|Is This a Double Date?|
|Summary:||Jacsen, Anais, Saffron, and Kamron chat together and separately.|
|Related Logs:||None specifically.|
|Terrick Encampment, Seagard|
|Tents! Purple and Yellow!|
|20 June, 289|
The ladies tea party last night was a…qualified success. Anais returned home late after helping to make certain everything was properly packed up and closed away, and when she /did/ return home, she was a wee bit tipsy. Someone had to do something with the leftover drinks in cups, right? There was giggling, and affection, and then she fell fast asleep. All night long. She was a late riser in the morning as well, and even now, she's staying to the tent for a bit to recover before the melee. Granted, not being much for staying in one place, she's mostly…lounging restlessly. Lounging on the bed, then switching to a chair. Then sitting at the table. Then back to the bed.
Jacsen has been in and out all morning, trying to catch his chances of speaking with various people. And every time he came back to their tent, he gave Anais an odd sort of look and a smile before heading back out again. When he returns this time, he simply sits on the edge of the bed and offers, "This is quite unlike you. Are you feeling all right?"
"Nothing solid as yet," Jacsen sighs, clearly displeased. "It seems to me as though everyone is waiting. To see what others will do, or to see how deeply into desperation we can be driven before we'll agree to just about anything." He reaches down and slowly tucks her hair behind her ear. "Well, if you're not feeling well by then, perhaps we can stay behind here awhile. It is nice and quiet here."
"I'm sorry," Anais murmurs, pressing a kiss to his hand. "It was the same at the Twins. No one's willing to be the first or take a risk on an investment." She's quiet a moment, then draws a slow breath, choosing her words carefully. "I'm going to make a suggestion, and I know it's going to sound…personal. But it's not. It's, as Lord Kittridge would say, just business. Will you hear it?" She looks up to him, waiting for his answer before she speaks.
Jacsen raises a brow, his hand pausing at her ear. "Personal?" he asks, both curiosity and caution in his voice. He seems unsure, and yet, intrigued. "Let's hear this business, then."
"We have money problems," Anais begins. "First, because we need to buy food. Second, because there is an issue of a dowry." She looks down at his hand, caught between hers, and turns it over to trace the lines of his palm with one figner. "I know you and your father love your sister and want nothing but the best for her. But you've all told me that she wants what's best for the Roost. There is one thing the Roost has to offer now, and that is a good name and a good reputation. Those are things for which some people would pay very dearly. Rather than beggar ourselves or take from our son to dower your sister, what if we were to find her a man of wealth with little - or without - title? Someone who would be willing to join his wealth to the Roost in exchange for the Terrick name. And maybe Middlemarch. Before you say no," she adds quickly, looking up to him. "Understand that- Your sister- She- Well." She sighs. "If she married that way, she could stay at the Roost and none of you would have to live without her." You can't really blame her if she doesn't sound /thrilled/ about that, right? "But it would save us an expensive dowry and could potentially feed the Roost now, without crippling us in debt or saddling us with alliances that may or may not be beneficial. Just…Just think about it?"
Jacsen breathes a heavy sigh as he listens. "That didn't sound nearly as personal as I thought it might," he comments. Meaning, he thought it was going to be personal to him. "I'll think about it, Anais. I will." He squeezes her hand. "It strikes me as more a short-term solution than one that would grow our family in times to come, but there's merit to it." There's a long pause before he asks, "Have you one such a man in mind?"
"No," Anais admits, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Otherwise it would be a sight easier. I mean, I know of a few shipping magnates who move through the Banefort, of course. But I don't know if any of them have sons of a reasonable age or how interested they'd be." Look, she's not even trying to saddle Luci with an old man! "But it's something we could nose out a bit while we're here. I'm sure there are many such families that move through Seagard. You'd know that better than I would." She lifts his hand to brush a kiss to his fingertips. "All we need is a short-term solution right now, Jacsen. Because once we make it through the next two harvests, we'll be fine. But if we don't, we won't need to worry about the long term. And just think. With some real financial backing, especially one with an interest in trade, we could even start the docks up again."
Ah, the docks. Jacsen always gets a wistful tone to his voice whenever he talks about the docks, and opening shipping lanes by water to Terrick's Roost. "Maybe," he allows begrudgingly. "I will see out these talks with Ser Kittridge, though." So he'll continue negotiating a betrothal between Ser Stafford and Lucienne, but the idea of another option has been planted in his mind nontheless. "Anything of note from last night?" he asks, idly playing with her hair.
"Oh gods, last night," Anais groans a laugh, turning her cheek against his leg. "It started out so beautifully. And then it went so terribly, terribly wrong. Not politically," she adds quickly. "Not for us, at least. But Saffron had sugar squares for roasting over the fire. And I tried to warn everyone that they'll catch on fire, and if they do you should pull them out /slowly/ to blow them out because they will fly everywhere and they burn. But gods know, Rosanna Groves couldn't listen to anyone else if her life depended- Well, I suppose she could, she did manage to shut up with the bandits, but that's beside the point. Anyhow, she and Katrin were sniping at each other, Rosanna's square caught on fire, she started flinging it about, and a piece of it managed to fly off and land on Lady Katrin's face, burning it. I haven't the slightest idea if it's anything permanent, but I'm sure you can imagine that ended things rather quickly."
Jacsen blinks. Opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again. "And here I was, thinking you ladies are always demurely sipping at tea and discussing… whatever it is ladies speak of," he chuckles. "Now I learn that you hurl fire at one another." He touches her cheek gently. "As long as you came away unscathed. They can throw all the fire they want."
"Well. Luci sat and sipped tea demurely," Anais allows, though she's still laughing a bit. "Rosanna and Katrin sniped. Rowenna was fun. As were Muirenn and Nedra and Tiaryn. And Saffron was doing /so/ well with the hostessing, really, everyone loved it." Inside the Terrick tent, there seems to be…domestic bliss. Or comfort as least. Jacsen sits on the edge of the bed, while Anais lounges on it with her head in his lap, toying with Jacsen's hand and tracing the lines of his palm. "I will say, I think Rowenna might have felt more at home once there were flaming missiles."
There is a damn good reason that hoods are a popular choice of garb for the Banefort — it keeps the rain off your head, it is a classic requirement for secrecy, and best of all it shields one's eyes from the sun when one's eyes might just explode out of one's head and put one out of one's misery. This particular one steps into the Terrick encampment arm-in-arm with a choice knight who supports her strides as well as guides her. She is swathed in a lightweight cloak and cowl that does its best to shield her eyes and provide some relief. "Your home is really lovely," Saffron comments to the knight.
Kamron walks alongside Saffron, her left hand on his left forearm and his right hand crossed over to rest atop her hand. He laughs softly, "Well, you haven't even seen my home, yet, My Lady." Patting her hand a little, he adds, "But yes. Seagard is quite lovely. They've done a wonderful job with the rebuilding." Looking ahead to the tent, he adds, "There should be some water here in the Terrick tents." There's a pause as his eyes seek to piece the darkness within, and his steps slow, his words quieting, "I think someone may have gotten there before us…"
"Yes, I imagine so," Jacsen says wryly about Rowenna. There's a touch of humor there, but it doesn't quite reach his voice. "Which reminds me that I've yet to really get a chance to talk to Jarod. I promised him we'd go and get drinks together like the old days - though what with him having won, I imagine the drinks will be more celebratory than reminiscing." He looks up as Kamron and Saffron enter, surprised by their appearance. "Lady Saffon. Ser Kamron. Um." His hand pauses, looking to the two with Anais' head on his lap. "Welcome."
"I'm sure once the major events are over, he'll be more interested in getting stinking drunk," Anais chuckles to Jacsen. "At the moment, I can't imagine he'd be looking forward to a melee any more than I am. I doubt they're more fun when the clanging has been multiplied by too much drink." She looks toward the entrance as others arrive, her cheeks flushing slightly as she looks over from Jacsen's lap. "Oh. Hello." Her smile quirks, and she sits up slowly, brushing a hand over her hair to make sure everything's properly in place. "Is that you, Saf, or just your shade?"
"Which you are still sworn to show me at some point," she says to Kamron in regard to Talon Point. Now inside the tent, she looks to her cousin and her husband with a small smirk. "Ho-ho, ha-ha," Saffron says wryly to her cousin as she reaches up with one hand to shake away the hood now that they are inside. "No, its just me… I've learned that being a hostess won't kill me." It appears that squid piss, reaver honey, whatever else you want to call it, does not favor Saffron well in the aftermath. Perhaps all she needs is better pacing, and banning mallow-roasting unless its between family and close friends. She does offer the married pair a tired smile; her pale eyes are a bit bloodshot, and there is a touch of darkness around the hollows.
Kamron tucks his head slightly to lead Saffron into the pavilion, grinning crookedly at the scene within, "Don't get up on our account, Lady Anais." Oh yes, there's definitely laughter behind those words, but it's a light, friendly sort. Looking over to Saffron, he adds, "It won't kill you, just feel like you want to die, yes My Lady?" He pats Saffron's hand, and then extricates himself, moving over to root around for a water-skin on one of the sideboards, "You should probably both keep drinking water."
"Oh, I'm sure he could manage just fine," Jacsen says to Anais with a chuckle. "He always did before." He smiles sheepishly at Kaffron. "Seems like everyone's had an interesting night," he comments dryly at Saffron's state. "Come in, come in, sit. Have some water. Maybe a bite to eat, too?"
"I have been," Anais smirks at Kamron. "And hiding here. You should try it, Saf," she adds with a sympathetic smile for her cousin, standing up to give the other girl a hug. "It was a lovely party, Saf. It's not your fault Rosanna's a twit." When Jacsen offers something to eat, she moves to one of the trunks, pulling out a small tin. "Mama sent these over," she says with a low laugh. "She says I'm too thin." Inside are several apple tarts.
"Is this what wanting to die feels like?" Saffron inquires to the world at large as she settles into a seat with a kind of drained stiffness. "I suppose I'll want instead to live forever." She sinks down into cushions, letting them envelop her frame comfortably. She looks over to Anais and Jacsen as she rests her cheek on her fist, elbow propped comfortably. "Have you got him all caught up, Annie? Its important he knows the facts before the rumors start flying. I'm sure the first will be how Rosanna maliciously chucked a flaming ball of sugar goo at Katrin because her brother got beat by Ser Martyn. Depending on how far it goes, we might even get a tidbit that Rosanna and Katrin are feuding over Rafferdy." Ooh, apple tarts. She immediately takes one, quite happily.
Kamron collects a couple of cups along with the waterskin, bringing them back to set them out on a little side-table and fill them up. He glances over to Jacsen, then drops his eyes away, shrugging slightly, "I just had to deal with my squire's snoring. Not exactly what you call an interesting night." Now doesn't he wish he were a better liar? He laughs softly at Anais' words, leaping on the change of topic, "Well, you can't all hide here forever. I'm going to need someone cheering me on as I try to better my rather pathetic performance in the melee at the Twins." As he holds out one of the cups of water to Saffron, his right sleeve pulls up, showing the braid of ribbons in grey, orange, and purple wrapped twice around his wrist. He probably shouldn't be wearing the favor yet, since he's not in armor, but no one's had the guts to tell him he shouldn't be. Or no one's noticed. Or they're being polite. Amusement causes him to shake his head at Saffron's words, "Such dangerous snacks, My Lady."
Jacsen snags an apple tart as well. Running around all morning on a gimp leg is hard work. "She's told me of the… highlights from last night," he says with a smile. Kamron's lie is given a quick raise of the brow and a look down at the favor on his wrist before he looks down at his tart with a poorly suppressed grin. "I'm sure you'll perform quite well at the melee, Kam," he offers. "And we'll be there to watch and cheer, I'm sure. Once the ladies are able to tolerate the noise."
"Well, we could have given them Papa's traditional warning talk about them, but I don't think it would have done any of us any favors. There's a great deal of cursing and threatening involved." Anais waves a hand, taking a cup of water and a tart for herself before returning to sit at the edge of the bed with Jacsen. "Anyhow. No one died." The favor brings a small smile, one that's shared with Saffron. "That would be one way to get Katrin and Rosanna to shut up about their knights and their favors," she chuckles.
Saffron sinks her teeth into the apple tart, sliding back even more happily into the seat. She releases the most contented noise of the morning, breathing solidly out her nose. "I care not," she says to Kamron at his amused words. "I would eat a thousand of these if I could." She does take the cup of water, and even drinks some. She does look slightly flushed at the mention of last night and the snoring squire, but she says nothing of it. "You are so hard on yourself, Kamron… it was not your lack of skill that caused you to show as you did at the Twins. I'm sure if your shoulder was uninjured, you would done wonderfully." She looks to Anais with a nod. "You know, I really like Rowenna." She gives Kamron a look. "Knight or not. She is good company."
Kamron shakes his head at Jacsen's reassurance, and then again at Saffron's, waving it off, "I'm not beating myself up over it. I'll get plenty beat up this afternoon." He finds a chair himself, just within arm's reach of Saffron, offering out a third cup of water to Jacsen before settling into the chair with his own cup. "And if I were to win, what would cause My Lady Saffron to withstand the lure of bragging to both Lady Katrin and Lady Rosanna?" A brief wink is cast over in the Banefort's direction, and laughter accompanies the addition of, "Besides good breeding and manners." Saffron's commentary on Rowenna causes him to grimace, and although he shifts in his seat, he doesn't directly lay out his objections to the title suggested, instead going with, "Lady Rowenna seems a good influence on Jarod."
Jacsen accepts the water with a nod of thanks, content to quietly munch at his tart while the others speak. He's in more of a listening mood at the moment anyway. "Does she," he says about Rowenna's influence on Jarod. "If it weren't for her, Jarod might still be at the Roost and fighting under our colors." He cleanses the bitter taste in his mouth with the remainder of the tart and washes it down with the water. "But… he does love her."
"Rowenna's a dear friend," Anais says firmly, though she leans over to press a kiss to Jacsen's cheek with it. "And she saved the outcome of our wedding tournament, I'll remind you," she adds with a wry smile. Then there's a blare of trumpets from outside, and she winces. "I should probably look to getting properly dressed before the melee starts, though. If you'll all forgive me?" she asks, standing up and brushing off her skirts.
"If you win, My Dearest Knight, nothing could stop be from boasting. A right braggart, I am." Saffron is all dimples as she looks over toward Kamron. "Though, if I may also be honest, no matter where you place in the melee, I will still speak fondly of the knight who dons my favor." Aw, she even blushes. Where's the vomitorium? She then looks back toward Jacsen. "I don't condone her actions, her deception… but as a woman, I find her good company." She taps her cup with her fingertips, quiet for a moment. Then she straightens a bit as Anais goes to make her exit. "Certainly, cous."
Kamron raises his cup to counter Jacsen's words, "Rowan was a right pain, and led Jarod down the wrong path. Lady Rowenna," he emphasizes the name and title alike, "is a good match for him." Anais' words draw a laugh, "If you need to get dressed already, I must be late." But he's not going to complain about Anais and Jacsen getting some alone time. Especially not when Saffron's dimpling, blushing words cause him to laugh softly and glance down at the cup in his hand, fighting to keep his own blush off his cheeks, "Then I'll just have to make sure that no other knight ever does, won't I? I can't stand not being spoken fondly of." And he rises to his feet as Anais does, nodding his head in farewell.
"Yes yes, she did," Jacsen sighs to Anais, accepting the kiss with a half-smile. "I'd rather have my brother." But there's no use sulking about it now, and both Saffron and Kamron's words get a begrudging sort of nod. "I've no conflict with her as a person," he agrees. "If it weren't for everything else. Well. I suppose I should get ready as well, then," he says, rising with Anais. "Warrior strengthen your hand, Kam. You'll do Lady Saffron proud."
"Do you think I just wake up this beautiful every morning, Ser Kamron?" Anais arches a brow with a teasing smile. "This sort of thing takes /work/. Anyhow, best of luck to you. I know we'll be watching." And with a smile for Saffron as well, she slips behind a screen, for the purpose of getting beautiful. It's her job, yo.
Saffron glances over toward Kamron as he rises, and she seems almost a bit slow to her own rise. She likes where she is, damnit. The last of the apple tart is eaten, and she drains the rest of her water. "Ser Kamron, have you more to show me, or should I also retire to my tent?" She offers him a soft smile as she starts to relocated her hood over her cinnamon-fire locks.
Kamron shakes his head at Anais, laughing softly, "I wouldn't know. I'd have to ask Jacsen." He nods to Jacsen as well, "Thank you." And then he drains off his water and sets the cup down, "I can certainly return you to your tent, Lady Saffron. Or we can take a turn around the tournament ground before I go get ready myself." A softer smile touches his lips, and he offers up, "Or we can retire to the shade alongside my own tent. I have water and a crisp cider there if you'd like."
"You provide me with too many choices, Ser Kamron," Saffron says politely as she steps from her cushioned seat and into the open area of the tent. Hara Weatherfell melts into view as her lady begins to move, smiling politely to Kamron. "Take me where you will, my mind is too soft for decision making." She does not wait for the full invitation as she slides her hand over his arm, falling in beside him.
Kamron laughs softly at the complaint, tucking Saffron close alongside him with a shift of his arm and placing his right hand atop hers again, "Then it is certainly too soft to see more of Seagard, or the brilliant blazons of the Reach. We'll leave your Lady Cousin and Jacsen alone to prepare." Mischief dances in his eyes at that verb, even as his steps bend toward the adjacent Mallister area of camp, "I know that whenever I'm hungover, I want nothing more than a warm patch of shadow and something cool to press to my forehead." His grin redoubles at that, "That'll be me the morning after the tourney, by the way. Jarod is threatening a crawl through the pubs of Seagard before the dance."
"Then take me where there is shade and cool things," Saffron instructs softly as she follows him stride for stride. At the mention of the pub crawl, her gaze lifts to him beneath her hood shadow. "Before the dance?" She inquires with a soft scoff. "You will be too drunk to see straight, let alone dance with me… or is that your plan?" She half-teases him. "I had hoped to get a proper dance."
Kamron frees his right hand to make a calming gesture, "The day before the dance. And I should be well recovered by then." Folding his calloused fingers back around her paler ones, he laughs softly, "Don't worry, My Lady. I'll still let you push me around the dance floor. I know I'm a poor partner. I've neglected the lessons my mother gave myself and Nedra shamefully. But unless I'm too hurt in the melee, I promise you that I'll dance with you and any other woman who wants a turn about the dance floor." There's a sense of waiting in that statement, his grey-blue eyes shifting back toward her even as he turns his face a little away, trying to watch her out of the corner of his eyes.
"You are not that poor. I have danced with far poorer," Saffron says softly to him, though she is smiling quite warmly to the knight as he leads her on. Though, her smile does falter just a moment as he suggests more than just her as a possible partner. Her mouth frowns just a touch, but she does her best to cover it up with a quick nod of her head, dipping the shadow of her hood low. "Oh, well… I imagine if you do show well, there will be plenty of ladies who wish to have a go with you. Plus, the Reach ladies seem to be as lovely as their knights."
Kamron smiles at the reassurance, although he laughs softly, "I bet that has more to do with the men you've been forced to dance with than my own minimal memory of the proper steps." His fingers squeeze lightly on her hand at her response, "There are many lovely ladies here at the tournament, but I promise you will have the first dance and the last from me that night, Lady Saffron." His smile quirks up at one corner, "If I can pry you away from your own admirers long enough, that is."
"I'm afraid my admirers are quite secret characters," Saffron says, perhaps even a touch reassuringly. "I have almost none to speak of." None that she knows about, at least. "I'm looking forward to the dance, to be honest," she admits to him as he continues to guide her with the dutifulness of a honorable knight. "I will be wearing a gown I have been working on for… seven years." There is a sudden squeak behind them, and it comes from the prettily plain Hara. Saffron looks over her shoulder with an arched brow. "I'm sorry, milady… but it is quite beautiful… the gown."
Kamron comes around the last corner of purple canvas before his tent. Percy looks up from laying out armor inside, popping up and pulling out a couple of camp chairs. Kamron gestures toward the shade alongside the tent, and the squire heads in that direction, setting the chairs up without comment. That leaves Kam plenty of time to shake his head, "None that you know of, My Lady. With as well as you are liked by the ladies of the Cape," he hands her down to one of the chairs, "I'm sure that many of their brothers and cousins hold secret thoughts of kissing dimpled cheeks." And more, probably. Ahem. But we're not thinking about that. Not at all. Breaking his eyes away from Saffron's, Kam looks to Percy, "Water and cider please, Percy. The flat." As opposed to the alcoholic. The squire bobs a nod, and ducks off, setting up a chair in some nearby shade for Hara and then ducking back into the tent to see to the drinks.
"Well, they ought to be proper about it and stop hiding their admiration," Saffron says with that kind of stubborn Banefort tone. "How is a Lady suppose to know these things? Not even the Ravens will share those secrets." She slips into the chair with care, though she has adjusted the way in which this seat is treacherous. She smiles over to Hara as she also takes a seat, but then her attention is once more captured by the knight. "Which brings me to an important question, Ser Kamron… have you got any admirers of the Cape?" Danger, danger…
Kamron moves over to take his own seat, laughing at the complaint. Tugging back his right sleeve to display the favor still double-wrapped there, he notes, "Besides yourself, Lady Saffron?" He shakes his head, settling back as cups rattle inside the tent, "No, you have done your job well, so far as I know, My Lady. No woman dares display any interest in me for fear of the scandal and misfortune you have recounted of me." Crossing his left leg over his right, he arches up his eyebrows, "You've spent seven years on a single gown? It must be quite beautiful, if it has taken that long to perfect. Although it will be hard-pressed to match its wearer, especially upon the dance-floor. You may not have quite the abandon there that your cousin does, but I can see that you enjoy dancing."
"And you think I am one of your admirers?" Saffron asks almost innocently, though she does smile gently toward him as she settles into her seat. "I still contend that most women of the Cape are idiots for not chasing you more heartily." Then she laughs softly at his assessment of her gown. "Well, truth be told, it was a project that my sister Terras and I worked on together. She was so fond of the Furpelt Cloak story with the three different dresses — one of the sun, one of the moon, and one of the stars. She wanted to make a moon dress, so I volunteered to help." She traces her fingers over her own skirts, the cyan wool comforting. "But, when the Seven came for her, I decided to finish it on my own."
Kamron tugs on the favor again at the faux-innocent question, but he's saved from immediate rejoinder by the arrival of Percy with a little table, two ewers, and three cups. Kamron's brows furrow a bit at the third up, and Percy's eyes cut over to the maid. A smile spreads across Kam's lips, and he nods, then looks back to Saffron, "Water or juice, My Lady?" He quiets to hear the story, nodding his head, "A dress to match Sister Moon." He studies the Banefort, as if imagining the look, nodding again, "I'm sure you will be positively lovely, Lady Saffron. The very match of the sister herself."
"Water, if you please, Percy," Saffron says the squire as she rests back in her seat. "I will try for juice after a while." She glances back over to Kamron with a broader smile, and the smallest flush. "Thank you, Ser Kamron. Annie has been very helpful with the final touches." She will accept the cup when given, and her maid will take some juice. Hara looks quite content to be sharing a moment there by the wonderful purple Mallister tents. The Banefort lady exhales as she sinks into the seat once more, and she tilts her head upward a bit toward the wash of blue sky.
Kamron nods to Percy as he pours, "I'll have the juice." And so Saffron gets water, Kamron gets juice, and Hara gets juice as well. The ewers are left on the little table, and the squire retreats to the tent to finish working on the knight's armor. "I look forward to seeing it on you, Lady Saffron." He leans back in his own chair, sipping at his drink and letting his eyes drift closed. There's a particular clatter of metal on metal from elsewhere in camp, and Kamron notes idly, "You know, I think that's what I miss most about Talon Point. The quiet. Sure, it gets loud sometimes, but with only a few-score people living beneath the keep, it's very peaceful."
Saffron murmurs something in appreciation for the dance, though she slips into a quiet moment as she rests, fingers clinging loosely to her cup. She rolls her head a bit against the chair to look over at him with half-lidding blue eyes. "The Banefort can be quiet at times, and perhaps I would have had a quieter existence of my father hadn't been the Master of Arms… but it is a different type of noise. I don't know if I can explain it beyond that." She smiles a bit though. "Tell me about Talon Point, Ser Kam."
Kamron nods his head slowly, "It's a purposeful noise, not a random one?" He smiles a little lightly, "My father may not have been Master of Arms, but I've known quite a few in my day." He takes another sip of water, glancing over to the Banefort beside him before looking up at the sky, "It's perched out in a little spit of land, with the village on the lee shore, in this little cove. It's really just a little dock, a few boats, a few houses, and the tower. The extra fish we catch goes on up to Seagard, but really the tower's just there to give warning." Of the Ironborn, of course. "There's a bit of a smell that hangs over the place, but I never noticed it until I spent the years away at Bracken Hall. It's not a bad smell, just the scent of the sea and of fish."
The Banefort lady has closed her eyes, head resting against the chair with a kind of languidness. She murmurs something again as he describes his home, as if she's reassuring him she is indeed listening. She is quiet for a period of time as she rests her eyes from the sun, there in the cool shade. Then she opens her eyes again, smiling over at him a bit drowsily. "I've never minded that smell… always a touch briny. I wonder if the Point's brine is different from the Banefort's."
Kamron shrugs a little helplessly, a little bit of embarrassment touching his words, "Well, it's a bit more of a fishy smell, if I'm going to be fair." He laughs softly, shaking it off. Sighing, he hauls himself out of his chair, "I suppose I should get to arming for the melee, My Lady. You're more than welcome to remain here while I do, and avail yourself of the water and juice."
"As you say, Ser Kamron," Saffron murmurs softly, though she does seem to wake herself enough to haul up out of her own seat — she is of course more graceful. When she stands, Hara is there at her side almost instantly. Saffron smiles toward Kamron before she reaches out to grasp his hand gently in hers, stepping forward to close the gap beween them as much as properness will allow. "May the Warrior guide you, Ser Kamron." And she kisses her fingertips before she places them across his cheek gently. That's not scandalous! Then she starts to move on to prepare for the melee herself.