|Summary:||Senna offers some guidance and support to Roslyn in matters of men.|
|Related Logs:||The ones where Roslyn and Kittridge are sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! And stuff.|
|Guest Suite — Four Eagles Tower|
|A place to store guests.|
|June 13, 289|
Senna rarely pulls ladies maid duty. It isn't that she isn't good at it. She's more than capable of all of the associated tasks. It's more that she has more useful skills to employ most of the time. But when it was time for someone to accompany Lady Roslyn to Terrick's Roost, Senna volunteered for the task. The nice part is that she's shooed any Terrick servants away from the Nayland quarters whenever she catches them, taking care of things herself so that it almost feels like home, with all the accustomed comforts. At the moment, she's looking over Roslyn's gowns, a few hung by the wardrobe, as she inspects the seams and hems for wear and tear, and embroidery and beading for lost pieces.
Truth be told, Roslyn is a fairly easy lady to maid to, as well. She tends towards seeing to things herself, her own hair and her own dressing, when she can. Her clothing is simple, her needs rather so as well. For all that, she does seem rather relieved to have Senna seeing to her suite, and likely much of it is to do with the peace afforded by the Nayland maid. Her brush is caught in her lap, a thoughtful frown tugging at the corners of her lips as she watches Senna distractedly.
Senna plucks at a frayed thread, holding the sleeve to the light to see if it will need repairing. A glance over toward Roslyn catches the look, and she smiles faintly. "Those don't look like the thoughts of a lady lost in musings of a delayed wedding," she observes, leaving the dress to come over to the lady. "Here," she murmurs, holding out a hand for the brush and stepping up behind her. "I don't have nearly enough cream for wrinkles, my lady, so let's talk those frown lines out."
"They are not, Senna," Roslyn agrees, shaking her head in a soft gesture as she finally lifts the brush to relinquish to Senna. A grateful smile touches her expression for a moment, her hands now folding within her skirts. "I would not count on a wedding ever, however. The Terricks need the surplus, but perhaps their pride will still hold out over starvation."
"Well, if anyone would starve themselves to spite their stomachs," Senna agrees quietly, brushing her fingers through the lady's hair first, just shaking it out gently. "Is that what's worrying you? That the Terricks might try to back out of this arrangement?" She starts to brush from the bottom of Roslyn's hair, teasing out the smaller tangles with a gentle touch at first.
A small laugh catching in her throat at the question, Roslyn keeps herself just barely from shaking her head as she explains, "No, it isn't. That is only what I expect to happen." Fingers draw against her skirts thoughtfully, running the satin between fingerpads as she considers what to say next. "When I asked you for a moment of privacy, away from the Tower, what did you think of it, Senna?"
Senna snorts softly, looking up to meet the lady's eyes with a small smile of her own. "That you're a grown woman, and if you want a little time for yourself, you're responsible enough to have it." She looks back down, taking a few more strokes with the brush before that smile quirks again, a little deeper. "And after I followed you a bit, that you have excellent taste. Don't worry, I didn't stay for the whole thing," she adds quickly. There's a glimmer of apology, but not much. "I wanted to make sure if needed an alibi I didn't back you into a corner."
"A grown woman, years past when any lady should be married," Roslyn agrees in a murmur, a quietness to her words as she meets Senna's gaze with a thoughtful study. Whatever else she may say is quickly forgotten at the added statement, her lips parting on a sound that could almost be called a gasp if it had anymore force. "It isn't what you think." It is the only thing she can think to stay, a hiss of breath to the words.
Senna arches a brow, though her smile lingers. "Does it matter what I think, my lady?" she asks in return, keeping her voice low. "Besides, what I think is that it's long past time you enjoyed yourself. You've spent enough time taking care of your father's home. So long as you trust /him/ to keep his mouth shut about it," she adds, still brushing. "And if he doesn't, then it was dark, there were cloaks, and it was me the whole time."
"It does, Senna. I am not blind enough to think that the opinions of commoners do not influence the world," murmurs Roslyn, a certain tightness to her words as she turns to capture the ladies maid's wrist and look towards her seriously. "You must not say anything. Even to my brothers. You cannot tell them." She pauses. "I do trust him to be discreet."
Senna places a finger over her own lips, shaking her head slightly. "Your secrets are safe with me, Lady Roslyn," she promises, not fighting the hold. "I'd say my feelings are hurt that you didn't ask for my help to begin with," she sighs dramatically. "But everyone knows I don't actually have feelings, so." She moves to crouch next to the lady, eyes more serious than her words. "Really, my lady," she says softly. "I understand. I just don't want you to…stumble over this."
Nodding sharply, Roslyn releases the woman's wrist only to slide her fingers to catch Senna's hand, studying her as she questions quietly, "Can I ask you for your help with this, Senna? Without worrying of who will hear of it?"
"Of course," Senna answers without a pause, giving Roslyn's hand a squeeze. "Whatever I may be, Lady Roslyn, you know the debt I owe your family. I won't let anything happen to damage you." She starts to rise then, moving behind the lady once more to resume brushing out her hair. After a moment, she looks up again, smile quirking. "I know you have a million questions," she murmurs, poking at her back with the handle of the brush, teasing.
"I am old enough to have…," Roslyn begins carefully, her teeth biting a moment at her lower lip as a smile flickers at the corners of her lips, "To have heard things, Senna." She takes a breath and then adds boldly, "I need to ensure that I do not become pregnant."
"Things have progressed that far, have they?" Senna arches a brow, though her smile is encouraging. "Not a problem. I keep plenty of moon tea around. Let me know when it's time for your courses and we'll make you up a couple of cups then. It's not something to take every time you're with a man," she adds, explaining. "Once a month is sufficient, and only then if your courses don't come on their own."
"I did not see the point of waiting any longer than I already have," murmurs Roslyn with a lingering smile of her own, hazel gaze drawing up to Senna curiously. She nods, however, at the explanation of the moontea. "He is to send word to me when his sister takes to her room midday, so that I can ostensibly go to the inn to call on her. If you were to have a drink with my guard, Rosanna has her own septa…"
"Then Lady Rosanna is going to wonder why she didn't see you later," Senna points out, though it's less disapproving and more trying to plug the leaks. "Of course, if you happened to arrive just as she'd gone to lie down, one could hardly expect you to travel all the way back to the Roost just to wait. You might be tempted to take a room for yourself and take a little nap."
It does not take Roslyn much to understand the flaw of the plan, nodding to the point Senna makes before she is pressing on to question, "And what of you? Or Riordan's man? It would be expected for at least you to stay within the room with me."
"Oh, well. I'm a terrible maid, aren't I?" Senna winks over Roslyn's head, smoothing the brush through her hair. "And I'm sure I can keep your brother's guard busy. It's a rare man who can think about anything other than the possibility of sex once it's been dangled in front of him." Oddly enough, she seems almost fond of the gender, even with those words.
"That is true enough, if you are willing to do such," Roslyn agrees, amusement touching hazel eyes where they meet Senna's. Tension seems to have slipped away with the conversation, or perhaps with the maid brushing her hair. She adds, "Thank you, Senna. Really. Thank you."
"Lead a man on? Lady Roslyn, it is my special gift," Senna laughs softly, her smile warm as she looks back to the lady. "You're welcome," she nods to the thanks. "I'm just glad to see you finally enjoying yourself a little bit. With some help, it won't do anyone any harm. And I imagine it will do you a world of good."
"Roslyn." The correction is made with a firm smile, her fingers lifting to catch at Senna's again, briefly before Roslyn settles again under the lady maid's attention. She adds simply, "I would not want any harm to come of it. I will not see any harm come of it to my family."
"Then we'll both see that no harm comes to your family," Senna agrees, smile flashing as she sets down the brush to shake her fingers through the other woman's hair. "We're going to have to do something nice with your hair," she decides, playing with it a bit. "Maybe just a little bit of curl to it. Leave most of it down, take up just these pieces," she muses, drawing back two locks from her temples. "And you'll need a scent," she decides.
"What would you suggest?" Roslyn questions, genuinely interested in her maid's opinion as she considers the advice on her hair. To that, she eventually assents with a simple nod.
"It depends on what you want him to think about when he thinks about you," Senna considers, playing with Roslyn's hair a bit more, experimenting. "And the sorts of things he likes. For Lord Justin, I'd suggest finding out what his mother wore and doing something similar," she smirks. "For Lord Kittridge? Something…woodsy. With a hint of something sharper on top."
A laugh is exhaled at that, though what Roslyn finds amusing of it is not immediately explained until she murmurs, "Two different men, Senna, and two different scents. They could not be further apart, could they?" She pauses though, then nods. "I shall ask the Lady Lucienne for her advice, perhaps ask after what her mother wore directly."
"They really couldn't," Senna agrees with a low laugh. "I swear, these Terrick boys never grow up. Your brothers, on the other hand…" She trails off, shaking out Roslyn's hair once more. "Let's see what sort of pins you have," she decides, turning to dig through the travel trunks for the box of jewelry and the like. "Well. They're /less/ childish, at least. I'm not sure I'd be willing to label them all as adult."
"Or any man, really," Roslyn counters with a hint of wry humor. But she dismisses it with a shake of her head, glancing over towards Senna as she searches the pins. There are not many, but there is a certain pin that seems more ornate than the other's, a Harpy whose wings are meant more decorative than utilitarian. "My brothers can certainly be childish as well. Lord Kittridge does seem at least to embrace it, to enjoy himself."
"Men are always children," Senna agrees, considering the harpy pin. "It's just a question of which parts are childish. Personally, I'll take a man who sees me as a woman over one who sees me as a mother any day." Idly, she plays with the wings on the pin, presumably deciding how to use it. Or just screwing around with it. Either is entirely possible.
"Wouldn't we all." That seems to be all Roslyn has to say on the subject, even if her lips pull in a playful smile as she glances over at Senna. Then, instead, she turns the conversation onto more trivial matters, such as what to wear and what slippers shall match.