| Sober Words |
| Summary: | Jacsen summons Hollister to see to the safety of the Roost's borders. However more than Ironborn are discussed |
| Date: | 16/02/1983 |
| Related Logs: | : Battles of Women |
| Players: |
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| Throne Room, Four Eagles' Tower |
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| Great pillars rise above the occupants of the room, the ceiling arching across the structural supports in a lovely feat of construction. The north and south walls have expansive windows that filter in sunshine during the day while ornately designed torches provide light at night. The room is large enough to host a great feast for quite a number of people but the tables are typically kept elsewhere. The Lord's Throne is at the west end of the room on a dais with a high, circular window that brings in the setting sun with the late afternoons |
| 16th February, 289AL |
It has not taken long for word to spread that the Lady Evangeline Terrick, in the midst of a miscarriage, died last evening. The mood about the tower, already something of a taciturn place of late, has turned sombre and bleak by turns. Still, the business of the Roost does not pause, or at the very least, Jacsen has chosen not to pause, deciding instead to push forward rather that succumb to the blackest of moods that threatens. He's seated at one of the tables in the throne room, his cane resting against the arm of his chair, a cup of wine held in an upturned palm. His gaze is distant, focused on the furthest wall.
It is as if a bad omen, coming in the night. Something you spit in the doorway for, and scatter lyeseed about in order to keep the dead from remaining. But, even in times of wretched sadness and hardship, one must endure. Or make as if they will. There's hardly a sound, save for the creaking of a door leading into the Throne room, but still silence given as if that is enough to pay some sort of tribute to the dead.
Clad down in his usual greys and blacks the tall sworn knight of house Terrick, remains close to the wall for a moment, before he's moving to come and approach the young Lord where he sits, as opposed to going for a more formal presentation. His hand moves from the easy rest and hitch from his belt to come and reach for Jacsen's shoulder. "My Lord.." starts Hollister in his gravel warmed voice, "May, I join you?" Even if he was called for, this seems the better approach.
It was a sad thing, that his own mother's death did not necessitate a change in clothes, the Young Lord already accustomed to wearing black in the wake of his uncle's death. Not unlike his mother, Jacsen's uncle Revyn Terrick died in battle, though one usually more accustomed to song and story than the sort that claimed the Lady of the Roost.
When he returned to the Roost, some months back, when the world was a more familiar place, he was very different from the Jacsen Terrick that Hollister had known. Gone was the brave, adventurous, rambunctious youth, filled with dreams of knighthood and glory, replaced with a more tactical, thoughtful, considering man. Shaped by war, personal loss, and years of tutelage beneath Jason Mallister, he found a new role into which to cast himself.
Still, what did not change, it seemed, was a like of the large man of uncertain birthing, who only late in life found himself dubbed a knight. "Ser Hollister," he notes, his voice raspier than its usual tone. He needs blink twice, to focus on the man so near, and when the words register he simply nods. "Please, sit."
He would not lie, if asked if he had favorites of his Lord's children. And when you and your brothers were hoping for knighthood and glory, he could only hope it hit you first. Still again, Hollister would not even voice it outright. When you came back you changed, as did everyone who saw that bloody sick action- but more so than what was noticeable in the flesh. Your mind came into maturation, quicker. You saw through the fables and the stories. Part of that was your own loss, and part of that was Jason Mallister. Indeed, he'd say you fared better.
"Thank you, m'lord." Holly's tone croons out before he is drawing back a nearby chair and seating himself next to Jacsen. Eyes watch the young man for a moment before he is reaching for a nearby flagon, and the decanter. "Your cup, My Lord?" asked, before he would fill his own. only when that business was finished would he take a sip, before speaking. "You know, I lost my mother a long while back. Before the war…" a twitch of his nose, which has him reaching up to scratch whatever itched him."It is an odd thing that..I think I drank for days, before Ser Petr made me vomit it out behind the stables, and then muck them…"And then he falls silent for a bit longer, content to let the wine speak in him. "Fuck the Stranger, I say…He's the cruelest in his mercy."
He's silent for a while at that, listening but not wishing to quite acknowledge that this feeling, this sinking, aching, gaping hole in his heart, could be something that anyone else understands, let alone has experienced and endured. That is the son in him, that grieves, and refuses to let go easily. "Is it not better, beyond this life, Ser? Perhaps His is the greatest of the mercies, only, it is not merciful for those whom are left behind." He lifts the cup of wine, so recently touched up by the elder knight, and drains a long sip.
"I would not know, my Lord." Hollister responds. "I've not seen what is beyond the shores we are presented with. No one comes back to tell us how it is." A pause for a moment as he drains down his flagon, a bit further. "All, I know is that it hurts all the same, and every day feels like the worse from it." A sniff for a second before he is reaching over to pat the man's back. "That being said, If you would like to go out and drink and pick fights with small folk. I will not stop you. I'll even hold the down." A chuckle there for the joke-though it lacks mirth. "Or if you prefer to talk. We can do that."
Holly falls silent to take time to drain down his cup and touch it up a bit more. "You sent for me?" the offer of the other subject there, if Jacsen wishes to follow that line instead of dwelling in the reality.
"Lords with bum legs make for easy pickings, so I think I'll save myself the embarrassment of picking fights." There should be humor in those words, it sounds so much like the dry, humored tone he usually effects, but there is no mirth to it today. Jacsen lifts his cup and takes another long pull, his eyes unfocused and directed on some distant point.
"You are much more than that my lord. You have a mind, which could be said of many Lord's are lacking." Hollister says with a half grin, but then he is draining down the little bit he topped off. "My Lord." the knight begins, "I know you feel like fucking shit, but I won't allow you to treat yourself that way. If I won't allow another man to shit talk you-then I will do the same with you.." A shake of his head "Sounded better in my head…" And with that he is looking back and then turning his head to stare at that indistinct spot that has Jacsen's attention. "I know, I am no good at this. I'm not some septon who has the answers you want. But, I have seen death and grief- And for that I can at least offer understanding."
Another blink, and the Young Lord's eyes are shifting back towards Hollister again. "I should send for Septon Josse, before long. We've preparations to make for the Lady's funeral…" It's distracted, how he says it, as if he knows the words but wonders at how it was he's come to be saying them. But firmer, more in command of his faculties are the words he says next. "I want you to take a knight, friendly to our cause, named Ser Kell Drakmoor, and ride for the ruins of Tall Oaks. We require confirmation that the Ironborn are gone, and that generally our northern border is not an open threat, waiting to rain down ruin upon the Roost."
Hollister looks over towards Jascen watching as the young man seeps in and out. "If you wish I can go looking for him…" However, the next bit has the older knight nodding and sitting a little straighter. "Aye, my lord. I know Ser Kell. He rode with us at Seagard, and on his way here. I can account he's got good mettle.." Well he also was here during the Roost's own siege, but that does not matter. "For Tall Oaks?" asked back, with a raise of his brow. Though the reason makes sense. "And should we find Ironborn, would you have us root them out, or leave them?" Though likely if there are Ironborn there and they see the knights it will be unlikely that they will allow them to ride back.
"I am counting on the both of you to employ some measure of stealth and avoid detection," Jacsen remarks, gathering more sense about him as he steps away from discussion of his mother and gets down to the business of their meeting. "Should you confirm a presence there, I'd have you not engage, but remove yourself back to the Roost with all haste."
"Stealth." a snort from the older knight which is buried down within his cup before he is looking back to the Lord. "Aye, I am sure we can accomplish that. Though, if they spot us, they are likely to not let us leave." Hollis adds, before he is scratching the side of his face. "But, aye- I'll see that we come back in one piece. After all we still need to be cut up when we make for the Iron Islands." a shake of his head, before he is sighing for a moment. "Anything else, my Lord?"
He drains another slow mouthful of wine, and shakes his head. "No, nothing else. But understand, Ser, I don't send you without the belief that there are likely no more of the reavers left," Jacsen adds, before the man can get up or leave. "Did I have good reason to think them encamped still, I would not send so few. I think it shall be quiet, and Tall Oaks quite fallen. The fires we saw during the siege could have indicated little else."
The grin remains on Holly's face, before he is nodding. "Oh, I know, my Lord. I don't think you are sending us into undue risk." A brief pause before he nods. "I imagine we'll find nothing but felled trees and ash." and the Knight finishes all of his wine in a single gulp. A pause as his eyes close through the slow burn before he coughs lightly. "Though, I am certain between Ser Kell and myself any trouble we find we will be able to deal with properly." and then a bit of a sobering up, before the knight continues. "I will make sure that if there is any threat to the Roost, that you will be notified."
There's no grin to match the knight's on Jacsen's features, no humor nor mirth, simply pointed determination that the man know the thoughts of his mind. When that is done, when Hollister offers his final words, the Young Lord simply dips his chin once. "Very good. Hunt down Ser Kell and inform him that I have asked that he accompany you… I believe he will understand why. If not, he might come and ask me himself."
Hollister keeps his as he looks back to Jacsen before he is nodding. "Of course, my lord." And with that he bows his head. Respectful, before he is rising up from the table. The Knight turns to leave as quietly as he entered-before he is turning and looking back towards the young Terrick. "Lord Jacsen." Hollister says, as he pauses by the wall. "Please know my lord, that my heart feels for you. As a friend, and as you are my liege lord. It hurts. I pray the Mother show her compassion to your family in this time." a frown after those words. "And if you need my shoulder, I will still be here for a few days more." And with that the knight allows the silence to sit as he starts to leave.
Eyes sweep away, to some distant, undefined spot in the distance, and as swift as Jacsen was focused, he is lost again to his thoughts. He manages only a, "Thank you, Ser," once Hollister's turned his back and made to depart.
