|Summary:||Kamron and Saffron discuss his mystery favor and her courtship with Lord Walden Frey.|
|Related Logs:||A Favor From the Lady Ghost and The Lioness and Her Sister|
|The Tourney Pavilions, The Twins|
|Within the Pavilions set up for the tourney at the Twins|
|23 May 289|
Since the great storm that washed out the joust, the weather has been exceptionally pleasant at the Twins. It is nearly twilight when Saffron Banefort finally departs her tent. As she is one of the only few Baneforts represented at the Twins, her tent is quite small and conservative, nestled near the Terricks own site. The Hooded Man surrounded by flames has been patched onto the canvas to denote that indeed a Banefort lives here. She is followed by Punbah and Timmen, though Morla's sleeping shadow is seen in a chair just within the tent flaps. Even in the fading sun, her newly finished dress still shines like dawn — lemony silk accented in amber and orange. She considers the avaliable paths before her — to go left, to go right, to blazen her own path.
Kamron might have been lingering around the Banefort tent, but then he would have no doubt announced himself, right? He must have just been passing by. Either way, as Saffron emerges, he speaks up from a few paces away, "That is a very charming dress, Lady Saffron. It positively sets you ablaze." That's a compliment, apparently, by his tone of voice. A nod is given to each of Timmen and Punbah, the faintly crooked grin back on the man's lips. It had been wiped away nearly the entire previous day as a result of trying to go drink-for-drink with the Strongboar the night of the joust. That was definitely a fool's errand, and the Mallister knight paid dearly for it.
The familiar voice touches her ears and draws her around, and the consideration that had consumed her face just moments ago is smoothed out into a simple smile. The compliment earns a small pinking at her cheeks, and she laughs with a shake of her head. "Perhaps I will just set the whole of the Kingdoms on fire then." Punbah is all smiles to the Mallister knight, while Timmen seems to be conflicted on whether or not to greet the knight as companionably as his companion. Saffron gives the man a good look over, her small smile a constant; she hasn't quite dimpled, yet. "You look far better than the rumors reported, Ser Kamron," she says, her tone also quite complimentary.
Kamron shrugs a little helplessly, still mostly using his right shoulder to make the gesture, his right arm tucked carefully in along his stomach. "It's all a facade, I promise you, Lady Saffron. I can honestly say that I've never been -that- hungover before." It may not be -quite- appropriate talk in front of a lady, but it's a simple fact, not a great deal of details. A faint grin curls up the right side of his lips, despite the bruising still covering most of the right half of his face, "Despite the lack of dimples, My Lady, you look quite cheerful despite the snare you've found slipped around your foot."
"Well, perhaps it will teach you to drink in stride with the Strongboar," Saffron comments in a cheerful note, but the carefully erected facade is threatened by the last of his words. Her gaze moves carefully over the grounds that surround them before she looks back up into his face. "We're still at the Twins, there is still a tournament to be had… I would be terrible company if I fell into grief now. So, I delay." She offers him another dimpleless smile before she gestures. "Would you accept my invitation to come inside, have a drink? I promise, nothing that will upset your already tender head."
Kamron gives that helpless little shrug again at the mention of his past antics, "I'm just discovering that I'm not 18 anymore, Lady Saffron. It's a terrifying discovery. I was almost as entertaining 18 at as I was at 20." The words about her situation, however, still his merriment and cause one of his thick brows to rise slightly, "Grief is expected, of course, in some situations, but rarely particularly useful, I've found." Looking to the tent, he chuckles softly, "I would be glad to take your invitation, Lady Saffron, but you've just left there, haven't you? And unless my eyes deceive me, the esteemable Mistress Morla is sleeping inside. We wouldn't disturb her, would we?"
"I would agree with you, Ser Kamron. So, now I must find an emotion that will be useful for me. For now, I've settled on cheerfulness. Tomorrow, I may decide to feel something else." Then, she shakes her head, giving a small laugh as if to cover-up a small nugget of embarrassment. "I thought that in your weakened state you'd like to sit down," she says in an attempted jest before she tilts her head a bit. "Well, then you can walk with me instead… or did you have somewhere you needed to be?" Her coppery brows arch up over her eyes curiously.
Kamron shakes his head with apparent amusement at the mention of choosing one's emotions, but doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he chuckles and raises one finger to correct Banefort woman, "My weakened state was yesterday. Today I am merely bruised and feeling old. Two things which I am desperately hoping do not carry over to the melee this afternoon." At the suggestion to walk with her, Kamron gestures for her to choose her path, "I have nothing to do except eat a bit, not drink, and not get hurt until it is time to have Percy help me get into my armor for the melee." His lips press together slightly at that, "I'll need to do something to make a bit of coin soon enough. Ser Hosteen's ransom could have been steeper, but it was still costly."
"Then walk with me, I will keep you out of trouble." Now with a companion — beyond her two shadows — Saffron decides upon a right path, which shouldn't be confused with the proper path. She keeps her strides relaxed and without hurry, and she frequently looks his way as she speaks. "If it helps, Ser Kamron, you do not look old. I understand feeling it though. I always told my older sister Terra that she had an old soul. I suppose she always felt old." She clasps her hands behind her back, and she casts him a slightly mischieveous smile. "Perhaps you could ask your secret Lady if she has any ideas. From what I hear, she is quite an intelligent being."
Kamron chuckles softly, "It's not the years, Lady Saffron, it's the number of leagues that have passed by." Apparently, he's not going to be satisfied with mere miles, at least not when he's bruised, wrenched, and just done being hungover. His grin quirks up at the left corner, "I bet Lady Ghost," his right hand rises to touch his doublet, suggesting that the favor is on his person, "would say that if I continue to complain, she might revoke her favor. I bet she is not fond of whiners." And he's quite clear that he knows he's whining, "I apologize for getting back to a painful subject, Lady Saffron, but how has the courtship gone thus far? I bet that whatever Lord Walden looks like, he has the capability to give quite extravagant gifts."
Saffron laughs brightly then — genuine and full, and by the Seven, there's even a dimple. "I'm sure she does not like whiners, but even she must have to whine now and then, so perhaps she will forgive you just this once." And she holds up a forefinger demonstratively. Then she shakes her head a bit, clasping her hands back behind her back. "Lady Ghost would not favor him at all, even if he were as handsome as a Lannister." Her voice has dropped a bit, gaining a slightly feathery quality. "He tends to whine with every word." She looks down at her feet now as she talks. "But I'm sure that whoever is tasked to select the gifts I am given will do so with care and thought. I've already received a collection of carved hair combs." Again, she does her best to wear her cheerfulness like armor.
Kamron laughs softly, his own voice pitching low as they travel between tents and down the 'streets' of the pavilion city that has sprung up around the Twins for the tournament. "Maybe you should ask him about the gift before you open it next time, see if he's actually picking them out, or if he's just passing them along. After all, -he- is the one courting you, is he not? Not the entirety of his House. It seems only fair that he should be picking out the gifts himself." His lips press together to try and stifle a smirk, despite the ache that must draw to his bruised features, "And if he's going to pass off someone else's work as his own, that tells you a great deal about him already, doesn't it?"
His suggestion causes her to laugh again, but she stifles it as best she can with the curve of her palm. "I think I shall do that." With the smile still there, still somewhat light, she continues. "I'm sure my cousin would point out that perhaps he doesn't know what to gift to a young woman, and that he is nervous and excited…" The Banefort pauses, giving a small shrug. "But, she is trying to be positive." There seems to be something more she wants to say, something else to offer, but for now she just watches her feet move over the dirt and bits of grass.
Kamron shakes his head with amusement, "Your cousin knows as well as you that he should be asking advice in that case, Lady Saffron, not depending on someone else to do the purchasing for him." Laughter touches his lips then, "After all, if you don't know what's been purchased, you don't know if someone is trying to cause you to fail." One grey-blue eye flickers for a moment, perhaps in a wink? In the shade amongst the pavilions, it's hard to tell.
Saffron turns her head towards the Mallister knight now with a slight smirk threatening at her lips. "At least I will still be able to visit the Roost. I have said that my promise to Anais must be upheld, to look after the smallfolk children." She smiles good naturedly again. "Then perhaps we can hope someone will make poor choices on his behalf."
Kamron hadn't heard. He blinks hard, one step faltering for a moment before he's moving forward again, "You're not going to be staying at The Roost anymore, Lady Saffron?" He gestures around the area vaguely with his right hand, "You can't be as far as the Twins, if you're going to be spending time with the children. Stonebridge then? Or the Mire?" Shaking his head as if shaking aside a fly buzzing about him, he goes back to the other topic at hand, "Hope is good, Lady Saffron, but surety is better. I bet it could be found out who was doing the choosing without too much trouble."
The reaction from the Knight causes her to draw up short, her gaze falling toward him with a slight tilt of her head. She then shakes her head a bit. "No, not as far as the Twins nor the Mire. We've agreed upon Stonebridge. He will be staying at the Tordane Tower, and I'm still waiting to hear if Lady Tordane will be hosting me as well." She shrugs her shoulders a bit. "At least I will be no more than a day's ride away. I will still be about, especially if there is a chance I might lay my eyes upon your Lady Ghost. I wouldn't want to miss that." He is given a fleeting, softer smile. The other topic of conversation draws up her shoulders again. "Then perhaps we should be sure." Then something causes her to laugh, a thought, or something more, and all she adds is, "Perhaps I should ask him for impossible things… a gown that rivals the brightness of the sun, a cloak made from a hundred animal pelts."
Kamron nods his head at the explanation, although the repeated mention of Lady Ghost draws another chuckle to his lips, "My Lady is… shy… of public attention. There is a very good reason why she does not wish to be known, but I cannot say what it is." Noting the rise of those yellow and orange-clad shoulders at the topic of conversation, he steers it gently to more generalities than specifics, "I've always heard that it's not the gown that shines like the sun, Lady Saffron, but the wearer. That artifice can only enhance, not replace what nature and the gods have bestowed. As for pelts, that does not sound so hard, I bet Justin has brought in half a hundred pelts since he has returned, unless you mean that every pelt must be from a different type of animal, and then I think perhaps you are cruel, Lady Saffron."
There is a small hint of amusement and satisfaction at Kamron's ease of accepting this other self, a persona that exists for now only in the favor. She does not talk more on the Lady Ghost, instead turning her attention to the distant horizon beyond the Twins. "It sounded less so in the stories," she says softly. "A young woman asking for the three unobtainable gowns and the pelt-cloak. I don't think I can will myself to be cruel today." She looks toward the knight now, and her fingers worry together behind her back. The topic has begun to slump her shoulders a bit, so she finds something better to talk about. "The melee this afternoon… do you still think that there will be silent alliances formed?"
Kamron chuckles softly, "Silent and not-so-silent, I should think, Lady Saffron." He gestures to the tent of a household knight as they pass it by, "There is no shame in assisting another knight in defeating a particularly skilled opponent."The chuckles rise to laughter as he nods up toward the forboding bulk of the nearest of the Twins, "Besides, I bet the Freys will all work together to knock those aligned with Mallister houses out of the melee. Working together may be our only hope in turn. It could turn into something of a team battle with a few outlies for the first portion, before the alliances begin to fracture apart."
"There is no shame in that, of course… but is there shame in knights ganging up on a lesser?" In its phrasing, it is easily a rhetorical question. Saffron glances toward the Mallister now as they continue along the tent-lined thoroughfare, and a small frown begins to threaten at the corner of her lips. Again, there is a hint of conflict in her eyes as she continues to walk beside the Mallister knight. She is quiet for a short period of time, thoughts tossing about her head; then she sets her jaw a bit, nodding. "Well, I will hope the Mallisters and theirs rightly beat out the Freys," she says quietly, albeit a touch quickly.
Kamron shrugs his right shoulder a little helplessly, "I would say it depends on the situation. Any knight dealing violence to a lesser without good reason should be ashamed. But it's the 'without good reason' that causes so much trouble, Lady Saffron. Every knight holds their own honor differently." Laughter lurks around the corners of his lips and voice at her promised hope, and he teases, "Well, you can hope that, since your Lord Walden won't be on the field to be beaten black and blue." One eyebrow arches upward, "or will he be? Surely he must want to impress you, and you seem the type to be impressed by a skilled showing at arms." His right hand gestures vaguely as if searching for something just out of reach, "Something about a Master at Arms for a father…?"
Saffron scoffs, waving her hand dismissively to the Knight. "It appears that I was only given one chance to wed a Knight and soldier, and the Seven caused him to fall down the stairs." She gives the Knight beside her a narrowed look, in good humor at least. "Which someone should have told me about so I didn't sound like a complete idiot in front of my good sister." Magnola, ugh. She shakes her head a bit, continuing onward. "Lord Walden did speak at great lengths about the questionable quality of the violence based on the complete lack of excitement at the joust, however. So, he at least will be watching."
Ohshit. She heard about that, did she? Kamron looks up at the sky carefully, clearing his throat, "Ah… yes… well… I didn't know how well you knew Ser Stairs — " Freeze. She didn't catch that, did she? "I mean Ser Etin. I didn't want to cause you more grief than necessary if you were fond of him." There's a pause, and then he sniffs disdainfully, "And Martyn was being absolutely no help at all." He snorts heavily at the commentary on Lord Walden, "Then with respect, Lord Walden does not know his backside from a lance. Several of the jousts the other day were excellently ridden, particularly Ser Riordan and Ser Kell." Reaching up, he touches his right cheek with his right hand, "And I can vouch for the -violence- of the jousts as well."
"I was not fond of Ser Etin," Saffron says with a small half smile taking over the smirk. "My sister was, but I was not. I'm sure I would have become fond of him, but…" And she shrugs, dismissing the rest of that thought as she turns her head a bit toward him. Her lips thin, smile tightening a bit. "I will be sure to point that out to him… except for the difference between his lance and backside." She pauses as they step past a wider patch of open grass and clover, and she detours her steps a bit off the beaten path, as it were. "I'm sure Lord Walden has other skills." She just hasn't seen them yet.
Kamron nods his head, "I know that -now-, Lady Saffron. I didn't know that then." Still, he chuckles a bit, "Oh, I don't want to cause strife between yourself and Lord Walden," is that a smirk? Oh, that's definitely a smirk, "but if you want to point out particular items of interest in the jousts the other day, you might note Ser Hosteen's trick of shifting his shield just before the moment of impact, and Ser Stavros' nearly impossible act of staying in the saddle after a direct hit from the Strongboar. Ser Kittridge's horsemanship, Ser Andrey's sure hand with a lance, and the epic match of Ser Kell and Ser Rirordan would also suit. -If- you want to give him a lecture." Yes, that crooked grin is in full force, "And I'm quite sure that everyone has a talent. Sometimes one just has to dig more deeply to find that talent than they do in others."
Saffron cannot help the laughter that starts bubbling forth at her lips, and she shakes her head with each bulletpoint provided by the Knight. Then she flashes him an amused smile. "Perhaps I will lecture… if the Lord is indeed intended to marry me, he should at least know what he's getting himself into." She clasps her right elbow with her left hand behind her back, fingers idly plucking at the lemon-chiffon silk of her skirt.