|Sorry Is A Sorry Word|
|Summary:||Martyn's sorry, Darek's sorry, everyone's sorry.|
|Related Logs:||You Gotta Fight For Your Right|
|Paddock, Terrick's Roost|
|Roost Lane runs right up to the front of the town's main stables. The rear of the structure is backed right against the interior wall of the town with the heavy wooden roofing gently sloped down towards the dirt road. Thick wooden beams are plunged into the ground and serve as a base for the walls between each stall. Hay serves as most of the flooring in the area with a large stack of it off to the side. Each stall has at least some on the ground to serve as bedding.|
|25 July, 289|
Noble squires get rooms. Common squires get stalls. Darek is sprawled out inside his very own 'room,' three down from the nearest horse, which is a bit of a luxury. Despite the yellowing bruise on the left side of his jaw, he has his fiddle tucked under his chin, drawing out from the strings a slow, melancholy song that is easily recognizable as a common Riverlands dirge.
Having walked around for a while, Martyn's steps have taken him to the paddock now. Pausing a little as he hears the sound of the music, he heads in that direction, moving a bit slowly, to avoid disturbing the music now. And also, to avoid disturbing the person playing the music, it would seem.
Darek plays without pause, swaying a little in his sprawl in time with the music. Eventually, the song comes to an end, and he lifts bow from strings, settling back into the silence with a faint sigh.
Martyn steps the rest of the way over as he hears the song coming to an end. "That was some beautiful music," he remarks, offering a little bit of a grin. "You have quite a talent for that, it would seem."
When Darek spots Martyn at the door of his stall, he pops up to his feet, setting his fiddle and bow down in the straw as he does. Recognizing the other man, he sinks down just a little, his feet spreading to stabilize his balance. Still, the squire bows a little warily, "Thank you, Milord. Not my favorite, but it's good for quieting down. Uh… Milord."
"I can understand that," Martyn replies after a few moments, looking around very briefly. "You know, I've been looking around for you these last few days," he offers after a few moments of pause. Studying the squire rather carefully for now.
Darek keeps his hands open and unthreatening, "Sorry Milord. Been busy training. My knight's been keeping me busy. Running a lot." He keeps his voice carefully modulated, looking more wary than antagonistic.
Martyn chuckles a little bit, "That's what we knights do," he offers, with a bit of a grin. "And it's been that way since forever, I believe. At least since I was a squire myself." He pauses for a few moments. "That evening, the last time we met…" he begins, after a few moments of pause.
Darek reaches up to brush at his yellowing bruise, "Yeah. About that…" He clears his throat, shuffling one boot in the hay that serves as his carpet and bed, "I should probably apologize for what I said, Milord." The squire reaches up to brush back his hair out of his face, "So… yeah. I'm sorry, Milord."
"Apology accepted," Martyn offers, before holding up one hand for a few moments. "There's one condition for that, though." Studying the younger man rather carefully at the moment.
pose ducks his head at the first words, then looks up again sharply as a condition is put on the acceptance. The long-haired squire adjusts one of his thick, braided leather bracelets with his other hand, an unconscious gesture likely made to ensure he doesn't ball up a fist again.
Darek ducks his head at the first words, then looks up again sharply as a condition is put on the acceptance. The long-haired squire adjusts one of his thick, braided leather bracelets with his other hand, an unconscious gesture likely made to ensure he doesn't ball up a fist again.
Martyn takes a few moments of pause again. "I had a rather… bad week last week," he begins, taking a few moments of pause, before he adds, "And so when you said what you said, it was at a time when I was in a very bad mood from the start. I guess I was just looking for a way to get that anger out." Another brief pause, as he looks around, then back to the squire. "I completely overreacted, and so that condition I talk about is that you forgive me as well. I'm sorry for what I did."
Darek kicks at the stray a bit, shrugging one shoulder, "Sure… Uh, I mean, of course, Milord." He tilts his head, offering up a cocky grin despite the fact how it tugs at his yellowing bruise, "I hope you got the anger out, since you hit someone who could take it."
Martyn chuckles as he hears that. "Some of it. And the rest sort of went away in the coming days, thanks to a few other things." Another brief moment of pause, before he adds, "You were right about one thing, though."
Darek nods his head sharply at the first comment, "I'm… uh… glad to hear it, Milord." And then there's a pause, and he has to bite down the instinct to ask, 'Just one thing?' Instead, he tilts his head to one side, scraping back his hair with one hand, "Milord?"
"The lady in question, she is a very beautiful woman, that's true," Martyn replies with a bit of a smile. "So you were right about that." Spoken a bit quietly.
Darek nods his head, then stops suddenly, freezing a bit, "Um. If I agree with you, you're not going to try to hit me, are you, Milord? Ser Jac said I shouldn't compliment noblewomen too much, or them and Lords might take it wrong."
There's a brief pause as he hears Darek's words, before Martyn starts laughing. It's a genuine kind of laugh, and it goes on for a little while, before he shakes his head, managing to get himself back together, it seems. "I won't hit you," he offers, before he adds, "But thanks for saying 'try to hit you' there." Sounding a bit amused now.
Darek stays a little tense until the other man bursts out laughing, then he shrugs helplessly, chuckling a little bit himself, "Well, took you three tries and me letting you in order for you to hit me the first time, Milord." There's a bit of confusion, "Or would that be the third time?" Shaking off the thought and brushing back his hair again, he adds hurried, "I'm sure you could've done it sooner if you weren't so mad, Milord." That's probably a lie, given the young man's pure ego.
Martyn grins. "That's true. I guess I need to work on my skills at fighting unarmed. It's probably a good thing, in case I get disarmed at some point." He pauses for a few moments, looking around.
Darek gestures around the stall, "It's not much, but the straw's warm and the roof's solid." He reaches down to pick up his fiddle and bow, "The sound's horrible. But you get close enough, and it doesn't matter." There's a pause, "Plus, it's close to the back door of the inn. Easy for people to slip in and out."
"I've seen far worse places," Martyn offers after a few moments of pause. Looking around with a bit of a smile. "For example, I've fallen asleep on rooftops and such. That's not the best places to sleep, you know."
Darek frowns at the Lord's words, "Rooftops, Milord? Shouldn't you be sleeping… under them?" Scratching at his head as he brushes his hair back once more, he adds, "I mean, that's the standard way, especially if it's raining, right?"
Martyn grins, "Usually, but sometimes I like to go to the rooftops to think, and every once in a while, I sit there for far too long…" He shrugs a little bit again now.
Darek grunts softly, "Everyone's up on rooftops. Maybe I should try 'em out some time." He takes his bow up with his right hand again, gesturing off towards the entrance to the back of the inn, "Um… I'm supposed to be playing, Milord. If that's okay?"
"Of course," Martyn replies, with a bit of a smile. "And there's nothing like the wind in your hair to make you think."
Leading Jinx into the stables, Nedra looks a bit dusty, but having completed her evening ride she looks a bit wind blown herself but the guards that accompanied her this far don't look all the worse for the wear so she probably didn't do anything like fall off or twist an ankle.
Darek bows his head, collecting a wineskin from his hay-y bed and slinging it over one shoulder. He starts forward a little, gesturing to silently ask permission to step past Martyn. Once it's given, he moves through, then offers up a bow to the nobleman, "G'night, Milord." And he's just turning around when suddenly there's a noble lady, guards, and a horse. He bows again, skipping back out of the way, "'Scuse me, Milady." And he's trying to edge around Nedra as well.
Martyn nods a little bit, stepping aside to let Darek pass. "The same to you," he offers to the young man, before he sees Nedra, offering her a bit of a smile. "Cousin. How are you today?" His eyes moves to Jinx as well, offering the horse a smile too as he steps in their direction. "She didn't work you too hard, did she?" he asks the animal, a bit lightly.
Nedra pauses to the side of the entrance and tilts her head in a nod, "Good eve to you in return," she offers with a smile before continuing to lead Jinx forward. Jinx lowers her head slightly and gives a sound of greeting to Martyn, long neck extended to sniff at Martyn's shoulder even as Nedra replies: "Of course not," laughing. "Just a short ride around the keep to give her some exercise before I brush her down for the evening. I thought I'd stable her here instead of up at the keep for the night."