|I Would Hear of Your Progress|
|Summary:||Amelia treats Revyn's injuries.|
|Related Logs:||El Melee|
|Rockcliff Inn — Private Room|
|The door and walls are thick enough to keep all but shouted conversations private. Inside, the wooden floors are kept much more clean and the elongated table with its high-backed chairs kept polished. The Terrick House banner hangs centered at the long end of the room behind the chair at the head of the table. Racks are provided for both armor and arms alike, the wooden supports standing by the door.|
|30 July 288|
After the events of the Grand Melee, Revyn had slipped off into the crowd, where his squire and a select couple of the knights he was training had ushered him away from Stonebridge and back to their own lands for the time being. There, the private room had been secured at the Inn and that seems to be where a few of them have taken to, including Revyn. A cot has been brought into the room, as well as a couple of tables and chairs. Armor has been strewn aside, though Revyn's chest piece rests atop one of the tables where the damage can be clearly seen from the stains of dark red on the inside.
Seated on the cot, his shirt has been forgone and in place, bandages have been wrapped around his body. A mug of ale is clasped in his and judging from the empty containers, they've been using it as both a painkiller and something to stem the tide of news that was delivered after the event.
The last few weeks have seen a dramatic turn in Amelia. For the last four years she has been the splendid whore of the Rockcliff that took care of the needs of House Terrick when they required her specifically. Since her foray into helping Isolde into the Roost, her dress had become far more modest. She was walking taller, looking more like a well-off commoner than one of the most disrespected classes of society. After evacuating herself from the tournament laaaate at night before the day began, she is back at the Rockcliff.. and looking just as she had two weeks prior: her breast is heavily on display and there is a far more flirty air to her movements. However, Revyn's condition seems to have muted her behavior some. She arrives with a small batch of herbs and sits down at the table with a pulp bowl and masher, eyes on the man of House Terrick. "I trust the ale is deadening your pain some, m'Lord?" She doesn't normally use titles in private with most of the men of the house.
It's been a little bit since Revyn last saw Amelia, for after the conflict with the Naylands and their subsequent meeting, he'd mysteriously disappeared for two weeks with rumors circulating that Jerold had sent him off to the Mallister's on some fools errand. But, he'd returned for the end of the tourny and now, when she makes her way into the room, his eyes lift upwards, a faint smile flickering across his lips as he lifts the mug in silent salute to her. "Some. But the pain reminds me I'm still alive. Fuckin' foolish event that was. I felt like a blundering old man, dancing around with kids." Pause. Lift of mug to lips for another large gulp and when it's lowered, he's then offering, "How have you been, Amelia? Can't say I heard how things went after I left."
Amelia watches as another whore brings in a few more fresh bandages and skitters out, closing the door behind her while the better-dressed woman works about the herbs. Scattered in distinct amounts, it begins to smell of basil. And tulips. "Men do foolish things sometimes. But we worry because you all do them anyway. Despite the protests of the better informed." She looks up to him and forces a short smile. Back down, her hand uses the tool to begin mashing the herbs together. "The writ was dropped. When I arrived in Stonebridge I walked into Crane's Crossing and asked if anyone would like to arrest me. The answer was no. So, I stayed down there. Worked a little. Wish I had worked more but I made some poor decisions, in hindsight. Made a lot of money gambling. How did you fare with the melee, m'Lord?"
The whore that enters with fresh bandages is offered a momentary look before Revyn's returning his attention to Amelia and to the herbs that she works. Lips curve into the touch of a grin before he's offering, "Glad to hear things didn't escalate while I was gone, then." A nod follows those words and then a quiet chuckle as his shoulders lift into a shrug, an action that immediately brings a wince to bare as a hand lifts to his chest. "Not as well as I should have. I took a nasty hit in the beginning and should have yielded. But I foolishly decided to try and stick it out and only served to injury myself that much more." Eyes lift from the herbs and to her, resting there for a moment before he's offering, "I trust my nephew was good company during your stay?"
Amelia shakes her head as she works at the table, the movement shaking her chest as she does. The woman looks extraordinarily different from the one who sang her heart out just two days prior. Even the paint to her lips is brighter. "No. I believe Lady Valda realized she was not going to get anything else out of me except what I had already told the magistrate. The questions of logic must have found her somehow, Ser Revyn." She turns the bowl a few times while she works. "If you'd like, m'Lord, I can stay with you tonight and tend to your bandages? If you provide a later supper and tea I would be happy to do it otherwise free of cost." There's no smile that might normally be there when she looks to him but the last gets her to draw her eyes sharply down. "The kind of company I hate more than any other, m'Lord. The men who play with our emotions are the most hurtful. Though to the truth of it, the problems are mine. Not his."
"Lady Valda must have realized that when we called her hand, she had nothing left to play. A wise decision for things to be dropped." Regardless of the way it painted the Terricks, it had been done and Revyn wasn't about to shame away from such a thing. The offer of spending the night is returned with a slight shake of his head, though his hand does lift to motion to a spot near to him, "I won't be spending the night I'm afraid, for I must return to Stonebridge to meet with my brother and the Mallister and the ride will be slow through the night, due to my injury. But, I have some time now and will be happy to provide that in which you ask." He does pause, his brow lofting up just a touch, "Judging by the fact that you've called me nothing by m'Lord or Ser, I can not imagine what might have happened. What problems do you speak of that drew such a statement from you?"
She's playing the part of the whore tonight. To a T. When he motions for her to move, she does as bid and rises from the table. She moves to take a spot on the floor beside him and cotninues pressing the herbs. The scent is stronger now, more floral and sweet. "You do not need to feed me now. I appreciate the offer, m'Lord, but another man was kind enough to do that for me this evening." She continues working at the bowl with the stone implement. "Just minding to be respectful, Ser. Young Lord Jaremy and I drank much wine after the first night's joust. I stayed. There was.. It was innocent. Though my feeling towards him were attached sometime during the morning before the sun lifted. I feel as if I have betrayed my unspoken promises to you. Not becoming involved with nobility is something I pride myself on. I have let you all down, m'Lord. Ser Jaremy and I let each other down in our own ways."
There's the slightest shakes of Revyn's head as she plays that part and plays it well. To her response, there's a quirk of his lips to a smirk before he offers, "Then I will see that food and tea is paid for, so that you can have it when you chose, Amelia." Eyes contiue to watch her and the bowl of herbs that she works on and as she continues to speak, there's a simple nod of his head, "Mistakes come and mistakes go. To dwell on such things will only serve to make us begin to questions things that have been done." His free hand lifts, giving a slight wave, "Jaremy is young. As are you. While nothing can happen between the two of you .." Unless Jaremy decide to forgo the life laid out before him, ".. I do not think he would fault you for feelings."
"Thank you, m'Lord. You are most kind." Its whispered. The herbs are forming a rough paste with the water in the bottom. Amelia works at it with her own measured pace. "I was foolish. I forgot my place, Ser Revyn. I had hoped that he might be willing to have me be there for him outside of his marriage. I am used to being the other woman." She wipes the ground paste off the stone onto the side of the bowl and sets the masher aside. "The very things that brought me to love him are the very things that keep him from me. I beat him about the shoulders that he needed to marry for advantage. I fear me words were too effective for my own liking, m'Lord." She sniffs, wiping at her nose. The look on her face is hidden by her bowed head. "I will not make such mistakes again. I may take steps to ensure it. But in the meantime I request that you not speak of this to Ser Jarod, please?" The man she usually lovingly refers to by his first name and only his first name. "I know he fears the attachment of some whores and enjoys my company because I do not do these things. I'd hate to think I could lose men like you because I let my guard down once. I promise, it will not happen again, m'Lord."
It's a good thing that Revyn isn't Lord of a House or Heir to such a thing, for the House would surely fall around him. Or be snickered at, for politics and the lines that seperate Nobles from Commoners is not as firm for him as it is for others. Amelia's words draw a slight shake of his head, followed by only the slightest of chuckles, though it's not borne of humor or mirth. "Once, our secrets were safe with you, Amelia. Now, your secret will be safe with me. What you've spoken of will go no further then this room, should that be what you want." His hand does lift to his chest, fingers grazing the bandaged wound as if to check for something. "I do not think you need worry about losing things. While the decision may not have been popular, I do not fault Jaremy for rising to your defence on that ill fated day. Had he not, I would have. As would Jarod, if need be. If you had been borne to a different life, Amelia, you would have made a fine Terrick." Shifting his arm, the mug is settled off to the side, his attention never wavering from her. "But, we must deal with what life has dealt us. And what you've been dealt, you've made the most of and then some. I dare say that you have found friends amongst the Terricks. Ones that trust you and that you should trust."
"Your secrets are still safe with me, m'Lord. I appreciate your understanding, though." She takes up the paste inside the bowl and rises off her rear to her knees beside him. "Ser Revyn, could you peel back to the wound please? This will help it to heal faster. It may sting at first but it will numb within a minute or two." She dabs some onto her fingers and prepares to apply it. From this distance he can probably tell that she looks defeated and drained. "I would have made a terrible Terrick, Ser. Thank you for the kind words but I do not think I am deserving. I have been dealt what I have and made poor choices in my life. One of the few smart ones was learning to care for you all. One of the worst was caring too much. But had I not made the awful mistakes I had in life, I would not be here. Make of that what you will, m'Lord." That is one hell of a conflicted statement.
Revyn does as she asks, his hands lifting to begin to peel back the bandages to expose the wound, one in which is still raw and obviously hasn't seen much more then a quick wash and the application of the bandage. The spent bandage is set aside and he leans back a bit so as to allow her the room to apply the paste. "Find me a person who has made nothing but good choices in life, Amelia. Mistakes and defeats make us who we are. They mold us into what we will become." The smile returns to his lips then, light and small, but it's there. "As you have said, had you not made your mistakes, you would not be here. Perhaps, without those mistakes, you would be somewhere worse. One never knows and it's something one should never question or doubt."
True to her words, the greenish-white paste stings a bit. She uses clean hands to apply it to the wound. It daps on carefully and she uses a bandage to spread it around and even into the wound a little. "Some of us make poorer choices than others. Sometimes we have good motivations when we start. Then we realize our motivations were hogwash. You can't fix that. Nobody can. All we can do, like you said, is try and be a better person." She finishes with the bandage and sighs, settling onto her rear. The paste is mixed a little more. "Perhaps I would be somewhere worse. Perhaps I would be married to a wonderful man with little feet about the house and this would just be a horrible nightmare. It is easier to say that we should not question what we have in life when you sleep in a tower in your own heated room and have servants. Its another to live at the bottom rung, m'Lord. All the whores here pray every morning as a group that one day we will find ourselves somewhere else."
As she comes to spread that paste, Revyn offers the hints of a wince and a slight hiss of air escapes his lips as the stinging radiates through the wound and into his nerves. But, he remains still, letting her spread it around the wound and into it, though the wince remains. "Your right, it easy to say such a thing when one sits in splendor and another in squalor. I am sorry for that." Those words seem geniuene enough, as if he feels he might have crossed a line that should have been. "But I know of choices and dwelling on what could have been. I've made a few of those throughout my life and splendor or squalor, it's all the same when one comes to regret a choice." There is a slight tilt of his head to one side, his right brow once more lifting upwards, "Why not give up being a whore, Amelia? You have talents that could be put to far better use. Your voice alone should garner you the ability to find work."
"You are my better, m'Lord. You need not apologize to me for such things. You have bigger concerns and wounds that I'm sure temper the mind to different topics." Its a line. He knows it. She knows it. But its what whores say to ease their men and they let each other believe they mean it. Amelia spreads more of the paste on the inside of a fresh bandage and takes her time to make sure its right. She has obviously dressed a wound or two before. "I cannot stop precisely because I am one. I do not have money. I won large with gambling, but it is not enough to sustain me. And what would I do of singing? I would be what I am now.. a whore that sings. The only reason I won in Stonebridge is because I was not dressed as I should have been and I misrepresented myself, m'Lord. But I am open to suggestions of fancy idea."
"I have no bigger concerns, Amelia. I was born a Noble, but I will never lead a House. I'm the youngest of siblings and my sole duty is to train, because that's where my talent lies. It enabled me to become a Knight and prevented me from being forced to sit in splendor and drink my days away while yammering about this or that." There is no love lost between Revyn and that portion of his life, it would seem. "Become a Ministrel. Sing your tales for those that would listen. You may be a whore, Amelia, but you are different from the rest. Most do not care in the fashion that you do." Only when she's done with the bandage does he move to straighten back up. "I would be willing to bet that you would find help should you wish you."
"Similarly, I trained from the time I was young. My mother had me working on corners, singing, from age five. Begging for the generosity of others. Eating off the kindness of a passing noble. Sometimes not eating. We train to survive, but the way you do, m'Lord. But your weapons are against an enemy that weilds metal. A whore's enemies are hunger and an abusive man. This we train to take out pain and fight it down as best we can." Amelia finishes up spreading the paste to the bandage and motions for him to lift his arms so she might begin wrapping it. Once he does, she comes close again and begins the movement to more or less glue the bottom layer to him. "I was a minstrel of the street in Seagard. I could not get enough money to survive once my mother passed. I wore rags until I had no other ready options except to take money for my body. Its true that I may care in a different fashion, but.. What would I do? Sing and screw, m'Lord? I would do better to stay and work here. I do not like charity. Even when I was younger. If you want to eat, you should deserve it. Work for it. Not wallow in cash and drink oneself into happiness. I must earn my place, m'Lord."
While Revyn -knows- she's a whore, it's something different to actually hear about the lifestyle. About the abuse and hunger and it draws a soft, "Hmm," from his lips. Arms lift upwards at her request and as she begins to wrap the wound in that bandage, he continues to listen before falling quiet for a moment, a look of consideration crossing his face. Then, there's a simple nod of his head, eyes shifting to the wall and then back to her. "You speak truth with those words, Amelia, and as such, I will give you the chance to earn your place. But what I have in mind will not require the use of your body and you will not find yourself on your back."
"That is the most common reaction, m'Lord," she replies to his 'Hmm'. "Most people look at us as wretches that corrupt men. Harlots without scruples. Many of us do what we do to support children after husbands pass in battle. We do it because we have nothing else. Many have pacts about taking children should they never return from a man. I have had five girls and six boys promised me from women in Seagard. I had to take two of the boys, but I was seventeen and whoring. I'd been beaten badly and was out for several days. They were gone when I returned." She wraps the bandages more tightly and tucks the end into the part around his back even as he makes her the offer. She settles back to her rear once more and looks up to the man. How many times has Amelia been promised a rescue? "Yes, m'Lord? How can I be of service?"
"I would say that I am sorry, Amelia, but I fear that it would mean little. I can not imagine what it was like to have had your life, where mine was so different." Revyn does go quiet with that, allowing her to finish her task with the bandage and once she has settled back, his arms are lowering, hands coming to clasp together in his lap as he leans forward, arms coming to rest on his knee's, even though the action draws a wince back to his features. "This week has been rough for my House. Jaremy did not win the joust, both Jarod and I failed to win the Grand Melee and the offical announcement of my neices marriage to the Naylands has brought much displeasure to bare, both from my brother and from the Mallisters." Eyes come to grace the floor for a moment before he looks back to her. "But with loss, victory can still be achieved. Jarod made it to the final round of the Grand Melee, outlasting even myself and at such a young age. I would have a song written about his skill with a blade and turn our failure into something to remember." His head turns once more, eyes coming back to settle on her. "Jaremy found himself displaced from his house and his intended wretched from his grasp. I wish a song that praises the Heir for what is his. A young man who has felt pain and sorrow, but one who thinks of duty and honor and protecting those around him, whether they be noble or common." He stops there, eyes focusing intently on Amelia, his features one of serious conversation now. "And finally, I would have one commisioned of the Terricks. A proud house. A people's house. You have the voice for such a thing and I think you have the drive to create that in which I seek. Do this and I will see you properly paid for your work. And while you work on this, I will see to the payment of your room and will cover the cost of your meals." Finally, his brow begins to lift as he straightens back up, "Do you accept this commission of work?"
Amelia shakes her head. "Apologies are not necessary m'Lord. It is just often that many forget that while we may be whores, we still have hearts and souls. Dreams and pains. It surprises many. Feel no shame about your thoughts." Her hands fold in front of her and she quirks a brow as she listens. "Uh," she finally says at the end, seemingly quite surprised. She takes a steadying breath and looks to the floor. "M'Lord, I fear my song of Jaremy may not be what it should. I can attempt the rest, though, obviously. But Ser Revyn.. I'm a whore. If I suddenly stop, I will lose future clients. They will go elsewhere. I cannot simply stop doing what I must. The men of your house are important to me." Buying her for a night is a lot more than sex. Its massages, talking out problems, quiet words, and encouragement. Sex is just one aspect of the time spent and sometimes does not even happen. "What of them? I cannot simply abandon them and hope they have not already found they prefer a much cheaper whore who cares only for stags and pennies."
A simple nod of Revyn's head is given to Amelia to her first statement and she begins to speak of the second, there's a hint of a smile that crosses upon his lips. "I make no demands that you stop doing what you do, Amelia. The choice is yours to make. You wish to earn your place, then I shall you give you the opportunity to do so. What you do beyond that, I will not interfere with." Now, the elder Terrick begins to rise to his feet, arms moving and torso turning so as to test his range of mobility and find exactly where the pain flares and how bad it is. "I would hear of your progress in one week's time. You need not be complete, but I would like to see progress. Something I would demand of any that I hire for such a task."
"Thank you for your understanding, m'Lord," she whispers to his lack of demands. But as he rises, she does with him. She is quick to do it and she bows her head as he seems to be ready to take his leave of her. "Yes, Ser Revyn. While I am doing this, you are too kind. Perhaps the Lord might considering taking a free night with me in that time? It would be my pleasure."
Turning a bit towards her, Revyn offers Amelia a slight bow of his head, "You might think me kind now, Amelia, but you will find I can be quite demanding when it comes to tasks in which I want complete." He does offer her a smile with those words, though. "You want your chance and I will be to let you earn it. As for a free night?" He considers that for a moment before he gives a nod of his head, "Very well. I have business in Stonebridge that will keep me occupied for a few days. When I return, I will seek you. But, I will leave word with the owner that you room and meals are to be billed to me for the being, so you will have no need to worry of that."
"A man who seeks my employ can make demands. That is your right, m'Lord. If your tasks are more harsh, then so be it. Sometimes we must worker harder to esteem what we have." Amelia still keeps her head bowed in front of him, the woman nearly bending at the waist. She nods to him about the night and the paid room. "Aye, thank you. You are very kind Ser Revyn." Another dip of Amelia's head. "I will have everything ready for your night when you return. And do pass along to Ser Jarod that I look forward to seeing him as well."
"Very good then. I will leave you to your work, Amelia, for I have things that must be attended to." Moving towards one of the chairs, Revyn claims a shirt and tunic from that spot, beginning the task of slowly slipping them and taking care so as not to wretch his body the wrong way. As that process begins, he's offering an aside of, "I will be sure to pass that along to my nephew. In the meantime, please stop calling me Ser or m'Lord. This sudden reversion to titles after all this time has become rather unnerving, to say the least."
"Yes, m'Lord." She keeps her hands folded like a good servant. She only lifts her eyes enough to be sure he does not unseat the bandages. Amelia wants to say something but stops. In the end she just looks furstrated and moves without his permission — which is likely for the better while she speaks. "I think it best for now, m'Lord Revyn. I have shamed myself in ways nobody understands and I may be leaving Terrick's Roost and the Riverlands for good. I will complete your tasks as requested but after that I may take leave. I have no decided yet. In the meantime, m'Lord.." She has been busy dabbing the remains of the paste into another bandage. Its folded carefully and she turns to present it to him. "Tomorrow morning replace your bandage with this one. See the herbalist in Stonebridge for another if you require."
Finally getting the shirt and tunic into place, Revyn can't help but offer a slightly shocked expression to her news, but it's whisked away with a slight shake of his head. "Wait, what? Why would you feel the need to leave the Roost and Riverlands for good, Amelia? What has happened for such consideration?" The bandage is accepted and he gives a nod of his head to the advice on the herbalist, "I fail to see anything so bad as to force one to leave the Riverlands. Whatever you think has been done can not be that bad."
Amelia folds her hands in front of her and averts her eyes down once more. "I have explain, m'Lord. I have shamed myself. I must take care not to embarass this family. I do not wish the cause problems for Jaremy or whom he may marry. If I stay, it is possible I could. Besides, House Terrick cannot afford a scandel such as the heir eyeing a local whore while his new wife is home with child. I dishonor myself and the Terrick name such as it may have been applied to me in some respects." She takes a breath. "I have done many things I regret, m'Lord. The question of whether or not I deserve to stay is something I alone must decide, Ser Revyn."
For a long moment as she's spoken, Revyn simply regards Amelia with an almost curious gaze. Then, he's simply giving a nod of his head towards her. "Very well, Amelia. I will not press upon this subject, except to say that you have friends amongst the Terricks and we are here should you need to speak with us. Do not worry about shame or dishonor upon my House. We are capable of looking after ourselves and the like. I do thank you for your consideration and I'm glad that you will not leave before you have completed your task for me." Moving to the table, he's grabbing his sword belt and moving to secure it around his body as he offers, "Be well, Amelia. I hope the next few days find you well and that your thoughts lead you to staying."
"Be careful, m'Lord. Travel safely. And remember your bandages." That last line is a little more ciding. Like she had been for so long. The woman dips deeply to the man. "You look after your own house as you do, m'Lord. But I look after it in other ways. Ways that money cannot purchase. Ways that shall not be subject to laws. I will see you in several days, Ser Revyn."
That last line does draw a warm smile to Revyn's lips and he then dips his head in her direction once more, "I know you do, Amelia, and we certainly appreciate it." That said, he's moving towards the door and when his hand comes to rest upon the handle so as to open it, he's casting a look back over his shoulder, "I will see you upon my return. Until then, be well." Then, the door is opened and he's slipping out.