|Lord of Stonebridge|
|Summary:||Seeing after the visiting Lord, Isolde tries a bid at faith based on first impressions.|
|Related Logs:||Just a Little Rain|
|Tower Hall (Main room and guest chambers)|
|The entrance to the tower opens into a larger common room for receiving guests. Effort has been made to bring warmth and light to the interior, as well. Rugs have been hung from the stone walls as well as placed on the floor to bring at a welcoming ambiance. There is a large table with several chairs off to the left of the door, a cooking hearth against the back wall, and a wooden staircase that leads up. An antechamber behind the stairs is where the servants live and bed down.|
|Mon July 17, 288|
No one is inside when Ryker enters the small holdings of Tower Hall, simplistic yet inviting, the fire is lit and burning despite the heat outside. The smell of started stew is noted but it seems the Widow of the Hall is out and taken with her, her servants and retinue. The crackle of the logs in the fireplace sound in that silence. He is given time to study what is within the first floor, the worn table top of knotted wood smooth and blessed in years of use. At the long end is a larger chair, carved and more intricate than the rest for the Lord of the House. But upon one stool, near the fire is some needlework and basket. There is a name there, carved into the lower seat and it says 'Isolde', it appears to have been made and for one person alone. There are other things, small favors for the house Tordane and above the fireplace rests the swords of the lost men of the House. A house that will die the day the two are wed.
Ten minutes or so pass and finally the door opens and clangs faintly as Isolde closes it, the rain still coming down hard. Her basket is set by the door and she creates puddles to match the ones he left as she brushes water from her face. Her head lifts and she takes up the roses again. "I am sorry to keep you waiting.." She moves towards the fire and smooths her hair back, tilting her head to look up at him now in what light is offered.
Ryker's little puddles can be seen to move around the stone, but he stays away from the carpets and the wood floor where he can. He's looked over the table and come to stop in front of the fireplace and is attempting to dry off in front of it. His attention is on the pair of crossed swords, though. Ryker slicks his hair back again when she comes up beside him. He returns the expression with an easy smile then looks back to the swords. "As I recall of the news, they were returned to you. Your father and brother. ..I admired your father. I still do. We speak not long before I left for Riverrun." He looks back to her. "He went to fight in the rebellion while some of the influential Houses around him delayed or refused in their own ways. That was a righteous cause but a tragic loss to the Riverlands. My condolences, m'Lady. I wish I could have had a chance to know him in these days."
His kindness his not lost on her an Isolde gazes from him up to the swords. "They are buried here..,but were honoured in the home of their bannersworn Lord. He followed Lord Terrick very willingly and fell beneath his colors." The Lady explains. Her gaze drops and she pulls her hair over one shoulder to wring it out with soft driplets hitting the floor. "Thank you…" She finally says and stares at the fire as she tries to rid herself of some of the water. "It is not a day that goes by that my father and brother are not missed." Tragic, the loss of both. She lets out a long breath and then summons a tight smile to her lips. She looks over his drenched clothing and straightens as she makes the next comment rather factually. "You are never going to dry at this rate…your cloak, my lord..please be at east enough to remove your sword…" She holds out her hand to take his cloak. "Will you be staying with us?"
"Lord Terrick?" Ryker seems surprised. "Well I suppose that makes sense with what you've told me. I suspect my knowledge of the political landscape here is not what it used to be." He's still looking at the swords in a bit of admiration but his expression falls back to her at the mention of being missed. "These days require men of strong will. There is a cavern where he once stood." But at her comment to his clothing, he chuckles. "Once again, you are correct, Isolde. I didn't think it proper to disrobe in your home, though." Her home. It seems casual but likely that was not an accident. The man begins removing his riding jacket and jerkin, the jacket handed over and the jerkin lain at his feet. "If you would be kind enough to provide a bed for me, I would be honored to stay."
Taking the jacket, she moves to take the needlework off the stool near the fire and lay it over it gently and with care. Isolde does not watch him disrobe further, but keeps her head turned as she nods her head. "There are guest rooms and there is my brother's. There is more to offer within his if you would be willing." She says and then stops, as she straightens and casts a green gaze towards him. "The servants are with my Lady Mother, I do believe she left for Hag's Mire for a day or two to discuss a few things with your Lord Uncle. But Milicent is at the market, I think she shall be back soon to finish the evening's meal.
Again, she looks him over and then she nods her head, as if to confirm something. "Come, my Lord. I will show you the rooms." She turns from the fire, "I do need to change, and there may be something for you." She doesn't say what something, but heads for the stairs, grasping at her heavy skirts, leaving a wet trail as she goes.
Ryker removes the sword and lays it down carefully before removing his shirt. The man wrings it into the hearth. "A guest room will be fine. Your bother's room shall remain so, if it pleases you." He glances to her and rests the less-soggy shirt over his shoulder. The pants will stay on and just have to dry there for now. But as she moves to lead him away, the man follows. "Something for me?" He watches her with a playful smile. "Come now, no need to poison me. I can learn to roll over. I just need time and pratice." But he follows nontheless.
That smile is looked at with a faint flush of color and she shakes her head. She takes to the steps, almost soundlessly - she knows where to step. Unlike for her, the steps creak beneath his weight and as they meet the arch that is to the second floor, she breaks away from the stairs that continue upward. She passes the first door on the right and then stops before the left, keeping her gaze from looking at him openly. She opens the door and steps within. With no Milicent about, there is no one to set the fire and she dare not call in the elder Kiel. "This is the guest chamber, I shall fetch firewood from my room." SHe brushes past him, trying not to get too close before she leaves him to look over the meager furnishings.
The man follows her up, smirking at himself for watching how the wet cloth clings to her. He's a male. Some things cannot be helped. Especially when the woman is as beautiful as Isolde is. But at least he's subtle about it. There's no open staring. He's not a brute or dog — despite the jokes to the contrary. He steps inside and looks about, then following her with his head then turning his body as she moves past. "Uh, right. Okay. So.. if you need any help? Just call for me?" he offers to her departing form. He blinks, watching her go before he turns back to the rooms and plods his soggy bottom over towards the unlit hearth and lays out his shirt on it.
Isolde is not long, the door across the hall opened and left so as she gathers up a few larger pieces and then the smaller fire starters to be placed over top. The Lady returns, briskly so as to accomodate the Lord. Whether or not she is ready to believe him is another thing, but her behavior she believes will be commented on. She is silent, does not speak a word at first as she lowers to her arms to the floor to release the wood next to his hearth. One knee is set to the floor and she leans over and in to brush back the old ashes and set the larger logs first that will keep the fire going the longest.
"I will have Milicent send word to your sworn that a few can stay, but I fear Tower Hall does not accomodate larger groups. We..are not often used to entertaining. But the Crane's Crossing is a beautiful Inn, providing some entertainment for your men as well." She says without looking up from her work.
"That was quick," Ryker says conversationally. When she stoops with the wood, the man kneels beside her but is careful not to touch her. "M'Lady?" he reaches for a piece. "Go. Change and dry off. I will be fine. Tend to yourself. I can build a fire." He gives her a smirk but its an insistant look. "As for the sworn? They can take care of themselves. Especially if the Inn is as you say. Likely they are already drunk and just looking outside will be enough for them to reconsider the trek."
As he takes the piece, Isolde turns to look at him and then rises slowly. Perhaps it is his proximity that spooks her but she nods her head, "As you wish.." She offers and then smooths the hips of her skirts. "Either well, I will have word sent you plan to stay." She also insists. Give and take, she can choose her battles. The Lady hesitates and then turns, leaving the young Lord Nayland to tend to his hearth. The door is left ajar and her own chambers is closed with a soft click, leaving him to silence and her to change.
"I do appreciate it, Isolde. Thank you. Now.. Shoo.." He waves her away playfully. "Cease to be drippy and work towards warm and dry." He winks and goes back to building the fire. The wood is stacked easily and it is plain the man has done this many times. Likely for his wife.. in a town on the water surrounded by mountain passes. Even in the summer it likely gets cold. It doesn't take him but a moment or two in order to get the fire going. He settles down on the floor in front of it and begins peeling off his boots in the meantime.
Hastily changing, Isolde's door can soon be heard to open but there is yet any sign of her. Only the soft faint brush of skirts to the floor as they lessen down the hall. Another door opens and then there is silence, but the floor creaks in the room on the other side of his wall. There is the sound of something opening and then closing. A few more creaks, she is obviously unfamiliar with the room as the door is shut and she can be heard coming down the hall.
The Lady's figure appears at his doorway, hesitating as she holds a few articles of clothing draped over her arms. She dips her head quickly, "I tried to remember, but I think my brother as about your size. There are a few shirts, some tailored breeches and the like if it would suit you to try them on." She offers. "It is my fault to have kept you in the rain." Selfish that. Her dress is a very soft grey green that seems to make her eyes glow, it is worn and well loved - mended several times over and the tie wrapped about her waist keeps the layer of skirts up. Dark hair still is wet, draped about her shoulders as she moves to set the items on the edge of his bed.
Ryker looks up at the returning Isolde and then to the clothes in her hand. Then back to her. He finds himself staring at her eyes. Green eyes. He coughs and finally smiles. "You look beautiful. Again." Pulling off his last boot, he sets both by the fire and stands, watching her move. Its not the creepy stare of someone about to strike. He just watches her with his hands folded behind his back, nodding as she sets them down. "Isolde?" he calls gently. "If I didn't want to stand in the rain, I wouldn't have. I promise. Eventually?" He steps from the fire and over to the clothing shaking a finger at her, "You're going to stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault." He smirks and looks to the clothes on the bed, then, as he falls quiet. Eyes look them over but he doesn't touch them. The man knows what the gesture means to her. "You honor me, m'Lady. I- I don't even know if I could accept this just to wear temporarily." His own light blue eyes aim back at her, unsure.
Isolde can feel his eyes upon her and she steps back, folding her hands before her and not drawing her gaze up again. "Thank you, m'Lord." She says, his compliment again drawing a dip of her head as she waits. When he inspects the clothing she dares a look up before he looks back to her. Shifting her weight upon her feet, she nods her head in understanding. "You will soon be the Lord of Stonebridge, though Tordane is no more, you carry on part of them when you accept that. My brother can no more make use and clothing does not mourn the dead. I have nothing else for you to wear, m'lord, unless you choose to don a dress?" There is humor, but no smile as a dark brow lifts over a green eye.
Ryker says nothing while she speaks, only listening with the same unsure expression. But the last words get him to smile with that bit of levity. He blinks it away, though and looks back down to the clothing. A hand dips to rest its fingertips lightly on a shirt before he looks up to her again. "Isolde. M'Lady." Its said quietly. "I may be the Lord of Stonebridge, but I do so in the shadow of your family. Because I carry the name I do does not erase their memory. You carry the Tordance name, and thus, their spirit. Should there be children, your father's spirit will live on through your teaching to them. I can bring so much to it, but this tower was not built by the Nayland family. Those are not Nayland swords on the wall. This tower was built for your family. I intend to honor it so. Just as you honor me with this. Thank you." He waits for an acknowledgement from her before taking up the shirt and unfolding it carefully.
That hidden humor fades with his show of respect for the Tordane name and she closes her eyes. Her head bows nd Isolde can not find words at all. She is not angry at him, she does not hate him and this is wrong. She feels a twist within her and she had been prepared to dislike him, to detest the Nayland heir they would send to wed her and instead, she receives the opposite. She trembles and anger floods her for her feelings of acceptance and compassion and her mind turns inward to the man in Terrick's Roost. For a moment longer, she can not find words. When they do come, she has to clear her throat to try to unclog the emotion that threatens to steal her again. "It is my pleasure, my Lord. I shall leave you to dress and go to tend the fire and food below. Do you have need of anything else?" She asks of him, her head lifting to finally allow her gaze to return to him.
Ryker opens the shirt to look at it and judges it about the right size and slips it on. Its a little tight at the neck, but leaving a button open should fix it. Which he does, while watching her. Its mixed emotions for him as well. He knows she doesn't want to be here. After she speaks he nods, his voice still quiet when he speaks. "Thank you. I'll be down in a few minutes. But I require else nothing right now." He won't keep her. Ryker takes up the pants and looks to them, his own thoughts concealed behind the bearded face.
Isolde when given the ability, turns to go in silence. Anger wells up, but not at him, at herself. Her brows furrow when he can not see and the whisper of the skirts in her passing out of the room are hurried the last few steps. The stairs creak only once, her mind elsewhere in her descent to the floor below.