Page 300: Rocks and Rudeness
Rocks and Rudeness
Summary: A knight and his squire encounter a willful girl and others in the town square.
Date: 15/05/2012
Related Logs: None
Locke Benedict Merel Sofya Justin Dania 
Terrick's Roost Town Square
The town square of Terrick's Roost was once considered well-kept. The stone streets run right up to the building fronts around the edge and the locals have kept the spaces between free of grass and weeds that might otherwise sprung up between them, although dark streaks of stubborn soot have crawled in between the stones. There are several homes and shops located here which show the scars and cinders of the sacking of the town at Ironborn hands. The ruin of the town's Sept can also be seen from here with its ornate stone front rising above the surrounding structures just down the cobblestone road.
Tue May 15, 289

The warmth of the sun bakes over the Cape. The storms of the other day dissipated, allowing for a nigh stifling mugginess to creep in and rule. But, work and life goes on, as is evidenced in the Roost. Men are rebuilding, others are working the fields. And for this squire coming out of the stables of the Rockcliff- well some people have had to deal with horses. There's a narrowing of eyes, as meager coin is counted out and forked over for the stay- and care. 'Oi, you be kind with them horses, sirrah. Or I'll be sure t' make me coppers back from your hands.." of course when one is trying to keep a 'low profile' one should probably not threaten a stable owner over something that he's done all his life.

A sigh and a stamp of his boots to clear off mud, Locke finds himself ambling away from the Inn, closer to the center of town.

Locke has been dealing with the horses. Benedict has been seeing about getting a room for a few nights with some more of that coin. As the squire steps out of the stables, Benedict Lawson comes out of the Rockliff proper, squinting up at the bright sun and the muggy heat it brings. "All sorted?" he asks the boy.

Everyone is sorting things out, going about their business of the day and Merel is…kicking a bit of stone that likely came loose in the Ironborn attack across the Town Square as she goes. Presumably the small, young girl is on some sort of errand of the 'go here and fetch this' or 'go there and talk to some person' variety, but that sure doesn't look like work. It is also unappreciated by anyone who gets to close to the rock's path. Stop that.

"Sorted enough. They'll have hay an oats like everyone else. I'll see to their brushin, but he promises no one will steal em, or our tack if we wish to leave it with 'em." A shrug there. "I figure I would ask you bout the tack, before I go luggin' it inside." And Locke raises a brow. "Did we get a room, by the by, or do I need our coin back?" Because if he just got the horses stalls an they would be sleeping under the eaves some where..

A rock comes skittering by and without much thought as to whom it would belong to, the young man rears back a leg and moves to smack the thing out of his way. Almost a proud smile at that.

"Leave the tack, it should be fine," Benedict answers. "Less risk of theft, in general, in the Riverlands. But yes, we've a room, let the groomsman keep his coins." He glances over towards a girl that goes ambling past, with her stone. Until it becomes Locke's stone. "You know, I think that was someone else's…" the knight points out with a faint smile.

Hey now. Someone was using that rock. Merel looks less pleased as the rock is kicked, watching as it goes skittering off in 'not the direction she was going' with a resigned expression. "It was someone else's," she also points out. No compliments are forthcoming for a nice kick.

"It's mine now." Locke states before he is motioning to where the stone skittered. "An I bloody well cleared it." A boastful smile there, before he's nodding, his hand held out towards Benedict to allow the knight his coins back. "Well an good. If we were upstairs, I'd bloody hate to be scrappin' that all up an findin' a place to lay it, as opposed to my head." A snort, and then one hand is reach up to paw at his nose, before he is snorting out to the ground. Rubbing slightly afterwards, before he is looking back to Merel. There's a brief blink and he's looking back to the rock. Apparently, Merel was not expected. "Oh." Now that boastfulness, well it stews for a moment. "Well it's gone now.." Or rather mixed with the other rocks in the square.

Benedict accepts the coins, tucking them back into the pouch at his belt, before glancing over at his squire with an arched brow. "Well, Locke, seems you owe the miss one stone."

No one expects the Merel inquisition? She is a slight thing, easily missed, especially when theirs a fair amount of people about. Standing there as she is, though, means dropping some eaves on their conversation. She appears entirely unimpressed, tilting her chin up to look up at Ser and squire. "I can see that," she says, glancing briefly over in the direction the rock went…somewhere. She does blink at Benedict though, maybe surprised that anyone thinks she's owed anything.

Locke looks back towards Merel. "Can you? I'd be surprised you seein' anything with how short you are." Not that she is too tiny compared to him. However, when Benedict is speaking up, the boy turns his head, and there's another blink given to him. "Wot?" that is all he can say for a moment. "I don' owe her shi-err mm. Anything." At least he didn't cuss, as if the girl's being there was reminder enough for manners.

"No?" Benedict asks, that one brow lifting a little higher. "By my count, you've kicked her stone away and now you've insulted her. Seems to me, at the very least, you owe the miss an apology."

Merel blinks and momentarily considers her height, looking down at herself. What? "Sounds to me like you'd spend a lot of time being surprised with what you don't know." She crosses her arms stubbornly. SO THERE. "Probably doesn't even know what one is." An apology, she means, Locke being the picture of shining chivalry and civility that he is.

"No." Locke says back as his arms fold over his chest, and there he is looking to the younger and smaller Merel for a moment, as a scowl has fixed up. "I don' see what I owe 'er an apology for. She's small. Not like I said 'er face is fat or summit like that." and he's looking back to Merel "Did I?"

And there he is focused in on the Merel. "I know what an apology is.. You think you deserve it, for a stone?"

"I think she deserves it for your thoughtless rudeness," Benedict counters. Sorry Merel, were you wanting to speak up for yourself? And then, in a tone a little more somber and a little less That Was Not Knightly, the hedge-knight adds, "Don't be a bully, Locke."

Unmoved by Locke's scowl, Merel continues to stand in much the same crossed-arms posture. Stand off! "Your face always scrunch up like that when you're told to do something you don't wanna?" She says instead of answering his first question. To the second, she shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Not like it'd be meant."

"My face scrunches up like this when I don't see what he's talking about." A nod in Benedict's direction, before he is looking back towards Merel, his arms crossing as his weight shifts. "You don't think I'd mean an apology? I apologize when I know I've done it wrong." A nod there before he's glancing back to Benedict. "I'm not bein' a bully." And now he is looking back to Merel. "Am I?"

Benedict opts to keep quiet this time, glancing over at Merel and letting the girl speak for herself. But, not to miss out on the fad of arm crossing, the knight crosses his own as he waits.

"He means you're rude and don't have thoughts between your ears for anyone but yourself," Merel explains…helpfully. Don't you feel enlightened now? You're welcome. Feel free to unscrunch your face. "I think you wouldn't mean it when someone made you." To be fair, no one means an apology when they're forced into it. The question of whether Locke is a bully or not gets a moment of thought, her mouth set in a line before she shrugs. "Well, you're not nice." Maybe not bad enough for a bully.

"Well, I'm sorry if kickin' your bloody stone is not nice. It's a fucking stone." And there he motions "There are literally many more of them around here. I doubt that stone held any sort of significance." Locke says as he looks back to Merel. "An I'll have you know I think about a lot of people, girl. But I'm right not going to get in a tissy about a stone." And yet here he is doing just that.

"Well, I'm sorry if kickin' your bloody stone is not nice. It's a fucking stone." And there he motions "There are literally many more of them around here. I doubt that stone held any sort of significance." Locke says as he looks back to Merel. "An I'll have you know I think about a lot of people, girl. But I'm right not going to get in a tissy about a stone." And yet here he is doing just that.

"Well, you're going into a tizzy about something," Benedict opines, looking from Merel to his squire and back again. "But, pardon. I suppose if we're exchanging insults, we ought to make introductions, too. I'm Ser Benedict Lawson, and this is my squire, Locke Septswood. Hello, miss."

"Not like you'd know if it did," Merel retorts. Maybe it was her grandmother's favorite rock or the last piece of her home or something. You don't know. (Except that she was kicking it around, so, probably not). "Could've fooled me," she says, dry and pointed. "I think he's just upset 'cause his brain hurts from having to figure something out." Oh, but since we're exchanging introductions too… "Merel Atwood. Hello." A beat, she adds, "Ser."

Locke eyes Benedict. "I'll.." What? Still the young man frowns before he's looking back towards Merel as his name is forked over. "You were kicking it." he states flatly, before he is looking back to his knight. A scowl set indeed, before he is heading off. "I'll go find her a stupid rock.." muttered as he stomps away.

Benedict watches as Locke stalks off, but he doesn't call the lad back. Perhaps a little stewing time will do the squire good. Looking back to Merel he offers a nod. "A pleasure, Miss Atwood." Or, something like it. "I am sorry your game was interrupted, though to be fair, I don't think Locke realized he was doing so when he kicked it."

Merel watches Locke go without much expression on her face, though she finally uncrosses her arms. "Yeah." A pleasure. Or close enough. Maybe not for Locke. She cants her head in the direction the squire went for a moment before looking at Benedict and admits, "No, can't imagine he did. It was just a game anyway."

"Could have said that to him, you know," the hedge knight muses. "I know he wasn't being a peach, but a bit of civility does wonders."

"Could've." Didn't. "Might've if he hadn't been so…" Merel's expression twists, looking for an appropriate word. Not finding one, she just finished with, "That."

Benedict snrks a little, looking towards the direction his squire took. "Correct me if I'm wrong, miss, but I get the distinct impression you're inclined to be a bit… 'that'… yourself."

For a moment, Merel crosses her arms in that stubbornly defensive way again. But then she considers Benedict and just drops them with a shrug. "Likely get run over either way, but I'm not gonna lay down so it's easy to do."

"Well, that seems fair enough," Benedict agrees after a moment of consideration. "But, I'm not keen to run you over, and neither is Locke. Not really. He's just rough around the edges sometimes, but he's a good sort."

"No way for me to know that, I don't know you," Merel points out with bit of mild suspicion despite assurances. Not that she's running away or anything, so there's that. Of Locke she questions dubiously, "Only sometimes?"

Near the Rockcliff, in the hot sun, a hedge knight dressed in black is speaking rather solemnly with a girl that looks to be some ten years his junior and some ten inches shorter. "Suppose you don't, miss, all right," Benedict says with a small nod. A corner of his mouth twitches up into a smile, and he adds, "Often, I'll grant you. But not always."

Dark haired with cheeks warmed by the wind off the coast, Sofya gently guides a pair of horses, a stallion with warm brown eyes and a dappled grey and pale mare, through the Town Square on foot. The male lightly nudges his head into her shoulder, leading to a click of the lass's tongue. "Hey now," she chides in a laughing alto, glancing back over her shoulder with a smile. The Vance maid comes to a natural stop near the rather odd pair. "Oh, hello there. Good day, Ser," she greets, glancing towards Merel. "All right there, lovely?"

Perhaps Merel should carry a small crate around with her at all times so that she can stand on it to look everyone in the eye. As is, she just has to keep looking up. "Well, I suppose that's alright." This touching admission is probably ruined by the question, "So he's like something you're fixing?" Because Locke's clearly a fixer upper. She turns her head to look at Sofya and horses with a raise of brows. "…hi?" Lovely is the horse, right?

"He's my squire," Benedict replies, though after a moment he feels obliged to add, "and a work in progress." Then, a pair of horses, led by a very pretty young woman, appear, and the knight is briefly distracted from his discussion of stones and squires and bad attitudes. "Good afternoon, mistress," he says, dipping into a bit of a bow. "Do you need a bit of help with your two charges?"

"Aren't all men?" Sofya asides softly with an easy grin on the subject of 'fixer-uppers, stroking a hand a along the stallion's nose. Surely she isn't referring to anyone here or butting into a conversation…no. At Merel's blase response, she raises her brows in turn and lets her smile soften in the girl's direction. Hello. An airy curtsey of sorts, complete with a flip of her skirt, is offered in response to Benedict's bow with Sofya's hand ever remaining on the reigns. "Another time I might, but it seems you've got one of your on the lam, Ser. Or is he yours?" A mischievous look is cast Merel's way.

Merel glances in the direction said squire stalked off to. "Good luck," she says to Ser Benedict of his work in progress with a tone that says 'you'll need it'. Sofya is apparently just baffling, because she just stares at the woman with her horses and her curtseying. "…What?"

"Oof," Benedict murmurs for Sofya's quip about all men, lifting a hand and pressing it to his chest. "I am cut, mistress, down to the quick. But, my squire will manage to find me, even should I drift to the stables, if you would like assistance." He smirks over at Merel. "And who is in charge of wrangling you, miss? I fear they need more luck than I do."

"I don't know, Ser…I think I've heard a bit or two about letting unknown and likely unfinished men help me to the stables," Sofya notes with a merry twinkle in her eye. Clearly, fishing for an introduction without having to offer one of her own first. Cheeky. "Good on your squire to be able you to find you, mind. A great help that'd be with your quick cut." Quite cheeky. Looking to Merel, she raises her brows and opens her mouth as if to speak and then pauses, giving her head a shake. Never mind, lovely.

"She said she didn't need help," Merel reminds in a mumble and a bland sort of expression that probably looks a little worse next to all of Sofya's cheek. "Ser Tommas Belte doesn't need any luck," she defends, jutting her chin up in the air and snorts. That may not really be true. He probably needs a little luck.

"Unfinished?" Benedict protests with a laugh, "And what makes you jump to that horrible conclusion? Ser Benedict Lawson, mistress, quite finished, thank you." So there's the introduction the cheeky young woman was after. Looking back over at Merel, his brows lift. "Ser Belte? But I'm familiar with the man, you're too old to be his daughter."

Sofya smiles crookedly and dips her head in a nod, noting cheerfully, "I said likely unfinished, good Ser Benedict. It's hard to tell from such a brief acquaintance and it was the topic on hand." Those wears and ways and makes of men-folk. She clearly meant no offense. "Mistress Sofya Dale. Well met." She directs her smile over at Merel as she speaks, lifting a hand to stroke the stallion's neck as the — more acquainted pair converse.

Merel side-eyes the pair of adults for a long moment. At least there are no comments from the peanut gallery this time. "Are you?" She squints suspiciously at Benedict's claim. It takes her a moment to work out the math, more or less, and it doesn't change her explanation anyway. "I'm his ward."

"Yes," Benedict tells Merel somberly. "He's very tall. It's a wonder you don't have an ache in your neck, if you spend most of your time with him." He offers the girl a quick, playful smile before nodding to Sofya. "A pleasure to meet you, Mistress Dale. What brings you drifting by with a pair of horses?"

A lone man walks without a horse through the street, taking his leisure and coming from the direction of the Sept. Justin is dressed fairly nicely in black surcoat with House Terrick colors, an off white tunic, grey trousers matched with tooled black arm guards, belt and boots. A sword with matching dagger are set to hang from his belt. His mind on his own thoughts, he nonetheless glances around as he walks, keeping an eye on who's out and about as he seems to be heading towards the general direction of the Inn.

Observing a conversation between a small lass and a much taller knight, stands a woman with a pair of horses in hand: a playful stallion and a dappled mare. Sofya makes a bit of a face at that description and hazards, "Seems like that would describe…a great many men," she suggests softly, raising her brows in mild confusion. There is little she can do to not offer Benedict another smile as he turns back to her. "Ah. Exercise, you see. These sweetlings were getting a bit anxious in the stables, I took them for a bit of run along the Cape."

Another woman is riding into the town square about this time. She is sitting on top of a 16'2 hand gelding that looks like he has draft in his blood lines. She is sitting astride and the long skirts of her woolen gown do little to hide her legs which are encased in boots. She has saddle bags and a bedroll attached to her saddle. Her long hair is primly bound up and the legs of her horse are covered with a thick mud as is the hem of her skirts.

"He is very tall," Merel agrees seriously, as if this is some great piece of news. Also? Grass is green. "You get used to looking up when most everyone is taller than you." So says the small girl, with a nod in Sofya's direction. "Tommas is taller than a great many men still." He's the tallest and the bestest.

Justin isn't the tallest to be certain and couldn't care less - probably prefers not to be, actually. He gives a nod to the knot of people as he walks by, "Good evening," but has no clue who they might be. The Terrick lord takes a step up onto the Inn's porch and then pauses as Justin catches sight of Dania riding into town with her gelding. He stops, one hand on a vertical post and turns to raise his light baritone, "Goodwoman Dania!" A brief pause to let her gaze seek the direction of his voice, "Welcome back. Have you seen Ser Keelin? Is he here abouts or back in Stonebridge?"

"If you had met Ser Tommas Belte, mistress, you would understand that 'tall' really only aptly describes him, ever after. All others then become 'taller than me, though not so tall as Ser Belte'," Benedict explains to Sofya. His brows lift a little as the mistress describes her horses 'exercise'. "But how does one woman exercise two horses? You can't have ridden both of them. And, likewise, you can't have kept up with them on foot." If he's teasing, he does a good job of looking in earnest. The passing Lord Justin gets a nod from the hedge knight before he returns his attention to his own little cluster.

"I have not seen my brother Lord Terrick but if see him before I do tell him that I left his escort he found for me back a bit. The squire's horse pulled up lame, I have been working in the outlying area. Word has gotten out." The woman brings her mount to a stop with an unseen command that is given through her seat. She then dismounts. She is a tall woman who stands about six feet in height. "How are you doing Milord, I have not seen you in sometime?"

Dania casts a glace and offers a warm smile to the others.

"My Lord Terrick," Sofya greets, bobbing in a touch of a curtsey as the Terrick son walks by. He may not recognize her, but the Vance retainer certainly knows who he is. The Mistress Dale listens to the pair's description of Ser Belte with rising brows, flashing Merel a little smile for her nod. "I see. Your good knight must be a fearsome man indeed then, not unlike the Mountain." Lifting the hand that does not hold the reigns, she briefly sketches the height of the infamous knight (or at least a guess thereof as hands only reach so high.) Slate coloured eyes twinkle as she looks at Benedict, clicking her tongue lightly in admonition. "Do you know, Ser. That I put one foot on one saddle and one foot on the other and rode them standing up? Uncommon, but I find it gets the job done," she admits frankly, only the glint of mischief in her eyes betraying the tease. It sounds very somber and proper though.

Of course the two horses the gal is holding gains Justin's attention, him being a horseman. He studies them, both mare and stallion, then looks over the woman holding them as he waits for Dania to draw nearer or answer him. Justin gives Sofya a polite nod but she hasn't introduced herself, and returns Benedict's nod as well. Grey eyes slide back to Dania as she draws up on her big bay and dismounts, "I have been busy wearing the shoes off of my horse traveling back and forth from the Roost and Stonebridge myself. I thought today he should rest while I go afoot." Justin quirks his mouth into his lopsided half smile, "I thought to get a drink and you look as though you could use one as well. Doing your rounds at the farmsteads then?"

Merel nods her head in agreement with Benedict's explanation. "Tallest person I've ever met." Lifting her hand in the air to indicate 'tall' though it is still short of Ser Belte's real height. Justin's greeting gets a spares, "Hi" in return from the girl, followed after a beat by, "My lord." Uh. Manners. She seems uncertain if she should boast Tommas as fearsome or not. Surely he /can/ be, but the effect would probably be ruined if the next him he was seen he was cuddling baby bunnies or something. "He is very big," she settles on. People can draw their own conclusions.

"Very big," Benedict agrees, "though not, I think, fearsome. At least, not in manner." He nods slowly as Sofya describes her horse riding adventures. "Ah, of course," he agrees with only a tiny smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Naturally, that would be the only way to manage. How clever."

"Took me bloody forever and a day to get between them, especially with that storm blew through." Dania tells the lord as she runs up her stirrups and then she loosens her girth. She pats her horse on the neck and gives his ear a scratch which the big lout leans into. "Sparrow is a dear, shied though and I about came off into a mire of field." She laughs at that. "Attended a birth and then had to head over to Farmer Oakland's place. His son fell and broke his leg. He will be laid up for a bit. It will not bear well for that family." Then her usual manner that is blunt when she has been traveling and has had little sleep she asks. "Who are they?" As she says this she offers them a warm sunny smile despite her blunt words.

Stepping back down off of the Inn's porch, Justin puts out a hand to rub the gelding's broad head, "Must have been something to spook a gentle boy like him. Sorry to hear about Oakland's boy. I hope his leg will mend well." Justin frowns somewhat, "Hard on a lot of folk right now. Wish I could send someone over to lend him a hand but … we're far too short handed already, though that'll ease up in time." Yes, some scatching for the gelding. Dania's question brings Justin's gaze back to the others, to Merel first, then Benedict and finally to rest upon Sofya, she being the easiest upon his eyes. His gaze lingers upon her with the horses before he finally shrugs, "I haven't the faintest."

Manners. They are a good thing. Sofya seems to have remembered the majority of her own with a Lord present, although her eyes remain bright. "I look forward to perhaps glimpsing your massive Ser Belte, then lass," she says gently smiling down at Merel. "I shall need to know your name, so I might tell him who recommended him so though." Very well. Very Big. Unlike Benedict, she resists the urge to quirk her lips. "Indeed. It is good to make sure one's Lord's horse sees just the right amount of exercise, but no more." The big brown eyed stallion gets another fond pat at that, whickering softly at the attention. "You should attempt it sometime, Ser Benedict. It would do you well. Good for the legs."

"You'll know him if you see him," Merel opines of Ser Belte with a slight smile of her own and a sharp nod. Which is not at all an exaggeration. She lacks much of an opinion on horses, so just keeps silent on that aspect of conversation.

Because she was asked, she also introduces herself as, "Merel Atwood."

"Temping, mistress, though I'd need a second horse," Benedict points out, playing his part as solemnly as Sofya plays hers. "But as your pair have already been exercised, I suppose it will have to wait until tomorrow."

"A pleasure, Merel," Sofya returns with a sunny smile, warm and wide an easy. To Benedict she must simply agree. "Aye, you would and you'd need to keep up as well. I'll be out again on the morrow." Horses, they like to run.

"Names were learned." Dania says this with a grins to Justin before she looks to the others and she offers them a bow of head and warm sunny smile. A stable hand appears from the stables of the inn to come and get the gelding from Dania. "It is pleasure." She says to them. Then she looks to the stable hand. "No grain, but extra ration of hay if we have it to spare if not let him gaze. Thank you Hyde." She turns her attention to her saddle as she takes off her saddle bags and the bedroll. "I have a treat if would you share it with me. One of the famers sent me away with some elderberry wine, Lord Terrick."

"That squire of yours walk?" Merel wonders with a tip of her head when Benedict says he'd need another horse. Surely that is two horses there. Uh. With slightly more in the way of manners, she says, "Pleasure meeting you." A general 'you'.

"No, but I leave it to him to exercise his own steed," Benedict explains, "Part of all that 'fixing up' you were asking about." Dania, for her smile and nod, gets a partial bow returned to her before he looks back to Sofya. "I should love to watch," he says for tomorrow's exercising. "See how it's done before I endeavor it, myself."

That is two horses. An amused smile curves Sofya's mouth at Merel's counter, gaze slipping from the girl towards the knight. Turned as she is, she misses Dania's smile but looks Benedict's bow to look over her shoulder at the woman and tip her chin in a nod. "Should you be around the Roost stables, you'd be welcome to join me Ser. I should see about getting these dears back up that way," she notes, clicking her tongue at the horses. Yes, you.

The stable hand leads the horse off and Dania with her saddle bags goes to head into the tavern to find food and some rest. A bow of her head is offered along with a smile to the others as she departs.

Well, Merel isn't going to argue with efforts to fix up Locke. "You're still short a horse," she comments, looking at the pair Sofya is holding the reins to still as they fidget and nose around.

"I have faith somehow, I'll manage to find one," benedict answers, peering over at Merel before flashing a quick smile towards Sofya.

"Far be it from us to doubt the word of a Knight of the Realm," Sofya replies, including Merel with a flit of her fingers. She returns Benedicts smile and then laughs as one of the horses nudge her. "Very well then." Taking a light step to the side she clicks her tongue at the horses, gently urging them forward to begin the journey up towards the Roost.

Merel snorts softly at that faith, then blinks at Sofya as she gestures. Are you not supposed to question strange knights? Oh well. "If you say so."