|Page 039: Lavender Linens and Molasses Candy|
|Summary:||Stragen meets a friend from not so long ago, but first exchanges words with Eyrian about her still being in Terrick's Roost. Igara takes the Blackbird away for a ride in her carriage.|
|Date:||20 Aug 288|
|Town Square - Terrick's Roost|
|The town square of Terrick's Roost could be considered well-kept by the standards of the surrounding area. The stone streets run right up to the building fronts around the edge and the locals have kept the spaces between free of grass and weeds that might otherwise upstart between them. There are several homes and nicer shops located here which incline their business or residents towards those not of the peasantry. The Sept of the town can also be seen from here with its ornate stone front rising above the surrounding structures just down the cobblestone road.|
The mid-morning is actually a lovely time for the heat during this time of year and the town square is most active now before the afternoon drives away even some of the most bold. As the tavern has had a loss of servers, Eyrian now known as Deanna struggles with a large wooden pale for the central well to help fill the holding trough in the kitchen. A soft white linen wrap coils her hair away from her though dark strands of auburn make escape it's hold. She has adapted to the bodice and skirts, her sleeves of the blouse rolled up as she scuffs feet against the worn ground.
She rests both pails down next to the well, leaning against it as she dumps out the old water to the side and wipes at her brow with the back of her hand. Her skirts have been gathered and belted in such a fashion as to leave ner ankles and shins bare for the moment, her neck trickling with some sweat as well. As the river of old water sets down the dirt path, there is a muttered curse at her from a passing merchant who steps into the soapy water. She ignores it and starts to hook her pail to the extra rope.
Igara is getting a late start due to some fond good-byes that have lingered through the morning, and even now her small entourage is stopping for provisions. For her part, she's settled enough, with a small collection of snacks she is doubtful she'll eat, and some chilled teaberry-tea to help soothe her through what she's grumpy to acknowledge will be a wretched afternoon passage to the Stonebridge. And so her eyes are gloomy as she looks out her opened carriage-window, book left untouched in her lap as she watches the kitchen lass haul the water.
Some of the red in her hair done so by calendula and marigold flowers is wearing away with both the sweat, heat and son. A bead of water rushes down her temple, faintly colored in coppery pink. That is if one was close enough to see. Though the linen wrap is showing some coloration to it from her efforts to hide some of her natural color. Eyrain lowers the pail downward, hand over hand to the rope as her head lifts to the passing carriage. A curious brow quirks a moment and she catches a set of eyes, but with the passing of other smallfolk, it's hard to make out at first and she hears the telltale splash of the bucket. She grabs the main portion of the rope and gives it a good hard wiggle to get it to tip and sink.
Even sworn swords get a day off. Stragen, walking along with a purse in his hand, jingles it close to his ear with a childish grin. "Oh, the fun we are going to have," he says to his bounty of coppers. As he passes by the well, his smile rapidly departs, and he halts, looking as if he was suddenly struck dumb. He looks over his shoulder, and there's no doubt that he's staring straight at Eyrian. "Oh, for the love of…" He mutters, cutting himself short from completing the curse. Drawing up to be beside Eyrian, he turns away, making as if he's judging his purse again. But instead he says, sidelong, "I thought we agreed you would be heading south?"
Irys arrives from the Rockcliff Inn.
Irys has arrived.
Igara's eyes are keen, and, once she's spotted the quarry, as it were, she seems to gaze straight through the people passing between her and the lass at the well. She shifts a little bit to her side, pulling up her legs beside her on the bench seat inside the carriage, leaning closer toward the door to rest her head against the interior and level her gaze that way. A few slow breaths pass, and then she begins to sing, a light and airy tune, in the wavering tones of one singing to herself.
Igara is in a carriage, slowly drawing its way through the square and not far away at the well is Eyrian now known as Deanna and one of the newer servers at the Tavern with the sworn sword, Stragen who is attempting to look like he is not talking to her.
'Deanna' looks up at the sound of those words from the blonde male and she blinks, nearly dropping her pail. She looks back down to her work, she continues to pull that bucket up, giving measured full tugs down from the pulley. "Well.." She grunts and continues to work, "Seems the murder has the servers taken into protective custody so I was bid on pain of leaving…to stay." She grunts again and slowly the bucket is drawn up. Yet it is the soft song that finally meets her ear that has her stop, looking a tad uncomfortable as her head lifts again, searching and now Eyrian might more easily be seen.
"I don't understand," the tall blonde sword beside her says, squinting his eyes, glancing her way. "If you were told you could stay, why the disguise?" Stragen continues to regard his purse, even so much as dump out a few of the smaller copper demonimations to regard in the sunlight.
The door of the Inn opens and a tiny woman in indigo linen finds herself lounging in the doorway. Her hair is a sparkling blonde and her arms… are bare. No sleeves on her dress at all. The woman's insouciance extends only far enough to incorporate the lazy stance of her body. The rest of her is wide awake and intensely alert as she watches the town go about its business.
"Blackbird, Blackbird, fly through my window," Igara continues to utter the words in soft-pattering succession, forehead nestled in the curve of the carriage-wall, "Blackbird, Blackbird, fly through my window," she goes on, before switching to a tuneless, girlish humming, just waiting for Eyrian to find her eyes, ready and waiting there to fix her with a look.
"I was not told I could stay..rather 'Deanna' was told she would stay because the tavern keeper lost a servant. So here I am." She says lowly to Stragen. But those words give her even more pause as she sets the bucket to the rim of the well. A tired hand brushes a worn lock of hair from her face that had wiggled it's way free. Her dark gaze lifts back to the carriage only in passing till that small face makes her still. Lips part and Eyrian swallows. She does not look away, instead stares at Igara as she passes slowly in that carriage.
Stragen grumbles at that news. "Things are changing too fast for me to keep up. I'm stuck in that damned tower most of the time," he says at a low volume to her. "What murder? What happened? You'll have to fill me in." His attention, too, is drawn to the carriage, and he straightens up in his posture.
Blue eyes suddenly lock on Stragen. The whore in the doorway gets a sly grin on her face and ambles down into the crowds. Due to her miniscule height, she would be easy to miss, slight as she is, in all the weavings and comings and goings.
When finally she resurfaces, it's right at the huge man's elbow, and she runs a hand up the back of his arm. "Following me to the Riverlands, Stragen?" she says in a light voice. "I didn't think you'd miss me that much." Deanna is given a little wink. Igara, however, if she is noticed at all, is not acknowledged yet.
Igara knows that her Blackbird heard her. She keeps eye contact with the woman for as long as the eye contact is offered, lips beginning to slowly move again with the song that speaks of her bidding, though the corners of her mouth twist upward in a tiny smile around the words. "… and find molasses candy."
The new girl. Eyrian hears the voice from beside her and then hear's Stragen's name. A brow kicks upward and she gives him a long look. A crooked smile washes her lips and the minstrel now turned bar wench sets the bucket to the ground with a bend and a huff as some of the water sloshes over and wets her hands and feet. "I should leave you to, to yourselves.." She comments offhandedly and eyes them a moment before she rounds the well and hesitantly begins to pick her way towards the carriage if she is not stopped. Those dark eyes linger on Igara and as she draws next to the carriage, she is dipping a curtsey. "My Lady.." She intones softly, that wicked sly smile having fled on her walk towards the Frey.
Looking over at the sound of his name being called, Stragen's expression goes from frowning at Eyrian to growing surprise at Irys. "I- Irys?" He asks of her, looking shocked. Then, a growing grin. Literally, he rushes forward and sweeps her off her feet, wrapping her up in a giant hug which sends her on a brief ride around in a circle in the large man's arms. "What are you doing here? What, follow you? I've been here for a few months already. When did you get here?" He regards the young woman as if she were some sort of relative or good friend.
"Deanna, let me introduce… er?" She's no longer there. She's made her way over to Lady Igara's carriage.
Igara slides one arm to be poised artlessly along the curved wall of the carriage behind her head, letting her get quite close to the window whereby she might converse with the young lass. When the guards still by the carriage begin to fuss, "'Tis all well, good sirs," she tells them, lifting her voice enough to be heard, not taking her eyes off of Eyrian, but sending her free hand just through the window for Eyrian to take in greeting, if she will. "Where has your smile flown to, blackbird? Won't you smile for me? But come inside and sit with me a while."
Irys lets loose a giggle that is decidedly honest and comes from her toes as she's swung around in a bearhug by a man more than a foot taller than she. It's quite literally like tossing a doll around. "I got here yesterday," she says, blue eyes snapping and twinkling. "Left King's Landing a year ago. That's another story entirely though…" The twinkle dies a little and the girl shrugs before screwing that smile back into place. "Anyway. Ended up in the Riverlands and made my way here." She follows Stragen's gaze for a moment before responding softly. "We've met. I'm working at the Inn here for a while. I'm short on money these days."
The guards are given a wary look and Eyrian rises to take that hand and give it a kiss. As the smile is asked of her, the minstrel offers a soft one even as a pink colored sweat droplet runs down the side of her face. "My Lady.." She eyes the carriage hesitantly and then the guards. "If your guards will allow one as myself…I would do as you ask." Those dark eyes are careful to track the Lady's sworn. So Stragen's introduction goes unnoticed as the Blackbird eyes the gilded cage once more. Not such a perfect disguise is her hair to the trained eye and Igara knows her. Releasing the Lady's hand, she steps back and gives a look to the guards before she opens the door and takes that step within to join the Lady Frey, the carriage shifting with her weight as she finally settles within the shade inside.
"Aye, I was short on coin as well. Then I fell into a barfight and ended up a Terrick paid sword. I'm still not sure it's true." Smirking sarcastically, Stragen releases the woman but rests his hands gently on her shoulders. It seems personal space is not an issue for these two. His eyes quickly glance past her to watch Deanna step into Igara's carriage, and there's a hint of a narrowing that suggests he's curious. But, he shelves that for now, returning his attention to Irys with a smile.
Igara gives the guards a bright and cheerful nod, and then the last sight available to the outside world is Igara's delicate little hand pulling at a ribbon-binding and letting the window-shade fall into place.
Irys blinks rapidly as she looks up at the man's face. Her shoulders are bare to his hands, modesty not an issue for a woman of her profession. "YOU? Sworn to a house?" Irys laughs softly. "My my, how things do change." She lifts her hands to rest over his. "Come. It's too hot to be lingering in the dirt and dust with dry throats." She smirks a little but lets it slide into a smile. "It's good to see you," she murmurs.
"Aye, let me buy you a drink with Terrick gold!" Stragen laughs, wrapping his arm around the woman's shoulder. He leads her off towards one of the several drinking establishments in town that's not the Rockcliff. "I'd take you to the Rockcliff, but, there's a story behind that," he begins.