Page 094: First Aid
First Aid
Summary: Jarod goes to Septon Josse for some arnica and sympathy…of a sort.
Date: 17/10/11
Related Logs: The recent brawl logs
Jarod Josse 
Sept of the Seven — Terrick's Roost
The Sept of Terrick's Roost is not a grand spectacle but achieves its power through the feeling of community and peace within. Like any Sept, the mood is generally quiet so people might offer prayers or thoughts without interruption. Along the sides are the seven statues in life-size form of the seven Gods, each in its own particular pose familiar to anyone who knows of them. All but the statue of the Stranger have small offerings lain at their feet or candles lit. At the very head of the Sept is a large window that faces out across the water, the altar rising in front of it. Directly to its front are a few rows of pews and behind that is the standing room for the peasantry. In that area the floor is lain out with a bright seven-pointed star in representation of the Gods.
Mon Oct 17, 288

Jarod manages to get in a visit to the sept every week or so, though he's hardly what anyone could call obsessively pious. He comes around today in the later part of the afternoon, when his duties at the castle are probably more-or-less settled for the day, inquiring to see Septon Josse. He's sporting an impressive new black eye, so this may be a medical call instead of a religious one. Those are also not infrequent. Ser Rivers tends to find ways to injure himself in mild or moderate ways on a regular basis.

Josse is only recently back himself, having come back from the other side of Stonebridge on foot — and no doubt with several stops. One of the laypeople sweeping up inside the sept directs Jarod into the back corridor where Josse keeps his books and cot, and there the septon himself is. Sitting at his rickety excuse for a desk, flipping pages in a book too randomly to be really reading it.

"Anything interesting in that thing?" Jarod asks with a gesture to what Josse is reading. Without too much interest, it must be said. He's not exactly an avid lover of literate pursuits. But he asks cheerfully enough.

"I'm just evaluating its use as a paperweight." Josse's eyes are still down as he talks, the sound of Jarod's voice more than enough to tell him who's at his door. "So far, flying colors." It's now that he looks up, blue eyes immediately squinting at the sight on the threshhold. "What in seven hells happened to you?"

"Ran into a door down at the Rockcliff," Jarod replies with a grin. "It was shaped like another man's fist. Can't say I approve of that choice of design." More seriously he adds, "You got any arnica? I figure I should try and make it look less dramatic before the wedding. Which seems to concern others more than me. I figure I'm just going to bruise myself again in the tourney, anyhow."

Josse snorts softly. "If you just wore purple you could call it 'coordinating'." He rises from the creaking chair, motioning Jarod to some indeterminate spot in the room. "Sit. So whose taste in whores were you insulting?"

"It'll fade to yellow by the day itself, to cover the other Terrick color. I should be given credit for decorating my face in family heraldry, I think." Jarod makes his way over to said spot and sits down on a stool, slouching comfortably. "Some asshole sworn to Lord Valentin. Ser Alek Coope, his name was. And I wasn't insulting his taste in whores. He seems to have decent opinions there, from the company he was keeping. He insulted my baby sister. Couldn't stand for that, now could I?" He's unrepentant.

Josse starts rummaging through the long and plentiful shelves running along his walls, glass clinking. "I suppose better to you than to her face. Comparatively, he likely got off easy." He checks a bottle, puts it back. "Does his liege know he's picking fights with Terricks?"

"Oh, don't put it like that, it was a personal quarrel. We settled it like gentlemen. No steel, just bare knuckles, and outside, too, so we didn't even damage any property." Jarod is very defensive about the propriety of his bar fights. "As to that, I don't know. I doubt it. Ser Gedeon said he'd talk to him. I don't think he's a bad sort, really." He has made 'friends' with the guy who hit him. "Just not used to how to act around noblewomen. Didn't seem to care much for the nobility in general."

Josse finds what he wanted, plucking a small amber bottle from behind several others. "Well. That's not terribly out of the ordinary. Men can learn, and it sounds as if you stood your ground strongly enough that he knows where the boundary is now." He picks up a few bits of cloth and turns around, heading towards Jarod's perch. "You know how people tend to test the waters."

"You think it was that?" Jarod frowns some, leaning his face forward so it's easily tended. "I don't know. Seemed like he was just used to speaking more…bluntly with women. I don't think there's much of a court back in Oldstones at all. Just ruins that the smallfolk are trying to rebuild. I guess Ser Coope and Lord Ser Anton squired together, back when they were both just commoner boys. Likely spent time in Braavos with him and Gedeon as well. I figure he just lacks for manners." He grins. "I'm happy to instruct him in local etiquette if he gets out of line again."

"I am a firm believer," Josse says with a slight smirk, "That ignorance is only a real factor in a fraction of the cases where it's called to blame. Doesn't mean that people are malicious. Just that some are more brash than others in testing how far to go before meeting resistance. Children do it all the time, it's natural." He puts the bottle down on the cot, eyeing Jarod's face now. "Lift your chin, tilt your head a little."

Jarod raises his chin a little and tilts as instructed, trying to hold still. Which he manages more or less well. He's used to hurting himself in ways that require attention later. "I do wonder if Oldstones'll suit Luci. If she does end up marrying Lord Ser Anton. It's a good deal less refined than what she's used to, I think. Especially after spending the last couple years in Seagard, in the Mallister court. I figure my lord father would've tried to make a match for her with a Mallister, if it hadn't been for the loss of Stonebridge, and us needing to secure other ties. And…well, Jaremy making an ass of himself with Oldstones besides. She's sort've become…a bridge with Lord Ser Anton, at least that's what I think my family hopes."

"I think with the support of her family, Lady Lucienne will be alright." Josse's soft-spoken voice has the confidence to back up his words. "She is smart, she is resourceful, and I think she'll rather find herself involved in the tasks she'll have ahead of her. She may not have all the comforts but…" The corner of his mouth draws down thoughfully. "How shall I say. I don't think Lord Anton will leave her wanting." He braces the side of Jarod's face with his right hand, using the left to dapple fingertips across Jarod's brow. "Any sharp pains up here?"

"It only hurts when I poke at it," Jarod says, as to his eye. "I do figure I should try and get it as cleared up as possible before the wedding so I don't look too much like…well, an asshole who gets involved in barroom brawls." He laughs. He is this thing, of course. As for Lucienne, "Aye. I suppose. I just wish our family was in a better position, so she didn't have to be given over to some new lord to try and fix things for us. Not that she'd have had much choice in the matter even in the best case. Not as if nobles marry for love."

"Well, this won't clear it all up, but with a good few days you won't look too bad." Josse uncorks the bottle with a soft pop. "Suppose I could just punch you in the other eye and make it symmetrical." The smell of the herb wafting from the bottle is quite strong. "And well, nobles…no, not for love. Though if intuition tells me correctly she may have incurred the grace of the Seven where affection is concerned. Rarities never cease." Josse smiles just a little. His thumb presses into the side of Jarod's nose and — assuming the poor guy doesn't jump out of his chair from a broken bone — then turns ot pick up the bottle and cloth. "I don't think she sees it like that, though I admit it's been quite a while since I had the chance to talk with her. I probably should. Has she said much to you about all this impending?"

Jarod's nose is still in one piece. He came away from the fight with naught be a black eye and a split lip, the latter of which has mostly bettered on its own. "We've talked on it a little. And, aye, I don't figure she's that put off with the idea of marrying Lord Ser Anton. I just wish it was under better circumstances, far as our family's concerned. I hope he treats her proper. I told him I'd break his face if he didn't." He smirks. "Which I will. It's an uncomfortable thing to make a habit of, though, I'll admit." As to the septon's offer to match his other eye, he snorts. "Just try it, holy man. I think I can better you in a boxing match, certainly."

"You need a larger repertoire of threats, my friend." Josse smirks, upending the bottle on a piece of cloth. "And I certainly would try it. If you promise to hold still." A faint grin. The mixture inside is almost as thick as an ointment, making him hit the bottle opening hard against his hand for a few taps. "Anyway, I understand why you feel as you feel. But I would throw your strengths into seeing it as a good thing rather than second best. It has great potential, remember that. And what Terrick helps build with its own hands will be stronger allies than anything it ever takes by force." As he talks he starts applying the stuff to Jarod's face, leaving a streak of cool, almost cold, feeling on the Terrick's skin.

"Ooo…" Jarod mutters as the ointment cools against his skin. "And aye. Not as if any of us have much choice. I just feel as if Luci, and Jace, are spending most of their time these days cleaning up the messes Jaremy's left behind. And getting married to them. Though maybe it's easier than if I could've brought him back. I'm not sure what would've happened if he'd returned to the Roost, after the way he went off. I just hope he's not done any harm to himself, wherever he is." Though there is a touch of worry in his tone.

Josse nods slightly, settling back to coax more of the liniment out of the bottle. "You feel as though you're the only one failing in your duty to your family?" The question's not rhetorical, and he looks at Jarod after he asks.

Jarod shakes his head a little. "No, that's not it precisely. Why? Do you think I am?" He blinks at Josse. "Anyhow. I just can't help but feel like Jaremy left things…unfinished. And some of what I found out he'd been up to on the road…well. I hope when whatever business he's on does finish, it doesn't bring more harm down on everyone's head."

"I don't think you are." Josse shakes his head. "But the way you're talking, I wanted to make certain you don't think you are." He puts the bottle down and reaches back up to Jarod's face. "I hope so too, about Jaremy. But there are certain things we just can't fix directly, no matter what we do. Look at it this way…what you and Jacsen and Lucienne are doing will strengthen the family into a better to position to deal with any backlash, and right now that may just be the most important thing anyone can do. Keep your eyes open and be prepared."

Jarod opens his eyes as wide as he can and tries to avoid blinking. As if that latter was some sort of actual medical order. "Aye. That's all we can do, I suppose. I just got a bad feeling about it is all. I guess Jaremy was trying to hire mercenaries as he was passing through Stonebridge. For some…cause of justice, if the talk in the taverns was telling me true."

"Mercenar-…?" Josse stops and pulls his hand back as Jarod opens his eyes like that, smirking. "I meant that figuratively, Jarod. Actually close them, if you would." He folds the cloth over on itself. "Did anyone say which direction he'd headed?"

"Oh. Huh." Jarod closes his eyes as instructed, shaking his head just a little. "Nobody seemed to know where he was headed, and I couldn't pick up his trail leaving Stonebridge. I don't think he was too successful in actually taking on fighting men. I guess he was offering to pay them in 'justice' rather than silver." He snorts. "That's Jaremy for you. But you can see why it's got me wondering what he's up to out there, I hope."

"Tilting at windmills," Josse murmurs, moreso to himself than to Jarod. The liniment cools down Jarod's eyelid as he continues to work, smoothing it carefully over the areas of mottled purple and black. "You're a good brother to be worried, Jarod. I wouldn't tell you not to. But you'll be stronger as a family if you let yourself look at these coming marriages not so much as stained by Jaremy's shadow but as having futures of their own. Don't forget the past but put your energy into things you can affect."

"Can't really affect much myself. Save the faces of other knights," Jarod says with a chuckle. "Aye. You're right I know. Though I think everyone'll be of easier minds when they're all over and done, and we can move onto other things, that aren't responsibilities Jaremy could't manage to do. There anything more I should do for it?" He adds, "The eye, that is. I don't figure it'll hinder me much in the tourney, even if it doesn't look too pretty."

Josse tosses the cloth down by the bottle. "Alright, open back up." He brushes his hands together, the strong smell clinging to his skin. "Looks fine to me. Not even that swollen. I need to go by Four Eagles in the next day or two, so I'll bring some of this with me and give it a second go. All I can say is next time tell him that if he wants to show you he's learned manners, he'll punch in the gut instead."

"I'll pass that along," Jarod says with a laugh, standing. "Though at least when someone's taking shots at my head, they aren't beating on anything important." He grins. "Thanks as always, my good septon. I'll see you later."

"Tell Rowan I said hello, will you?" Josse stands, collecting the bottle and pungent cloth. "And I'll drop in when I come by. Take care of yourself."

"I'll try," Jarod promises vaguely, in terms of taking care of himself. His impishness doesn't encourage a lot of trust in that statement. "I always try. Just doesn't always seem to work out." And off he goes.

Josse smiles a little and waves Jarod off. Girl trouble conversation will wait till next time.