|So Play Nice|
|Summary:||Ceinlys interrupts something in the Ash and Oak. Probably deliberately.|
|Related Logs:||The Pariston-Kaelea-Daryl thing|
|The Ash & Oak Inn — Highfield|
|From the courtyard before the L shaped inn, the Ash and Oak opens into a sprawling taproom designed to house both commoner and noble alike; dimly light, the atmosphere within is one of intimate privacy, with tables arrayed in such a fashion that they each seem to linger within their own shadow, while the bar itself stands out under the illumination of several brightly burning candles opposite the main door. To the right of the bar, one finds a hallway leading back into a section marked strictly for employes and to the right? The kitchens. A large hearth sits on the wall to left, lending its warmth and glow before an assortment of benches and its heat is pushed to the rooms for the smallfolk that sit above the stables; small spaces not meant for the claustrophobic. Curling up to the very rooms themselves weaves a staircase, where only two at a time can walk if they don't mind their shoulders touching. On the right, coming off the wall itself rests a wide staircase, leading up to the more lavish rooms designed with a noble's comfort in mind.|
|January 23rd, 290 A.L.|
No one gossips about other people's secret virtues. ~ Bertrand Arthur William Russell
Pariston grins. "I do. But I have always been happiest around you. Be it the woods of the Roost or even the Tanglewood Manor." He tells her and the memories do make his lips widen. Though at her reaction to the kid he does add, "Trust me. All will work out." At Daryl's attempt to stir jealousy Paris sits silent for a moment before grinning at the lord. Though soon rolling his eyes as he worries for Kaelea more than beingjealous.
Loud.. Did Kaelea mention loud and demanding? There were several aspects of having a child that she had never thought about. Feeling the panic rising, green eyes turn and immediately meet Daryl's as he approaches, surprised when he makes so obvious a claim on her in such a public place, leaning in to him when he kisses her cheek. "No, I'm not hungry yet, I'll get.." Fat. Ohhh my Gods. Something else to consider, another ramification. Her hand covers the one Daryl has over her stomach and wide eyes meet his green ones. "I'm scared.." she whispers softly, words meant for the Ashwood alone. When Paris speaks to her again, she can only give a jerky nod. Maybe it will, but she doesn't look convinced.
Stirring jealousy, maybe. But then again Daryl seems more focused on the redhead than the oversized hunter across. Eyes find the greens of Kaelea, and he speaks in quiet, calming tone, nodding a little towards her as he speaks, eyes never leaving her own. "Okay?" He says with a small nod, "I'll have them bring it over." A wide toothy smile and Daryl rises, moving to step past the table where he had been speaking to a commoner boy only seconds before. A wink is sent towards the kid as Daryl angles for the bar, raising a hand to demand attention once he gets there, speaking quietly.
Given its proximity to the Keep - and the unfortunate events that have brought folk in droves, of late - by now the Ash and Oak is no stranger to the sight of nobility, from every corner of the Riverlands. Odd then that one so close to home should be so rarely seen within the quaint walls of the establishment. Drifting through the doors, accompanied by a handful of guards and servants, the Lady Ceinlys appears to have taken a little time for herself in venture to the township. She would do so often, when Lord Aleister were still alive. Nowadays.. not so much. The raven-haired Haigh is scarce seen outside of Tanglewood. Which is likely why she's the subject upon many a gossip's lips.
Smoothing her skirts with a sweep of both palms, the young lady casts an absent minded glance over the patrons already gathered within, allowing her handmaid to move on ahead and select a pleasant table. If her mistress notes the discussion taking place nearby, or even the presence of the odd trio at all, it's not apparent in her unnervingly calm expression. She eases down into a chair, murmuring a few words of apparent approval regarding the common room's tasteful furnishing.
Pariston does seem more upset about the reaction and how it differed between when he did it and when Daryl did. Not frowning but his smile, for once, falters. TThe whispered words to Daryl is not needed to be heard. He knows her well enough to know what she said from the expression she has. There is a slight worried and warning look to them both as well. Wanting to look out for Kaelea as always.
There is that balancing act, the fine line Kaelea has to trod in order to keep things all calm. Another deep breath as she listens to the quietly spoken words of the Ashwood, a quirk of her lips when he snickers and a nod once he finishes all he has to say. "You're right." Taking it all at face value, the redhead leans back in the chair. "Grapes then." Her usual. Her eyes follow him across the inn though as she notices the latest arrival there's a sudden and inexplicable sense of foreboding. What had she seen? What did she know? Avoiding meeting the gaze of Ceinlys, having seen her around the keep here and there when Aleister was alive, she feels slightly intimidated, but she does her best not to show it. The former Flint retainer just looks towards Paris instead, noting the faltering smile. "It'll all work out, Paris," repeating his own words to him.
Ceinlys may've heard amongst the rabble about a certain form of live entertainment offered in the inn only the night before, a square off between Deputy and Sheriff in some sort of impromptu drinking game that involved practice blades. It's still hot on the tongues of the patrons assembled, as well as the smallfolk out in town, considering it is only the morning after.
Daryl speaks quietly towards the barkeep, waiting patiently for another glass of juice to be set before him, and he nods his appreciation, forking over some coin in the process. As he turns and moves to make a nonchalant sip of his juice, green hues stare over the rim of his glass as he takes another sweeping look over the inn, and a brow arches as…Lady Ceinlys makes an appearance here in his stomping grounds, amongst the ramble. Clearing his throat, and watching idly as one of the innservants move to step towards Kaelea and Pariston's table, a small platter of grapes as well as eggs and potatoes is set down before her.
Daryl's jaw hinges on either side of his face protrude a couple times as he clenches them, then he cooly kicks off the bar, moving to step towards Ceinlys with an easy, smooth gait. "M'lady," He greets, bowing his head in formality as he stands at her table, "…It's nice to see you outside the confines of the Manor."
Folding her arms on the tabletop, Ceinlys adopts a relatively relaxed posture, given the surroundings; content to let her vivid blue eyes merely wander the crowd while Brigid, the world's most long-suffering handmaid, flags down a passing serving girl, lips pursing in displeasure at having to do so. Then again, she doesn't look the sort of woman who's easily enticed to a smile. An order is placed and the girl shooed away, freeing the lady's servant to take her own seat to one side, primly arranging her plain skirts. What a sour-faced cow.
Fortunately, Ceinlys rather suits mourning hues. Or maybe she's simply become accustomed to them, in recent years, and now they settle rather fetchingly against her ivory complexion and ebon mane. Whichever, she doesn't seem awkward in her gown of black and deep blue. In fact, she's absently toying with a heavy silver pendant, slung on a chain about her throat, while propping her jaw lightly in the cup of her other palm. If one had to pick, the word would be bored. But that might be a presumption, and a mistaken one, based solely upon her features. Too well-schooled in neutrality, they give nothing away. Not even when they flicker across Pariston and his scarlet-haired companion over there.
Had the former Steward heard of the sort-of-scuffle a few nights ago? Oh, probably. Not much gets past her. The real crux of the matter is does she care. Well, that remains to be seen. "Lord Daryl." she greets the Ashwood in kind, with a cool smile. "Yes, it does happen, on occasion.. how do you fare?"
Pariston raises a brow at Kaelea's words. "Perhaps. Once I hold what is most precious to me once more." He tells her and eyes shifting to follow Daryl. Nodding as the food is set down. A wide grin at the eggs. Reaching for then with a glance to Kaelea. "I'll just take these then." Slidin the bread fully to her instead. Leaving the nobles be for now. Only offering a glance to them.
Kaelea doesn't follow the progress of Daryl, deciding from experience that once there were two nobles in the room, the commoners ceased to exist. When the food arrives there is a quick glance back, a brief smile of thanks before she turns to face Paris once again, "Aw, Paris. You're not making this easy on me at all." Though after a look down at the platter, she smiles when the hunter takes the chicken babies from her plate. Eggs.. not good stuff. Reaching for a grape, she pops it into her mouth.
Daryl follows Ceinlys' gaze over towards the commoner pair, his countenance unchanging as well, though his eyes do linger for perhaps a second longer before raising a brow just a touch towards the woman as if to barely wonder if she was just idly glancing about or setting her focus on something in particular. A grin arises at that, and he responds, "I thought perhaps the sun's rays would beat too hard down on you before you reached here." That's teasing, and his grin shows it. "…I'm alright." One hand goes to one of his shoulders, lightly rubbing, "Sheriff Jast and I made this place quite the lively spot last night. Shame you weren't here to witness." He idly takes a cup of his juice, "Excuse me, I left my food across the way."
Daryl spins on his heel, stepping across the inn and pausing to set a hand on that boy's head he was talking to earlier, ruffling his hair. The commoner family shares a few words with him, and Daryl gives a smile and little waggle of his fingers. As he passes that table, there's a look towards Pariston and Kaelea, a few brief words hushed quietly as well on his way to his table. He scoops up his plate which he had left, slowly and nonchalantly stepping back across the inn with a warm smile sent towards the commoner pair…Well, at least one of them. Then, he reapproaches Ceinlys and sets his plate down near the edge of her table, "Mind if I join you?" A look inbetween Brigid and her.
The serving-girl returns, setting down a simple pitcher of strongwine and some cups at the noblewoman's table. It's never too early for wine, in the former Steward's opinion, apparently. Brigid eyes the troublesome young Lord with her usual frown, but does incline her head respectfully when he halts beside their seats. The two guards who had accompanied the women have taken up residence on the next table and seem to be enjoying a brief respite from their duties, chatting cheerfully to the wench as she passes by them - something murmured with a wink earning her an extra coin or two, tossed her way.
"Why am I not surprised.." is Ceinlys' amused response to the matter of the previous night's 'entertainment', though she doesn't press further for detail. Some things are best left to the imagination. Nodding, unperturbed, as Daryl briefly excuses himself, she takes up a freshly-poured goblet and settles back comfortably in her chair. Innocent azure eyes once again take in the pair he converses with while fetching his plate, this time with more scrutiny. But no recognition. And when the young man returns, so too does her gaze; accompanied in short order by a vague smile and a wave of her hand. "If you wish. We shan't be staying long. I merely wished to satisfy an urge. One of curiosity, before you ask." she adds, with a flash of a smirk. "I've heard the most fascinating tidbits of gossip about this place, of late."
Pariston smiles to Kaelea a bit apologetic, "I'm sorry. But this once I need to be selfish." He tells her and smiles. As for the eggs, he just continues to smile back at her. Watching Daryl as he comes back. "Lord." He says and eyes following him back to Ceinlys side. The lady getting a bow of the hunter's head this time before his eyes shift to Kaelea. "I will need to ride to Broadmoor to deliver a few things to lady Ilaria from her cousin, lord Einar." He explains to her, "I will probably do so later. Do you want to join though? Perhaps we could all do so when the wedding is." He suggests. His own clothes dark. Mourning clothes. Almost fully black, for the late lord.
There isn't much conversation going on at the commoners table, just a few carefully worded responses to the devout words from Paris. The whole conversation ceases though when Daryl makes his brief reappearance and whispers to her again. Kaelea nods to what he says but again doesn't follow his departure. "You're almost the least selfish person I know, Paris." Though there's a quick frown at the mention of a trip. "Ride to Broadmoor?" Oh.. All though.. "Right, there is a wedding soon. I wonder if the wedding is the best place and time to leave the lady something from her deceased cousin? Perhaps after, at some point?" The redhead isn't exactly Miss Proper, but it does seem to be ill-timed. As a former Flint retainer, Kaelea had meant to be wearing black or something dark, but… she just woke and threw on a dress.
"Let me guess," Daryl half laughs and moves to take a seat at the table across from Ceinlys, idly peering towards the guards as they speak to the wench. "…My name was thrown in it, somewhere?" He's all grins, two hands raising palms up in a casual half shrug before they go back to their eating utensils and dig in to take a few more bites, chewing and swallowing before making reply with crooked smile, "What can I say. They love me here. I'm a bit of a local legend." Those pearly whites are shown once more, shaking his head in amusement. "You know, -last- week I heard one of myself…Mmm. What was it." His glass is lifted for a sip as he ponders that, "Apparently, I was so 'drunk' that I ran my horse right through the stables without guiding it in, or even dismounting. Just…" He smacks two hands together lightly, "Wham. Right through the gate…And still people think it valid, when there is not a bit of damage to show." A soft chuckle, faint roll of his eyes, "I swear, the -imagination- here is wonderous. But I suppose that is what I earn for spending so much time here."
Seemingly interested in whatever it is that quirks her curiousity, "…So, what'd you hear then? Perhaps i'm just being big-headed and for once it's about the Sheriff. I could go for that…As long as it isn't about him..'Beating me' with his sword." Must be a reference to last night.
"Isn't your name always thrown in somewhere?" counters the young lady, quirking a brow across at him as she takes a slow sip of wine, regarding him across the rim while he settles himself. Though she smiles indulgently at his tale, Ceinlys is not a woman easily distracted when she has her mind on something in particular. "That one I had not heard.." she muses, with an idle flit of her gaze in the rough direction of the adjoining stables. "Though I would pay to see it." Gently swirling her drink within the goblet, which dangles from a thumb and forefinger, the brunette cants her head a little askance, pausing a long moment to study her new companion. Brigid does the same. Just.. not so much with the smiles. Or the baiting.
"I know better than most just how wild imaginations can run, Lord Daryl." continues the Haigh, her tone remaining as soft-spoken and calm as ever. Maybe she just enjoys toying with Ashwoods. Maybe it's a sick fascination in watching peaceful tableaus develop into ensanguined carnage. Hm. Hopefully the former. "But I do try to give the benefit of doubt. Hence my little venture here." Leaning forward again, she offers, in a tone of insincere confiding, "..you see, I heard that there had been some manner of quarrel over a woman. That didn't surprise me, either. For with your name invariably follows mention of faceless women. But.. well, to flee together on horseback, oh but it sounds so romantic." Her lips curve in a smile that, at a glance, might be easily considered both amused and warm. It takes someone of greater understanding to spot the nuance of threat underlying. "Not so for the poor man left in the dust, of course." Another sip of wine. "Yes.. a young woman, I heard.. with striking red hair." She doesn't look toward Kaelea again. Doesn't need to. Rather more worryingly, those blue eyes remain fixed upon Daryl's emerald ones.. and that smile holds fast.
Pariston grins, "Well, perhaps not. But this I do feel strongly for." He tells her and gives a glance to her belly before looking into her eyes again. He does nod at her suggestion though. "Perhaps so. I will deliver the older letters first. Do you wish to join?" He asks. "First lord Saethwyr and lady Tiaryn." He explains. There is a lot of him trying to just figure out what to say. Moving his hands restlessly and tapping a bit on the table. For now continuing to ignore the two nobles. Tilting his head to the side as he smiles to Kaelea. "Did you still want to learn to be better as a marksman? I might be able to continue helping you if you wish." For once perhaps get something done as well. Grinning at remembering their other oppurtunities to learn it.
For the most part, Kaelea keeps the conversations separate, nodding when he mentions feeling strongly about her, but not really able to offer anything back. "I can't really go anywhere right now, I need to work." Now more than ever. "Thank you for inviting me though." Hearing a bit about red hair, she looks back brows arched, but not foolish enough to input anything into the nobles conversation. Her whole demeanor changes when she looks back at Paris. "Yes," she tells him firmly, "I would like to continue to learn if you'd continue teaching me."
The two commoners are sitting together at a table talking while the two nobles are sitting together doing the whole noble thing.
Two months, maybe three months ago, Daryl would be sweating under the heavy spotlight. There'd probably be a bit of a bead of sweat dripping, and his eyes would be -everywhere- but the piercing blues across. But…Tragedy struck, misfortune, pain… and Daryl had to learn to mask oceans of emotion behind a cool and calm visage. And that…Is one of the few good things that he took from his previous losses. A cool smile raises on his features, the same one that he had when speaking so amusedly of the rumor he had just brought up to her involving the stable. His heart beat starts picking up in his chest, though hidden behind his hardened leather armor. Dark green iris' collide against the atacking ones with no sign of being fazed.
Then, he starts laughing softly, quirking a brow at the woman across, "Romantic? Well…You see, I run this escort service, where I choose one faceless woman a night, tie her to my horse and ride away at speeding gallop until a beautiful sunrise begins to peek over the horizon." He gesticulates with one hand, making an arching motion with his hand to simulate the sun as it lifts off over the ground." Snickering then, it is certain he is joking about that, and he grows more serious, "Well. As you are sure to know, not all rumors are -entirely- true, though…This one does have some truth to it. It was a business matter," Daryl swallows hard, leaning forward onto one elbow to show that this conversation is perhaps kept quiet, "And the young man left behind was what I considered a danger to Highfield and its…Interests. There was a bit of a miscommunication between lawmen, you see." Then, his juice is lifted oncemore as he regards her with a tilt of his head himself, "The matter has been cleared up, however and is of little consequence now…Though if you wish to inquire further on what I mean, it'd be best done in private." A look about their current surrounding, "Yet…" His turn to counter, to get himself out of the hotseat, "…Why would that rumor, of all of them, draw your interest, M'lady?" A small smile rises then, unshown relief as he weathers the storm.
Ceinlys knows when she's being played in return. It's highly irritating, not that you'd guess it to look at her. A soft chuckle, and she withdraws again, reclining and toying with her wine, cupping it in both palms now. If that's how he wants to play… Having no concer, personally, for whether the discussion is audible to others within the tavern, the noblewoman doesn't echo Daryl's faintly furtive manner, instead arching her brows in benign interest when he returns to the actual topic under discussion. The charisma and tall tales simply don't work on her. He should know better.
"I don't care enough to continue the conversation behind closed doors, thank you, Lord Daryl." With another passive smile, another discreet sip of wine, a sigh and a glance over her surroundings, the former Steward speaks simply, while not overly loud. "I'll simply speak with the Sheriff and ensure in future there are no further.. misunderstandings, when it comes to performing your duties."
Daryl's counter-attack, when it comes, is met with hushed, melodic laughter from low in her throat and the woman slowly shakes her head. "Well, you see.." Lowering her lashes to half-mast, she adopts a mock-sombre expression, as if she were about to confess the darkest of all her secrets. Given the source, that would be.. bad. "..I've rather a weakness for a sunrise, myself." She mutters something behind the rim of her goblet as she sips again, likely audible to the young man alone, where they sit. Maybe Brigid, but let's face it.. who cares about Brigid? "No." As if there were any question of her jesting. "I only concern myself, Lord Daryl.. when a young noble of House Ashwood, only recently reinstated to his title and rights, dallies with commoners and their affairs overlong, at the risk of his own kin's reputation." Setting her goblet down carefully, the young lady seems prepared to rise, once she finishes her meaning. "..you are, first and foremost, of noble birth, Daryl. Try to conduct yourself as such. Or our discussions will be required to become more.. in-depth."
Pariston nods to Kaelea, understanding her words and he takes a deep breath before stretching a bit, still tired. His hands show red scars, most likely from the reins to his horse, having been riding quite a lot before coming back to Highfield. "Of course I will continue to teach you." He tells her and smiles sweetly. Glancing towards the nobles, hearing the topic they chose. He doesn't say or show much though. Only studying them both in between glances. Trying to see Kaelea's reaction. Able to guess perhaps, giving her a look that says 'be calm'. Continuing to hear the words of the nobles. He can't argue against what Ceinlys says though, not that he would even if he could.
Business matter. Quietly, Kaelea begins drumming her fingers on the table top. The stiffness of her posture is one of the warnings followed by the narrowing of her green eyes. It's either unfortunate for Paris or fortunately for Kaelea that Paris seems to be the recipient of the advance signs of a quickly escalating temper, since he is adept at interpreting them and heading them off. Leaning forward, placing her forearms on the table, she regards Paris a moment. Catching that look, the anticipatory way he seems to read her, her brows furrow. The thing is, she couldn't argue with the words of Ceinlys and it forces a few truths. Impatient, she drums her fingers again, "When?" she demands quietly of the hunter. "I'm not just going to sit around here all day."
The commoners are together at a table, Paris and Kaelea. Ceinlys and Daryl are at another table.
And it's morning.
Garett, for his part, doesn't seem to mind lingering about Highfield. It's as good a place as any and it's not like he has any really pressing business. Anywhere. But every so often he needs a place to sit down, and just like the rest of town, this place too is just as good as another one. The scarred knight casually steps inside, ever presently looking as neutral and stone-faced, such is his natural state and expression. A scratch at his cheek before he simply deposits himself at an empty table. Looks like he just wanted to sit down.
Daryl leans back some, not to the point where its completely improper, but definitely casual as he regards Ceinlys with only slightly raised brows. His eyes remain leveled, and the thoughts in his head consist of 'Keep cool, keep calm, keep your big mouth shut…' That natural grin of his elevates at her mention of sunrises, and he moves to lift his cup of juice for a small sip. When she mutters that other part, he leans forward, one hand balling into a fist to contain the cough that emits from him nearly choking down that juice. He looks across at her, a bit shaken but quick to recover then. He blinks a couple times, nodding a little at that.
"…Of course. Should you find him, mention that it is best to keep his Deputy in the loop of things. So we're on the same page." Daryl looks at Brigid for a moment, seeing if there was any reaction there before he speaks in return, "'Dallying' is an odd word to use, but I see your point. However, it was Lord Bastien himself who placed me among them, had me do the labor they do. See what it was like to be in their shoes," Well, better off than most commoners, but for a noble? Definitely demeaning. "So I have had a bit of time with them, and i'll admit that it was a…Humbling experience. Perhaps my Lord cousin sees things a bit differently than you, but…I will not be forsaking my duties…As nobleman, squire or Deputy. This I can assure you." There's a small smile at that, "I look forward to future conversation." Then, the Ashwood rises to his feet, formally awaiting there should she wish to rise as well.
Stepping in from the outside, Robben looks a bit thoughtful as he heads over in the general direction of the bar now. Humming a little to himself, some kind of light-hearted melody that some people might have heard him hum before, as he glances around the room, taking note of the people present, but not stopping his humming for now.
And rise she does, having been smoothing her skirts and nudging back her chair even as the Ashwood was offering her an answer. He's an amusing and talented opponent, but Ceinlys seems satisfied that her words have struck just the nerves she was aiming for. Coming to her full height, the young lady casts a smile of apparently genuine warmth Daryl's way. "It seems that we, at least, are agreeing on a page upon which to settle, then." One hand wanders up to tuck a stray tumble of her dark hair back from her face, while Brigid bustles to her feet and collects a small package brought by the serving wench of before, wrapped in clean linen.
"Lord Daryl.." The Haigh flits her blue eyes swiftly floorward in a semblance of polite farewell, "..always a pleasure." With that, she's pivoting on a heel to face the door, confident that her guards and chaperone are readied and following. Just as well, considering who's moving across the threshold as her attention turns that way. Garett. Quelling the simultaneous urge to curl her upper lip and the unbidden lurch that assails her stomach, the former Steward merely offers a curt nod in the man's direction before starting for the doorway. Given pause once more though, as the younger Ashwood brother enters the Ash and Oak, to this newcomer she does afford a warmer look and inclination of her head in acknowledgement, clearing his path and awaiting her opportunity for escape.
Pariston studies Kaelea and continues to do what he can to calm her. Resting his forearms on the table. Smiling sweetly too her despite the temper that is showing. "We can do it right now if you want." He tells her and grins a bit at her last. "I will get the things and we can leave." He suggests with a shrug that does reveal that his body has been faltering just a touch, but still healthy enough to show that his body still seem muscular. The entering nobles getting glances and nods if they are looking. Daryl and Ceinlys only been listened in on rather than looked on. As soon enough his eyes find Kaelea again.
There's something odd about Garett. Off, maybe. There's no recognition in his face when Ceinlys nods at him. One might think there'd be something, anything; annoyance, anger, or even pity. But there's nothing. As if he looking through her rather than at her. As if the memory of ever meeting her was wiped clean. Which is probably a decent guess, given his amnesia. Though, it's not like that's any different to anyone else that he glances at, which there are few. The nod is returned, but it's hesitated, as if he was searching his memory for any kind of past experience. Finding none, he finishes the gesture, out of courtesy if anything else. Sitting down, he sets a small pack next to him, drawning out an old and highly worn book, frayed, cut, and battered. It's opened, and the Westerlord begins to read.
With the meeting about over, Kaelea can only shake her head, "I'm going for a walk first, I'll meet you back here later." Leaving the rest of the meal untouched, she rises and heads for the door, just another queue in the traffic jam of those entering and exiting.
Daryl gives a firm sort of nod, stepping out of the way as Brigid and guards move to step away towards the exit. There's a clenched frown now that he has a moment to not be studied by the Haigh woman, though it fades as he sees Robben enter. There's a silent hand set on the man's shoulder as he passes, then a, "Cousin. You have to start teaching me to be nice and proper." The tone is joking however, and then something spurns him to move towards the exit of the Ash and Oak, a slight shaking of his head given. Garrett, odd enough, gets a bit of an odd look, though its only in passing.
Pariston nods, "Oh, okay." He perhaps can guess why and wanting to follow her. But he will agree. "Meet me at the tree? I will bring the things there." He tells her and rises to his feet. Watching all the people heading towards the exit as well. "Be well Kaelea. I will meet you soon." He offers and keeps his eyes on hers for a moment before turning towards his room. Moving to pick up a grape and once more showing that burn from the reins as he heads off.
Robben offers a bit of a nod and a half-smile to Ceinlys, before he pauses at the hand on his shoulder, and he looks over at Daryl. "I do? Well then…" There's a brief pause again now, as he looks a bit thoughtful for a few moments, before he adds, "When?"
"When i'm willing to give up everything I am and stand for," Daryl asides back to Robben over his shoulder. "So i'll…Get back to you on that." Huh. Wonder what that means. Though his first comment was jesting, so perhaps this one is to be taken as such as well. The Ashwood moves to step out the door of the inn with a somewhat quickened stride then, focused on something within his mind.