|The Haighs and Lows, the Kams and Kam Nots|
|Summary:||A conversation between Saffron, Kamron, Ilaria, Briallyn, Desmond, and Garett (with a smattering of Tiaryn).|
|Date:||05 June 2012|
|Related Logs:||A little of everything.|
|Stone Walk, Tordane Tower|
|Set at a slight incline, the stone pathway leads up a slight rise northeast out of the town square towards the single tower of House Tordane. Grass grows thick and plush along the side though it is well maintained. Private shops and stables are located up closer to the manor with the family's private stables attached directly to the exterior wall of the small castle.|
|June 5, 289|
No more of this damn walking. Garett has walked about enough for the past two days and at this point he just needs a break. Wouldn't be a problem really, if it wasn't for carrying the extra weight on his leg, never mind it being locked in a straight postion. So for the moment, he's seated on a stone bench not too far away from the tower, reading from an old beat up book in his hands. His pipe is in his free hand while the other idlly scratches at that big ol scar that runs down the side of his face.
Kamron is overseeing the packing of the last few Terrick and Mallister men still remaining outside of Tordane Tower. Just about everything is ready to go, but Kam still lingers, limping around to check this thing and that. Eventually, looking for something else to delay him, he catches sight of Garett and heads over in that direction. He gives a brief wave as he approaches, and assuming the other man looks up, greets him with, "Ser Garett. I might take you up on that drink if the Charltons hadn't claimed the Crossing. Are you likely to stay here in Stonebridge?"
Puff puff. Garett's reading is pretty focused, stopping in his scar scratching to turn a page. But he does look up at movement in his periphrial vision. "Ser Kamron." he replies, returning the wave with a pipe-laden hand. "The Crossing." the smile falters only a moment. "Yes, I can't even get a decent night's sleep now. Or do anything, really. Too crowded for my liking. Reminds me of a barracks. So I'm…" he chucklely wryly. "…here. Best spot I could pick out." The mention of a drink has that smile turning into a grin. "That's why you bring the drink here, Ser." Reaching into his sur-coat, he draws out a flask. "I…uh…don't know? I don't even know what my original purpose here was. Hence, this." he pats the book.
Saffron Banefort has found a way to drive her anger down until it simmers in the pit of her stomach, bubbling gently and steadily but no longer on the brink of exploding. She has had yet another bath for the day, and Mistress Morla still keeps coming up with reasons to change her clothes. She has been seen in no less than three dresses since morning, though she has escaped the crone in that airy dress that looks as if it has been crafted out of dawn-light. She is sweeping out of the Tower with Timmen and Punbah on her heels, the two guards snickering and talking hushedly with one another. Saffron seems to be comforted by their familiar mannerisms and lets them continue with their man gossip. Very little effort has gone into her presentation today beyond the baths; her hair has been brushed out into cinnamon-red waves that create a nimbus about her features. She has yet to spy Garett and Kamron, but this might be due to the smile she has cast over her shoulder as Punbah jokes in his best hush about Lord Walden's "sword."
Kamron chuckles softly at Garett's words, amusement lighting his bagged and shadowed eyes. "A man prepared. Very wise." Tilting his head a bit to try to get a look at the spine or cover of the book, Kam gives up quickly, "History? Politics?" He makes a bit of a dismissive gesture with his right hand, "Might as well get out and actually meet people to see what you think of them. You might come to The Roost for a few days, at least. I would expect you were up here to meet with Lady Danae, although that situation's certainly gotten more complicated since." The blaze of dawn colors coming down from the Tower draws his attention, and immediately, a smile blossoms on his lips. Blinking a bit, he fights it down, raising his right hand in greeting to Timmen and Punbah before he bows his head and greets their charge, "Lady Saffron. Please forgive me for impugning your previous style, but you look much improved. Fairly radiant again."
Tiaryn has been staying wherever the heck Anders and Cordelya are, so likely here in the tower. She is back together again, having had more than several baths herself to get clean again. Such a wonderful feeling that is. Her hair is finally free of the tangles and knots, but it's not let entirely down, instead swept into an updo that still lets tendrils frame her face and reach her shoulders. The only sign of the bandits is the healing bruise on her cheek. And perhaps the cloak she's wearing over top of her mourning garb, with Charlton colours on it. She pauses as she spies folks she recognizes, hesitating for a moment before she slowly approaches. Her maid and guard are also with her, as usual.
The sound of Kamron's voice brings Saffron's gaze around, and there Timmen delivers his elbow to Punbah's gut to cease the rotund man from laughing. Punbah chokes on his breath, sobering up his features. The redhead Banefort smiles softly to the Mallister, though there is the faintest pink at her cheeks. "Good day, Ser Kamron," she says, though she does manage to keep her smile from spreading to its full glory, dimples and all. "I thank you… I believe I will need three more baths before I feel more like myself. You will have to remind me if I intend on running through the woods without shoes on, I should start preparing my feet now." She doesn't even go into the butt bruises or rope burns around her wrists. She then looks to Garett and bows her head a bit. "My Lord."
One might suspect the Gods hate the Lady Briallyn Haigh considering everything that's happened to her of late, and she looks it. Wandering listlessly from Tordane Tower, smelling faintly of the flowers found in its garden, the young woman appears exhausted. One of the few noblewomen in the town to escape the torturous past few days at the hands of strange men, she still appears pale with a distinct darkness beneath her eyes. Even so, the Lady Haigh is presentable enough in her silk and groomed appearance, though she takes no initial notice on the scattered group of nobility arranged along the walk as she adjust her skirts with a few flippant gestures. Her dark green eyes are clouded and peer off into the distance as if studying something that simply isn't there.
Garett snorts, almost barking a laugh at politics. "Politics. Gods, -no-." he snickers. "You don't need a book for that. Hell, that'd be a waste of good ink. "Reading a book about politics is like trying to milk a bull. A lot of effort, but with little result. People are going to keep fucking each other's sisters and finding new ways to screw each other long after you and I are gone, Ser." Pulling to the of flask, he takes a pull before offering it to Kamron. "No, this is nothing so grand. It's my journal. Or, -was- my journal. Journal of the last version of me. I'm trying discern the kind of man I was. And I know it matters to people like Desmond and Briallyn. I owe it to both of them to try and remember as much as I can if my mind doesn't want to cooperate." That almost makst him look a little wistful. "Ah, mind. Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most. You know, people keep telling me I have a sister, but they don't seem to keen on the idea of speaking with her. I'm also hoping the book will tell me why I came here, though you could be right." When Saffron comes up, the Westerling takes some effort to struggle up to his feet from the bench, leaning heavily on his cane, then bowing as best as he can. "My Lady." A look at Kam. "From of yours?"
Kamron chuckles at Garett's words, "Careful with that milking, lest you get something you don't want." He takes the flask with a grin, drawing a pull on it and then blinking away the alcohol fumes and taste. Clearing his throat, he hesitates a moment, as if he might pass it to Saffron next, then merely hands it back to the Westerling. Saffron's words get a gentle smile, "Only three? I fear you're of stronger constitution than me then, My Lady. I needed five or six after returning from the Iron Isles." Garett's question about Saffron causes Kam to blink again, and hurriedly respond, "Nono. A dear friend. Lady Saffron Banefort, Ser Garett Westerling. Ser Garett assisted with the planning of the rescue despite his hurts." Additional people issuing forth from the Tower causes Kamron to yank his eyes past Saffron, and he bows his head in silent greeting.
Tia does curtsey as she approaches the small group. "Lord Kamron, Saffron, Ser Garett," she greets. "If you will excuse my interruption, have any of you perchance seen a Nayland about? I find I need to speak with one, so of course, I have not seen one as yet today." She glances briefly at Saffron, before she says, "You look radiant, Saffron. I definitely like this dress."
Every time someone makes Kamron sputter and stutter about their partnership, whatever it might be, she has to smile. Saffron curtsies to the Westerling Knight, clapsing her hands behind her back briefly. Her bruised throat, combined with the yelling match earlier, has made her voice hoarse and croaky, and she is constantly clearing it to help smooth out her pitch. "Another Westerling?" She asks with an earnest smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ser Garett." Out of the corner of her eye, she spies Tiaryn and the woman is given a small wave of her fingers. "Thank you, Tiaryn… anything to make me feel more like myself. It was actually Mistress Morla's idea." Then she tilts her head. "I suppose it depends on which Nayland you want, Lady Tiaryn."
Tia grins at Saffron, with a nod of her head. "One of them who will be able to tell me how to make amends for Lady Isolde's harp," she says, wryly. She takes a breath, and then she offers another polite curtsey. "I shall hopefully get to speak with you all later, though I do not think I will be able to travel to the Roost quite so easily as in the past." Cause yeah, the Flint men are just as over protective as everyone else in this country. "But - Saffron, we are staying here in Stonebridge for the time being. I'll find you later." As for the men, well, they do get a half smile, and then Tia heads back into the Tower, figuring that's really the best place to find a Nayland.
Carefully crafting a mask of neutral calm, rather then the expression of one whose puppy has just been run over by a cart, Briallyn eventually notices the small group of assembled nobles. None of them are strangers to her, and she even manages a cordial smile at Garett's presence. It's a smile just short of pain, but she brushes it off. "Lords, Lady," she murmurs demurely, sweeping a few strands of dark mahogany hair behind an ear and out of her pale face. "I hope you are faring well this day. I heard what happened." The Lady's dark green gaze rests notably upon Saffron the longest as if to assess her state before drifting over Kamron, and finally settling upon the Westerling knight.
Out goes one, in comes another. Tiptoeing past a hedge, Ilaria darts out onto the stone walk and turns behind her to see if anyone is following. From the faint sound of her name being called, it is clear she's outrun her septa and her handmaiden, and with a sigh she slows to a walk to catch her breath. Only then does she hear conversation, and she turns about again to see the cluster of folk in idle conversation. Wonderful, camouflage! Seeing Saffron first draws her in, and she clears her throat quietly as she approaches the people, hands clasped behind her back.
"'Assisted' he says." Garett utters, eyeballing Kamron in humor. "If by 'assisted' he means that he and I argued about how attack the bandits over a pile of maps, then yes, I assisted the hell out of things. He was the master planner here, not I. I just gave suitable options. It -almost- felt like I was doing something useful." A glance back at Kamron, taking the flask back. "Much like that whole bull analogy." A nod at Saffron. "Yes, we're downright infesting Stonebridge from what I hear. Though I'm hearing a lot that's news to me." Another smile for Tiaryn. "I'd imagine you're likely to bump into one quite readily in the Tower, Lady Tiaryn. But it's good to see that you're both back, safe and sound." And then, he sees Briallyn approach. And his new jovial attitude falters at the sight of her. "Bri…" he says, though he does look quite happy to see her. A glance at Kamron, then another pull from his flask, then passing it back. Then he pats the bottom of his pipe against this thigh, knocking ash out. -Anything- to preoccupy his hands. "It's…er, it's good to see you."
Kamron nods to Tiaryn, offering her a smile, "Lady Tiaryn." And then she's off again, and he's shifting his attention to Briallyn, searching his memory while he inclines his head once more, finally coming up with, "Lady Briallyn." Oh right. He looks over to Garett and reclaims the flask long enough to take a short pull and hand it back with a finality that suggests he's had enough for now. "You assisted, Ser Garett. Truly. You suggested some things that the rest of us hadn't thought of." A smile is cast in Saffron's direction then, "I bet you'd feel more like yourself if you were ducking away from Mistress Morla and finding some nice cliffs to walk along, Lady Saffron. Although I think we can skip the barefoot portion of that for a while." And then there's suddenly another lady in the group, and that leaves Kamron blinking in surprise and bowing his head to her as well, shifting about so that he can face everyone equally.
Saffron glances over toward Briallyn, and she offers the familiar woman a dimpling smile. "Lady Briallyn, its good to see you again." She of course talks of their first meeting where there was clam digging. She is happy to see Ilaria too, especially since it seems that Garett and Briallyn will be competing with Kamron and Saffron on the 'aaaawkward' award. She brightens as she looks over at the Haigh lady. "Ilaria, I was hoping I would see you about. I have something for you." And she steps away from the Lords and Ladies briefly to step up to Punbah, who removes a small wrapped parcel from his belt. He even kept it in one of his clean pouches! When she steps back with the parcel in hand, she grins over toward Kamron. "Will you take me out to the cliffs, then, Ser Kamron?" While she awaits an answer, she hands Ilaria the small, cloth-wrapped parcel. When the girl opens it, nestled in the cloth is a palm-sized bundt cake.
Awkward doesn't even begin to cover it. Garett's reaction causes her to falter some, but she does regard him with a genuine smile, albeit small upon her tired face. Fortunately, Ilaria's arrival proves an adequate distraction, for the young woman had lapsed into peering at the Westerling knight heatedly—and not with anger. Surprise raises both of her finely arched dark brows, and she half-turns sharply upon her heel to find her cousin. "Ilaria," Briallyn gasps. And then a hint of that old energy returns, and just as Ilaria is accepting the parcel, the younger cousin is being stifled beneath a tremendously powerful hug from the older Lady Haigh. Despite exhaustion, her expression is a fierce one, clutching the younger girl protectively.
Ilaria blinks as Saffron addresses her, but she offers the Banefort a timid but warm smile. "Lady Saffron," she greets quietly, a picture of pure politesse as she dips into a curtsey. Her movements are somewhat jerky, but she attempts to cover this by smoothing her hands over her voluminous skirt as she straightens. Her gaze wanders to the other faces for a moment while Saffron is speaking, but when a package is mentioned, hazel eyes return to Saffron's face. "What?" she inquires, startled, and reaches out automatically for the gift. When she unwraps it, Ilaria's eyes brim up and threaten to spill over with tears. Oh, damn it all. She swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand before laughing quietly and holding up the cake to view it closer. "You remembered! This is so lovely. There are not words to express my gratitude, Lady Saffron, butthank you so veryhurk."
Enveloped in a sudden hug, Ilaria clutches her cake to her side in surprise, but her free arm rises automatically to return the gesture. "Bri," she greets quietly, smiling over her cousin's shoulder before trying to extract herself from the girl's grasp. "I must admit I was surprised I did not see you galloping in with sword in hand ready to flay alive every last bandit you could find. I'm guessing the men had you tied down to a chair somewhere." Her eyes sparkle with mirth as she touches Briallyn's cheek for a moment. "Ser Kamron, Ser Garett," she greets in turn, nodding to each man respectfully.
"I'll take your word for it." Garett remarks to Kamron easily. One more pull and he tops the flask, setting it away, all the while trying not to sheepishly grin at Briallyn. If there are god, the Westerling is quite thankful at Ilaria's arrival, diverting his would-be-fiance's attention. While she pounces the younger Haigh, he gets a moment to look back at Kam. "Ser Kamron." he starts. "I've been considering something you talked about last time we stood here. You said you had been considering knighting Lord Justin Terrick, right?" he asks. "Well, I've been thinking the same of Lord Desmond." He waggles the book in his hand. "The other reason I'm reading this. I wanted to know what I already thought or had written about him. I know what the current me thinks of me, but I needed to know what the 'old me' thought, he knew him better than I. But I think he deserves it too. What do you think of a dual ceremony?" Finally, when Ilaria greets him, he blanks, as he tends to. "Uh…" he gapes. "This is going to sound very odd, my Lady but…do I know you?"
Kamron steps out of the way of the pouncing Haigh, coincidentally ending up alongside Saffron. A touch of laughter alights on his lips, "And there is the sort of comfort that so few of us could offer when it was needed most." There's something a little wistful about the statement, but his smile is back at full force a moment later, "Of course, Lady Saffron. I've heard so much about the cliff-diving around The Roost that I was actually pondering seeing if a few of the young men might be interested in joining me once my wing," he lefts his slung left arm slightly, "is mended. I'm sure that an audience would be appreciated. It might get some of the more timid men to jump, in fact." Oh yes, that's accompanied by a rather crooked grin indeed. It's smoothed away at Garett's query, and he clears his throat, "Well, -I- think Lord Justin's ready, but I sent a query to his father to see if he'd rather another Terrick do the deed. If you'd like to come to The Roost, Ser Garett, the sept is whole enough for a vigil."
Saffron laughs, and she manages to give Ilaria's hand a gentle squeeze before she is swarmed by Briallyn. The Banefort steps aside to give the pair room even as she bumps into Kamron. She colors immediately, the pink flaring up on her cheeks. It incites an awkward moment from the young woman as she looks up at the knight, and she murmurs a soft apology before she focuses her attention on the conversation between the pair of knights. This allows for the Haigh ladies to reconnect without staring. She clasps her hands behind her back, her left hand gripping her right elbow as that arm hangs slightly curved behind her; an adolescent gesture, but a comfortable one. "An audience, hm?" She asks with a wry smile that suggests maybe she would want to partake as well.
There is initial resistance as Ilaria tries to escape her cousin, but Briallyn relents and releases her. "I would have, but I have earned enough scorn of late to last me a life time. Though, had I thought it would have made any difference, I gladly would have been shunned the rest of my days had I been able to help you in any meaningful way," she murmurs quietly, but forcefully, towards Ilaria as she steps away to give the young woman room. Out of habit, she falls into step beside Garett, respectful of his personal space at least. Another glance is awarded Saffron's injuries, and the young woman gives a small shake of her head. "I hope the knights involved saw to it that the wretches her harmed you are dead." Her voice is flat, and cool, but she warms some as she turns to regard Garett beside her, hands resting loosely upon her hips. "You will allow me to see Desmond knighted, won't you? I would be very glad, and proud to be there for him."
When Briallyn pulls away, Ilaria offers her a proper smile full of warmth and dimples and any other gushy gooey stuff that can be included in a single expression. She takes the opportunity to wrap up the cake once more, cradling it in her hands as she moves in toward the group once more. Garett gets a special once-over from her, and her nose wrinkles up into an amused expression. "I was hoping you'd have some ghastly scar on your head or somesuch, but I guess I will have to settle with satisfaction to see you alive, Ser Garett. I am Lady Ilaria Haigh, Lady Briallyn's /dearest/ cousin. We were once acquainted, though perhaps not so very close." She pauses once more before offering him a bob of her head. "In any case, I look forward to getting to know you again, Ser. I am truly glad to see you are alive and well." For a moment she turns her gaze upon Saffron and Kamron, but whatever she sees there she keeps to herself. "Yes, cousin, I am happy to inform you that as far as I know they are dead."
Either that's sarcasm, or Ilaria really hasn't noticed the ghastly scar on Garett's head. Or he just hasn't turned enough to give a good look at the left side of his face or…wait, that was a joke. "Yeah, those scars, I wouldn't know about those -at all-." he chuckles, though trying to remember Ilaria, like anything he really puts any honest effort into causing him furrow his brows and squint his eyes, as if a headache just came on. It makes him rub at his scarred up temple of his head. "Ilaria Haigh…" he ponders the name. "You…ah, didn't you touch Desmond once?" he seems to stammer. Then he blinks, realizing how that sounds. "Er…touched him gently. No, wait, that's worse. Touched him in front of me and Bri? Oh Gods…no. His leg? Wait, his arm! You touched his arm!" the litany of thoughs tumble out. Coughing and pulling at the collar of his shirt, he'll at Kamron. Yes, let's look at Kamron! "I'm considering it. I don't really know why I'm still in Stonebridge. I don't exactly have a use here. Or to anyone. Besides, to Desmond and Briallyn. And I don't know how tied they are to this place either." THough he does look back at Bri to smile at her. "Of course, I don't think Desmond would want to go through with it without you present."
Kamron starts back from the contact with Saffron as if she were a hot stove, although without the pained look. His right hand comes up as if to steady her, but stops and drops short as he looks down at his boots a moment, "My apologies, My Lady." He clears his throat and looks up again, "Unfortunately, I hardly think that mixed cliff-diving would be proper. But I'm sure that we could scout out some locations for some jumps in the company of other women later on." Much lower jumps, if Kamron has his way. Garett's discomfort provides a welcome relief, and he arches his eyebrows high at the litany of descriptions. Not deigning to make fun of the poor guy with the brain injury, he nods his head, "You do wrong yourself, Ser Garett. You're about to provide use to Lord Desmond." There's a quirk of a grin, okay, maybe a little making fun of him, "And you can certainly provide entertainment for charming women such as these…"
"Yes, quite dead," Saffron confirms with a slightly feathery voice. "I do not pardon their actions, but I admit…" And she seems a bit meek then, looking down toward her toes with her hands still clasped behind her back. "Had I not been so quick to action, I perhaps would have spared my cousin, Lady Tiaryn, and Lady Cherise from further harm." Then she looks up again, her smile a bit stronger if not a tad forced. "That is a lesson my father has been trying to teach me for years, but not even he would have seen me finally learn it in this manner." Then she glances toward Ser Garett and Kamron, pushing away further self-deprecation. Luckily, Ser Garett's rambling helps with that as she arches her coppery brows expressively. Then she softens her expression. "I hope you do come to the Roost," she says, and she glances shyly over to Kamron before she adds in her best nonchalant voice. "I will undoubtedly be returning in a few days myself. Perhaps we could all travel together."
Kamron adds in, "Not all dead, Lady Ilaria. One awaits interrogation and Lord Terrick's justice, and one escaped, but is yet being hunted."
"Hunted? Where?" Probably best not to tell her, as Briallyn sets her shoulders, and her expression darkens notably. It's enough to draw her away from laughing softly at Garett's predicament, the slew of words unsettling and possibly embarassing the knight. Gently, the Lady Haigh lays a hand upon his arm to still and, with any luck, lessen his awkward reaction to the spill of words from his lips. "I told you once, my Lord, that I would go wherever you go. I mean that, still, within reason certainly. Such things have already caused plenty of scandal." Her lips purse, but Briallyn gives a small, rueful shake of her head as those green eyes turn to regard Saffron more warmly. "That would be a lovely idea, I think. I did like the ocean, the one time I saw it."
Garett's stammering causes Ilaria's brows rise upward and then knit together, and she cannot hide her amusement as he eventually recounts the moment. "His arm, yes, thank the gods. Had I touched his leg, Ser Desmond would have probably fainted away entirely." Her smile widens for Garett, and she nods her head to him before Kamron's reply causes her to stiffen. The pleased expression goes rigid before disappearing entirely to be replaced by one of concern and—fear? Ilaria runs her fingers over her dry lips before swallowing visibly. "Escaped in which direction, Ser Kamron?"
"I don't think there's fear for one man who ran into the wood with an arrow in his back." Garett replies, trying to put the ladies fear at ease. Briallyn touching his arm does settle him enough that he forgets his laspe in memory. One of many to come, no doubt. "I heard a few men went to search for him, but with any luck, he probably found a nice place where he could bleed out." Trying to divert things away from matters that's going to fret women with such fresh and raw memories, he looks down at Bri. "If you would like to go to the Roost, I don't see any reason why we shoudln't. Though, I don't know if we'd be welcome there? I…uh, have no idea what the Terrick's opinion is of Westerling. But…" now he turns his scarred visage to her fully. "There is something I wanted to tell you, and I wanted to make sure there's witnesses, just in case. Tell you father to keep the date of the wedding as planned."
Kamron shakes his head at the reactions of the various women, making a soothing gesture with his good hand, "The coward fled at the first sight of us. He's not a threat to anyone, and will be hunted down, captured, and turned over to justice shortly. He fled deeper into the untamed areas of the Cape. He will -not- be a threat to anyone." He nods to Garett sharply, then looks back to Saffron, reaching 'cross his body to rest the fingers of his right hand on her shoulder for just a moment, "You all came out whole and relatively unharmed, Lady Saffron. Whatever was done did not cause lasting harm." Garett's further words draw a chuckle, "I bet they would be willing to speak with most anyone, especially if you are willing to help out a little around The Roost. I've learned to build houses, myself — a little." The mention of the wedding draws a smile to his lips, and he looks from the injured knight to his lady.
The touch to her shoulder comforts Saffron, and she smiles toward the knight with a slight warming in her pale eyes. She doesn't speak, but she isn't sure she has to. Her fingers lift to gently touch his hand as it rests on her shoulder, even if it is briefly. Then she looks back to the Westerling and Haighs. "Please come. I have a collection of smallfolk children I look after to help out, and I'm certain that the company would not be ill-received." She gestures to the Tordane Tower. "I've already asked that my things be prepared to leave, as I assume I should hear word from my father soon, releasing me from Stonebridge." Though she may not mean it, she definitely makes it sound like she was temporarily imprisoned here.
"I do not mind offering what help I can, though I do not know how much help I could be with building houses," The Lady remarks, brows lightly furrowing. Her hand remains upon Garett's arm absently, even if her attention has drifted temporarily. "I am a decent hand at hunting, and I may be able to keep children distracted long enough for other people to accomplish something." Briallyn sounds faintly amused at that. "As to the man, I am not frightened, but should I happen upon him —" She leaves it at that, and instead flashes Garett a pleased smile, the warmest she has managed since his return; there is no strain in that smile at all. "That pleases me, Ser. You're sure you're up to —" Another uncompleted sentence, and she clears her throat. "I think the Roost will do nicely."
Ilaria, on the other hand, merely looks a bit puzzled by the conversation. "The Roost?" she echoes quietly, and her tone does not sound overly pleased with the invitation. She glances down to her hands and the cake still wrapped up, and she fiddles with the edge of the cloth. "Ah, of course. That is, if my father gives me leave to return. I think my things were just returned here to Stonebridge, but since I have yet to unpack anything…" She lets the thought trail off and instead turns to Briallyn as Garett mentions a wedding. Yes, a much nicer topic. "That is truly wonderful, cousin. I am so glad for you," she offers with a smile so bright that it borders on obnoxiously cheerful while holding out an empty hand to Bri.
"Well, that is, if your father is still okay with it." Garett replies. "Last I checked, I'm still in my right mind, even if I can't technically 'find' it." he winks at this. "I'm sure if someone hits me in the head hard enough a few times, it'll get the rocks in there to rattle something around and back into place. But, yes, Bri, I am sure about that. Up to it as well. I had a lot of time to really sit and think, since I couldn't really do anything else this past weekend while you all were being rescued." That said, he focus goes to Kamron and Saffron, puffing on his pipe. The tobbacco has some kind of pleasant woody scent. "Besides, I can't remember if I've been to the Roost, so it'll be new to me all over again. I think I might be able to take this thing off soon. Doesn't nearly hurt as much. The walking helps. Maybe I'll be of more use there than here. Though, honestly, I should really ask Desmond why I came to Stonebridge in the first place."
Kamron's lips bend upward of their own volition at the touch of Saffron's hand on his, but he probably thinks he clears away the smile quickly enough that no one will notice. Turning his attention to Ilaria, he smiles comfortingly, "I can certainly understand not wanting to travel just now, Lady Ilaria. Stonebridge is a good, secure town, with a very able militia. I bet the Terricks would not take the slightest offense if you chose not to visit just now." He nods to Garett, chuckling softly, although the sound dies abruptly as Saffron's words sink in. His eyes widen slightly, and then he blinks them hard, once more schooling his face to stillness, "You believe you will be released from the cause of your stay in Stonebridge, My Lady?" Yes, that is Kamron Mallister controlling his voice very carefully.
Saffron Banefort tilts her head toward Briallyn and Garett as they discuss the status of their wedding plans. She offers a small smile toward Garett, though she is careful not to put sympathy in that look. It is hardly his fault. "Well, if you decide to come to the Roost, I'm pressing to depart in a few days, perhaps a week at most." That said, she glances over toward Kamron with a slight lift of her brows, opening her expression. "Well, I'm afraid that Lord Walden Frey and I are not seeing eye-to-eye… and while I know no one should expect a marriage begin with a perfect partnership, I'm not sure that we could even attain an agreeable partnership. Even he agrees that we would not create a positive alliance for our families." Granted, that agreement was a lot more aggressive and loud, but that still is the jist of it. "Luckily, no vows had been made to the Seven nor our houses."
There is a gentle, reaffirming squeeze of Garett's forearm from the slender fingers still resting upon her arm, but the Lady Briallyn is watching the interesting and subtle play between the Lady Saffron and her stalwart knight, Kamron. "As you say, my Lord. It had… something to do with your sister, but I believe Desmond is the best to explain the matter," she murmurs towards Garett, flashing him another smile of pearly white teeth before settling back into something a little more solemn. "If the Gods are good to you, Lady Saffron, you will be released without any expectation. You are hardly too old to wait for a better match. Even if it is a Frey," Briallyn observes neutrally, green eyes lingering upon Kamron thoughtfully.
Desmond is a little late to this gathering, not that he'd intented to stumble upon it. Though he's certainly to have, a smile splitting his features. Being the last among the picnic camp to leave, he hasn't quite had a chance to tidy up so he's a bit smudged, but this doesn't seem to cross his mind just yet. "Evening m'Ladies! Glad to see the two of you doing better, and it's always a joy to lay eyes upon you, Lady Briallyn." Perhaps he's in a joking mood or merely saying that because Kamron's around. And with a quick bow, he asides to Garett, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, "Charlton's took over the inn, did you see that? Sprang up like… I don't know, barnacles. What are things that spring up?"
"I heard. I was woken up by them." Garett remarks, setting a hand on Bri's before he breaks away, limping on his cane foward towards Desmond, smile on his, looking perhaps very relieved that he's no worse for wear. He puts an arm around the younger man's shoulder. "I heard what you did, Desmond. I heard the part you played in the rescue. And I just want to say that I am immensely proud of you. But, I think I always have been, though I haven't had the chance for 'me' to tell you that. And I've been talking to Ser Kamron about things. Most likely, I'm going to the Roost for a bit. Think there's a distinct lack of need for me here. Want you to come with. Because soon, you won't have to deal with being a squire. I'm keeping that promise I made to you before…" he gestures at his head, "'this' all happened. I think you've waited long enough. But more than that, I think you deserve it."
Kamron has the where-withall to hit Desmond back with a response of, "Squires," but otherwise, he's quite distracted by Saffron's statements. Do his lips curl up again, or is it a trick of the light? Reaching up to run his hand over his jaw, he sobers, "I'm… sorry to hear that, Lady Saffron." Like he's sorry to hear that the Ironborn were smashed again. "I'm sure it will be a disappointment to Mistress Morla." And that is said very, very carefully, but he's certainly not betting on it. And then he tears his eyes away from the Banefort standing beside him, looking over to Briallyn, "If I weren't raised with impeccable manners, Lady Briallyn, I might say that such a match were easy to find. Thankfully, I was raised with impeccable manners." And then Garett goes blabbing his mouth, and Kamron is quick to add, "Let's keep the other part of that quiet for a bit, Ser Garett. I'd like to make sure there are no complaints before speaking further of it, if you don't mind."
"And if the Gods aren't, then I suppose I take matters into my own hands," Saffron says in a quiet undertone toward Briallyn, her head half-tilted and a ghost of mischief in her eyes. At the sight of the approaching squire, she brightens a bit toward Desmond with a small incline of her chin. At his assessment of the inn, she offers a small snort — a pleasant snort, but a snort. "Unfortunately, barnacles are nearly impossible to budge." Though she quiets a bit as Garett speaks on his announcement to Desmond, and she offers him an even broader smile. Aww, look. She even gives him dimples. "Congratulations, My Lord… I look forward to calling you Ser Desmond… when the time is right." She then glances sidelong to the Mallister Knight beside her, and she offers him a coy, soft smile. "She had hoped she had finally secured me a proper betrothal, but I must continue to disappoint. I saw her hastily writing a letter earlier, probably to suggest the next Lord I am to impress."
All throughout the conversations, Ilaria has been incredibly quiet. It is an oddity that her septa and handmaiden have not caught up to her yet - or perhaps they did but returned to the tower upon seeing the girl in decent company. Either way, she separates herself from the group by a couple feet of distance, and when Desmond arrives she offers him a silent, somber curtsey in greeting.
The Lady Haigh observes the interaction between Desmond and Garett quietly, and without comment. The affection and excitement Garett seems to express for his squire's upcoming knighting is evident, not such a farcry from weeks before. "I might suggest action over waiting, my Lady," Briallyn remarks beneath her breath, turning her head to focus more readily upon Saffron. Squaring her shoulders, Briallyn pulls herself straight and smooths wrinkles from her green-and-bronze silk dress. "It worked well for me, though I might not recommend quite that much action." There is a certain wryness to her lowered voice, a humorous chuckle punctuating her suggestion. "Ilaria, has your brother found you a proper match, yet?" Briallyn's honeyed voice lifts affectionately for her cousin, noting the distance the younger Lady has put between herself and the assorted group.
Desmond can't sulk at Kamron's little comment, he's too busy being pulled into a man-hug. At Garett's words, he brightens considerably. "Y-you think? Truly?" He can do little else but smile, trying not to make a scene. "The Roost is… always pleasant. You're taking Lady Bri right? Aren't you going to miss the scandals?" Saffron comments, and for a moment, he is smitten by the glorious dimples! "Thank you, m'Lady… Oh Lady Ilaria, we're not that frightful are we?"
Garett nods quickly at Kamron. "Right. Of course, didn't mean to suggest anything Ser Kamron. And hell if I'm going to get you in trouble for anything. Not my style, especially with people that're worth a damn." That said, his one free arm, squeezes Desmond's shoulder. "I don't know if I treated you like a man, Desmond, but I've been reading my journal, seeing the things I've written about you, and if I didn't then, it's about damn time I did. It's about damn time you started being your own man. The way your sister talks to you…" he shakes his head, touching at his scar. "For some reason, it really annoys the piss out of me. You'r not a kid anymore." That said, he gives him a look. "Nah, I'm just going to leave Briallyn here. She'll be fine, getting hit on by every single man from here to Riverrun. Of -course- she's coming with. Scandals? I doubt any is truly capable of escaping it. My advise, just start laughing at it. End up making everyone else look an idoit for assuming as much abot you." Facing the rest, he eyes Ilaria. "So. Heard you saved the Lady Ilaria, eh? -Eh-?" Oh, he's still going to harass him. Can't help that.
Kamron arches his eyebrows at Saffron, "Who knows what sort of man Mistress Morla has lined up for you, My Lady. I'm sure he must be quite the catch in order to get her writing so quickly after your disagreement with the Boring Weasel." Is he smirking? Oh yeah, he's totally smirking. At Briallyn's question to Ilaria, Kamron puts in, "Or have you found one to make sure that he finds, Lady Ilaria?" Garett's reassurances draw a nod, but he's still chuckling a little bit to himself at his words to Saffron.
Saffron beams at Briallyn as if she's found herself a mentor, which could be quite dangerous. Someone warn the girl already. She smiles all the same as she offers the woman a nod of agreement. Then she glances back toward Kamron however, and she narrows her eyes at him thoughtfully. "I'm sure," is all she says with a thoughtful, accusatory tone. Then she looks back toward Ilaria at the question posed in the woman's direction. "I have a younger sister… she'll be fifteen in a few weeks." For all Saffron's talk, here she is trying to prepare her younger sister for a marraige!
With focus turned on Ilaria, she glances up from her reverie looking somewhat bewildered. "What? Oh, Bri, honestly," she answers with a faint blush, waving a hand to dismiss the question. "No, and I am sure it infuriates him to no end. Yes, Lord Desmond was very gallant and brave during the rescue, although I think he would have preferred mauling a bandit or two first." She glances at Desmond beneath her lashes when saying this, and her lips curve into a faint smirk that disappears with Kamron's — is it a jest? No, a hint. Biting down on her lower lip she shakes her head quickly. "No," she answers bluntly, turning her gaze from Kamron to Saffron to relieve herself of an awkward situation; "No, there is nobody. I have had far more — ah, I've just been busy. With other things. I don't think I have a preference, and if I did it would not matter. Lord Ian will find someone in his own time." Well, she shut down that topic. For Saffron, she offers a polite smile. "Fifteen? A lady grown, nearly. I should hope to meet her soon. What is her name?"
"Well I don't know!" Desmond responds to Garett's sarcasm, then seems to bristle when the older Westerling pesters him about his rescue. He tries to own it, straightening his spine. "That I did. Though Jac managed to distract that brutish bandit so I could scoop her up myself." And were they in private, this is where he'd gush to Garett about the legendary feel of cradling a woman. Perhaps not cradling, maybe roughly clinging to in a saddle. His head swells even more when Ilaria praises him. Though the thought of Lord Ian selecting a husband for her wipes that grin off his face.
Some of her old energy offers an amused and exuberant smile, and the Lady Haigh's lips are curling as she glances towards Kamron. "Have no fear, Ser," she says smoothly. "I am sure the Lady Saffron will have precisely the husband she desires." And on that particular score, Briallyn has said her piece. Ilaria's tone and words indicate enough that her elder cousin understands, and does little more than nod her head in agreement and offer spare words. "If you desire any help on such a front, coz," the Lady offers coaxingly, still grinning. At Garett's remarks, however, that grin turns downright wolfish. "Yes. Laugh them off and ignore them, certainly. They are ridiculous, after all."
"Don't worry Desmond, all that arm-touching would pay off sooner or later. I don't doubt that you did just fine. And hey, Lady Ilaria is here, and in one peice, so, job well done. You did good. Real good." Garett approves soundly. A glance causes him to look at Saffron. "I had no idea that was all going on. Um." he ponders. "I'm sorry? That whole thing I'm not quite good with. I think…Briallyn explained it to me once. Long ago." That causes him to blink at his betrothed. "You did, didn't you?" Then he blinks again. "Wait, what? Of course they're ridiculous, that's why they're rumors."
Speaking of squires, Kamron's squire Percival comes running up in his usual all-knees-and-elbows style. Leaning over with his hands on his knees to pant a moment, he straightens up, blinks as he sees all the young noblewomen, and drops into a bow. Kamron shakes his head at Briallyn and Saffron, "I certainly hope so, Lady Briallyn." He bows his head to accept Ilaria's words on the matter, gentleman enough to leave it without further comment. And then he looks over to Percy, who is shifting impatiently from foot to foot but hasn't actually interrupted. The squire comes to lean over and whisper something in Kamron's ear, which wipes the smile off the knight's face and replaces it with a weary, annoyed expression, "If you'll excuse me, Ladies, Ser, Lord… I really should go deal with this." A sigh accompanies the words, he bows, and then he's moving off toward some mild fracas in the midst of the Terrick-Mallister men forming up on the lawn, his purposeful stride a bit thrown off by his slight limp.
"Grenna," Saffron replies to Ilaria's inquire on her sister's name. "I have another sister, Claira, who was born nearly on Grenna's heels." She offers a slight smile, shaking her head a bit. "I hope both of them will come to see me one day, but she is still at the Banefort with my mother and father." Then her gaze moves over toward Percival, and then to Kam. A worried expression contorts her feature, and she almost looks to be moving after him. Then she halts in her steps and looks back to the others with a near sheepish expression.
"If you think you could move any faster than Lord Ian, cousin, help all you would like," Ilaria replies to Briallyn, laughing lightly at the thought. She rocks forward on the balls of her feet, suddenly looking much more her juvenile self. "Lord Belmore would probably die from sheer relief to have unloaded a daughter. Three unmarried children," she finishes, clucking her tongue and shaking her head as if she weren't including herself in the count. As Kamron departs, she offers him a brief curtsey and looks away, perhaps to grant Saffron a respite from the knowing, prying eyes of others. "Although, Bri, I do not think you will find much of any one willing to hitch themself to a third-of-a-third." The twist of her smile is rueful.
"Thank you, Desmond, truly." His reward is a kiss, a brush of the Lady Briallyn's lips against the apple of his cheek. It's the only non-violent gesture made towards the poor squire by the woman save for a single hug weeks past. "You'll make a most dashing knight. I can only hope that the Lady Ilaria has a husband half as brave, and able," the young woman says softly, but sweetly, offering Desmond a wink before withdrawing. Clearing her throat, Briallyn settles a thoughtful gaze upon Garett with only a hint of amusement. "Aye, my Lord. Rumors, nasty ones. The worst. Which reminds me, at some point, I must speak with you about the wedding plans." As she speaks, addressing the Westerling knight absently, her attention is drawn by the sudden declaration of Kamron excusing himself. A faint disappointment, but the Lady Haigh settles upon her heels and the mood is rescued by Ilaria's announcement. "Nonsense, Ilaria. You're too pretty and clever by half not to wed well."
Desmond averts his gaze as well, linking his hands at his back. Only to get a sudden kiss on his cheek, which appropriately turns very nearly apple-red. And he is instantly suspicious - this is Briallyn, right? Punch-in-face Briallyn? Desmond stares at her through his cloth. "Thank you kindly, m'Lady!" And he edges away before she decides to devour his head, oblivious to her favor.
Saffron is also disappointed that Kamron has gone and excused himself! How dare he. The Banefort looks slowly back over to the others, turning and sidestepping as if to even out the hole that the Mallister Knight has left behind. Her own guards are looking after Kamron with a touch of interest, though Punbah's is more evident over Timmen's. Saffron brightens a bit at the kiss from Briallyn to Desmond, and she glances a bit over toward Ilaria at the mention of her own husband-finding.
"Come now, Desmond, I am no viper," she teases wryly, lips pursing at the flush in his face, but more for the way that he practically backs away from her as if expecting to be struck. "Your master never complains." Pause. Well, maybe not the best wording. Especially since Desmond's master has forgotten such things. Briallyn, however, laughs it off with a most elegant and well placed chuckle. "If there is anything I can do to repay you, Desmond, you need only ask."
There should be cautionary tales written about the dragon crone named Mistress Morla. She flares her noses, her words could scorch, and her eyes… they could torch your soul. She comes striding across the Stone Walk with purpose. As Punbah spies her, he immediately taps Saffron on the shoulder in a coordinated code that says: The Dragon Ith Hereth. Saffron turns her head a bit toward Morla, and then she looks immediately back to the others. "Thank you all for the pleasantries," she says in haste, "I hope to see you all on the road to the Roost." And then she turns to intercept Morla so whatever the woman has to say to the Banefort isn't overheard.