|I Did It All for the Cookies|
|Summary:||Veris gets his mack on with Lark but Alona runs interference.|
|Date:||17 June 2012|
|Sun 17 Jun 289|
The encampments are bustling with activity as people prepare for yet another exciting day at the tournament. Just at the edge of camp is one squire Veris Kallan, hard at work on Ser Hardwicke's equipment after the jousting match of the night prior. Or at least, it looks like he plans to be, since he's got a whole pile of stuff that he's currently digging through, making rather a mess in a growing radius around him. "Oh shit," he says, the contents of yet another bag emptied onto the ground. "Shit shit shit." He sorts through some of the stuff with his foot, looking for something and failing to find it. "I didn't bring it."
There's a gasp. "Oh, no! What didn't you bring?" It's a common-born accent, but a sweet enough voice, full of bright mirth. Lark, who has crept up behind the distressed squire to peer at his frantic searching, steps around to remain behind him, should he turn. Poof! Disappearing girl.
The sudden unexpected voice makes Veris yelp in surprise, flinging the bag out of his hand and turning around sharply. There's… nobody there. Frantically turning his head from side to side, he tries to look for the source of the voice, slowly taking a few steps back. "Who's - who is that?" he calls into the open field. "Jessem? This isn't funny!"
Lark's eyebrows knit upwards in puppyish astonishment and concern, though she still laughs… it's apologetic. Mostly. She grabs for his hand to turn him in the right direction — the right one to see her, in any case. "Hello!" She smiles brightly.
There's another jump when Lark grabs Veris' hand and turns him about, and his other fist comes up to deck her as soon as he comes about - only to stop before it's thrown once he sees that it's a girl. "Seven," he breathes, lowering his hand. "What the hell are you playing at, girl?" he asks angrily. His accent, too, is definitely common and lilting. "I nearly laid you flat on your back, you know."
Eyes like saucers in her pointy, elfin face, Lark looks cross-eyed at the fist poised to strike her. "EEP!" she squeaks. Her eyes remain huge when he lowers his hand, though they do uncross. "I — I — " The poor thing's a bit flustered. "Sorry?" she offers in a tiny voice, biting the corner of her bottom lip.
Veris takes a step back from her and holds up his hands. "It's fine, I ain't gonna hurt you, girl. But damn, you scared me good there, hiding like that." He eyes her as he kneels down to start stuffing things back into the pack. "What're you doin' out the edge of the camps, anyhow? I thought I was alone out here."
Apparently, someone else is wondering the same thing. Another girl's voice calls, "Larrrrrrk!" and the blonde girl turns, calling back, "Over here!" Her big, blinky attention returns to Veris, batting its lashes. Blink. "I was lookin' for somethin'? But I daresay my lack doesn't vex me near as much as yours does you." A glance at the piles of tossed through, dumped-out… things. "What'd you forget?"
Uh oh. Big eyes, batted lashes? Veris is allergic to those. He turns when Lark does, confused but mirroring her actions. "Did she just say Lark? Is that your name?" he asks, his tone clearly conveying that it would make a ridiculous name. "Hey, that's a lark, hey?" he jokes, prodding at her with his elbow. "What a name that would be." Chuckling, he continues to cram stuff back into the bag with no real care or discernment. "Just some, uh, stuff." Sigh. "Paint. I didn't think to bring it."
Lark rolls her eyes and smirks, dimples on her cheeks as she reaches out to give Veris' shoulder a shove. "Aye, that's my name. Lark Chanson." She puts her hands on her hips. "What's yours?"
Crouched down like that, even a simple shove sends Veris pitching sideways, arms wheeling as he slowly falls over. "Owww," he groans, clutching at his chest even though he fell on his back. "Whatdja do that for, Lark?" He still doesn't believe it's her name. "I'm Very." That's way better than Lark.
"Because you were making fun, you nit," Lark replies, kneeling beside him and reaching to gently prod his chest, all examining like. "What'd you do to yourself?"
Meanwhile, another girl arrives on the scene — also pretty, of a similar height and build, though dark-haired and with striking blue eyes. "Lark!" she gasps. "What are you doing on the ground with a boy?"
"Didn'tdonothin'," Veris mumbles, trying to wave her hands away. "It's fine. Good gods, girl, you just can't keep your hands offa me, can you?" But he doesn't seem to mind that one bit - except that she's poking at a sensitive part of him, and not the good kind of sensitive. When the other girl arrives and calls Lark again, he finally clues in that it just might actually be her name. "I'm a man, not a boy," he corrects. "And we didn't get nowhere yet," he adds to the new girl, eyeing her over. "You can join too, it's not too late."
Lark and the newly arrived girl both gape at Veris' invitation, then chorus, "Ewwww!" dissolving into giggles. Lark hops to her feet, face all scrunched, laughing but — apparently — disgustipated. "Oi! She's my kin! We don't do things like that!" claims the dark-haired girl, and Lark nodnodnodnods her agreement. "This is my cousin, Alona. Alona, this is Very, the Very Forward. I was going to offer to help him find some paint, but I'm not so sure now." Blech.
"You don't have to do it with each other," Very explains patiently, still thinking he can work this angle. "Just with me, like." He gives Alona a wink at the introduction, accompanied by his usual goofy grin, rocking himself forward to get off the floor and back up into a sitting posture. "Come on now, girls, there's a squire's melee comin' up and this face might not be so pretty when that's all done."
"Were you dropped on the head as a child?" Alona wants to know, looking incredulous. Lark choke-snorffles, swallowing a laugh. "Lonnie," she coaxes her cousin. "He's just a boy." Obviously, boys can't help themselves.
Veris picks himself up off the floor and gets back on his feet, since it doesn't seem like his pitch is panning out. "I'm a man, I said," he repeats, wagging a warning finger at Lark. "Birds shouldn't talk ill of men, y'know." He ties up the first bag and tosses it outside the mess-radius, grabbing another one to keep on with the packing. "And besides, you'll both be wishin' you had when you see me out there bashin' in heads and takin' the melee," he adds, raising a brow at them both. One last shot. "But it'll be too late then, I'll be covered in all kinds of fair womenfolk what want to congratulate me."
Lark looks kind of bewildered. "I was going to bake cookies for the winner," she says in a small voice, THOUGH THAT SOUNDS KIND OF LAME, NOW. Alona rolls her eyes, putting an arm around her cousin. "You bake the best cookies in the seven kingdoms, sweeting. This boy only has his mind on one thing." She takes Lark's hand. "Come on. The hostler over in the Tarly camp said he has some copper wire we can use."
Veris glares at Alona but doesn't correct her this time. "I like cookies," he offers to Lark. The second bag's tied off and he moves smoothly on to the third, half the pile now cleared away. "I'd like you better'n cookies, though," he adds, looking up at big-eyes batted-lashes with a grin. "Seems the tastier choice of the two." Looking back to Alona, he jerks his head back toward the encampments and says, "Why don't you get you back to the Tarly camp and let little birdie make up her own mind? You just want her to go with you so's you can come back and have me for yourself."
Lark blushes and makes a little noise that might be intended to become a word — but it sort of fails her. Alona snorts. "Dream on, you randy goat." Lark doesn't seem to know what to do with Veris'… praise. Or whatever it is. So she turns to Alona and frets, "But… no one's going to want cookies if they're all having sex." Lonnie sighs and frames Lark's face in her hands, trying to smooth the worried wrinkles from her cousin's brow. "Sweeting, they're not all going to be having sex. Least of all this one. I promise."
Veris rolls his eyes and baaaaaaas at Alona, seizing the opportunity when Lark turns to pantomime grabbing his MASSIVE PHALLUS with both hands and thrusting it in her direction. Yep, he's a man and not a boy for sure. When it looks like Lark might be turning back, he immediately stops and goes back to bag-stuffing. "Hey, I'm having sex all the time," he protests to Alona's statement. "In fact, I'm supposed to be having sex right now. But, you know, duty calls."
Lark may not see Veris doing the humpty-hump, but Alona certainly does. She gasps. "You — I — that's just disgusting!" she dark-haired cousin stammers, all huffy and prim and outraged. She starts off, yanking Lark along by the arm, will she or nil she. Lark lurch stumbles and looks back at the (now) innocently laboring squire as she's dragged along. "Lonnie!" Alona shakes her head. "No. Absolutely not. Really, Lark, you'd try to be bosom friends with a Ironborn pillager, if it didn't immediately cut off your head." Lark blinks back at Veris a few more times, then looks back to her cousin, trotting along at her side to catch up. "Well, that can't ALL be bad…"
"I don't take heads," Veris offers helpfully to the two retreating girls. "Just maidenheads," he adds with a snort, unable to hold his laughter at his own humor. The last of his bags packed, he stands up and groans, watching the two run away, though it doesn't look to him like Lark really wants to. "You'll be back, little birdie!" he shouts through cupped hands. "Bring cookies next time!"
"What kind?" Lark shouts back. Alona shouts an inarticulate monosyllable of disgust. "LARK!"