|Summary:||Jarod finds Rowenna in the Sept gardens and offers his sympathies.|
|Related Logs:||Hanging Around|
|Garden, Sept of the Seven, Terrick's Roost|
|Behind the Sept is a small garden that runs nearly to the edge of the cliffs that fall right down into the forthing sea more than two hundred feet below. The ground has been tilled and turned to help the soil produce a small amount of vegetables as well as fruit-producing shrubberies. Flowers have been encouraged to grow up trellises along the back and side walls of the Sept.|
|Ninth of Ninthmonth, 288 AL|
The hour at the scaffolds seemed to drag on for five times that long, though the body was cut and carried promptly when it was up. It's a short walk to the sept, which was done mostly in silence. Jarod's just finished seeing everything settled with the septon and Silent Sisters, and he makes his way out to the back garden.
Out among the late-summer flowers, Jarod's former squire is collecting blooms and fronds of greenery, attempting to assemble a bouquet. She doesn't look entirely happy with her efforts — and it's not hard to see why. She has a terrible eye for color and balance, the bunch of posies a clashing, lopsided artistic disaster. It's apparent by her consternation she knows it's all wrong, but equally apparent she hasn't a clue how to go about fixing it. She blows out a breath. "I am absolutely bollocks at this sort of thing," she comments without turning 'round, perhaps knowing who approaches by his footsteps alone.
Jarod goes to kneel next to where Rowan's collecting flowers. Silent at first. Just watching her with her poor attempt at floral arrangement. At least he says, "Sorry about your sister."
"Me, too," Rowenna replies, softly, still gazing at the atrocious arrangement in her hands. It takes her a moment, but she glances at him, and her eyes — while filled with her own pain — are not without sympathy. "I know… that couldn't have been easy for you, either. I'm sorry for both of us." She smiles a faint, mirthless smile. "All of us, I guess."
"I thought Jaremy might want to help carry the body," Jarod says. And, for all that he should be relieved the Terricks were spared that display, he sounds almost disappointed. He shrugs. "It wouldn't have been proper, though. She'll be buried here, I figure. Jaremy might have an idea as to where she'd want that done."
"He might," she agrees softly, shuffling her flowers half-heartedly, like cards. Seeing if they'll look less dreadful in a different order. "I'll be here a while, probably," she says, though that's likely assumed. "Just… to see if there's anything I can do. And… I'll let you know when they're going to — to do whatever." Her brows draw down and she closes her eyes, breathing out. "She lost her shoes. Maybe in the fall — though I didn't see them anywhere." Her eyes open again, focused on nothing. "And her feet were dirty. All I could think of was… the time I went to her, to… make it look as though I'd been with a woman. And she was so kind to me. And she washed my feet."
Jarod says nothing to that. Though he does reach out to, decidedly awkwardly, put his arm around her as she talks.
Which stops her talking. And prompts her to look at him funny. "Uhm." Her lips quirk, the sweetness and awkwardness of the gesture combining to tickle her funny bone. She does, however, bite her lips and stifle any giggles. "Thanks." She reaches up to pat his awkwardly draped arm.
Jarod pats her hand in return. Just sitting like that for a minute, quiet. "Jaremy hates us a bit for that, I think. My lord father for ordering it done. The rest of us for not calling it wrong. Which…I'm sorry, Rowenna, but…" He stops himself. He's not going to talk about the justice of it, though it's plain he believes it was just. "Anyhow. Sorry it had to be this way."
"Jaremy — " Rowenna begins, then shrugs slightly, slender shoulders lifting beneath his arm. "Jaremy doesn't get it." That's probably the best and kindest way she can sum up what she thinks. She shakes her head. "Thank you. For the sympathy. But… Amy did what she did. And what she did was awful. I believe she had reasons, but… there are no excuses. Not… not for murder. She could have come to us. She could have… done a hundred things differently." She plucks out the ugliest of the flowers and sniffs it experimentally, perhaps to see if it smells as foul as it looks. "She chose poorly," she says, with bone-dry understatement, flicking the fugly flower away. "Sort of like me and flower arrangements."
"Well, it's done now, whatever it was," Jarod mutters. "She paid her price, Howard paid his, and the Seven can sort them out." He does not seem to want to talk about it, really, beyond that. He just sits there next to her. "You need anything? I mean…it'll take the Silent Sisters a good long while to work over the body. I can walk you back to the castle if you want."
She shakes her head. "No. I'm good. Thanks." She tucks a dark curl back behind her ear, silent a moment as well. "I think I'll probably stay here tonight." For some reason, that reminds her, "Met your squire." And she can't help but smile. "Broke his nose. Sorry." But she adds, "He seems like a nice boy."
"Ser Vernon broke mine first time we sparred," Jarod says. "After I yielded. Said I was too pretty for his service, and he needed to beat the fake lordling out of me." The memory makes him laugh warmly. He idolized the sworn sword he was squired to. "No apologies. Builds character."
Rowenna studies him sidelong, her mouth a wryly amused twist. "You're still too pretty," she informs him, tweaking the tip of the nose in question. Then, feeling the bridge of her own, "Sort of glad you never did that to me. And just as well. I've managed to become quite a character, without."
"I considered it," Jarod says with a half-grin. There's some surprise as she tweaks his nose, though it draws a chuckle. As to the last. "Aye. That's true enough." He watches her a moment. Then, slowly, untangles his arm from around her shoulders and stands. "Anyhow. I should be getting back. See if Jaremy'll talk to me. Eventually. I'll…I'll see you."
He gets another curious look, though it's brief. It's been a long day. She nods. "Bound to happen eventually," she agrees. Terrick's Roost isn't very large, and the Tower smaller still. She climbs to her feet with her flowers, apparently deeming them good enough. It's the thought that counts. "Do — uhm…" She studies him, a little perplexed. A little concerned, perhaps. "Do you need anything?"
"I'm all right," Jarod replies, though he smiles a little that she asked him. "It had to happen. But it's sad. There's no shame in being sad about it. I'll light candles to the Seven before I go. You should pray for a soul if you've had any part in seeing them dead. It's just proper."
Rowenna nods. "I think that's a fine idea. I'm sure Amy'd appreciate it." She smiles again, tired and melancholy as it is. "Listen… I know talking isn't either of our strong suits, and we seem to be even worse at it when it's with each other, but…" She shrugs. "I know you've got plenty of people to lean on, if you need, but… you know. If, for some reason…" She smirks and looks down at her boots. "Yeah." About that talking thing she's no good at. She kisses the tips of her fingers and places them briefly on his cheek. "I'm here whenever." She nods. That about sums up what she meant to say. To her satisfaction, anyhow. And, having overcome her syllabic obstacles and slain her semantic foe, she turns to take her sad flowers to her sister.
"Aye. Same goes for me," Jarod says simply to that. "Later, then, Rowenna." And he turns and strides off, on that note.