| OTP Kaffron |
| Summary: | Saffron and Kamron talk after their betrothal is announced |
| Date: | 20/06/2012 |
| Related Logs: | Immediately follows Meleeing at Seagard Two |
| Players: |
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| The Lists and The Mallister Encampment, Seagard |
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| Lots of grass and dirt and stands. Then fewer stands, more tents. |
| 20 June, 289 |
"Will that be because of my actions here, or that you're going to beat me after we're married?" Garett quirps lightly. Deciding to let Kam and Saff have their moment, but he does reguard Saffron with a smile. "Your man is a hell of a knight. If I had to lose to anyone, I'd prefer that it'd be him. Thank you though, not going to make any excuses. Ser Kamron was just better than me today. So hat's off to him. And you too. Congratulations." Looking back at Bri, he grins. "Oh I am, but I can walk it back. I'll just be happy to have it off. Felt heavier than I last remembered. Think I need to work out more."
Kamron glances over at Briallyn as she speaks to him. Right, there are more people present than just one or two. Long-conditioned responses kick in, and he bows his head, "Thank you, Lady Briallyn. Your Ser Garett made it damned hard for me. He's one to be proud of too." He really shouldn't be cursing, even mildly, but his brain is a really big mess of fog right now. Percival has already collected his shield off the field of (mock) battle, and brought over Garett's too, and now he hands over the Westerling's shield, and then takes Kamron's helmet from his belt. Coincidentally, this allows the Mallister to offer out his left arm to Saffron (he really should have dropped her hand after he kissed it, but he didn't), and begin to escort her away from the stands. Percy trails after, ever so carefully balancing shield and helmet so as to not drop either.
The pair wades through quite a bit of celebration in the wake of the melee. Saffron has been perhaps overtly quiet, smiling when approached and nodding when congratulated; all very well-trained responses while her mind tries to slow down and find its footing once more. This isn't achieved until they are back at Kamron's tent — all four of them, of course with Hara and Percy striding behind the couple. Saffron has clung tightly to Kamron's arm through the entire parade to the tents, and now she gently releases him. "Percy, could you see to Kamron's armor? Use the canvas drape to give him some privacy." She is obviously still quite dumbfounded, but speaking in a level tone. "Hara, could you find us some wine?" The maid smiles softly to the girl, and curtsies before she ducks out to find the wine.
For all the thwacks he took with blunted weapons, none of them were to the legs, and so he doesn't limp. He's quite clearly in a bit of pain, however, for all the bright, nearly senseless grin on his face. And then they arrive at the tent, and Saffron starts giving orders. Welcome to betrothal, Percy, you're now squire and butler. The young Ryger bobs his head, "Yes Lady Saffron," without even looking to Kamron. The Mallister, for his part, slides his hand down to clasp Saffron's hand in both of his for a moment when she withdraws, squeezing gently, then releasing. He steps back behind the drape, his feet still visible beneath it, and Percy starts working at ties and buckles in silence. Kamron is silent for a long moment, and then admits, "I wanted to tell you I'd asked Lord Mallister, My Lady, but if it didn't work out…"
Softly, Saffron settles into a chair as she sweeps her skirts under her. She watches the knight's feet as her ears pick up each little sound of the armor's removal. There is a small smile beginning to bloom on her lips, sending those dimples into full array. It is hard, so very hard, to be mad at the Mallister, but she's going to try her best. "I told you that I wasn't a wistful, wallowing girl," she says, her best attempt at a hard tone. It won't last all that long, especially once the wine arrives. "If we are to be wed, that has to be the last deception between us. Do you swear that, Kamron?" She asks precisely, to his feet.
Kamron groans as one spaulder comes off, and then the other, and Percy gets to work on the cuirass itself. "You did tell me, yes. But by then I was going to be in even more trouble if I said something and it didn't happen." Stupid buckles. There's a hiss of pain as the breastplate shifts, taking his ribs with it at laest in part, "But except for gifts, I swear it, My Lady." For all the seriousness of the oath, there's a little laughter there as well.
Behind the veil of the canvas, he cannot see how she starts to worry at the painful noises the poor knight makes. "Please say you are almost finished, Kamron," she says softly now, her voice gaining a gentle concern. "I would hate to have to come in there and do it myself." Percy. Though she is smiling quite fondly once the door flap opens again, and there's Hara with a tray of wine cups. She sets them down gently on the table nearest Saffron, and the pair of ladies share some hushed whispers. Hara smiles, nods, and gently steps back out of the tent, though she takes up post just to the left of the door flap. Saffron turns her gaze back toward the curtain, waiting to see her knight again.
There's a clatter of metal as Percy manages to drop the breastplate at the concerned note in Saffron's voice. Laughing in a pained sort of way, Kamron holds up a hand out to one side of the drop cloth, "We're all fine back here." The armor stays on the ground for now, and Percy moves to start undoing the leather ties holding maile sleeves and leggings to his arming jacket. "Just a few minutes more, My Lady." Now there's definitely a proprietary tone to that title. Almost hesitantly, he adds, "You're not mad at me, are you?"
Oh, Saffron is smart enough to make him wait a few heartbeats for that answer. She sips at the cup of wine, savoring the Redwyne vintage with a slight tilt of her head. Then finally she exhales, shaking her head even if he cannot see the gesture. "No… I'm not mad at you, Kamron. I wish you had said something after all those times I bemoaned to you. Embarrassing, really." She smiles then as she takes another sip of wine. "But, I'm not mad at you." She slowly sweeps to her feet, the second wine glass in hand. She is prepared to give it to the knight the moment the curtain falls away.
There's a jingling of sleeves, leggings, and then Kamron steps out of his boots with a sigh of relief. Pulling aside the hanging canvas to show where his little cot is set up, the knight steps out in his leather arming jacket and pants. He offers up a smile immediately, reaching out to take the glass of wine, his fingers brushing over hers as he does, "Thank you, Lady Saffron. I do apologize for not telling you." There's a moment of silence as he just takes in the lovely features so close to his own, and his smile softens a bit further, and he laughs with a bit of wonder and amusement, "I'm betrothed. We're betrothed."
"We are," the dimpling redhead says up at the Knight with a glimmer in her eyes. There is a steadiness in her gaze as she holds his, and she bites softly at her lower lip. A decision long ago made is finally given a moment to come to fruition. "Percy," Saffron smiles gently toward the squire. "Could you go keep Hara company for a little bit? I just need a quiet word with My Knight." She gestures her chin out toward the exterior of the tent, where her maid stands watching the excitement in the Mallister encampment. "I promise not to threaten his reputation," she assures the squire.
Percy looks up from trying to collect the armor into something besides a pile on the floor. "Um…" that's almost a question for Kamron, but the knight nods without any hesitation, and the squire sneaks around the two, moving to step to right outside the little pavilion. He's right in the middle of doorway, but he's quite pointedly not looking into the tent. Kamron watches him go, and then his left hand comes up to her cheek and he bends low a moment, pressing a light, soft kiss to her lips. It's still a carefully restrained gesture, but for all that, it's tender, and it definitely lingers just a moment.
Saffron looks after the squire as he exits the little tent. The moment Percy has taken stance within the door, she turns her gaze up to the knight. If she intended to be the master behind that first kiss, Kamron certainly beats Saffron to that punch. She closes her eyes the moment their lips touch, and she quivers against the kiss. She lavishes in that gentle gesture, and she even seems to be slipping back away from that initial touch. But that would be such a terrible disappointment. She catches her breath just a moment before her fingers slip back behind his neck, brushing against the finest bit of hair. Her mouth presses to his, and all of that fire she has felt burns through that far more heated kiss.
Kamron lets his right hand drop to her side then, not grasping, not pulling, not grabbing, just resting there, the lightest of fingertip touches. he draws in a breath as their lips part once more, his eyes lifting open to meet hers from so close. That first, soft kiss was nice, nicer than he could have expected, nice enough to send a shiver down his spine. But whatever chill the first kiss may have sent chasing down his body, it is blasted away by the heat of the second. His fingers at her cheek slip back to grace the back of her skull, fingertips pressing tight to her scalp. There's a soft sound of desire from his throat, and then he's tearing himself back again, drawing in another breath, this one a bit more desperate.
There is nothing to stop her pressing closer in against the Knight, and there could almost be a moment when she is driving him back toward where that curtain had only recently been drawn up. Her nose brushes across his, her heart thundering in her ears. And then it is broken by the sheer will of the Knight, and her lower jaw trembles just a bit in the sheer aftermath. She smiles then, and she releases a soft and breathless laugh between the vague distance between them. She seems to be at a loss for words for a moment, before she finally begins to step back from the knight. "Now… that, that is done," she murmurs.
Kamron laughs a little breathlessly, his fingers releasing their press against the nape of her neck to brush down her dimpled cheek. "Wow." Pulling both hands back, he very carefully clasps them behind his back to resist the temptation to maintain that skin-tingling touch. "That's going to be difficult to resist going forward, My Lady." There's a slight catch to his voice, a huskiness that he doesn't even try to banish. "I've been wanting to do that for a long while now."
Saffron laughs, though she smothers it out as if she is worried someone will over hear. The woman has also taken a step back from him, and she busies herself with the cup of wine, taking a calming sip that does little to cool the heat burning through her nerves. She looks down at her shoes, sheepishly tilting her head aside. "As have I," she murmurs softly before she looks up at him with a slight tilt of her head. "A kiss now and then, and perhaps we won't risk going further than that." She clears her throat, and she lifts her cup gently. "A toast?" She inquires softly.
Kamron collects the wineglass that he somehow managed to set down before he got relatively handsy. "I'm sure we can manage to sneak a kiss now and then, My Lady." The title is still formal, although the tone has certainly gone from formal to very informal. And now he finally clears his throat, bringing his voice back to its normal register — if still quiet. "And what would you like to toast to, My Lady?" He brings the glass up to his lips, but does not yet drink, "To a happy marriage? To a good partnership?" Yes, he just used Mistress Morla's term.
"To all those things," Saffron says with a brightness in her voice. "Though, I would like to add to landing the most resistant husband of the Cape." She is teasing him now, but she is all wonderful dimples and blue-flamed eyes. She offers him her cup to clink gently before she will take a mouthful of the wine. It is followed by a gentle sigh. It is then that a rare tiredness that passes over her eyes, everything compounding into one exhausted moment. Despite the sounds of joy and celebration beyond his tent flap, she looks more inclined to be taken to bed — for sleeping, of course.
Kamron clinks his cup gently to hers, adding his own final note, "And surviving the most dangerous lady to court in the Westerlands." Those dimples draw a full smile and laughter to his lips, only for him to add wine to the mix, taking a sip. Reaching out to take the Banefort's free hand, Kamron squeezes gently, "It's been a busy day for us both, My Lady. And I bet you did not sleep much last night. Get your rest, and I will see you tomorrow." His eyes glitter atop the soft words, "I promise." And then he's ducking in once more for a quick little kiss on the lips, not chaste, but not that fiery sort that they shared bare minutes ago. "Besides… I'm going to need a whole jar of my cousin's salve to even manage only black and blue tomorrow."
"Please," Saffron snorts. "That honor will always and forever belong to Cersei Baratheon nee Lannister." Though she is quite wonderfully mollified by being awarded that honor, all the same. As he speaks of such fine things as bed and promises, she nods her head in a gentle, resigned manner. "I would not argue with a night's of sleep, and perhaps even some time to sleep past sunrise." She is quieted however by the kiss — apparently a secret weapon in silencing those warm lips. She is full of warm smiles in the aftermath. "Rest, My Knight." And she touches his cheek softly. "Take some comfort in knowing that you just need to prepare Percy for the squire competition and nothing else." And because damnit, she's allowed to — mostly — she presses a fourth kiss onto his lips.
Kamron grants the first correction without question, proving that he's already learned the first lesson of marriage — when it doesn't matter, don't argue. "That, and survive Jarod's night on the town, and then dancing." He laughs softly, then groans theatrically, "A victor's work is never done." His expression goes all soft and sappy there for a moment, one thumb brushing her freckled cheek, "Because I really did win today. Far more than the melee." And then yes, he's silenced in the best possible way. Kam's head starts forward as if to chase that fourth kiss, but he resists, shaking his head again and murmuring, "Sleep well, my betrothed."
"I suppose we are both victorious today," Saffron murmurs against the touch to her cheek, and in the wake of that last kiss. She breathes out a soft and steadying breath, before she bows her head with a small smile. "Goodnight, sweet Knight." With that, she begins to slip away toward the tent door. She sets her miraculously empty cup on the table before she lifts her skirts to step through the portal. Hara is all grins, though it appears she has said something to make Percival turn as red as a tomato. Saffron does not even venture to guess as she starts off across the encampments to the Terricks and where the lone Banefort tents are nestled.
And what did Hara say to make Percy blush? Probably "Hi."
