|Summary:||Danae returns to the Roost looking for Cherise, but finds Jacsen instead.|
|Related Logs:||None in particular.|
|The Green - Terrick's Roost|
|The Green is a large field of deep green grass, nearly flat, that runs along the base of the towers. The road into town runs along the far edge, hemming it in neatly to a confined area where beyond a line of trees serves as a subtle windbreak. This area is most often used for drilling or practice for the guards but also serves as home for festivals, tournements, and another other gathering that might require the space for a large number of the local residents. A well-trodden path winds around the side of the wall and moves towards the coastline.|
It's a warm afternoon across the Cape of Eagles, bringing sunlight and a faint breeze across a village that still struggles with shelter from inclement weather for many of its people, a welcome sign that the Seven have not forgotten their children at Terrick's Roost.
While the Green is often a place of drilling, or used in celebration, it right now serves as a gathering place for a few wagons of supplies and a large group of small folk and liveried Terrick men alike, many talking back and forth and beginning to apportion what materials there are to go around. The figure of the Young Lord of the Roost, unmistakable even to unfamiliar eyes, is visible from the road, where he speaks with one of the elder men of the village. Even with the war having come and gone, there is only one at the Roost to be expected dressed in fine clothes, in mourning black, and leaning quite so heavily upon a cane; Jacsen's eyes scan the area about them as he speaks with the animated individual, though the chat seems amicable enough.
Although Danae knows little of the young lord of the Roost, it is without doubt that she has heard of his particular stature, one which is hard to be missed amongst the wagons. Despite this, she does not approach immediately. Instead, livery clad guard at hand, she pauses to question a Terrick man with a somber expression, only to look shocked at his answer. The small lady might be easily missed in this crowd, if not for the tawny color of her hair which catches those warm hints of afternoon sunlight.
As Jacsen listens to the fellow with him speak, his eyes do seem to catch onto that distinctive color unusual in Riverland folk, though he does not forsake his conversation just yet. A few last words are offered and then the Young Lord of the Roost is moving, albeit leaning heavy on his cane as he does, in the direction of Danae and her guard. The elder man turns back to the wagons, and begins barking out some orders to the men with him.
There is further quiet, plaintive gesturing as Danae speaks more to Terrick man, trying to find that answer that she speaks. The man only bows, excusing himself from the lady to return to his momentarily delayed duty with her release. The Westerling lady sighs, sweeping a blonde lock form her eyes as she looks up at her guard with a disturbed expression and a word in askance. The man simply shakes his head. No. Whatever it is, no. When finally, Jacsen limps into her sight whatever ill feelings existed fall from Danae's features as she dips into a curtsey. "My lord Terrick, good day," she greets soft.
It is not graceful, but the Terrick Lord has at least over the years found ways in which to avoid the worst sight of his injury, moving smoother than those without the benefit of noble medicine at the time of their would could hope to. "Could it be that, at long last, I behold Lady Danae Westerling?" Jacsen asks as he nears, his lips turning upwards in a smile. Whether or not she is, he is interested enough to return her curtsey with a bow of his head and shoulders.
The livery at least indicates that he very might, unless there be another Westerling lady in the holds of the Riverlands. Danae smiles smoothly, inclining her head in a gentle nod as she gracefully unfolds from her curtsey, settling the lines of her gown with an easy hand. "It could be that you might, my Lord Terrick. I should hope that the vantage is not disappointing," she says softly. "I had not heard that I was oft spoken of in such interesting times as ours."
"Rather not, my lady, though I am certainly not the first to have said as much, of that I am certain." Jacsen's lips part in a small smile as he straightens. "And of course, my dearest sister Lucienne has had nothing but pleasant things to say about my lady," he promises. Such pleasantries given, his expression turns a touch more serious before he asks, "I could not help but notice your exchange with that fellow… is everything alright?"
"The lady Lucienne is more than kind and more gracious than necessary," Danae says softly, inclining her head head with a warm smile. "How fare your repairs, my lord? It seems that I have come on a busy day?" Her gentle attempt to continue the conversation on amiable grounds stutters to silence as Jacsen's expression turns serious. The small Westerling's shoulders droop a fraction, although her smile remains partially in tact. "Ah… No. Actually, your fellow just informed me that my cousin left for the fronts many days past, my lord."
It does take the man a short handful of seconds to recall the woman's cousin, seeking confirmation when he asks, "The Lady Cherise, is she not?"
"My pardon, my lord. Yes, the Lady Cherise Charlton," Danae clarifies, fingers curling anxiously in her skirts. "You haven't heard anything, have you? Last I knew she had taken temporary residence here…" But no longer.
Jacsen nods easily with the confirmation from the woman, before indicating some seating that has been arranged a bit away from the wagons. "Come and take some refreshment with me, won't you my lady?" His arm is readily offered if the woman seems inclined, and he makes her wait no longer to offer, "She was in residence here, but after the Lord Aron Haigh rode here, she was convinced to head to Seagard by carriage to see to her husband. As I understood it, he had taken a grave wound during the lifting of the siege… but he yet lives, of last word we've had."
"Oh." Blue eyes large and wide, Danae glances towards the arrangement of seating before looking back to Jacsen with a elegant dip of her chin. "Very well, my lord," she agrees, slipping her arm through his but lightly. There is a care taken for his impediment, no more weight laid upon him that that of her fingers against his arm as they move towards the seating. The sharper pressure of her fingers indicates her discomfiture as he continues, eyes growing ever larger as he illuminates the matter. "Oh….by the Seven."
His strength does not seem terribly diminished, but the woman is forced to slow her pace if she is to keep in tune with the Lord's pace, it a fair bit slower than a casual stride. "Forgive me for having to deliver such news, my lady," Jacsen asks of her when he feels her tightening grip upon his arm. "Perhaps we could arrange for word to be taken to your cousin when the next rider is sent out? It would not be so long for word to return, just a handful of days. We might even have news of her and her husband sooner, on the part of our own men at Seagard."
Still, until the sharp pressure of her fingers, Danae's touch on his arm is decidedly delicate although her pace slows to that of the Lord's. Clad in bulky skirts and blessed with far shorter legs, the pace that Jacsen sets is not too much slower than her own natural one and allows her the somber pause needed to recover from the news. "I — ill news is better than none at all, my lord," she offers, shaking her head tightly. "I would be grateful would that be so, although I have no urge to meddle in my cousin's affairs — I should like very much to know if they are well." Or if elsewise has come to pass.
Jacsen turns a glance to the Westerling Lady and offers a small smile meant to reassure, a motive that is shared by the cant of his similarly blue eyes. "I think a concerned family member is hardly meddling," he offers as they make their way at a slow gait across the green towards the camp chairs and the table between them. "And we should be pleased to do what we can to ease your concerns." His brow climbs a fraction as he asks, "Are you still in residence here, my lady?"
"I would be in your debt for the news," Danae assures quietly, breath fluttering with hesitance as she looks up at the Terrick lord. A hand is brushed against her skirts, the one not looped over his arm, regathering her composure as she swallows thickly. "No. I am not. I had ridden out with my men to check on my lady cousin, but… I have been residing in Stonebridge."
He nods lightly, and guides the woman over to one of the seats, waiting for her to disengage and be comfortable, or at least so much as she might be, before thinking of seating himself. "Then perhaps you will share with me what news there is from Stonebridge?" Jacsen suggests
He nods lightly, and guides the woman over to one of the seats, waiting for her to disengage and be comfortable, or at least so much as she might be, before thinking of seating himself. "Then perhaps you will share with me what news there is from Stonebridge?" Jacsen suggests as he lowers into the seat. "Most news comes from Seagard or elsewhere of late."
Danae's hand is neatly unwound from Jacsen's, the Lord is presented with a pretty smile as she folds herself into that offered seat. Whether it is in fact comfortable or not shows little in her manner, hands folded as gentilely into her lap as if it was a padded chaise. "I would gladly, however little there is to share," she agrees, tipping her head to one side. "Some of those combatants kept uninjured from the front begin to return…but little else is of note. Stonebridge was blessed to not be so hard hit by the raiders. How fair your repairs here at the Roost, my lord?"
"Ah," Jacsen looks a touch embarrassed, "You did ask me that once before, forgive me." He motions a servant close, whom politely inquires of the Lady if she would enjoy a cup of wine, which she might expect to be surely watered down some given the time of day and the constraining supplies of the Roost. "Things proceed apace, but as you can perhaps imagine, it is somewhat slow. Coin and materials both are still in dire need, and the challenge of finding food enough for the populace is sapping what progress we can make. But…" He receives a cup of the wine and takes a small sip before saying, "We are making progress. It will take time, for certain."
"Other notions took both our minds clean away, my lord," Danae says, dismissing any apology with a flit of her fingers. The offer of watered is wine is accepted with a polite nod, easy and proper as if they were meeting for a proper high tea. "It is not an easy situation, you have my sympathies in both. The occupation was long and from what I have but heard, harsh. Repairing the damage…at least with them cleaved from your shores, time is a luxury that you now possess."
Another small swallow of wine passes his lips, his expression a touch shaded. "I fear time is not precisely a friend in all this," Jacsen admits to the Westerling woman, "As I have many mouths to feed, and what stores we use to supplement the foraging and hunting and fishing we are capable of doing are running thin. We've not even enough ships to properly gather from the sea fish enough, as anything the reavers did not take with them, they saw burned." He lets out a breath, and shakes his head. "Forgive me, I do not wish to be so dour, when you are kind enough to ask after my people so."
"These are dour times. Time is a greater ally than none at all, my lord," Danae notes gently. Taking a light sip of her wine, she looks away from the Terrick lord towards the town so nearly raised to the ground. "If you'll forgive my impertinence, my lord…have you looked to your smallfolk? Although you have little hope in recouping all, there is fishing to be done in the shallows with nets and I have never known a coastal man who was not keen to the ocean's bounty."
A gesture is made to the small folk milling about, most now collecting supplies from the wagons and heading in several different directions. "We all work, I assure you my lady, but the task of one man feeding many is difficult upon the shallows alone… However we manage it, it will be lean for a good while." His smile resumes, however small as he notes, "But do not take me for hopeless or defeated, I know we will manage our way through." He lifts the cup near his mouth before he says, "And it's no impertinence. If you've wisdom to be shared, I will gladly hear it, my lady. My sister does not favor you because you lack for wit, I am certain of it."
Danae flushes slightly and shakes her head, hurriedly offering a, "I would not presume to say that you did otherwise, my lord." Her pale eyed gaze flits from him to the small folk about, something sharpening about it as she accounts for their activities. "Lean…is not starving. That is a feat in and of itself in these hard times." Pausing she takes a careful sip of her wine, looking back to him with a fair smile. "Little wisdom enough, I'm afraid. My raids of childhood were of a slighter nature…much as I recall the repair of the fallout, as I am certain that your lady wife does. A Banefort by birth, is she not?"
"She is, most assuredly," Jacsen confirms, "And quite proven right in her determination of the Ironborn. Have you yet had the pleasure of her acquaintance? If not, I certainly would suggest it. Someone whom shares some of the same experiences as she… well, the two of you might get along well," he enthuses, albeit gently.
"No," Danae denies with a slow shake of her head. A sip of wine is taken as she regathers her words. "I have…not. I had the pleasure of making her lady sister's acquaintance," she notes, delicately as possible. "I am certain that she is most lovely."
Jacsen dips his chin in acknowledgement. "Well, I hope you will find a chance to do so, in time." He leans to the side of his camp chair, putting some weight on the arm. "Something I have wanted to ask, should it not be impolite… what is it that has a Lady of Westerling here in this corner of the Riverlands? You were here before the war, were you not?"
She offers a quiet smile in return for that hope. "I am certain that I shall." Fingers gliding along the edge of her wine glass, Danae tips her head at Jacsen's question and purses her lips pleasantly. "It is no impoliteness, my lord. I was renewing old ties with Stonebridge and bringing in some potential trade. The war has quite disrupted my…initial intentions, I'm afraid."
"Our port is a project that will take some time longer than it should have, with everything, but I should like to think we might be of use in matters such as trade," Jacsen offers to the woman, at that explanation. "Especially once this matter of Stonebridge is settled, and Ser Gedeon is properly recognized, as I do believe he shall be."
"I am certain, with your access to the oceans, that you might be a swelling port, my lord. The location allows for access and immediacy," Danae agrees with a gracious smile, fingers tapping against her wineglass. "Do you truly? It is a complicated mattered, I admit I only know a little of it."
His lips quirk a fraction, before being swallowed behind a sip of wine. "I do hope you've the right of it, my lady. It would be a fine benefit for the whole of the region, and I plan to see it exercised as such, as much as is possible," Jacsen informs. As to the rest, he lifts a shoulder in a mild shrug, saying, "I shouldn't want to bore you with the minutiae, but I think Ser Gedeon's claim very strong. Of course, it is all up to the King, now."
"Of course." Danae takes another sip of her wine as Jacsen illustrates his plan for the port a little further, listening thoughtfully to his intents. The blonde lady tips her head to the side, gentile inquisitive. "Minutiae are where matters are well settle, my lord. The King will do as he will though."
Jacsen tips his head in acknowledgement to her words. "You're correct, of course. I suppose I avoid the minutiae because now, it is all well and truly up to His Grace to decide," he remarks. "And we all have enough else to fret over without favoring those things we cannot affect." He leans forward and sets his cup on the small table near the chairs, and offers, "I trust you will enjoy the hospitality of the Roost this evening, and we can see about having your missive included with the next batch to Seagard, my lady?"
"In the scope of things, it is a more minor fret of your own than any else," Danae agrees softly, lifting a hand to sweep a lock back from her shoulder. "His Grace shall choose as he may." It is not their place to question such. At his gracious offer, she raises her brows slightly and tilts her head to the side. "That is most kindly of you, my lord. I had intended to see to a room in town — although I had not originally intended to find my cousin to be in quite such a state as she is. I do not wish to impose. However, if my missive could be included, that would be most welcome."
He offers her a slightly apologetic expression, noting, "There are few accommodations in the town, as yet, fitting for a visiting Lady, I'm afraid. Please. It is our pleasure to host our friends and visitors alike." Jacsen reaches for his cane, putting its end to the ground even before he slips off the chair and stands. "Even if it weren't, my dear Enne would be cross with me for treating a friend of hers so. Please. Take comfort and respite at Four Eagles Tower, and write your missive at your leisure. Perhaps we will have a chance to speak again before you go."
Danae smiles warmly, rising to her feet as Jacsen moves to take his leave from the table. "Then it would be my honor and my pleasure, my lord. My thanks," she says softly, dipping into a low curtsey.
Jacsen offers the woman a bow of his head, his smile warm. "Thank you for the pleasure of your company, my lady. I see now why my sister favors you so. But I should see to a few matters before the day grows too long."
"Then may the day give you no new challenges that cannot be taken with ease, my lord," Danae bids. Her rise is slow and precise, hands folded at her waist. "It was a pleasure shared."