|Relying on the Basics|
|Summary:||Aeric bumps into Jiae and takes an interest in her basic craft.|
|Related Logs:||The Wedding|
|Townsquare, the Roost|
|Muddy streets and outside, standing before the Hazari Merchant hut.|
|January 19, 289|
The morning following the healing town's celebratory wedding the effects were widespread especially those that had been deep into their cups. But the rebuilding needed to continue and so through their headaches and sluggish movements they endured. The evening ended early for Jiae as she stood before a wooden hut like structure used to display the wares her family would import from the Dornish ports. Like many of the structures here it had been ransacked, raided for what goods were therein. The door was broken and trails of broken pottery shards and glass littered the floor. Her sandsteed had been tied to a post as Jiae carted arm full of shattered wood into a pile from within the merchant hut. They'll be recycled and used for firewood at a later time.
A wedding. Aeric was in attendance though not notably so. He'd been quiet and remained upon the fringes to watch rather than partake in any fashion. After the wedding, he'd been nowhere to be found. Now? Now he seems to be walking in a fugue state and he nearly tramples the tidying Jiae. Halting himself up short, he isn't quite fast enough to not bump into her with force but at least he doesn't tackle her. I'm sure that particular line is a fine one depending on your opinion. He stays on his feet anyway. "Gods bless…" He curses as he looks to see what fool got in his way.
There was movement all around so to not be seen hoisting a load of broken shelves and chairs is a mystery. While Aeric may have remained on his feet Jiae stumbled off balance, releasing the load within her arms in order to steady her ground. Dark brown eyes dart to her assailant, ready to .. quite unsure what to do once particular features have been taken into account. "Forgive me Ser." Even though he may be the one at fault. She instantly lowered her frame, dipping into an apologetic curtsy at first before reaching to collect the broken frames of wood. Dirt streaked her hands, outer layers of her skirt along with streaked accents upon the cheeks and forehead from wiping away collected pools of sweat. "I-I must not have been paying attention to where I was walking."
Aeric gives pause. He looks down to the woman with a raised brow and tracks to the mess of ruination that she's dropped. "You're a terrible liar." He intones. He sighs and gestures for her to straighten. "Though I suppose that answer would have served were I a Frey." To which he gives a dry laugh. Scrutinizing her a moment, he adds. "You picked a terrible time to visit the Roost, I must say."
That she was, at least for now. In a way it was a compliment. "I suppose I am." She mused after catching his gesture to rise, she does so, a few broken planks of wood cradled in one arm and held against her abdomen. "No truer words could ever be spoken m'lord." Jiae exhales, not at all believing her first days back would be spent attempting to rebuild her family's merchant hut. "Our hut was bound to be destroyed no matter when I had arrived. Unfortunately that cannot be said for our ship."
"Did the ironborn sink it then?" Aeric inquires with a glance towards the sea. "I dare say that would make life.. awkward. No trade, no vessel to take you home.. what do you mean to do now?" His eyes return to her and he takes in her appearance in a sort of measuring way. "Do you have a craft?"
"Aye.. they did." Another loss added to the tally. She flips a gaze over her shoulder where Seagard stood. "I do have Arlo. And I believe at least a portion of the cargo made it into Seagard. The rest…" Jiae shrugs softly, "I'll recover what I may and should their be nothing I have my hands."
There is an approving nod from the Mallister. "Just so." He purses his lips as his gaze grows shrewd, then he speaks again. "I am the Lord Ser Aeric Mallister. And you are?" He leans slightly to one side and brings a hand to rest upon the pommel of his blade.
Her eyes widened a touch at hearing the prominence of both name and title. Again the young female would mutely dip her frame. "Well met Lord Ser Mallister." A pause. "Jiae, Jiae Hazari." Her free hand gestured behind her to the sand steed, "That my Arlo. And this was my family's shop. My brother and mother had resided here, I was accompanying a shipment due to the Roost and then to Stonebridge until, well, destinies changed I suppose." Still cradling the wood she considers the male before her, the Riverfolk were vastly different and having been estranged from their accents over the past few years she was attempting to temper her own.
There's a glance to the… good lord that thing must be hell to ride. How.. nevermind. There's a moment where Aeric gives the sand beast thing the evil eye. No, he will never ride one. Ever. Then he's looking back to Jiae with a polite smile. "That is what destiny does. It is ever mutable. So now, Jiae Hazari, what shall you do? What is it your hands are capable of, hmm?"
Surveying the expressions upon Aeric's features drew a slight smile in the corner of her mouth as he learned who Arlo was. A slender creature with a longer neck and narrow head than its northern cousins, bread for endurance and speed. "I shall rebuild what I must. It is all any of us can do. When Seagard is no longer under threat I should wish to retrieve what I may. Should it still be there." Or the lords of that tower may have made use of her wares which would be extremely unfortunate. "I am an excellent woodcarver in the mean time." She gives a lifting nudge to the wood in hand. "The shelves may not be salvageable however I am sure I can create something from the rubble."
"Are you now?" Aeric's interest seems to be piqued at her words. "Well, if we prove victorious in the coming battle then I should like to speak to you. There's a matter which.. might serve you well." He strokes the thin beard upon his chin. "Do you have any samples of your work? That survived this insanity, naturally."
Jiae nods, lowering her eyes to the wood in her arms in thought before glancing to Arlo. "I do actually." Her frame lowered again this time, retrieving more broken frames of wood and weighing the collection in her arms. "Come come.." She asks, careful in her steps the wood in her arms are deposited at the side of the hut for now, out of the way but not discarded for another to freely acquire. With her hands no longer busied, she pointed to the wooden door frame, the corners occupied by carved creatures ranging from fanciful tales to the stories of the Seven should he be familiar with them. As that would be inspected Jiae took a few steps closer to Arlo and reached into the saddlebags laying against either side of his hips. "I am surprised they survived truthfully." She commented while retrieving three items, a medallion, a small box and then a flute unlike the style commonly seen around the Riverlands. All three were held upon her upturned palms for display. "You may touch."
"The ironborn would have no interest in art or craftsmanship that doesn't involve killing." Aeric notes grimly. "Which is what separates us from the savages." He reaches for the box first and examines its joinery and polish. "Can you play? I have no knack." There's a nod given to the flute.
"They would have interest the wine and spices." Jiae relayed looking up to Aeric, still holding those items on display which occasional receive a glance from her own eyes. "Perhaps some might, who is to say. They are not so savage just determined to get what they want. Not a thought for diplomacy. Talking takes time." She eyed the Mallister from the corner of her eyes, "Play? A little, but what is this matter you speak of Ser? Should you stand well after the battle."
Aeric simply smiles at her question, something vague and enigmatic. He places the box back into her hand and takes up the medallion. "We shall discuss that should I survive. I do so hate gossips and the walls have ears." There's a gesture given to the flute. "Well? How should I know the quality if I cannot hear a note. I'll know a true tone when I hear one." He's a Mallister. He may not have talent but he has taste.
Her eyes followed his hands, exchanging the wood crafted box with design particularly of the southern land's tastes. The medallion served as a display for the warrior with a prayer etched around its circular edge. The last was the flute, the engraved vines had been colored with dark green powders and leaves as golden flowers blossomed. As he laid out the challenge for her to play Jiae laughed sweetly, "A flutist would have the talent." She was not a proper flutist though she knew some songs. Sliding the box then into one of her pockets, the young woman then fingers the wooden flute into position, pressing the mouth piece against her nude colored lips after licking them once. What she preformed was a simple ballad, a jovial tune piped with quick bursts of breaths as the tips of her fingers rhythmically covered the holes.
<FS3> Jiae rolls Flute: Failure.
Aeric tries not to whince as she muddles through the tune. It has its good points. Its bad points. But.. the flute.. seems to hold a tune better than the flautist anyway. He gives her another of his studious scrutinies. "Indeed." Whatever that means. "So you carve wood and passably so. Are there other talents hidden away between your ears? I think you'll find that even in distress there is opportunity."
Jiae laughed, not at all impressed by her own skills though the question was not if she could play 'well', just if she could play. Lowering the flute from her lips her eyes veered over the craftsmanship. "There are although not so hidden Ser." She is waiting for the medallion to be returned to her. "Should you be seeking a companion to alleviate the burdens war may bring."
Aeric places the medallion back into her hand with a laugh. "I think you'll find that I would value your mind more than your breasts. Not that you are not attractive but I have no time for distraction. Not if I am to put my plan into motion." Again, the smile. "Allow me to be concerned for that. I can assure you two things. There will be no dishonor in it." He holds up a finger. "And should it be successful, so too shall you be." The second finger then he drops his hand. "The risk.. is marginal. On your part anyway."
With the medallion returned Jiae did not appear slighted and yet the young woman held a pleasant smile. Intrigued she studies the lord from head to toe before turning to the saddlebag and replacing the items there in. "That is kind to say." Also unexpected. "But I am to not know of the details until after the siege has been lifted in Seagard." When she turns around after pressing both shoulders against Arlo's hips, arms crossed before her bosom. "What do you hope to achieve from this?" She stands, unsure of how her hands come into this plan.
"A future." Aeric does seem loathe to be specific.. but then that is the wont of a nobleman. What use could he have for a woodcarver one might wonder. Ah well. He offers her a smile and bows. "But if you will excuse me, miss, I do have things which I must be doing. Preparing for war being not the least significant. Have a blessed day by whatever goes you so choose." Then, he's turning to depart.
Settled to be kept in the dark for the current time, until the siege is lifted, Jiae unfolds her arms before dipping her head. "Of course Ser. I should pray you are victorious." So she would be able to retrieve her cargo most importantly. Her eyes linger on his departure a moment longer before turning to gutting out the rest of the hut.