Tordane, as do those who support me. Those who do not continue to call me Gedeon Rivers, I am sure." His mouth quirks as the bastard asks, "By what name should you call me, my lady?"
Rather than answer, Rosanna wonders, "And what name does the King call you?"
"On the days the King should bother with thinking on me at all, I expect it should be as Gedeon Tordane, my lady," He so named (sort of) replies.
"If the King has declared for you, I should certainly not argue that you are a commoner." Rosanna pulls a small embroidered handkerchief from her dress and steps closer to him to hold it out. It's stitched in details of flowering trees that suggest her home. "If would be rather sad if you died with nothing to show for it, after all." She is so sentimental.
Gedeon peers at the pretty bit of lace and flowers. "So, that's a pity favor, then," he says, not yet reaching to accept it. "Your compassion knows no bounds, Lady Groves."
With a hint of a frown tugging the curve of her lips, Rosanna tells him, a hint of offense in her voice, "I certainly do not hand out my favor out of pity." She bites down lightly on her bottom lip, gaze lifted to his. "I should very much like to see you alive, Ser Tordane," she says in a softer voice.
Gedeon watches Rosanna for a moment longer before his fingers curl around the offered favor and gently draw it from her hand into his. "Then I thank you, my lady. I am sure my fortunes will go better, now."
"That seems unlikely," Rosanna says with a sad sort of smile. "But there's not really anything I can do to alter that." She smooths her hands back down the front of her skirts once he's taken the favor from her.
"You can keep your ears open," Gedeon replies, curling his fingers around the favor to it vanishes inside his loose fist, "learn how split the support for me is in the town. If, I mean, if you should like to do something."
"Listening costs very little," Rosanna says in a tone of possible agreement. "If I should hear anything you might find of use, I will send word."
"Then I shall keep my ears open as well, just in case you do," Gedeon replies, offering her a smile that's quick but warmer and less cynical than his usual fare.
"Well." Rosanna glances back across the bridge at the village. "I suppose you shall not lack for favors if you are victorious, Ser. But you may keep that one now."
"And so I shall, safely here," Gedeon replies, tucking the kerchief into a pouch on his belt. "You had best get back, before people talk. Thank you for the company, my lady."
"Well, if they decide to talk about me, at least they'll be discussing something worthwhile." Rosanna tosses her hair back over her shoulder, offers him a curtsy and a flash of a small, smug sort of smile, and turns to go.
