|Summary:||Rutger seeks out other methods of winning over the Tullys…|
|Related Logs:||Riverrun logs|
|Guest Room — Riverrun|
|A room for guests to use.|
|November 8, 288|
How Rutger manages to track down the elusive Senna is unclear, but one of his servants did end up leaving a message for her summons. Her presence is requested by the Nayland contingent at the chambers Lord Tully reserved for them, and this evening, Rutger occupies one of the chairs at the long table facing the roaring stone fireplace. A number of missives and parchments are laid out on the table, one of which he holds and ponders. In one free hand he idly twirls a dagger, spinning it around and upside down in a rather dazzling, yet distracted display.
There is a soft knock at the door, and a pause to allow any servants within to answer before Senna opens the door. It's only a crack, and she slips inside with her head ducked, no different from any servant come to collect dirty linens. With so many guests, one could hardly wonder at yet another smallfolk moving about. "My lord," she greets quietly, closing the door near silently behind herself. When she turns back, it's with a polished curtsey. "How may I serve?"
Rutger's eerie, fierce yellow eyes shift from the parchment to the woman who just entered. The eerieness comes not just from the unusal hue, but more so because they seem so alien and unreadable. When he studies her, it is entirely unclear whether he is appreciative of what he sees. "Mistress Delacourt." He greets, tossing the missive on to the pile and gestures at an empty chair across the table. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Please, have a seat."
Senna's lips curve ever so slightly at his greeting. "A pleasure to be met, my lord," she murmurs in return, the implication that she's at least seen him before clear in her words. She settles smoothly into the indicated seat, hands settling light on the arms as she watches him. She says nothing more, though, waiting patiently for what might follow.
Rutger watches her move, her taking a seat, the smoothness of it all. Only then does he stop his dagger-twirling, jabbing the blade into the wooden table. "Your skills have been spoken of highly." Who spoke of such, and what skills he refers to, are not revealed. "A handsome woman as well, I daresay. Not simple, soft beauty, but character, one not easily forgotten. Tell me, how much power do you hold over men who lay their eyes on you?"
There's a heavy, rapid knock, and the door is shoved open. Rafferdy steps inside, wearing a pair of brown leather pants and a matching doublet. He's dirty, and his left eye is black and swollen, along with his right cheek. He's been in a fight. He closes the door, and laughs, "I ran into…" And then he sees the woman. "Oh." He clears his throat, "I'm sorry… I didn't know you had company…"
Senna doesn't so much as flinch when the dagger hits the table, though there can be no doubt that she sees it. She's been watching, from the corner of her eye. "My lord is kind," she replies evenly, leaning forward brush a finger carefully down the edge of the dagger without looking away from him. "Every man is different, but most appreciate something from a woman. I've a measure of skill at seeing what that is." As Rafferdy enters, she looks away from Rutger, standing and folding into a curtsey in the same, smooth motion. "My lord," she murmurs.
Rutger's gaze narrows upon Rafferdy's disheveled state. "Did I not ask that you behave yourself in Riverrun?" He shakes his head slightly at the younger Nayland. "Sit, Raff. You may as well hear this." Rutger then rises from his chair and paces towards and behind Senna, one hand trailing along the chair back along the way. "That, Mistress Delacourt, is why I have summoned you. You have no doubt heard of the insult Ser Rygar afforded Lord Hoster and Young Lord Edmure, and prior slights beyond it. I would prefer to smooth things over by entertaining Young Lord Edmure, with drinks and feast and merriment." A meaningful look is spared at Rafferdy, before Rutger stops beside Senna. "But at the end of the evening, it is a beautiful woman that will warm his heart."
Rafferdy rolls his eyes, "I WAS behaving…" He laughs, and sits, flopping into a chair and laying his left ankle on his right leg. He doesn't say anything else, just listening.
Senna arches a brow slightly at Rutger's suggestion, head tilting. "You issue quite the challenge, my lord," she muses. "Getting a fifteen-year-old into bed isn't such a challenge, though I imagine the young lord is well-guarded. Convincing him to listen to his bedmate about the Naylands in such a way that he might influence his father is another matter entirely." She remains standing, though she doesn't turn to face Rutger. "Do you have reason to believe Lord Tully can be influenced by his son?"
"Not at all." Rutger shakes his head slowly. "I am not expecting you to seduce the Lords Tully to our side. I am expecting you to seduce Yound Lord Edmure, to please him and entice him, that he will not soon forget your beauty. I merely need him to remember that it is House Nayland who introduced him to such a divine creature, an addiction that only we… /you/ can feed, even if it only lasts a short while. You do not need to sway him to our cause; we need only that he forgets his anger for Ser Rygar." Gently he reaches up, and brushes a strand of dark hair from her shoulder, followed by a slow inhale of her scent.
Rafferdy tilts his head a bit, watching the exchange. Again, he remains quiet.
Senna smells of herbs, clean and sharp, with lavender and rosemary at the forefront. Her hair is well-cared for as well, glossy and smooth to the touch. "That," she answers, not flinching from his touch, "Is something I believe I can do." The faintest smile touches one corner of her lips, amusement creeping into her voice. "It might require a new dress. Is there a particular part you were hoping I could play?" she asks, brow arching once more. "The innocent is not my best role, but my lord believes it would be more successful…"
"The details, I would leave for you to decide." Rutger appears to be enjoying Senna's floral scents, albeit in a somewhat creepy way. He tilts his head closer to her glossy dark curls, and inhales once again. "Simply ensure that it is clear that we will introduce you to Young Lord Edmure, so that he will be indebted to us for the most unforgettable evening of his life." A hand comes up to rest lightly on her shoulder. "It pains me to task you so, Mistress Delacourt, but we each have our own part to play." Turning back to Rafferdy, Rutger inclines his head. "Raff, will you acquire a new dress for the lady as she requests? Arrange for an evening's merriment with Young Lord Edmure as well, if you will."
Rafferdy tilts his head a bit at the request. "Acquire a…" He furrows his brow a bit, and points at his chest, "…Me?" He looks a little confused. Or maybe insulted. Or something. "I um…" He shakes his head, "I can't arrange that."
Creepy or no, Senna doesn't seem to be bothered by Rutger's attentions. Either that, or she has enough sense and experience not to show it. She simply ducks her chin at his touch on her shoulder, silent assent, before that smiles plays at her lips once more at Rafferdy's answer. "Oh, perfect," she laughs, a low, husky sound. "Quite perfect. Is there any chance Lord Edmure happens to frequent any of the shops or markets here with any regularity?"
Rutger's yellow eyes shift properly to his younger brother, and away from Senna. "Raff." The elder Nayland sibling breathes and turns, his hand slipping away from Senna's shoulder. "Find out what Mistress Delacourt requires of Edmure's habits, then purchase a dress for her." He clenches his jaw slightly. "You cannot arrange for an evening's merriment? With minstrels, mead and a feast?"
Rafferdy smirks, "What I cannot do is arrange it with Lord Edmure." He shakes his head, "If I spend too much time mingling with other family's nobles, I can't do what I do for Father." He sighs, "If you need arrangements for an evening, and a dress… THAT, I can handle. But I can't make the date for her."
"You might consider," Senna muses, looking to Rafferdy now, "The benefits of letting slip one piece of a secret for greater gains." She only moves once Rutger has stepped away, moving to stand behind her chair once more. "If Lord Edmure were to come upon us by chance in the market, or the woods, and you were to confide in him…The romance of such a thing would not be lost on a young man with a mind full of adventure, and I have heard he is that. And should he feel he has /won/ me from you, and found you gracious in the loss…I should imagine it would engender a good deal of goodwill." She flicks a glance to Rutger as she concludes, checking for his reaction to the idea.
Rutger is sufficiently intrigued by Senna's suggestion, as to turn his attention fully back at her. "Young Lord Edmure is as vain as he is young. This would surely cause him great exhiliration." Back and forth, his yellow eyes shift between Senna and Rafferdy. "Do this. Allow him to see you together, and I trust Mistress Delacourt will be able to entice his attention. Plant this idea of romance in him, Raff. Arrange for an evening's merriment, and I will invite Lord Edmure. We will allow him to /win/ the lady's favor, and you lose to him graciously." He raises a finger at Rafferdy. "The evening need not be a major gathering. Keep it private between Lord Edmure and ourselves."
Rafferdy closes his mouth. He stares at Rutger a long moment, something inside not happy about something. Then he simply nods, "As you wish."
Sharp eyes take note of those swallowed words, but Senna draws no attention to it herself. Instead, she leans forward to retrieve Rutger's dagger from the table, providing a delightful view as she bends over. Once it's in hand, she flips it lightly between her fingers to offer it back to the lord hilt first in silence.
"Lord Father would wish it." Rutger notes meaningfully to Rafferdy, before turning back to his dagger being offered back to him. He accepts it, his gaze sliding back to Senna once more. "You will be rewarded handsomely for this." He offers quietly. "If I may, I would prefer to simply call you Senna. I rather enjoy the sound of your name."
Rafferdy chews his lip, and again, returns to silent nodding at Rutger.
"My lord may call me as he wishes," Senna answers Rutger with a small smile, moving away once he reclaims the dagger. "I am at the service of the family." She turns her attention to Rafferdy then, and the quality of her smile changes to something gentler, more friendly. "I take it you prefer Raff to 'my lord'?" she asks. It should be a startling change, from scheming to friendly, yet she manages it smoothly. Natural.
Rutger twirls the dagger about a few times, and slips it smoothly into a sheath in his belt. His gaze follows Senna still, and as the woman approaches Rafferdy, Rutger steps back and retakes his seat easily. There, he settles back to observe the pair.
Rafferdy stands, "My Lord is fine," he says to her, a little sternly. He looks at Rutger, "If you'll excuse me, brother. I need to see a man about a dress." He turns then, and heads for the door.
And as easily as that, Senna folds into another curtsey, her chin dipped toward Rafferdy. "Of course, my lord," she murmurs. She watches his departure, trying to read the nuances of his response, but remains silent beyond that.