|Ladies and ladies|
|Summary:||The Camden retinue arrives and stops to take their respite at the Rockcliffe. A lady of a rough nature reveals herself.|
|Date:||15 Nov 2011|
|Drunken people and food!|
|November 15, 288|
The roads to and from the Roost are filled with the whispers of discontent. The tariffs are making things more expensive, and concerned traders gather in clumps here and there in the streets. There are few things that can bring the Camdens from their land of trees, but this is decidedly one of them. Playing with a major source of income isn't something they'll ignore, at least not for long. There'll be pauses, waiting to see if things settle down, but now?
Night is falling, and the torches in the street are blazing brightly. Horses *clomp* through the streets, pennants showing to whom the chargers belong— the Camdens, Lords of Tall Oaks, are in town.
It's into the Inn first that at least the Captain of the Guard, Lord Dafydd Camden, goes, the path direct to the bar, his words travelling behind him.
"This will give me the opportunity to check on the harvest for the wines next season as well."
Having lingered outside to see to horses and the like, Damara enters a few moments later, lingering at the side of the door with a cursory look about. A brow lifts and she can see the Lord Dafydd near the bar, a faint snort escaping her but she sighs and moves to the side. Water would do about now, any journey makes a rider thirsty. Wine or ale is not really something she wishes for tonight. She'll wait though, still crossing the room to stay close with the rest of their retinue she doesn't say a word.
Fingers lace through the belt about her waist and she gives a look back towards the door, watching and waiting for the others.
It is not long after the Captain and the falconer have made their appearance that the door to the inn opens once more. The entire room doesn't go silent, the appearance of the lithe, pale figure in sea-worn leathers is no longer a -complete- shock, but there are certainly a few disconsolate grumblings among the patrons. One table of drinkers stands and leaves, shoving their way past the iron born with a rather violent shoulder. Instinctively, Kate's hand reaches for her weapon, a half growl in the back of her throat. She turns on the door with a whirl of pale hair and black leather, staring out after the departing drinkers, "If ye wish a fight then stand up and take your sword, do not run like a coward!" But it seems at least that soul simply wished to show disdain, not actually stand up and face the iron born.
Kate turns back to the room, ice eyes scanning the crowd for any other trouble before she pads the rest of the way in and to the bar. The unfamiliar heads and crests draw a curious look. She does not yet come to stand beside them, but actually politely waits her turn. Apparently, there are -some- manners in the Iron Isles.
The ale is poured by the 'keep for the newly arrived Camden, and turning around, Dafydd catches the interplay between the damsel who has obviously never been in distress and the gent who left.. to show proper and right disdain for one so.. accoutered.
"It's because he won't raise a hand to the weak. You should be thanking him for the reminder."
A half-smile appears at the edges of his lips and he raises the glass to his lips. Thirsty work, travelling, and water just isn't enough.
Stepping aside, his own pale eyes look over the oddity before he glances over towards Damara. She's just where she belongs for the moment, and he looks satisfied.
It's hard to miss the interplay at the door and for her part Damara's brow raises and she watches not the man, but the woman as she insists on going to her weapon. Narrowing her gaze, she lifts her hand to the dagger at her hip. But when nothing comes of it but a growl and threat, she eases back and then clears her throat at the Lord's comment. If she has her own opinion, she keeps it and her jade eyes look to the tender, "What will be all, thanks." She nods and then turns to meet Dafydd's gaze, a slight shake of her head given as her gaze creeps along her shoulder back to Kathryna.
What she wears is considered, given a long look. A silent measure is taken and that is all that will be seen from the falconer.
It's like that, is it? Kate arches a single white blonde brow in Dafydd's direction, though her expression does not look hurt or insulted. That is most certainly not the worst she has heard since coming to the Roost. "If you consider me weak, ser, then you are as blind as your throat is parched. I would offer you a spar, but I would not wish you claiming I only beat you because your body was weary with travels." The ironborn bandies back casually, a touch of a husky laugh behind her words, mostly meant as a tease and not true insult. How they will be taken is another matter.
Her arctic gaze then flickers over to the other woman, quickly taking notice of the dagger on her hip and the long look she's being given in turn. Kate bows her head in a silent greeting to the woman, a look of almost respect in her eyes. At least some women in this land do not seem all soft, fatted for children and little else.
Oh, Dafydd had caught the gesture towards her sword and ignored it. No threat, as far as he's concerned.
Another swallow is taken and cradling the glass in his hands, his tones are quiet in correction, "It's Lord. Lord Dafydd Camden, Captain of the Guard for Tall Oaks." There's a pause before, "Just in case you have never seen the standard, or haven't been properly educated in heraldry, as even our smallfolk have been."
His chin rises, his cheek twitching as he catches the glances between the women. An exhale, softly audible, exits and he shakes his head to attend once more to his drink.
The nod given to her is exchanged with one of her own in turn. Damara offers a thin wisp of a smile, if not in some kindred fashion of similar chosen lifestyles. But it is the Lord's words she was expecting but yet hoping not to hear. Though he seems to be in rare form today - just heaping on a great batch of insult to injury. Clearing her throat again, as if Dafydd should know that as a signal, she breaks in a moment to try to forestall any dire outcome. "The Lord Camden takes great…acclaim in our smallfolk." A bit of salve but she gives the Lord a faint look as her water has yet to be touched.
In one corner, arrogant Lord Dafydd, in the other fiesty proud young Ironborn. She's not hedging her bets.
"Well, I'm not one of your small folk, am I?" The ironborn bandies back just as smoothly, her husky voice sardonically amused in tone. She flickers another look back to the other woman, amusement lingering at the lady's attempt to explain her Lord's exclamation as to the small folk. "Well, you do know what they about a Lord and his small folk…" She lets that linger in the air, the smile on her lips just saucy enough to imply less than proper ends to the comment. "He must take good care of them to keep his lands well. I suppose that would include giving them high praise." She finishes the statement almost too stiff, clearly not what she had initially implied. A brief chortle of husky laugher comes afterwards.
She then dips in what must be considered -almost- a respectful bow. At least her head is tilting down, "-Lord- Dafydd, then. You must forgive this iron born, I was not taught much of trees growing up. I thank you for the lesson."
Damara is given another cursory glance at her words, a slight scowled frown creasing the Captain's face. Unnecessary. Still, it's enough to know that the Mistress of the Hawks knows and understands duty— as if she didn't?
As for the Ironborn, while the words hold a taint as far as he's concerned, it's enough as she ends with a proper enough curtsey. Mollified as it's just enough, Dafydd concerns himself with the ordering of food— game and large amounts of vegetables, and more ale— after emptying the glass in a final long swallow.
"There's more than just trees," is offered slowly, "but it's good to know that some can be taught. Time will tell if the lesson remains."
It is a quickly bitten back grin that nearly takes over Damara's lips and a faint clearing and coughing while she turns back to the bar, finally taking her water. But there in her jade eyes is a gleam of humor. Dafydd may have met his match. It is obvious the moment is entertaining at the very least for the falconer and she sets he mug of water down back on the bar when she is done, looking up to Dafydd orders the food and gives his reproach after. "I don't think this lesson is hard to grasp on to…I am certain of it." There is a twinge of a smirk still on her lips she does her best to wipe it away.
Her gaze moves back to Kathryna as she then takes up a mantle of conversation. "Tell me, what brings you from the Iron Isles?"
And then there was much fanfare, trumpets and great celebration….or not. Really, there's simply the opening of the inn door, and the entry of three people. A lady's maid, fiery of hair, a darker brunette, dressed in well-stitched, if less ostentatious dress than might be usual of the noblewomen of the Roost, and an older sworn sword, bearing the marks of House Terrick, with a favour of Camden blue at his belt. And all three mostly quiet, mostly silent. The brunette in particular, as she peers across the room, and having found her quarry, begins to inch her way through the press and towards the bar. There's no mirror image, to mark the brunette and the blonde Captain of the Guard, but at the edges, perhaps, some similarity of feature to mark Liliana Camden as sharing the man's blood.
Finally, tired of waiting and standing, Kate moves towards the side of the bar and one of the tall stools there. She is alone, she needed make room for anyone else to sit, and as more people pile in through the door, she is at least polite enough to get out of the way. Her too-pale eyes, almost haunting in their lack of colour, flicker momentarily across the new entrants, but the iron born is far too amused and intrigued by her current conversational partners to stop. The nigh-unto grin that comes from the Falconer receives a small waggle of her eyebrows and another of those husky, easy laughs. "So you are saying that the Tall Oaks these men would offer would not be hard to grasp? Mm, surely you jest. At least a handful, I would guess."
Were this the iron isles, that'd get an uproarous laughter from most of her crew. But it's not, and a heartbeat later the pale woman seems to realize that might have been a BIT too far. She clears her throat and sits up straighter, "But! As you ask… I am, in fact, here to actually learn of such things. To attempt and possibly strengthen more… Understanding relations between the Iron Isles and the Roost. An iron born was recently killed a few months past. I am hoping to ensure such things do not… Carelessly happen again in the future. I suppose you could call me a diplomat." Though that word makes her nose wrinkle just a touch.
Dafydd raises his brows in momentary surprise. The bawdy certainly, obviously, wasn't expected. Now, however, there's a shifting of manner; there's understanding there now, and there's little note given, though he'll certainly address it later. The mere idea of diplomat is granted a chuff of breath in brief amusement. There's diplomacy and then there's.. diplomacy.
Now belongs to his niece that he espies entering the inn with her discrete but proper retinue. The advance of a proper lady, and any response will not be given in her presence. A smile hints at his face, his expression changing from the pensive to the pleased. "Niece.." Dafydd sounds honestly happy to see the young woman. "I was going to call on you once we were settled, to check on you and your progress."
"Diplomat, though by guesses and that look on your face you do not so enjoy your job.." Damara says, contuing the conversation where the Lord sees fit to end it. But when he turns to greet Liliana, the falconer does as well. "Lady Liliana." She dips her head and bows to the woman in greeting. Rising she offers the younger woman a smile and allows Uncle and niece to speak amongst themselves.
It is to Kathryna the common born looks. "The killing happened in Stonebridge from what I gathered." She explains. "That is to the East of here. But the man was once a Terrick sworn, though I think they took the colors from him before he fought the Ironborn."
"Of course you were, Uncle, but I am soldiering along as best I can. When the guards announced your arrival along the road, I simply couldn't wait and made the journey myself." Liliana offers, with a respectful curtsey to her Lord Uncle, and an equally respectful one to the falconer, "Damara, I'm so glad you've come. I hope you both will consider staying at the Roost, your company would be much welcome." But the woman sitting and speaking with her uncle does not go unnoticed, and the crest upon her back, as reported by the soft whisper of her lady's maid, who's just now coming back from making the quick round. And she too receives that respectful gesture, "Lady Harlaw. Might I extend the welcome of the Roost to you." A dip of her head to indicate herself, "Lady Liliana Camden, ward of Lord Ser Jerold."
The Falconer has most of Kate's attention now, especially as she speaks knowledgeably of the matter at hand. That is given a brief nod, mental notes taken as her eyes grow a touch more sharp with interest. "Stonebridge. Lovely. I shall need to ride, it seems, to track down the full story of this matter. Still, if the man was once Terrick sworn, I suspect I have come to the right place. If nothing else, the Terricks are our closest neighbors. I am not truly worried about dwelling on one past mistake but…" Kate exhales quietly, "Ensuring it does not happen again. I am no fool. I know there is little good blood between us…" Her eyes then travel across her shoulder as the lovely young lady who just entered becomes to speak. Intriguing. She was knowledgeable. "But… perhaps things can change."
And then the lithe, compact woman shifts in her seat to fully face Liliana. She actually, almost athletically, springs off her barstool and back to her feet as she focuses upon the other woman, content to ignore the man and his ego. "Lady Liliana? It is an honour, then… I am indeed Lady Kathryna Harlaw. I must admit a touch of surprise that my name has preceded me." She half smiles. It is surprise, and also relief. It might also be a surprise to those collected that she is a -noble woman-. Dressed in leather pants. A long coat. A sword. This is how the Ironborn display their female nobility, it seems.
Dafydd accepts the curtsy of greeting with a slightly wider smile and gestures to a table that can hold a good number of people rather than hanging about at the bar. Gaining another ale in hand, he begins to cross to the seating, leaving the others to follow (or not) at their leisure. He'll need room to sit and eat when the food arrives.
Delaying for the greeting between the women, his brows rise again to hear tell of her noble birth. Blue eyes narrow appraisingly at the Ironborn once again, now identified.. and he shakes his head once, as if clearing the thoughts from his mind. Must not completely work as he exhales in a quiet sigh before clearing his throat. "Liliana.. join me, if only for a little while." He pauses, before looking to Damara and the Lady Kathryna. The words are almost.. forced from his lips as he offers a seat to the pair of women that have somehow found something of a kinship.
"Lady… Mistress?" Rather than out and out inviting, he gestures towards the table, the intent is there anyway.
"Doubtless there is more to the tale than I even know. But it was an affair that was not forgotten.." Damara intones and then as Liliana identifies the crest, jade eyes lower to that of the scythe on black. She hmmmms thoughtfully and as the noble is suddenly pronounced as such, the mistress removes her hand from the mug of water on the bar and gives a bow as is required of her. "Lady." She intones, some of that openness that was once there seems to fall short now.
As things begin moving, the falconer keeps her tongue. As much as Kathryna and her might share similarities, many things are still quite different between the two. "My Lord." Is her reply, somber and seemingly just as restrained and respectful. She gives the Lady Harlaw a look before taking up her water and moving to join the two Camdens at their table, taking up a far seat to allow the nobles to sit in a cluster.
"We received word that an emissary was due to arrive, but not much more than that. I am glad to see that you arrived on our shores safe and in good health." Which, considering how little love there is for the Ironborn in the area, well, that's a relief. But Liliana makes no mention of that. Her manner as open and friendly as ever, though she offers a slight curtsey to Dafydd at his command, "Of course, Uncle." A brief pause, to speak to her maid, "Eli, will you check with the barkeep, and see that enough is brought for all of us?" The redhead bobs a curtsey and dashes off, moving at speed. "I was sorry to have missed you at the tournament, Uncle. I would have liked to have competed against you in the archery contest." Liliana purposefully makes room for Damara to join them, "Have you found lodgings suitable to your needs, Lady Harlaw?"
Kate is almost watching the Lord like a hawk to see exactly what his reaction might be to her revealed nobility. She knows she is an anomoly, to be mild about it, among these warm and dry lands. As he almost manages to restrain himself, she arches both slender brows and just smiles in a privately thoughtful amusement to herself. She then pauses to look back to the serving man, ordering herself an ale and giving good payment and tip up front.
Damara's information about the matter isn't forgotten, and she nods respectfully to the common born, apparently not having any issue with her lacking nobility. "Well, Mistress… ah… I did not catch your name? I appreciate that bit of information. I am certain the whole tale will come out soon enough. It is what prompted my journey, after all. Hopefully it will be the most sour note of this trip." For an iron born, she is attempting to look upon this all with a good attitude. Perhaps it's a matter of if she does not laugh, she could cry at this odd turn of circumstances where in she has found herself. Then the invitation comes from Dafydd and she rolls her thin, leather clad shoulders in a shrug. "Might as well take drink together." She lazily heads over to the table, though she takes the chair closest to Damara, swinging it around to straddle the thing comfortably. She downs a good gulp of her ale before looking back to Liliana, that sardonic smirk coming back to her somewhat full, pale mouth. "Thank you for the well wishes. The Drowned God sought fit to give us a good journey across the water. It was an easy trip, in truth." Shocking truth. "Except for my arriving to realize that nigh unto all of course has run off to the Riverlands. I've enough coin to manage lodgings, but it did delay my… formal presentation, so to speak."
"Then it's better that I did not attend, as much as I was disappointed that I couldn't take the opportunity to see you once again, niece. Then you had the opportunity to best them all without my taking your victory." It's given in good natured jest, certainly. Dafydd is pleased with Liliana's ability, proud of her being able to straddle ability with propriety.
Kathryna's approach to the table brings appraising blue eyes back, watching the swagger. "How are you finding," civilization "the Roost so far? How long have you been here?"
Damara's arrival at the table is acknowledged with a nod. She's where she should be, and needs to be.
"Mistress will do. But I am Damara Kells, falconer to the House Camden." She explains to the Ironborn before taking her seat. Staying near to Liliana's side as she can without warring into their little conversation, the falconer than looks to Kathryna as she sits then to her other side. This brings a faint smile and Damara looks to Dafydd, giving a nod of her head back and taking to her water with a slow sip. She looks from the Lord to the Lady Harlaw and shifts. Dafydd is if nothing but presentable but his tone is another as she looks to Liliana a moment with a fond smile. Best not to stick her foot in this one. Jade eyes lower to 'study' the grain of the wood table but she is all ears for these exchanges.
Liliana, while seeming comfortable enough at the table, seems disinclined to take anything to drink or eat, though the serving maids bring out what's been ordered readily enough, "If it would be amiable to you, Lady Harlaw, a suite of rooms have already been prepared at the Tower for the use of the emissary," which, obviously, is now a known quantity. "My Lord Ser Jerold has extended all of the courtesies and hospitality of the Roost to you, and I know that he is looking forward to being able to meet with you." A smile to Damara, another to her Uncle, "And your rooms await you as well." Lili is nothing if not efficient, when it comes to managing household details. "I did very well at the archery, Uncle, and I was also permitted to participate in the hunt. I did my best to represent my Houses," being as she is, for the time being, of both Camden and Terrick, "to the best of my abilities."
The Lady Harlaw remains fairly close to Damara, looking like she might possibly be entirely more comfortable with the falconer than she is anyone else at the table, but then it is a fairly good guess that polite noble society as the Westerosi see it isn't exactly a comfort area for Kate. She knocks back a long, deep drink of her ale, downing it like a man lost in a desert with water. She's got a thirst for the stuff, it seems. Her ice eyes then flicker back to Dafydd, shrugging casually at his question. "But a handful of days. It is… Warm. Pleasant. An easy land on which to live." From the tone of her voice, that is necessarily not a good thing. It's a weakness, most like. She then looks back to the Falconer, nodding in approval as she catches the lady's position. "It's good to see some women in this land know the worth of a good day's work."
And then she blinks, looking back to Liliana, especially as the young lady just most smoothly demonstrates her clearly well trained ability to organize a house hold. "Uh, no offense met, Lady Liliana. I am certain the house hold keeps you busy, figuring out where to stash all us wanderers where we won't stumble across each other going to the chamber pot!"
The refill of ale is taken first, the first swallows taken before returning the glass ot the table and grabbing a piece of bread. Breaking it, Dafydd dips it into the juices of the meat now placed upon the table, within reach.
"Very well is .. what exactly? Tell me," he speaks between chewing and swallowing his food, "that you bested most." It is the honour of the House, after all.. and while not part of the criterion, it may aid in the finding of a husband. One that is demure and able.
Dafydd finishes off the heel of his bread, and tearing off the next piece addresses the now known Lady Harlaw. "Lady, our ladies work how and when it pleases us. The running of a household is no small feat. The making welcome of guests and wanders is a noble endeavor, and one worthy of praise. The tilling of the soil or the calling of hawks isn't all that is praiseworthy. Do not discount the efforts even if they seem.. slight. It would not be proper for us to add to their already heavy load." Does he actually appreciate the labours of ladies? What?
"There are many that do, my Lady. I do what I am abled at, that is all." Damara intones, but seems gracious enough for the compliment to dip her head. The food itself is something the falconer partakes of as well. Reaching for some bread to dress with bits of meat. But as Liliana and her means of tending the household is brought into the light, the Mistress smiles. "Aye, I do not envy the Lady Liliana one measure." SHe winks at the young Lady in a familiar way. It is obvious that Dafydd is the odd one out for comfort save with this family.
LIfting the meat dressed bread, she folds it and begins to eat of it, her empty stomach more than glad for the food. The smell alone is something to give her joy. Relaxing some as she sits, she looks to Dafydd, actually smiling faintly while she reaches for a boiled carrot. "What is you do yourself when you are not being a diplomat, Lady Harlaw?"
"Most, but not all. There were many worthy competitors at the tournament. I was pleased to face such a challenge." But there's soft laughter, at the other Lady's comment, "I take no offense, Lady Harlaw. Though I think, perhaps looking in on the place and the manner in which we live here, you see more often, perhaps, the luxuries than the labour required to acquire and then maintain them. There is as much challenge in the well-run household as there is in the labours of the field, as their are in more martial pursuits. More often than not, in these days, my skill with the bow and the spear are replaced by the need for a quick mind and a steady hand. But one set of skills informs the other, or so I have come to believe. Though you will be happy to know that you will not have to fight for a chamberpot at the tower. We are well appointed in that way, if that makes your decision to stay with us or not an easier thing." And as the conversation shifts slightly away from her, Liliana seems content enough to finally accept a glass of chilled water, and a small sampling of the evening meal."
The pale woman allows her eyes to hover on Dafydd for a moment, actually having to swallow back comments about house hold chores. It can probably be seen that she's restraining something, but at least she's learning. Kate gulps her ale instead, letting the process of drinking give her brain a few moments to reevaluate her words. Once the ale is dropped, she gives the noble Lord and Lady a simple, rather cool smile. "I ask forgiveness. Household work has… never been my strong suit. Perhaps it will be something I have the chance to … learn… during my time here. An… -exchange- of cultures, instead of a clash.. For once." Yes. She believes that. She's really, really TRYING to believe that. Cold eyes or not. That smile remain, though it has a slight twitch, across her ice pale face.
The question from the falconer draws a small laugh. "I spent most of my adult years as a body guard. We do not generally keep knights among halls that honour the Drowned God, but that might be a fairly close comparison to how I have conducted my life." That would explain the scars, at least two of them visible upon her face alone, and the weapons that she wears. Liliana is then graced with her eyes once more, toned shoulders rolling in her customary shrug. "If it is not a burden, I would be honoured to stay in the accommodations you have prepared. There will need to be many… Leaps… Nay, flights of trust, if any sort of diplomatic relations are to be made on years of bad blood. I might as well make the first damned step." The last few words are almost growled out of her throaty voice, husky and mezzo from years of shouting across decks or down halls. She then sinks a bit deeper against the front of the chair, legs sprawled, body as comfortable as one can possibly be considering the circumstances.
No one ever said that one is comfortable in the presence of nobles, because even in the Westerosi lands, nobles are distrustful (at the heart) of others, though they may pretend otherwise. Families are mostly exempt, but even then…
While it is nice to have a backing in opinion from the Mistress Damara, Dafydd takes it as red that there are no disagreements while seated at this particular table. He nods his head at her words, taking the opportunity to break more of the thick-crusted bread and to sop the juices before taking a knife to the meat to tear the flesh and place it with a potato.. and eat. "The Lady Liliana could have more bothersome chores than she has, but these she does admirably. They'd be a fool for changing her role."
A chuckle escapes him at his niece's words regarding the comfort of a chamberpot. It is true, however, her words regarding skills feeding one to another.
"Perhaps, then, Lady Harlaw, you will learn more than you or your family ever dreamed. I think you may find our way of life pleasing, once you accept the reasons for that which we do. And," Dafydd grants this, "perhaps those in the Roost will look favourably upon your.. abilities and find your skills valuable. I know my brother, the Lord of Tall Oaks, would be fascinated and would hear stories for hours."
Three women, Dafydd is outdone at least in those odds. Damara is quiet for her part, looking to the Lady Harlaw at her job description. "I see, it answers many telling things about you." The Mistress muses and then clears her throat, keeping quiet as she instead sups on more food. A few more carrots and then her folded sandwich is finished. Water is sought and she downs a couple of gulps before she looks about and begins to rise.
"As I suspect you will wish to visit with the Ladies, I shall go on ahead and see to most of our gathering. I will leave a few men for you, but we shall get the horses stripped and brushed down." She waits for his leave.
Dafydd nods his acknowledgement of Damara's request, following it up with, "Mistress.". Leave given, the Captain shifts in his seat, reminded that there is yet time before his duties call him elsewhere. Finishing up his bite of food, he follows it with a swallow of his ale, twisting around to catch in the corner of his eye the number of 'Ladies' that remain, and which may catch his attention. It's fleeting, but enough to get an idea to be pursued later.
"Liliana.. if you would go with the Mistress and help her with Gethin?" His mount.
The Lady rises from her seat, having only gotten a nibble on the food, and a little bit of the water. "Of course, Uncle." At her rising, her maid traveling with her also comes into view, and with proper courtesies in the form of mild curtsies, she smiles, "Welcome again, Lady Harlaw.. if there is anything you may need, please look for me and I'll do what I can to accommodate you." And it's off she, too, goes.
Dafydd watches his niece depart, a nod in acknowledgement for her as well before he looks to the Ironborn. "Do you, too, have aught to be elsewhere as well, Lady?" As if Damara was escaping? "Do not let me keep you from your pleasure." His smile shifts and there's something of a gleam in his eye, "Perhaps there is some lordling that must be bested, or perhaps a squire that needs to be beaten. Or, tell me, do your amusements carry more depth?"
Kathryna blinks in slight confusion as Damara takes her leave murmuring about him visiting the ladies, but Liliana is taking her leave as well. There aren't many ladies left for him to be visiting -with-. Apparently, whoring nobles hasn't even CROSSED her mind. That's what salt wives were for. She stands respectfully, bowing her head to Liliana and offering her hand for a brief, strong shake to Damara. Once that is done, she turns back to him and half smirks.
"I do not think there are many ladies -left- to be visited now. Just this one. But no, I have naught elsewhere to be. Unless the court returns, I am essentially free to enjoy the sun and, yes… Hopefully find a sparring partner or two. It would do no good to let these summerlands soften me up as well. Eventually, I will have to return home." She finishes off her ale with one more gulp, setting the empty glass down and clapping twice for the serving girl. She motions to both her's and his mug and hands over payment before he can. Ale always makes alliances flow easier. That familiar, sardonic smirk takes her full mouth again. "My amusements carry many different layers, yes… but there is little to get the blood flowing like a good fight."
A nod of her head is given deeply to the Lord and she looks to Liliana. But is it the hand that is offered to her that Damara takes. A firm grasp is given back in turn and she gives the woman a faint smile. "I look forward to speaking with you further while you stay at the Roost." She dips her head to Kathryna as a sign of respect much as she had for Dafydd.
Stepping back from the table, she turns, smoothing her belt into place as she follows the Lady Liliana out the door. Things to see to and matters to attend.
Salt wives be damned. Women have a way of trying to get something, even those used as.. warmers. Even the whores in Tall Oaks are starting to get a little possessive, fighting over time spent in one bed or another. In that case, it's the thought of bedding the Lord rather than his sparkling personality. And there are a good number fewer whores home than without.
Kathryna's.. innocence? Naitivity? regarding the 'ladies' of which Damara was referring brings a bark of laughter from the Captain. He doesn't correct her, nor does he fill her in with the particulars. To speak of such isn't particularly 'de rigeur'. One simply doesn't discuss it with ladies. Couch it in other terms, sure… As a result, Dafydd waves a hand dismissively in the thought, though there is that hope that he'll get away soon <tm> and enjoy a little bit of flesh that is available.
"With the discussions between the houses at the level they are currently at, I would think that it may not be all that difficult to find someone with whom to spar. As well as they are thick enough to forget that you are a lady, that is. There are standards of behavior that we strive for, and sparring with women simply isn't one of them. In my land, most all are archers, and good ones. Women, children as well as men. From the youngest, if they can pull a string, they can bend a bow.. but here, shooting means having food on the table. We consider it," much to Dafydd's annoyance, "a secondary application when used for war." The explanation continues, "Which is why the Lady Liliana was quite within her rights to bend the bow in competition. Accuracy is just as important for bringing down game as it is to kill a man."
The pale iron born might not have at first realized what he was discussing, but she's intelligent. Sharply so. The fact that she's missed something behind the conversation is -not- lost on her. Her ice eyes narrow a bit more, trying to pick apart that eager, perhaps slightly flushed look on his face and the odd silence about being left with her. That did pique her curiosity, a dangerous thing on the worst of days. "If you were not discussing being left with myself and Lady Liliana, which ladies were the point of the birder's statement."
He might be being polite, but that is not something Kate seems to care about in the least, from her dress, to her words and even to the way she sits. So she asks, flat out, her curiosity having gotten the better of her. The commentary on more martial aspects draws a slight nod, "I know the bow as well, though it is not as effective in gathering food in the Iron Isles. For that, you must learn to fish. Still… it perhaps gives some common ground with myself and my… Peers of this court. It is good to know." She bows her head in thanks for him. She might not be much of a diplomat, but she's learning.
Brows rise to crease his forehead in a moment of surprise at the directness of the question. Blue eyes narrow quickly after, and Dafydd actually considers his words, torn between his upbringing and the obvious lack thereof of his companion. There aren't any delicacies, that he can see, in her manners— but to speak plainly? There's the half smile, half grimace as the decision is made, and it is to explain the Hawkmistress' not-so-cryptic words.
"She was referring to the whores, my lady." There, some manners, at least. "The same ones become tiresome."
There.. that done and set aside (as far as he's concerned), it's the next that brings his attention around. "I'm glad I could be of some small aid," the words on the verge of being sarcastic, yet still polite. "As for whether or not they'll spar, I honestly don't know."
Oh! Oh. Kate's eyes widen for one moment and then it's her turn to all out laugh as the pieces fall into place. She looks to the back door of the inn and a few more things click into realization. She laughs a bit more, deep and husky, someone who does enjoy life despite it's harsh, painful nature. Shaking her head slowly, she smirks to him, "Aye, yes. A worth while woman is hard to find. Once you do, that's when you take her for a salt wife, or whatever you call them here. But if you've not had such luck, well, go! Go! No need for us to make awkward small talk here. I am certainly not taking you to bed! Go, enjoy yourself, Lord. We shall meet again, no doubt." There is still a hint of laughter in her voice, though the last statement is an oddly dark, knowing sort of promise. A touch more serious than everything else she's said.
Permission to whore? Now, even if Dafydd wanted to..
Rising to his feet, the Captain puts coin down upon the table to pay for his ale. "Save your coin in case you need a room." After all, she did say that she didn't have a lot to spare.
"Time runs short and our group needs attending." He inclines his head in the beginnings of a bow, "Lady, a pleasure," courteous lies? Shades of diplomacy? Okay, more truth than not. "I trust we shall run into each other again while we stay here. I will tell my brother of your presence, so you may expect the introductions later— when we are settled."
The fact that he is -not- going off to whore now does seem to perplex her. The secrecy and delicacy around the act of sex seems to bother her more than anything else. Perhaps she's simply too accustomed to being one of the men. Kate shakes her head slowly and stands from the big table, waving off his coin. "I have plenty. Go, Lord. It was… most certainly -interesting- meeting you." She admits with a sideways sort of husky laugh. One last ice eyed look in his direction and she moves back to the bar to sit and brood over more ale.
Kathryna pauses before she fully walks away. "You've a brother? There's -two- of you? Well, this trip shall be more and more interesting with every passing day, no doubt." She gives another of those little laughs, and then disappears into the crowd of the inn back to the bar.