|Summary:||While Gedeon convalesces, he and Anton talk on battles, old times, and a suitable gift for a lady.|
|Related Logs:||The March West, A Day in the Field, The Arms Coat Goes on the Outside|
|Oldstone Campsite — 1/3rd of the way between Stonebridge and The Roost|
|It's a tent!|
|8 January 289|
Senna did her job and well, and Gedeon's wound has been poulticed and bandaged. The passed in fitful sleep and quiet starts awake again. Come morning, he's not looking much better. Still grey, still a bit damp from sweat and glassy-eyed from pain. He's awake, at least, staring up at the 'ceiling' of the tent, watching the canvas grow lighter as the sun comes up outside.
Senna did her job and well, and Gedeon's wound has been poulticed and bandaged. The night passed in fitful sleep and quiet starts awake again. Come morning, he's not looking much better. Still grey, still a bit damp from sweat and glassy-eyed from pain. He's awake, at least, staring up at the 'ceiling' of the tent, watching the canvas grow lighter as the sun comes up outside.
"This Stonebridge thing had better work out and soon," Anton comments from where he sits across the tent in a folding camp chair, feet propped up on a crate. He's eating breakfast, and takes another couple bites before finishing the thought: "Because you, my friend, desperately need a set of plate."
There are a couple of blinks before Gedeon turns his head to smirk over at the Lord of Oldstones. "I hear it doesn't get imbedded in flesh as easily," the blond knight agrees, "though I fear the king has other concerns on his mind, currently."
"So they say," Anton replies, "I'd lend you my brigadine, but it'd hardly fit. Best start saving your coppers." He takes a few more bites, scraping he side of his knife along the plate. "Once you're up and earning them again, that is."
"Mmm," Gedeon replies for that, still smirking faintly. "I'm sure, once the Ironborn are run off, there will be plenty of tourneys to celebrate the liberation of the Riverlands. Do something properly heroic when you reach the Roost. Maybe the king will expand your holdings."
"I'll keep that in mind," Anton snorts, "Though unless things go a great deal worse than I expect, I can't think there will suddenly be a great deal more land to give away. I suppose we'll see." He sets the plate aside and says, "I had hoped you might be doing something particularly heroic to turn the king's head, but I suppose that's not likely now, is it. Unlucky."
"I had hoped the same," Gedeon agrees wryly. "And I'm sure the Naylands hoped some Ironman would do their dirty work for them. Disappointing they're closer to the mark. I suppose heroics are unlikely, now, unless the march to the roost goes more slowly than expected. Presuming I'm coming to the roost, still." He frowns faintly for that. "I'm not sure being returned to Stonebridge and the tender care of Isolde and her lady mother would bode well for a full recovery."
"Agreed," Anton replies, "Though there are enough others yet at Stonebridge who I imagine could provide a buffer." He shrugs, "I'm sure the maester will have a say in whether you're best moved or not. Rest up," he advises, "The Roost isn't the real prize after all; once we've finished here it's on to Seagard. That is where the king's eye might actually be caught."
"I'll save my efforts for then," Gedeon agrees, his eyes beginning to close before he forces them open again. "Just like old times, isn't it?"
"A bit," Anton shrugs, "No elephants." He smiles crookedly and adds, "And a good deal more knights."
"And the cavalry's on our side," Gedeon agrees with a chuckle that he instantly regrets. "Still. A battlefield, a goal, the singular focus of surviving. It's… pleasantly simple."
"Mmm," Anton makes an agreeing noise in the back of his throat and nods, "True. It is, at that. A very pleasant change." He snorts faintly once more, and takes another swig out of his mug. "The lady Lucienne gave me a favor," he says, "Did I mention? She also…" he smirks, "She also requested a souvenir. Any suggestions? I've been debating between an ear and a thumb."
"Did she? I can't say I'm surprised of it," Gedeon replies of the favor, though his brows lift a little for the other request. "A souvenir? Are you sure she meant, well, body parts? They don't keep especially well."
"True, they'd have to be dried, and I've no particular interest in figuring out how that's done. You're right, something more lasting. A scalp, perhaps? Hair? Hmmm," he ponders, just how serious he is not precisely clear.
Gedeon sniffs thoughtfully and then shrugs, winces, stops trying to move. "A tooth. Get it gilded, she could even wear it on a chain around her neck."
Anton laughs. "Brilliant," he replies, "I like it. Shame she stayed in Stonebridge, she could've taken her pick."
"What, publicly?" Gedeon asks with a weak smile, "Whatever darkness lurks within the dear Lady Lucienne, she's far too clever to brandish it about. Besides, a woman likes a man to bring her presents. It shows he understands her."
"Far too clever," Anton agrees, "But it's there." He taps the side of his nose, and laughs a bit, "Definitely in there. But yes, I think a tooth would do well."
"Not a bad pairing," Gedeon approves. His eyes close again, too heavy to keep open this time, and the pale knight breathes out slowly. "I think I'm going to sleep," he murmurs, "go pick out a prize for your lady fair."
Anton chuckles again and nods, rising. "Sleep well," he says, "Heal fast." He sets his mug down and exits the tent.