| Girls Gone Wild |
| Summary: | Lucienne and Anais work out some tensions. Jacsen observes. (Not like that, you pervs!) |
| Date: | 13/August/2011 |
| Related Logs: | Log to come later of Anton and Jaremy |
| Players: |
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| Rocky Cove — Terrick's Roost |
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| To the west of the path leading down, the beach extends below a cliff face and takes a turn inland where the terrain above has collapsed down to be claimed by the pounding waters below. It has formed a small, almost private cove with jagged rocks in the water at the cliffs while the ocean has relaimed most of those from the beach. Due to the elevation of the cliffs, the top of the tower to the north is just barely visible despite the relatively short distance. |
| August 13, 288 |
The swords follow after the girls on their horses as they speed along the coast, turning inland with the path towards the rocky cove. Lucienne laughs freely, bent over her mount's neck and standing in the stirrups of her saddle, an accomplished rider indeed. Ticker slows as they approach the water, prancing over the smooth stones of the beach towards the waves - he doesn't look like stopping, either. Lu twists a look over her shoulder to Anais, eyes twinkling with mischeif as she sits back in the tack and digs her heels in; time for a wade, at least. Two of the sworn fix each other with worried looks, but what can they do?
Anais hesitates for a moment as Lucienne heads for the water, catching her lower lip between her teeth. There's a glance over her shoulder toward the sworn and the lords alike, before she simply laughs and urges her own mount forward to catch up with the other woman, slipping her feet from the stirrups and leaning down to pull off her shoes before they can get too deep in the water. It isn't inappropriate if the daughter of the house is doing it too, right?
Shoes? Who's worried about shoes? Certainly not Lucienne, as she urges her horse further in. Ticker brays as his points and belly are submerged by a gentle wave, shaking his mane out again in the horsey equivalent of delight. "He led me straight in, m'lady," is her rascal call to Anais. "Nothing I could do! I'm terribly sorry your mare thought to follow."
"She really is such an /obedient/ thing," Anais calls back to Lucienne with a laugh. Her shorter mount steps in far enough so that Anais' feet are definitely in the water, and she laughs as she kicks a spray toward the other woman. "The waves!" she calls with a grin. "Goodness, Lady Lucienne, they're so /fierce/ today!" The fine linen of her skirts is soaking up seawater at speed, though she doesn't seem bothered by it in the least. No doubt it won't be the first time they'll have to be carefully washed.
"Seven, can't let the two of you off by yourselves for even a few minutes, can we?" Jacsen calls from dryer land as he guides his brown mount towards the pool's edge. "Careful…" he warns, his tone half-teasing, "Lest Anton and Jaremy have but one another to court, did I lose you both out to sea."
"They've washed me," Lucienne ducks the splash and swings her horse's head around to face the shore again, "Right off my dear mount!" In truth, she bids him a few steps closer to the dry and swings a leg over his back, dismounting into waist-high water, her own light skirts floating about in the current. It saves her saddle from submersion. She keeps one hand on the reins, the other cupping water up to toss at Anais. "And /that's/ for ratting me out," she declares, right as her brother dearest calls out. Pink flushes in her cheeks. "Jace!"
"Lucienne!" Anais exclaims with a surprised laugh when the other woman slips into the water, eyes going wide. "You're going to be a terrible influence, aren't you?" She yelps at the splash, then leans down to scoop a handful herself. When Jacsen calls out, though, she startles, and in her attempt to straighten up, promptly dumps herself entirely in the water. "Oh, Seven Hells," she laughs, sputtering when a real wave washes right over her shoulders.
His laughter echoes off the walls of the cove, though the lord remains beyond the lick of the waves, content to let his sister and his brother's betrothed play. "Hmm?" Jacsen asks, playing the innocent as his sister calls her brother's name. "I have no idea what the both of you are talking about…" Clearly he chooses to play dumb rather than either press the tease on his sister, or lend some assistance in Anais' direction.
Lucienne ducks again, from the splash of Anais entering the water. She's grinning. "Me? Never. I abide my reputation as a quiet, obedient lady of the house, Lady Banefort," says the dark-haired girl, hand hovering over her heart mock-sincerely. She wades her horse toward dry land, and her brother. "Anything of interest to report, then, dear brother?" His eavesdropping on that serious conversation was not missed.
For all her protests, Anais doesn't rush out of the water once she finds her feet. "Luci, wait," she laughs, wading a few steps forward to hold out her reins. "Take Dove for me? If I'm already soaked, I might as well enjoy a swim. And you should at least turn around!" she calls out toward Jacsen, chin rising in an arch expression. "Really, the /nerve/."
Does propriety dictate that the lord turn himself and his mount about? Perhaps he is unfamiliar in such matters, as he does not immediately take Anais' advice, though he does answer Lucienne's question. "Nothing on the balance of the substance between them, though I wonder at their openness… Jaremy's word I know can be taken at face value, but this Ser Anton? I know him little and as such, trust him even less." A glance in Anais' direction, and the lord remembers his squire's lessons of decency. "Oh, my lady, pardon me…" He shifts his mount, and his own view, somewhat aside but not completely away from either woman or the pool.
While not visible, damn if the women can't hear the smile in Jacsen's voice.
Her smile turns at the corners again, the height of amusement found by Luci in Anais' reluctance to exit the water. She reaches out to take Dove's reins as well, slowing her own retreat without a hand to hoist her skirts free of her knees under the water. As she makes her way out, the fabric clings to her figure, and she pauses to give one of the sworn (who's staring is /most/ inappropriate) an unspoken command with an affronted look; promptly, he and the others spin wordlessly on their heels to stand at ease facing the other way. "You don't trust him," she repeats to Jacsen as she starts to wade again, shifting her eyes to watch as he turns his horse.
Anais turns once Lucienne has her mount, taking a few more steps out into the water before diving under the surface. She's underwater for a few moments, only to resurface in the deeper waters, smoothing her hair back from her face and treading water. It's hard to hear the conversation over the waves, but she seems content to enjoy the water just for a little bit.
"I'm not yet convinced there is reason I should. Few are as honest as our kin, and the paths these matters could lead down are multitudinous." Jacsen shifts slightly stop his saddle, and the sworn sword who so lacks a sense of modesty is given a scathing look. "I am not heir, wont to give my trust because I should like to build friendships with those whom will return it, Enne. Those whom wish my trust must first /earn/ it. My family, my lord, my liege… all deserve no less of me."
"Forgive me, Jace," returns Lucienne with a shake of her head, still smiling. "You misunderstand me. I don't mean to question why you do not trust him, brother dearest, I mean to question what you /really/ think of him. There is more to a man than what trust you would or would not bestow him upon first sight, is there not?" Her dress outlines the shape of her rake-slim hips and thighs as she wades to where the water's knee-deep, crinkles formed by the layers of several thin pettiskirts she wears under. The horses both slow at her bidding.
For a few moments longer, Anais tilts her head back to the sky and the sun, content to soak in the warmth and the fresh sea air. But she can't linger too long, not with needing to dry out at least a little before returning, and with Jaremy and Anton not too far away either. So slowly, she starts to swim back to shore, the strokes certain and strong as any sailor's.
Jacsen shakes his head a fraction, his eyes darting in Anais' direction a moment, his gaze far more contemplative than favoring. "Ser Anton…" he begins, his attention turning elsewhere with his internal consideration finished, "… brings us quite a conundrum at the most delicate of times. The matter of these letters could be as simple as it seems, and the timing explained away. After all, it was queer how swiftly Nayland and Tordane moved to make a betrothal pact a marriage, and what better motivation than to head these claims off? But that would require that the Naylands or the Tordanes knew ahead of time… perhaps evidence of Valda's guilt, knowing full well what the approach of Anton and his squire would mean." He shifts atop his saddle some, hand moving to momentarily rub at the outside of his right leg's thigh, still held securely by that odd strap from his saddle. "It could as easily be some Nayland plot, made to draw us out for the sake of personal honor and a measure of vengeance… it is the only sort of battle I could see Lord Rickart aspiring to, one that was made under false pretense, upon his own terms."
Jacsen pauses a moment, before he continues. "Likely as all the rest is a clever sell sword, with pretense to nobility, is playing two sides against one another. The lack of love between Hag's Mire and Terrick's Roost is about as secret as the Wall… and there are those both within the Riverlands and without…" a gesture is made in the general vicinity of Balon Greyjoy's seat, long across the waters, "We require time, and understanding. Or, at least, I do. I've been about this theatre our home has become for only a scant few days… the view from Seaguard was never so intimate."
Lucienne listens as the hems of her skirts float about her ankles, her head tilting curiously as her brother expresses his opinions. Ticker grows restless in the shallows, hopping about on his feet but daring not to test the strength of her grip on the reins. Obliging him, his dark-haired rider clicks her tongue for Dove's sake and strides closer ashore, toward Jacsen atop his mount. She's probably at least partly obscured from Anais' view by the horses, and she presses in a softer a voice, "And your first impression, then? One or the other of those, or you cannot decide? You see what I mean when I say the man he presents as is at odds with the man the rumours describe him to be, do you not?"
It doesn't take long for Anais to return to the shore, wading through the shallows to rejoin Lucienne and retake her horse's reins. Soaked from head to toe, her dress clings to her form more indecently than it ought, and attempts to wring it dry do little. "None of it actually adds up," she chimes in, flashing a brief smile toward Lucienne. "If Isolde couldn't be Geoffrey Tordane's, why were there not even /rumors/ when she was born. You don't have to be a maester to count on your fingers and wonder how that happened. And now, the Naylands seem to be convinced that if Isolde is illegitimate, Valda will get Stonebridge and rule in their favor anyhow. And while that may be the /letter/ of the law, I cannot imagine that the Tullys would reward Valda for admitting to adultery by giving her a lordship. She'd be /lucky/ to be sent back to the Twins in disgrace." She pauses then, blinking. "Unless they know that, and they're hoping he'd just give the lands to her father, /Walder Frey/, which would explain why they're pushing this match between Rowan and Lady Igara."
"I find it hard to picture the Tullys offering any such reward to the Freys. They are tolerated more than anything else, the decisions of the Late Walder Frey not soon forgotten," Jacsen opines, as Anais makes herself and her opinion known. "All the tales and tellings that go about reek with falsehood, none of them ring with sincerity," he agrees, glancing at the indecent Anais as he nods his agreement to her words. That the man might steal a glance is a regrettable consequence, certainly. "As to my thoughts of Ser Anton? I take him to be cunning, and a knight made wholly of arms, be they weapons or words, whereas knights such as our brother are comprised equally of virtues as they are might. I am wary of him. Where too, praytell, does a man whom rides a tournament-won horse have the coin to hire as he has? Craftsmen as far as Seaguard speak of the coin to be made restoring Oldstones… I have heard of few sell swords winning coin enough to restore a fortress, and fewer making it across the Narrow Sea with that wealth intact." He shakes his head. "No, as of yet, from all that I see, neither this situation, nor the Knight of Oldstones, adds up."
After returning Dove's reins to Anais, Lucienne adds a smile in kind for the other lady and reaches down with the hand freed to draw her skirts from her skin. There's a loud sound as she breaks the seal of suction, something unseemly about it causing a wrinkle of her nose. "I agree, it's hard to believe there was not question all those years ago." The hand works to gather up those sopping skirts with the aim of wringing them out, her slender calves and even knees put on show as the hem rises. Oh, the scandal! She turns a look up to her brother on his horse, eyes twinkling again and a shade of her smile surfacing. "I think someone should ask him," she declares, less softly spoken than is usual. "Someone bold and smart, someone unafraid to look into his eyes and determine if there's truth in his answer." Clearly, she thinks that someone is present before her.
"It just continues not to make sense," Anais sighs, stopping her horse for a moment to remount. Out of the water and closer to the sun, she's able to lean down and spread her skirts out in hopes of getting more dry before they return to the keep. "I'm sorry, Luci," she grimaces to the other woman, apologetic. "I know…" She looks to Jacsen in explanation. "Ser Anton gave your sister some flowers when he won the tournament. It was all very sweet, and very romantic. And I'll understand if you don't quite see it from your side, but he's a very attractive man. And quite the fighter. Uncertainties aside, just the sort of man any young woman would be thrilled to have as a suitor." Her smile quirks at Lucienne's suggestion, and Anais leans down to mock-whisper in Jacsen's direction. "I think she'd like you to get a solid opinion on him for her." Her braid falls over her shoulder, dark with water.
Jacsen snorts faintly at Anais' words, and replies, "Any man who would think to do much more than pay suit to my dear Enne had best have more to his name than a pile of stones, a bastard squire, and a tournament-won horse. That she is made of stern enough stuff to endure that and more is no reason to put it upon her." His thoughts on Anton's suit aside, he does confirm for his sister, "I have every intention of those questions, Enne, and many more. It is but a matter of pinning him down for the drinks we've agreed to share." He looks over to the sworn swords. "Which two of you want to be better than your worth and cast aside cloaks for the sake of my sister and my brother's betrothed?"
It does not take long for two cloaks to find their way through the air and near where the lord and ladies speak, the men still keeping their backs to them all.
Though another blush rises in her cheeks at the mention of Anton's attractiveness, Lucienne ignores it, clearing her throat. "If anyone can ask the hard questions without being artfully redirected, it's Jace," she explains admiringly to Anais. As much water has been wrung from her dress as is possible with the one hand, and she ducks as a cloak comes flying. "Well, brother, I do hope you get the chance soon enough. As it is, I will heed your first impressions - for I think that I share them."
"I'll never dry under this cloak," Anais sighs, though she does it with a small smile, shaking out the cloak and wrapping it around her torso. It does little to cover where her skirts cling to her legs, but it's /summer/, and it's already hot. "It seems the family should be well-pleased to have you back, Lord Jacsen," she offers politely, tucking a loose piece of hair carefully back into her braid. And if there's a note of relief in her own voice…Perhaps she's merely sympathetic to the family's welcome home.
"Take it for a blanket and spend a bit of time drying in the sun, if it suits," Jacsen suggests at Anais' observation. "The men can keep their eyes averted for a while longer." Lucienne's words are the ones that earn the easiest smile from him, and a nod of agreement to boot. "Better to be wary and learn he is a better man, than to have been so trusting and discover he is not." He looks back to the women again, seeming unconcerned for the sake of propriety when he says, "As pleased as I am to be here, especially to lend my efforts in this time… I know the quality of my sister, and I have already put my trust in you, Lady Anais. I would have honest counsel and words from you both, that I might serve our family well."
Loathe to let go of her antsy horse's reins, Lucienne moves a longing look out to the where the grass begins - wherefore a cloak would serve well as a blanket to rest upon for a time. "Or give it back, and we can ride swiftly to set the wind upon us to dry," she suggests to Anais, slightly glum. As for her honest counsel, she lifts just the one shoulder to Jacsen, half a shrug. Of course he can expect such from her - he would know this.
Anais blinks once at Jacsen's words regarding trust, and for all the swimming and wet clothes brought no blush, that does send a rush of color to her cheeks. "I…thank you, Lord Jacsen," she says quietly, leading her horse out of the shallows at a slow pace. "You do not seem someone who gives trust too easily." She looks to Lucienne, considering for a moment, then tips her chin toward the grass. "Are you sure you don't want to lie down for a bit, Luci?" she asks. "It might be nice. It's warm, and sunny, and not full of Naylands."
"I would not mind the chance to be out of this saddle," Jacsen remarks, though it's casually enough put, at the suggestion of remaining a while on the grass. He leaves that decision to Lucienne, and pivots to better look at Anais when he tells her, "You are to be my sister, my lord brother's wife. /You/ I shall give the benefit of the doubt. Seven know much more than my approval rests on it."
"Let it not fall to me to deny you, dear brother," says Lucienne, then, given the weight of the decision. Her eyes linger a moment longer on Jacsen, perhaps pondering offering him her assistance; in the end, all she offers is another soft smile before sweeping a look out for a suitable spot to lounge in the summer's sun.
Anais's lips quirk at Jacsen's words, rueful. "And don't I know it," she murmurs, following after Lucienne a few steps. "Everything is so careful." As they draw near the grass, she pauses, twisting to look over her shoulder. "You know, I do believe I lost my shoes in the water," she admits, laughing at her own mistake. "That should be wonderful to explain."
