|Riding Instruction and Requests|
|Summary:||Dafydd continues riding instruction, though their conversations begin to hint at important issues.|
|Date:||26 November 2011|
|TP room - Stables - Tall Oaks|
|Horses. Stables. Hay.|
|26 November 288|
Thursday morning. The woman actually hadn't been seen much around Stonebridge on her free day there, apparently having been hunting around the place, getting to know the lay of the land, meeting a few other nobles, and a moonlight spar with the Nayland boy made it a rather busy day. Now, Kate's saddled up the horse she borrowed from the Terricks to meet Dafydd there. The old nag that she got off of their midnight brigands was barely worth her skin, so Kate sold her for a bit of profit and is no longer bothered by the beast. She's stepping around the horse, trying to ensure the saddle is well secured, but with as little experience as she has she's just not certain. Frowning, she stares at the straps. "If I fall off you beast, you better not step on me." She mutters to the thing.
"If he's trained properly, he'll stop immediately before you are trampled and wait for you to regain your seat. If he's skittish, he'll drag you for a distance, and then have the discourtesy of leaving you behind once your foot finally is pulled from the stirrup."
Dafydd is out and about in the morning, a testament to the fact that he wasn't quite so much in his cups as he had been in the Roost. If anything, it was an extremely productive discussion with his brother, and once again, Tall Oaks revels in the harmony of their lords.
The youngest Lord Camden does have his own mission now, and he's out and in search of a certain Lady Kathryna. There is a little surprise that he's located the Ironborn in the stables, getting ready to depart.
Leaning against a post just inside the stables, his tones are loud enough to carry and are.. seemingly casual. "Already? Have we done something that warranted your departure?"
The sound of his voice almost makes her jump, not having been watching her back for once, an attestment to the fact she is actually quite so nervous by her lack of experience riding a horse. She's -distracted-. It's a strange thing for Kate. Still, she regains her ice cold composure a heartbeat later and gives him a half smile over the saddle of the beast, her hands reaching up to gently shake the saddle and see if the thing is actually tight enough but, hopefully, not too tight. That's how it was on when she got here, right?
"Dafydd. No, of course not… Somewhat the opposite, in truth. I am hoping to quickly finish business at the Roost so I might journey to the Oaks. If the invitation is still open, that is." She asks him quietly, her voice as warm as she ever really lets it get in formal business — though he's certainly seen and felt her more heated. The bright morning sun and call of work has calmed those passions for now.
Dafydd presses his lips together into a tight line, his head nodding as he listens, but there is that doubt that hangs in the blue eyes. "That's something I'd like to discuss with you, actually." He departs from his leaning spot and walks slowly towards the pair, horse and rider. A hand reaches out to check on the girth, making sure the saddle is high enough on the withers and that the girth is tight enough.
"I'd like to make a formal request," his attention is on the horse, even though his words are for her, "to ask you to Tall Oaks first, so that we can.. consider friendships and trade partnerships." Dafydd's hand slides under the girth to pull on it, checking the play.. just in case. "And add to that a personal invitation.. from both my brother and I."
Kate is a somewhat fast learner, and she's got the saddle positioned decently, but it's most certainly not tight enough. She'd be sliding right off the moment she put pressure in one stirrup and not the other. She is not perfectly self sufficent, despite her attempts to sometimes appear so. His comment of wishing to discuss such things makes her smile slightly slip from her full mouth, a hint of hesitant worry through her ice blue eyes as she watches him.
"Lord Dafydd… I…" She breathes out quietly, trying to find words, a slight bit of almost… Guilt? on her features. Something like that. "I am honoured. And I do wish to join both of you at Tall Oaks soon, but I have business at the Roost that I must finish. I cannot partake on another jounrey until my first goal in coming to the mainland is done…" She meets his eyes dead on as she says that, so he can see her earnesty.
Dafydd isn't about to press, to make it seem as if this is something truly desired, even if it is. He can't quite read the expression; perhaps it's simply an expression of having been 'caught' departing without word given, or the excuse for 'unfinished business' that must needs be conducted.
"Is this business one that will conclude at a set time in the future, or will we simply wait for a raven to send word that you are considering departing, leaving the hustle and bustle of the cleverly entertaining Terricks?" The last bit is given with something of a harsher tone. He has to pause, to hesitate lest he sound.. bitter about having 'lost' out to one of the larger houses.
"Can you be moved to spend the day's travel and a day under the canopy of the Oaks?"
The comment about cleverly entertaining makes Kate roll her eyes, a touch of darkness crossing her own features. Storm clouds through ice seas. "So cleverly entertaining they cannot even see fit to come home when they do have an ambassador in their lands. I have no love of the Terricks, Dafydd, make no mistake about that. The words I have spoken with you are not words I plan to speak to them…" She pauses a moment, eyes daring to tread across his form in some momentary, distracting memory…"Not at all…" She confesses, softer, some odd heat behind her voice. But she shakes off the memories of that stolen kiss a heartbeat later and straightens a bit, leaning against the horse's saddle as she studies him.
"My… my mission in the Roost is complicated. Reparations for our lost man is a part of it. But there are… Other matters. Things I cannot discuss. As soon as it is done, perhaps within the full turn of a moon, I will send a raven and ride for the Oaks?" She sighs quietly, eyes flickering back to the worn trail as he offers just the day, "…A day's travel there, a day under your roof, another day back… the Terricks are due back any day. I… I wish I could. I truly do. But you must know nobility, even those of the iron isles, are not ruled by their hearts and their own wants. We all have a liege. Words we must obey."
Dafydd can hear the shiftings of her tones, can feel the warmth of her gaze. It isn't enough, however, to sway her from her course, and there's a marked sense of disappointment. He's.. making the attempt to believe her words, but at the promise of 'perhaps the full turn of a moon' is enough to convince him that it probably will not come to pass.
"I have never known one of the Iron lands even admitting they have a heart, my lady." Even given as something as a poor attempt of a bad joke, the words aren't quite infused with the levity that they may have given other circumstances. "And for a lady who professes independence of thought and motion, you are locked into your mission, unable to divert for four days, at the most."
Dafydd passes around Kath, giving her a fair amount of room in the process, and checks the halter and bit, tightening up the buckles so she's got some extra control of the beast on the road. "We are prepared to offer timber for your masts. Great trees that have grown for hundreds of years.. and as a offering of friendship, a barrel of shafting made from the best cedar found in Westeros." It's a last ditch effort.. diplomat, he's not.
The woman's eyes turn towards what he is doing with the horse first. So she was right, she did have it a bit too loose. "Thank you… " Kate grunts out quietly, nodding towards his tightening of the straps. It's a good distraction from the other things that lay between them, be it business or something more tempting and far less political. Kate sighs, stepping around the other side of the horse, so she's on the same side as him. Once he's done with the saddle, she reaches up to grab his toned arm gently, trying to turn him to face her so he will actually look her in the eyes.
"Daf… Those offers are… Wonderful. Most excellent. Offers I will write home about as -soon- as I return to the Roost. I hope they will be offers that are accepted. But…" She sighs, studying his handsome, pale features, her fingertips lingering against his arm, "Would you truly have any interest in me if I did not speak with the voice of my home? I can brook politics with you all -I- please… if I do it without the awareness and agreement of my liege lord, then it is nothing but breath. You must trust me…" She gives a bitter little, husky laugh, "… as much as you might ever trust an Iron born… but if you would be willing, trust me that my business in the Roost is not of the ilk at -all- like what I have discussed with you. I have been…" Her gaze flickers away a moment, "A poor emissary at all for diverting from my mission for the interest of a good man."
As far as the horse is concerned, it's all tacked and ready for the six-hour journey back to its home, but it serves as a distraction so that he doesn't have to do that which she now presses him. Exhaling, Dafydd does turn, forcing his gaze down to look upon the pale lady that looks for his specific attention.
"To trust you, my lady? What I trust is that which comes to pass before me. What I 'trust' is that you will return and such things will come to pass and you will forego the pleasure of visiting Tall Oaks because of .. whathaveyou. I can predict now that your liege will not allow your travel, and instead insist upon relations with the largest house that also builds a port." Beat. "With our timber."
Dafydd laughs, the sound mocking himself. "You are right, I suppose. There'd be nothing if you did not have the voice of your liege. You are too old, as am I, and there is no cause for anything that might have developed that would even approach fondness."
Dafydd steps back, a gesture given towards the horse with a nod of his head. "Ride, and should you think of it…" He pauses there, but nothing else comes, and the thought is dropped.
The horse is pretty much forgotten now, Kate trusting him to have secured everything to see her off properly. Now she is far more worried about the man at her side than the beast she will be riding upon. He is the one she's leaving behind. She studies him as he exhales and meets her eyes fully, not backing down in the least from his pale, handsome gaze, just a few shades darker than her own.
His commentary about the Roost makes her frown a bit deeper, that familiar roll of her eyes coming and a small, frustrated sound echoing from the back of her throat. "You damned stupid idiot of a man. Do you not even -listen-? Are you so determined to nurse your hurt ego and political ambitions you will not HEAR the words I am telling you? I am not in the Roost to make political liasons. I am not there to establish trade." Her arm on his shoulder tightens, fingertips almost clutching. "I've gone there to get payment for my man. The relations end -there-, no matter what kiss ass words I am giving the Terricks. Use your brain and trust me." There is something odd in her eyes, a fierceness that is begging him to see through her words and think beyond diplomatic alliances. Hell, she might actually look a bit scared. There is something about her assignment that actually frightens the woman.
And then he comments about them both being too old, and no cause to develop fondness, and she just groans again. She says nothing more but her other hand, free of the horse, reaches up to take his hair and drag him down into an immediate, hot kiss, filled with all sorts of emotions and none of them mild.
Dafydd looks for the best case scenario and is just not really seeing it. He's blinded by the simple belief that once she's pulled into the Roost, there she will stay. He watches her in her fiery retort, listening to the cadences in her husky tones, and can feel the touch of her as she grips his shoulder. There is something there, something that she's almost begging him to understand, and if he had half again the experience with women (other than whores and in-laws, and nieces) he may have understood something of the sentiments expressed. But, as she'd noted before, he's not really soft, as in, sympathetic to the womanly-side.
What he can and does understand, however, is the heated kiss that is delivered.. and for the briefest of moments, he's unsure as to dissuade her of that course, or to ride the flow, as it were. He.. would really, really rather she remain, that she ride to Tall Oaks, to..
Dafydd leans down and wraps an arm around Kath to answer, a response to the kiss that is almost as heated. He should temper the kiss, a farewell instead of a 'think of me fondly until next time we meet'. His other hand reaches to pull her closer, enwrapping her into an embrace, and that 'tempering' doesn't seem to be happening.
While Kate truly wanted him to understand what she was trying to say, even if there was great danger in that understanding, the kiss is more than distracting from such issues. It's much of what she distantly fantasized about, in quiet moments where she had caught her mind wandering from her duties. The real thing was so much better than fantasy. Kate allows her far smaller form to be drug in against his, chest to chest, hips to hips, her frame still far cooler than his own and tightly muscled, but she has breasts like any woman and she's a good height for a proper, story book sort of kiss.
There is little other of faerie tales in her kiss, though. She is as hungered as he is. Her mouth tastes of juice, something sweet at light she probably took with her morning meal, and more savoury hints of lips and tongue behind it. She presses forward a bit more, almost trying to pin him between herself and the wall behind him, but he is welcome to fight back. To take full control of the kiss where she is fighting for dominiance in it.
Thoughts of the road, that first kiss, come back to mind as Daf tastes the sweetness that lingers and is accentuated by the feel and the scents of the lady. He's moved, certainly, as any man with a woman that presses against him, that molds and fits as a perfect fit, and almost doesn't notice that she is taking the lead, or at least trying to. Vying… and he uses his height and leverage to move her around such that she is the one to be pressed against a post, roundly and soundly kissed as a woman.
He pauses his attention upon her lips to kiss the run of her jaw, the side of her throat before working his way up once again. Morning. Stables.. and there's absolutely no thought of passers-by..
The woman -could- get into an argument about who is going to pin who where, but her knees have gone just a bit weak with that kiss and her body is enjoying the commanding strength of his own just a bit too much. He was not a man who would cower to her. It was actually quite nice. Not just nice. Enticing. A small, happy feminine growl wells up in her throat and to her lips as he pins her there to that post, her head tilting back, exposing a touch more of her throat to him to be kissed. It just feels…So lovely.
"If…. we… do not stop, I do not know if I will have the strength to stop… before we go too far." Kate just barely manages to gasp out before his lips make their way back to her mouth. Her words might protest with hesitation, but her body and the gallop of her pulse speak of far different things.
Dafydd doesn't want to stop, the thought doesn't even begin to occur to him with the responses that are elicited from the fair, pale lady that melts so exquisitely into him. His own mind reels with the pleasure, the sensations of her just enveloping him.. until he hears the whispered, gasped words. He does kiss her again, his hands remaining.. exactly where they are.
Dafydd begins to break the kiss, to fight for some rationality to be placed into the moment, and it's more a nibbled, worried lip-kiss than the sweeping, encompassing, deep kiss of only heartbeats before. "I.." His own voice is hoarse, and it's difficult to get some words out, but he does try and eventually succeed. ".. you should ride." Bedding whores in the hay is one thing— ladies are something completely different, even if they're Ironborn..
That he has the strength to pull back is almost a disappointment. A small, protesting whimper escapes her throat and lips, her body lingering clutched agaisnt him, fingertips against his arm, throat pale and exposed, her pulse calming not one little bit. She forces another short, shallow breath out as she fights for control, but cannot entirely manage to find it. She wants this. If things would go poorly, should she not take her enjoyments? Has she not always just taken what she wanted before? Though she kisses him no longer, her fingertips actually hold onto his shirt and shoulder a hint tighter. Her body doesn't move or hesitate. "…I should ride." She affirms breathlessly… But her body isn't entirely listening.
All he has to do is step in once more, to press against her; he likes the sounds of pleasure, the feel of her fingers digging into him to keep him where he is, to encourage him.. to press him further. There is little that would be needed to do just that— and it's only his belief of knowing his luck they'll be discovered that even begins to temper him.
Still, Dafydd leans down to kiss her again, the final moments before he has to let her ride to the damnable Roost.
"You should.." And like her, he hasn't really moved a full step to allow her to do just that. Now, he raises a hand to cup her jaw, to stroke his thumb across her cheek. "I will tell my brother that you would not be dissuaded, and it is our fervent hope that you will find time in the future to visit."
It's strange moments like now which might so completely remind him that she is indeed still a woman, still far smaller than he is, as his hand completely engulfs her cheek, her ice pale skin a few shades lighter than even his light tones, eyes tightly locked on his for those last few words. She presses her lips together quietly, savouring the last few moments of his lingering taste. Something to remember in the time they will be parted, if nothing else.
"Keep that hope. Keep a place for me, Dafydd." She whispers, her eyes searching his a touch more seriously, some of their previous conversation surfacing in her gaze once again. "When I ride from the Roost, I cannot promise that it will be as a friend to them. I might have to ride hard… and fast. Keep your doors open, and I will be there. I swear that on my family name. By the halls of my god, I will come." She double affirms, though her words might leave some worry in his mind. "And breathe not a word of what I just told you to anyone, or I will ride hard to meet you for far less pleasurable reasons."
That does get his attention, pushing through the fog of desire and the bruising of the 'official' ego. Dafydd blinks, blue eyes refocusing completely upon the lithe creature in his arms. Concern filters in, and all sorts of thoughts begin to rise at the meanings of her words. It puts them at an extreme disadvantage in that they'd potentially be harbouring someone wanted by decree.. and they have no alliance with the Iron Lands.. no support from anyone.
Dafydd scowls in the thought, knowing full well that in that case, she asks a great deal of him, of them.
"Ride, and may the Old Gods give you the wisdom in the silence of the night to know your path." He's not a religious man, in any sense of the word, but he'll not invoke the Drowned God, certainly, and he couldn't care less about the Seven.
Kate squeezes his arm one last time and nods, stepping back from him, though her body still seems a touch hesitant to pull away. She steps over to the horse and smoothly mounts it, having gotten used to that at least. She graces him with one last, slight smile. "Have hope I shall ride easy come a month's time, business in the Roost done and quiet and… Better alliances on the horizon. Keep heart, Dafydd. It's one of your more tolerable qualities." She winks at him, their relationship ending for now much as it started, with a touch of wit and warm eyes. With that, she carefully chuffs the horse around and heads out to the open road.