Page 205: The Ladies' Favours
The Ladies' Favours
Summary: A busy night at the Flint Camp turns from Cordelya offering her favour to the Flint banner (at Fenrir's behest), to she asking Tia to stand lady in her place as she goes on a trip.
Date: 7/2/289
Related Logs: All the Flint Camp Logs
Fenrir Cordelya Anders Pariston Bruce Tiaryn 
The Flint Pavilion
A large cabin-style tent stands in the center of the small area granted, the light and dark device declaring it to be House Flint of Flint's Finger hangs just outside on a make-shift armour stand. Dotted around the main camp are smaller tents for the cavalry (who have to share tents), and for the foot soldier (they are stuffed into tents like sardines). There is a small but adequate holding area for their horses with a tent for the tack. In the center of their small area is a cooking fire, with appropriate cooking supplies.
Tuesday, February 7th, 289

Early evening in the Flint Pavilion, and most of the day's business is done. Day time drills finished, fresh water gotten for all the kettles and pots, a few more rations opened, wound dressings changed, most everything's settling in for some dinner and ale. Cordelya herself is still uncertain if she is to be off to see the Lady Charlton or not, so she's clad herself in another fine gown for the night. This one is the palest of Flint grays, with darker gray embroidering done by Orlagh's hand across the breast, and all along the lower edges. It's fitted all the way to her tiny, fragile waist before fluffing out with heavy petticoats to give her shape she does not actually have. Her hair is restrained by just a few loose, elegant braids and the curls made artful by Orlagh's hand. She really has no excuse not to go except for the fact that, well, she doesn't want to.

So, instead of heading for the other encampment, Cordelya has made her way out into the general Flint area. She's stopped to speak with a few of the men — gentle, reassuring words of their Lady who is so proud of their service. Now, however, she's made her way over to the main fire. There she stands, hugging a light white lace shawl across her thin shoulders as she watches the flickering, dancing flames. Even the fire and lovely dress cannot hide the distant exhaustion in her features. It was a long night, the evening before.

"Stand to, you turd-licking sons of goats! The Lady Flint is among us!" Fenrir's roar echoes through the immediate area, and men snap to their feet, fists clenching and rising to their chests in salute to Cordelya. Fenrir is the only one to move; he takes a knee before Cordelya, inclining his head gravely. "Good evening, Lady Flint." Subtly glancing up at her beneath a few stray locks of caramel-blond hair, Fenrir winks reassuringly to Cordelya and murmurs softly, "Tell them to carry on, Corrie-girl." It seems he is determined, by hook or by crook, to teach the woman. Not how to be a noble - he leaves that to others - but that she is one at all.

And the other men seem to almost expect this sort of treatment - they stand in rigid salute to their lady, as the master-at-arms commands, without much in the way of resentment evident on their features. After all, this is how the world is - Lady Liselle would not think twice about such matters. "You'll be wanting a guard of honor for your dinner with Lady Cherise, Lady Cordelya?"

The initial call for attention draws a lofting of both of Corrie's thin, dark brows. She cannot help but smile a bit more, amused by his words and put automatically at comfort by them alone. It diffuses something that might, otherwise, be slightly awkward for her. She really still isn't accustomed to this but, as ever, Fen is the perfect man for the job. She tilts her head respectfully to him and murmurs, gracious and proper. "Rise, Master, and a good evening to you as well. I trust your drills went better than expected, or are the men still crying for their bedrolls?" She asks with a grin towards the collected soldiers. She then looks out to the others. "Relax, men, as you were… " A small wave of her hand to dismiss their tensions, and then her jade eyes return to Fenrir.

The question of her dinner with Lady Cherise draws an earnest frown to Cordelya's features, the first one of the evening that he's seen. It might be possible the lady is just starting to realize how poorly her 'friend' treats her. "…I suppose I should. Though… in truth, I have no… dying need to go dine with the Lady Cherise. She is …Unwell. Perhaps I should be gracious and leave her an evening of rest, instead of attempting to be proper and poised the whole night over a meal."

As the men relax around them, Fenrir leans closer to Cordelya and smiles; it is not his usual affable grin, but something colder, and a touch predatory. His blue eyes are icy as he casts a glance toward the Charlton campsite. "You want my opinion, Lady Cordelya, and you'll do just that. Let her rest. And next time she comes, let her remember just which of you outranks which, eh, Lady Cordelya? I don't like some hopped-up Southerner thinking she can bully a /Flint/. Someday.. you'll sit on a throne."

Smiling, he withdraws from Cordelya - this time, the expression is warmer, inviting the woman to share in it as he looks around at the men. "Right, lads, you heard the lady! If it was me, I'd be having you all eat your boots for not rising for her, but she's got a noble heart and a generous spirit." He winks at Cordelya again, a subtle gesture - this is his role to play, after all, the Bad Cop to the noble Flints.

If it would be proper, Cordelya would hug Fenrir right then and there. But she is busy doing her very best to be that proper Young Lady, and such a position means embraces in the middle of camp are above and beyond the call of duty. Still, the smile that Cordelya gives Fenrir is one of complete gratitude and a bit more relaxation than before. "Mm… Aye. She does think much of herself, doesn't she? And a proper lady knows the time to be exulted, and the time to be humble. Possibly lessons she could do with relearning. Still, she is my friend. I will check upon her in a day or two. When she's had her time to rest." See? Ever kind and forgiving is the Cordelya Flint. And that isn't a show, in truth. She couldn't go a few days without worrying about the woman and be able to sleep at night.

"But yes. It's a night to relax. I think there is still stew, no? And perhaps some fresh fish to smoke over the fires? We should all take a proper meal here, tonight… I must take my leave for a fort night to visit my family and bring them news of all that has happened, but I will not do so until I am certain all our men are settled, fed and on the road to recovery." And there, the public announcement that she would be leaving, done as noble and graceful as she can manage with no hint of the dark reasons behind her departure.

"Oi, you hear that, you roughnecks? Lady Cordelya says we're to eat fish and stew tonight, both! And it's better than you lot deserve! Three cheers for the Lady!" and the men rise up, cheering heartily - a ration of stale bread and stew - or fish - on any given day grows old, particularly now that the ale has begun to fall short of the needs of the men. Even Orlagh can only do so much to feed a few score hungry soldiers without repeating the same few recipes. But to have both? It's almost like having something different!

"And in honor of the Lady's departure, my darling boys, I think a show's in order!" What was a cheer a moment before has cut into a groan. "By sections.. FORM!" The entire camp erupts, men grabbing their assigned weapons and rushing toward the makeshift parade ground, facing Cordelya and Fenrir as they form up in neat blocks, with surprising speed. Or perhaps not so surprising, given the amount of drill the master-at-arms inflicts on them all. "PRESENT.. arms!//" As one, the entirety of the Flint force - or at least, those not preparing dinner or standing guard - brandish their weapons in a proper salute to the Young Lord's wife. "ORDER.. arms! Fall out. Carry on." And like that, the impromptu formation breaks apart.

Riding.. there is sparring and then there is riding. Each has its place in the physical rehabilitation of the Flint's Young Lord, and this is a necessity. Anders needs more time in the saddle to keep from getting sore.. sorer, that is. Into the Flint encampment, then, Anders rides, his horse at a slow jog, the trot seemingly done in place as he enters. He wears his breastplate.. working with the weight, and hanging on the side, his sword and shield, and rides just as the formation begins to fall out. A groom, however, runs up to take his lord's horse and hold it as Anders swings his leg over, clearing the destrier's back and flanks, and dismounts.

Only to those that best know Cordelya is the slight shock and wonder on her features clear. While she had seen the darkest, most miserable sides of war, the dying and sick men, the scent of sick tents with a festering wound, she truly hadn't gotten a chance to study the glorious things yet. The parts of the stories she and Anders always read together. The properly formed men, strong weapons, camraderie and banners. So to see it here, there is a moment of warm shock flickering over her face before she resolves it back into that proper (yet happy) expression. And then there is pride. Above all, she looks utterly proud of her men, and the shape Fenrir has put them into being. Even after all their losses, they are an amazing sight to see.

"Master, the work you and your men have done… There are no words for it. If I could give you stew and fish every night, I would. But tonight, we will celebrate. Because you deserve it. You all do." Cordelya states, loud and strong enough that everyone can hear, her proud heart behind her words as much as that wonderous shock. She does not yet notice her husband's approach. She cannot quite take her eyes off the troops yet. She draws a deep breath in and out as she turns a bit more to Fenrir though. "Mayhaps my father will send… some more provisions. Ale, if nothing else. Salted meats. Something for the men, to keep heart." Those words are a bit more quiet and thoughtful as she admits that, coming closer to the fire to now sit.

Among the men, that Fenrir call out, is Pariston. Cheering along with the rest. Some of the men in his section groans, though he only smirks. Hitting one of the men in his section on the arm. Not very hard but enough to tell the man to stop with the groaning. Though having a smirk on his face all along. Then moving to do as their told. Being calm as he moves to get his weapon and continues on as Fenrir tells them. Once it is broken he puts away the weapon moving back to his previous position, which is at a campfire not too long away from Fenrir and Cordelya.

He doesn't speak a lot, only listening to the talk of the other men. Though having an ear open in case the Master-at-Arms were to need him, or anyone of his section. A grin and nod as he hear Cordelya's words. But other than that he just sits and listens to conversations.

Ever so softly, Fenrir murmurs, "Before we go to war, Lady Cordelya, make certain you bless the standard with a favor. So every man knows he's beloved of his Lady, like." It's not something often done, but Fenrir can see how important the love of the men is becoming to Cordelya. There has recently been a formation, that much is clear - the men are still breaking up from it, returning to their campfires and their special treat of stew and salt-fish. Fenrir stands at Cordelya's shoulder, the Lady glorious in a dress of pale Flint-grey linen. She cuts a stark contrast to the Northman warrior's uncouth, savage, appearance.

He spots Anders returning from his ride before the Lady, turning to make his obeisance with a small smile on his features - perhaps the Young Lord will realize that Fenrir is deliberately building up his Lady's confidence in her new role, or perhaps he will be offended that the man has not had the Flint levy salute him in such a manner. As Pariston passes, Fenrir regards him quietly. The young hunter, once such a loner, has shaped up nicely as a five-man section leader - perhaps that's why Fenrir chose him for the job. Responsibility often forces men to invest more tightly in their organization than would otherwise be the case.

When today dawned, the majority of the Nayland men under arms were seen marching to the north, to Stonebridge, taking their standards and supplies with them. Still, though the Nayland campsite is now considerably more empty, there are people continuing to inhabit it. Three of these men now make their way down to the Flint campsite. Ser Bruce Longbough is in the middle, with his second Serjeant Stefan Turner to his right, who until yesterday was not present, and his squire Amos to his left.

Once on the ground, Anders speaks quietly to the groom, and watches as the lad walks the horse away to get unsaddled, rubbed down with hay, grained.. and put away for the night. A page, then, approaches the Young Lord to aid him first with the shield (which is taller than the lad!) before the armor is begun to be attended. He doesn't join the main group yet, instead removing his armour nearer the pavillion that he'd chosen for himself and lady. He's more than pleased with the work his Master at Arms is doing, and at the moment, doesn't feel the need to interrupt.. he'll take his time before heading to see them.

Cordelya considers Fenrir's words, carefully reaching behind her head and drawing loose one of those light gray ribbons which Orlagh had so delicately woven into one of her braids. It takes some delicate tugging, but she manages to pull it free before turning a wide and warm smile back to Fenrir, "Well, Master, since I shall be riding within the week, why is there any time to waste? Have one of your men bring the standard and then they will all know they bear my favour before the next march and the sailing to come." It's clear the woman does not know if she will return before they leave, and now that is rather certain to everyone. But she will absolutely do her duty while she is here.

A heartbeat later, Corrie does catch sight of her husband out of the corner of her eye. That draws an even warmer smile to her pale, delicate face, almost lighting up another level or two. But she does not pause in her motions. She waits for one of the men to bring the banners over before she stands upon her tip toes and carefully bows her ribbon around the pole that carries the cloth. A tight knot is given, so it does not fall free, and then she turns back to all of them. "This war will soon be over, and then we can all go back home. But until then, know that you march with my blessing… and I could not be more proud of the men who carry the Flint name and swords in their hands. You do our house a great honour with every day that passes." Bruce is given a momentary, flickering look, but she's more worried with her men now. The bit of pomp and circumstance is almost done for the night.

Pariston looks around a bit before getting his stew and salt-fish and starts to eat. Still keeping to himself a bit. Although that might just be because he's enjoying the meal. Though he does pull a joke or two to the nearby men, getting a chuckle at times. But not before long he hear the lady speaking with Fenrir.

Looks over to Cordelya and Fenrir. Putting the food to the side for a moment as he moves towards the two. He bow his head deeply as he comes closer. "I could bring the banners, if you'd like." He offers. Unless told no, he will move to get them for the lady. Then bowing again as he moves back to his seat and looks to the two. A small smirk as he witnesses what is done.

As the standard-bearer hurries forward to gain the Lady Cordelya's favor, Fenrir stiffens upright - this is a more informal setting than he might have arranged, but the very spontaneity of the Lady Cordelya's actions are carrying the moment. Men stop, call others back, form a slow circle around the pair as Cordelya speaks. There is no organized cheer this time, but rather a slow wave of grins and nods, a ripple effect as her words are conveyed outward.

It works better, even, than anything the master-at-arms could have arranged. Its very sincerity wins through. He smiles aside at Pariston as the man first fetches the banners, then retreats, inclining his head thoughtfully. Investing in the levy, indeed, is the huntsman. "Well done, Corrie-girl. Oh, well-done." It's far too soft for anyone apart from Cordelya to hear, but the master-at-arms beams ear-to-ear as he steps away from Cordelya to greet Ser Longbough and his small entourage. Though no knight, he carries himself with a certain assurance that speaks of prestige, at least among his own people, and he inclines his head to Bruce as to an equal. "Evening, Ser. What can the Flints do for the Naylands?"

Bruce apparently has nothing to say, the three men stopping outside the gathering to watch. Bruce cross his arms over his mail shirt, expression as unreactive as his vocal chords. As Fenrir approaches, Bruce finally breaks through and smiles, though slightly, dipping his head in a nod at Fenrir. "Oh, didn't want to interrupt. But I wanted to talk to the man in charge of the lads here. On a day to day basis, that is, if you know what I mean. Ser Bruce Longbough, Nayland Captain of Guard."

Anders manages to extricate himself from the breastplate before he turns about once again to watch the impromptu bestowing of the Young Lady's favour. He can hear her clear voice through the camp; and pride wouldn't be too strong a word. His own smile echoes his Master at Arms, and as the favour is tied, he pulls the bottom portion of his tunic down before he moves to approach the group near the fire.

Naylands men, now, are recognized, and he slows his pace; and as the request is made for Fenrir rather than he presence, there's nothing more to it, and he's free to join his lady wife.. and those of whom she holds the attention.. His voice rises, now, "That favour, my Lady, will see much.. and will return to you to whisper its stories of honour done in your name."

The Young Lady gives Pariston the same warm, earnest smile she gives the others. "Vis, thank you… and your men. Now go relax, this is not a night for marching. It's a night for food and ale." She even remembers their names! Some of them, at least. Then it's all over, and Cordelya turns her head towards her smiling, warm husband, especially as he mentions the things her favour will see. She offers him one of her thin hands for a tight squeeze, happy to slip over to his side now as Fenrir steps aside to speak to the Nayland. "Aye, I always look forward to hearing the stories. You know that, my lord." She murmurs, warm and still so very proud. "Have you eaten, dear?" It's just a few moments that her eyes flicker back to him, up and down his body, studying for the pain and discomfort that might be left over from his injuries. Still, she keeps a single ear turned towards Bruce and Fenrir. Curious as well.

Pariston watches the favour getting tied, keeping quiet. Though his eyes do look around at the other men. Giving a bow of his head to the lady, as she starts to speak. Just with a grin upon his face. His eyes following Fenrir, once the man moves away. Studying the men that he meet. But soon turning to eat again.

But while eating he still listen to the conversations at hand. Listening to the words that Anders speaks. But he has most of his attention on the food and some on the surrounding men. Continuing to ease up and talk a bit more. But it's just some light talk between the men. Talk about the drills and such seem to be the main thing around him.

"That'd be me, when the Young Lord ain't taking an active hand. Fenrir Viiding, Master-At-Arms for the Flint Family." Fenrir's keen blue eyes meet Bruce's deceptively sleepy ones, studying him with a grave intensity for a long moment. Behind him, Anders' words bring a twitch to his lips, but he hides his grin as best he can. This is business - let the Nobles do their part, and he shall do his.

"Naylands fought well this whole campaign," Fenrir adds with a faint smile of acknowledgement to Bruce. "You must train your lads hard. Something I appreciate." No doubt, his reputation speaks the same - the Flint men have been in a flurry of preparation for the invasion lately, with full-kit runs and rehearsed battles down at the piers, as well as their regular sparring regimen. "So, Ser Longbough.. What can I do for you, like? Oh! Want an ale? We got some laid by.. Oi, Vis! Fetch Ser Longbough an ale, eh?"

"Well met, Master Fenrir." Bruce extends an arm to the man in front of him, presumably in a greeting of fellows and to shake. "This is my second in command, Serjeant Stefan Turner, and my squire, Amos." He nods gravely at the second comment. "Aye. Many lost, too, more wounded, but they did well. Rather proud of 'em. Afterall, if the base metal is shite, you're not going to make a good sword out of it… I just beat them with the hammer until they were hard enough, is all." He shrugs. His smile returns. "That'd be nice, thanks. I find that we've been all cooped up a bit too much, of late. We might be serving different houses, but we're all serving the same army, and the same Kingdom. We need to train more together. I've just sent home the four Quarters of levy that fought at Alderbrook and Seagard and called up the remainder who stayed back. Very well trained, too, but not recently blooded."

Anders takes her hand briefly, giving it a squeeze, a smile offered before he looks at the ribbon atop his banner. "Very nice, my lady.. very nice." He approves, most definitely. Eyes flicker towards the direction Fen's taken, and a shadow of a scowl crosses the man's face.. last meeting with him was less than.. entertaining. Even for the ale. Dragging his gaze back, which, even for the prize at the end, is a little difficult, he smiles tightly, "I have, and I will again. I think I'll be taking it the tent, however." He sounds a touch distracted for it all, but he's at least answering the correct question at the correct time. Leaning in closely to his wife's ear, he whispers something before he gives a chaste kiss upon her cheek. Straightening once again, he turns about to head back to the tent.. his gaze moving across some of those gathered.. and nods in the direction where Pariston sits..

Pariston turn his head to look towards Fenrir as he hear the man call out to him. A nod, "Only one mug?" He asks. Followed by meeting Anders nod, offering a deep nod of his own. Then quickly rising to his feet and moving away to fetch the ale that has been requested. Moments later the tall man comes bringing ale. A nod of his head as the ale is handed over. Though this time not moving back to his seat. Instead he takes a step back and stands beside Fenrir, and also a bit behind the man as to not intrude.

"I see. That ain't a bad move for the lads as fought all that way. But your new boys.. Right, I see the concern, aye. They ain't fought the Ironborn in massed formations." Fenrir clasps Bruce's arm in a firm warrior's clinch, glancing around at the mass of tents and bedrolls that makes up the interior of the Flint encampment. "I tell you what, Ser Bruce - I been running my lads through what it'll be like when we hit the beaches. Why don't you and your second, Serjeant Turner here, bring out fifty of your new boys and I'll have /my/ serjeants walk them through how we been practicing?"

Fenrir scratches at his jaw lightly, considering the other man. "I'm taking half my force come tomorrow on a training exercise. We hired some fishing scows, gonna practice as best we can hitting some beaches. But if you get together with my section leaders, like Vis over there, I got no problem with the remainder of my force training with your lads. We been practicing some dirty tricks. Now, I got to go and start my preparations, but young Vis is a likely lad - his five-man section is one of the finest we got. And I'll send my man Jory over to speak with you later this evening. All that suit?"

The Young Lady leans a touch more to the side, into her husband's whisper, and whatever he says makes her smile bloom warmly. She squeezes his hand and returns a proper, chaste kiss to his cheek before she lets him go. "Very well, my lord. I will see a good plate is sent into you and be there soon, dear." And with that, she formally releases him, eyes tracing her husband's handsome features as he disappears away. Still, Cordelya turns back to the men. She's going to take at least one mug of ale with them, as it'd do no good to just talk to them and disappear. So she moves over to the fire and smoothly folds down into sitting on one of the cleaner logs there, careful to smooth her elegant gray skirts out around her so she looks proper and lovely, but isn't too much in the way.

"Aye, that's what I had in mind. Later on, we can get down to formation, as part of a bigger line. There's more than one aspect to it all, so I'd like to practice as much as they can. Thanks, Master Fenrir, Gods keep ya." Bruce grins at Fenrir, his hands falling to his sides. "I'll see what I can do."

Evening time and Tia, though not really visible for the entire day, is returning to the camp, her sworn and maid along with her. They seem to be in a reasonable mood, the three of them, relatively speaking. Tia is still wearing all black, not by any means willing to give up on that just at the moment. The Sworn is carrying the harp, so the two women don't have to, and Tia's hair is no longer quite so neatly braided as it was earlier this morning. Because well, out all day, sea air and so forth. Tia moves towards the fire, glancing around as she arrives to see who is where and whether she ought perhaps to just sneak off once more.

Pariston stands quiet, a bit suprised, yet again, as Fenrir speaks. Seems the man keeps suprising him. But he nods as Fenrir is to make his leave. "Good day, master." He says before turning to smile at Bruce. "If there is anything, just feel free to call on me. I should move back to the man, unless there is something you would need of me right away." He says, waiting for a moment, and if there is nothing else he will move back to where he were.

The sight of Tia approaching the camp makes the young lady light up just a bit again. Cordelya smiles, but she doesn't stand, she just got her bloody skirts arranged in sitting! "Tia! Come… we're allowing double rations tonight. Stew and fish! Come, sit with me… let's take some ale…" Corrie's sitting at the main fire, near to many of the men but not exactly -with- them. She's there should someone wish to bring an issue to the lady of the house. Her maid stands by quietly to the back, as well as her sworn, so Corrie isn't unguarded even if her husband has gone inside. Her pale jade eyes then move from Tia back to Bruce, especially as the party of men mostly seem to break up. She gives him a respectful smile and a small tilt of her head.

"Well, Master Vis, feel free to drop by our camp whenever's best for ya. The lads won't arrive until tomorrow or the day after. Probably, the advance party tomorrow with a good deal of baggage and supplies, and then the main body the day after." Bruce shrugs. "But other than that, no, feel free to attend to what ya need to." He nods at his two comrades, who take the gesture as a reason to go back to the Nayland camp. Now alone, Ser Bruce ambles his way over to the fire to collect his promised cup of ale. Not going to pass up good Northern drink if he can avoid it.

Tia hears her name, and a half smile crosses her face, as she alters her steps to take her over to where Corrie is seated. She stops as she realizes that Corrie is all dolled up, and her head tilts for a moment. As her own sworn and maid come up, Tia takes the harp back, setting it down safely to one side. "Corrie, you look wonderful," she says simply, on that note. "Are we celebrating something?" She glances over as Bruce ambles over, inclining her head in acknowledgement. "Good day, Ser," she greets, though her attention at the moment is more on her good-cousin than anything else.

Cordelya blushes, just a touch, as even Tia comments on the fact that she actually -looks- like the lady she's supposed to be, instead of the Crannoggirl she often seemed to be. "Thank you, Tia, and no… not entirely a celebration, just a night to… Relax. I suppose it's a celebration, something to thank them for all their hard work, instead of just more drills and dreading the coming days." A publicity stunt, anyone? But Cordelya pulls it off far better than she would have even two weeks ago. She then looks back to Bruce as he does join them and she bows her head respectfully in his direction. "Ser… I trust the men took care of all your needs. Please, sit? Relax. It is good to see you mostly recovered from the fight. I heard you took injury… I'd have come to check upon you, but I was dealing with my husband -and- Lord Charlton."

Pariston listens to the man before nodding, "That sounds good ser." Then it's off to his seat at the campfire. Though it seems occupied so he moves over to get some ale and take a seat elsewhere. Thus landing him near the ladies and ser Bruce. Though on the other side of the fire, from the ladies.

He dares to speak now though. "It was a great gesture lady Flint." He offers before drinking from the ale. Eyes wandering a bit, going over to Tia as well, offering a kind smile. As well as a nod to Bruce.

Bruce may look like he's half out of it some of the time, but in fact, the Stonebridge knight is a fairly observant type. He'd already noted Tiaryn and her entourage once they came into the light, sleep eyes flickering towards the noblewoman a few times, and now he dips his head at her respectfully. "M'lady." And once for Cordelya. "M'lady." He smiles, slightly, and takes his seat. "Aye, I did. The Myre's axe to my neck, unfortunately. Lucky I got my shield up just in time, or I'd like as not be joining the ranks of those who thought they were clever, but were just slow."

So there's Lady Flint and Lady Flint, just to really confuse the poor common souls. Tia wrinkles her nose slightly, and then she says, "Lucky for you then, Ser, that you did not have me to look after you, for my skills at such are somewhat lacking." Which is perhaps an understatement, but there, not everyone can be so talented as Corrie. "I am not sure if we have met? I am Tiaryn Flint." Which at least will give her name, though it may not quite explain why she's wearing black. In this camp, it's easy enough to guess, naturally. "Adara, would you fetch some ale for me, and something to eat? And then, since Lady Corrie's maid is here, you may take some time to yourself, dear," she says, and there is actually a touch of warmth for her attendant, who curtseys appropriately and then makes her way over to do her Lady's bidding. The sworn takes up a guard position.

Cordelya looks Bruce up and down for a moment, especially towards his neck, but Corrie seems to find no issue with his care. "You must have been one of those whom the Mistress Senna was sweating over. I know she was quite worried… but her work is most excellent, and you look in far better condition. I am glad. We… lost far too many already." Just a flickering moment of sadness on her features as she admits that, a bitter pill to take with the happiness of this relaxing evening. Corrie then momentarily turns her head to Adara, "Ale for both of us, Adara… thank you." Though Corrie doesn't ask for food. She'll probably take a meal in the tent with her husband. She then looks back to them both. "Ahhah… Ser Bruce Longbough, this is Lady Tiaryn Flint… Tia, Ser Longbough, the Captain of the Guard for the Nayland's. Apparently, some of his lads will be training with some of ours." She nods towards Pariston when mentioning that, since he's now in on this scheme. "And of course, Vis… We always take care of our boys with everything we can. Hopefully I can bring back more from home, but the journey across the swamps is trecherous sometimes, so I can make no promise."

Pariston is a quiet lad, for now, as he does not want to interupt the nobles as they speak. Staying quiet and looking at the men. Drinking his ale and listening to the nobles. Hard to not do so as he sits rather close. A smile and nod to Cordelya. "Do not worry m'lady. As long as you return safe and sound, it would be enough." Nodding yet again, a bit deeper though. Eyes studying the three before turning his gaze away. Not wanting to seem rude.

Perhaps the ladies were somewhat embarrassing for the poor knight or he just is a busy man. Once his ale was gone, so too was Ser Bruce Longbough. Tia takes her own ale as Adara starts by bringing a mug for her and one for Corrie. Then Adara goes for food, while Tia settles down and arranges her own skirts, even if they are all black and there's not much to arrange. Well, enough material but it makes no visible difference. She glances up with a bit of a smile to Corrie, and even across the fire towards Vis. "It seems things are always busy here," she observes. "Perhaps almost too much so, at times. It - if you need me and I'm not around the camp, Corrie, I'm usually just down by the water where I can find a spot off away from the hustle and bustle."

Cordelya looks Tia over quietly, trying to see how the woman looks — health wise. She smile a bit more, though even Cordelya's expression is a touch ragged around the edges. She's more tired than she shows, and even power can't totally hide it. "How are you doing, Tia? And it's been… mostly fine around here. Orlagh has been a help beyond words. I just… I think I have to go back home, soon. It's… a long story." But there is a small touch of shame to her eyes as she admits it. Possibly this has something to do with the incident she had the other week. "I hate leaving you again."
Pariston smiles as he sits quiet. Letting the noblewomen talk. Shutting out parts of their conversation, he can't shut it all out unfortunately. Though he does offer a nod about things being busy around here. Both hands around the the mug of ale as he relaxes. Still sitting with good and respectable posture. But he does lean back a little, eyes still towards the soldiers more than the nobles.

Tia glances over towards the quiet Pariston briefly, and then back to Corrie. She figures if Corrie's okay talking about it, it must be just fine, right? So she nods her head, and then she reaches a hand out towards Corrie, stopping just short of touching her. "Don't worry - I'll be okay. If you have to go home for a while, then you do," she says simply. "Make sure you are safe, and I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine. After all, I don't think that your Lord husband will let anything happen to me." Well, except his own kidnapping Tia, but that's another story entirely and perfectly innocent. Honest. "Though I will miss you while you are gone, I admit, I think I should be able to make it. With lots of ale and harp playing."

Cordelya looks over to Pariston, since he is still pretty close to her, giving him a slightly polite nod, but it seems the ladies are keeping close tonight. As is proper. It would be ill to speak to the men all alone. Corrie studies Tia with lingering worry, but she seems to relax a bit as she is assured that Tia doesn't mind her going. "I'll be safe…I'm taking Jamys with me, at least, and Orlagh… I hope she can handle my family. There are just…" She seems about to say sometihng, but then very much realizes she's not alone. "There are things I need to do… and I'd ask you to come, but someone needs to stand as a Lady of the Flints while I'm gone."

Pariston continues to smile. Nodding back to Cordelya with a respectful nod. Hearing the conversation but for now the tall man keeps out. At least for a bit longer. Finishing what is in his mug. Then looking to the two ladies. Perhaps noticing that they seem to want some privacy. "Would you want me to move away m'ladies?" He asks with a proper tone and posture. Not moving yet, waiting to hear how they reply.

Oh. Wait. Did Corrie just say she wants Tia to stand as Lady of the Flints? Boggle. Tia's eyes go a little bit wide and she stares at Corrie for a moment. She opens her mouth and then closes it. Then she just sips at her ale, cause it's safe. She glances over at Pariston, her head tilting slightly and then back over to Corrie, letting the other woman answer him. Tia isn't so worried about such things, as she hasn't the infamous title that goes along with being married to Anders. Good cousins can get away with so much more in some ways.

Cordelya considers this all quietly, looking back to Pariston with understanding. She shakes her head to him, "No, no, Vis, I think it is time to go inside myself instead. Tia and I have things to discuss. You enjoy your meal." Corrie then gently, smooth as silk, slips up into standing. The fine clothes have even changed the way she handles herself, more delicate and proper. She offers her arm to Tia and nods towards the private Flint tent, smiling a bit more. "Shall we, Tia?"

Pariston nods and rises to his feet, bowing to the women. "Then I will see you at a later time." Eyes going back and forth between the two before he sits down. Staring into the fire for a moment before hearing men talk and soon come to sit near him. So he starts to entertain them with jokes and such.

Tia gets to her feet, and inclines her head towards the Flint man. "Thank you, Vis," she says simply. It might be expected, but there's no reason to not be polite. She then moves to collect her harp, keeping hold of the mug. Adara, coming along with the food requested, smoothly comes along to help by taking the mug, so that Tia is able to put her arm over in Corrie's and walk with her friend into the tent, as requested. "I don't see why not," she says lightly. "Let us by all means."

Cordelya disappears into the tent with Tia after waving a quiet good night to the boys.

Cordelya steps in past the outdoors, though she gives a slightly amused smile to Tia as she already hears the faint snoring from the back of the tent. So much for taking dinner with her exhausted husband! Still, there are plenty of comfortable, soft seats towards the front, made for the ladies and nobility. She heads towards the little sitting area and plops down a bit less elegantly than she should. But they're out of sight and out of mind now. She releases a small sigh of relaxation and gulps back her ale before setting the half empty mug aside. "Sorry… I am… I just didn't want to discuss it all among them. I… have not been myself lately, Tia. And I can't let them see that."

Tia raises a hand, as she sets her harp down, and then turns to Adara. "Thank you, Adara. Please set down the food here. Did you get enough - ah, you did, thank you." There is in fact more than enough for both Tia and Corrie to eat, and that's wwhat Tia was just checking. Adara then moves back a bit, giving the two their privacy, since truthfully there isn't any reason for her to listen. She has her embroidery and if she can find enough light, she'll work on that. Otherwise, she'll find something to keep herself occupied quietly. Tia, meanwhile, comes to sit down beside Corrie, gesturing to the food. "You are going to have to help me eat all this, you know. I'd not want to get scolded by the cooks." She then takes a breath and she gives Corrie a sober look. "The drawback to being noble, hmm? You have to set an example at all times, even when you're feeling at your worst," she murmurs.

Food. Oh yeah. That thing that Corrie really would rather do without most of the time, and forgets the rest of the time. A smirk dances across her features, though she reaches forward and begins to pick at some of the offerings, especially since she'll soon be home and be lectured for just how thin she's gotten. "Fine, fine…I'll eat… Gods, Tia, you're worse than the men sometimes with this …Food matter." She smirks, only half teasing as she pops a piece of fish past her lips. She still eats and picks like a bird. Then her features turn a hint more somber and she nods. "Yes… very much the draw back. And… if anyone else had found me on that beach… that morning… I don't know what would have happened, Tia. And it's… getting worse…"

Tia just gives a smile at Corrie, as she at least gets the other woman to eat something. Hey, someone's got to do it, after all. She herself also begins to pick at the food, though more just by way of keeping Corrie company for the moment. As for her health, she's perhaps a little too thin, but not as bad as she had gotten. She's got some colour to her, due to spending a lot of time outside, and she at least is physically healthy. There's still a touch of a haunted look to her, especially when she thinks nobody is looking, but that will likely be there for months. She takes a breath, listening, and then she says, "It should tell you something if they agree with me, or if I agree with them, you know," she says about that food matter. "I'm glad I was the one who found you on the beach then, even if it wasn't my intent. But - getting worse? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Cordelya shakes her head slowly, picking at another piece of food. She cannot quite meet Tia's eyes as they discuss her… Issues, a hint of heavy shame on Cordelya's pale face, but she doesn't stop talking at least. She just takes in a deep, slow breath. "I don't think so. I've… always had these… Spells. My family calls it the Greensight. I hear things… See things other's cannot. The Gods talk to me, sometimes… whether I want to listen, or not. But whatever it is, it's not normal. I know that. It's not fitting of the Young Lady Flint… So, I need to go back home. There are herbs there, herbs I've found that quiet it all… if I go and get more, it should go away again… mostly, I hope. I've been running low about a week now."

Tia listens, and then she reaches out a hand to touch Corrie's shoulder briefly. "Corrie," she says gently. "You are a wonderful Lady, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If you choose to learn more about how to guard yourself and your family, that's probably not a bad thing, but don't you let folks tell you that you are less." She stops there, takes a sip of ale and then she says, "I would guess it must be somewhat confusing to have the gods talking to you in such a manner. I think it might make me run off screaming, so you're already far better than I would be. I don't pretend to understand it, but Corrie, some things are just the way they are, no matter what we make of them. Maybe this is just one of them? If there's another one, do you know what I should do to help you most?" The last is said very carefully.

Cordelya seems genuinely a hint surprised at Tiaryn's response to her words. There isn't distrust or disgust there. She actually seems to respect Corrie's words. A bit of a smile chances across the young lady's lips and she looks up to Tia's eyes. She's not quite so ashamed as before, but it's there in the background. "You… you are very sweet, Tia… and I wish I could just pretend it's me and ignore it. But I won't hurt Anders' reputation because my mind is… Different from other's. So, I'm going home. I will fix this and I'll be the lady he deserves." She states rather firmly. "If… if it happens again, I don't know. Last night Fen had to pull me off the ground and trap me for… gods, I don't know how long it was, before I was back to myself. Just say my name. Remind me who I am, who you are… but I really can't say what works otherwise. When I'm not… really myself…" She shakes her head quietly, uncertain how to describe it.

Tia doesn't ask how Corrie knows that she's not herself then as opposed to now, but the thought flits through her mind. "Well," she says, and then she shrugs, "I still remember meeting you by the heart tree back on my wedding day," she says softly. "You were such a fey creature then, I would believe the gods talk to you. I think I half did then, already, though admittedly I was a little bit more naive at the time. But Corrie, you and I have known each other a while. I think - honestly, that if others see such things, they will gossip, so you're right to keep it from them. That's not quite what I meant - it's just - " A pause and a bit more ale because maybe that will make Tia's words come out easier. "I think that we have known each other long enough now that even if you are a little strange and wild, it's not going to chase me off. Gods, Corrie, you saved my life. Fat chance I'd repay that by deserting you when you need me."

Cordelya abandons her food for a moment, free hand coming over to gently rest on Tiaryn's arm. She gives a light, warm squeeze, smiling gentler than before. It's good to have a friend. A true friend. "I… miss how it was back then. Miss just… being able to be myself, Tia, but I know I can't now. Sometimes, when doors are shut and it's just us, but out there… Anders needs a wife. A Lady… not a creature of the wyld." And it shows just how much Corrie has actually grown up that she acknowledges such things. She gives one more squeeze to Tia's arm and then pulls away, scooping up what is left of her ale. "But…I'm glad you know. That you don't quite… mind. But you understand why I must go. And while I'm gone… someone has got to take care of these boys. Give them heart. Keep up their morale."

Tia doesn't pull away from that comforting touch that Corrie offers. "Oh, I mind, at least in as much as I worry about you, Corrie. But - some things we can't do anything about, and just have to learn to live with. I guess that might be one of them. As for giving them heart? Keeping up their morale? I don't even know where to start," Tia admits, forthright and somewhat nonplussed about the whole thing.

Cordelya motions towards the tent flaps, out to where they sat. "Exactly what I did. Go around… play for them, you're already doing that. Sing them songs. Here and there, loosen the ale rations if you can. They can't drink it if they die in the Iron Isles, after all. it'll be easier to march home without ale, than it is to march to war without it. Give some of them favours before they go. Little things can mean all the world, Tia… and you are a Flint. This house loves you." She smiles reassuringly, so much the lady even when she is not feeling it. She has come into her position in the oddest of ways.

Tia just stares at Corrie and then she glances down at the food on the table. "You know I don't think I've ever given anyone my favour, except for Connell," she says, after a moment. That is a somewhat disturbing thought, all things considered. She concentrates on eating for a bit, and then she says, "I can certainly try, though - I think they're frightened of me half the time, especially now." She shrugs a bit, aware of the murmurings that follow her around.

Cordelya tilts her head in a bit of confusion, brows furrowing. "Why… why would they be frightened of YOU? You're…sweet. Your voice is one of the most lovely in the camp. Yes, you've been through a lot…" Ahh. There it is. Corrie smirks a bit. "I don't think they're frightened. I think men are stupid when it comes to matters of the heart and so they don't know how to deal with one who has been through so much pain. Lean on them, if you need it. Let them lean on you. Trust them… even if just one or two. And gods be damned, Tia, give your favour to a few of them! Live… even if just a little bit. You have been so long a widow… it's time to become a woman again."

That gets a bit of a frown from Tia, of all things. "Not that I object to most of what you are saying, Corrie, but I am - I don't think it's quite the right time for all of that. I will figure out a favour, at the least, one I can give to some of them, if any of them don't consider it to be a curse that is. And I can certainly continue to play and sing, and - try to give them heart. But maybe we can leave it at that for now?" She pauses a moment and then she unbends just enough to add, "Even if I am in mourning, you were right that Fenrir cleans up nicely."

Cordelya considers Tia's words quietly, nodding in agreement to all of it. It's a start. "The favour will help, and the harp always does. That's all I can ask, Tia. hopefully I'll be back within a fortnight, if all goes well. So, it won't be too long. But while I'm gone, it would be helpful if they had a lady around to give them… strength, Courage. You know. Give them someone to fight for." Corrie tries to instruct in the things she's only just coming to understand herself. But, as ever, she is a fast learner. Then Tia mentions Fenrir and she blinks, nodding. "Yes… yes he does… but… He's a bit old… none of the other men caught your eye, hm?"

"You were supposed to laugh," Tia says, looking a little crestfallen. Well, that didn't work as intended. She shakes her head, goes back to eating, and then she blinks and she actually does chuckle. "Oh. Gods, Corrie. Did I say anything more other than he's handsome? And he's not the only one, but I do believe he's casting his eyes on someone who is far and away not me. And - it would be more than a little odd, if you know what I mean. I am not at the moment interested in anyone, Corrie. There is no need - " she pauses there, and then says, "Actually, let me rephrase that. Please do not go trying to play matchmaker or any such thing. I have grown used to as much independence as I have, and I would like to keep it."

A slight sigh escapes Corrie's lips. She's not laughing about Fen, she's just worried about ALL of them. She takes a final sip of her ale and sets it aside before turning to fully face Tiaryn instead of the food in which she has no interest. "No, you are right… he does have his eyes on another, and that might be strange also. I…I just didn't want your heart more broken. And… Gods, Tia, if you'd really rather your freedom…I'll stop." Maybe. For two weeks, at least. While she's no where near Tia. "But… I miss you smiling. I want to help you as much as the men, you know?"

Tia wrinkles her nose briefly and then she says, "There's still more food, you know." She smiles for a moment, her eyes even lighting up briefly. It is definitely good to have /true/ friends. "I don't know that my heart can be more broken, at this point," Tia says after a moment, her expression sobering to a very thoughtful one. "It means a lot that you care enough to worry, my friend. But if it's up to me, I'm happy enough on my own. It's safer this way, I think, perhaps all the way around." She takes a breath, glances at her mug of ale and sips some more. "I am smiling more, don't you find? It's just going to take time."

Those words bring Corrie's pale green eyes back up to Tia's features again, and she genuinely studies the woman. It takes a few moments, but she seems content with what she sees and she gives a small nod. "You are. It's good progress, Tia… I still worry. But I won't push." She then sighs and looks back to the food, listlessly picking up another piece of bread. She's trying, at least! "And I know there's still food, I'm just not… Hungry. It's not like I'm eating for another…" She frowns, "…Damned Cherise… so… lucky. Doesn't even know what she has and she's going to toss it away." She more mutters that than says it aloud, but Tia's right THERE. She no doubt hears.

Tia is definitely right there, and she hears the mutter, but all she says is, "You might not be but you have to eat enough for yourself, Corrie. Or how will you ever be healthy enough for a child?" Hey, she's got lots of hearsay to go on, since the Flints were all hoping she'd end up pregnant herself, back in the day. And even if she is just guessing, it sounds good, doesn't it? Tia is eating slowly as well. "Besides, if you don't eat, neither will I, and I can hardly stand not to eat, even if you can. It makes me look gaunt and unattractive."

Cordelya wrinkles her nose a bit, smirking firmly to Tiaryn, but the woman has all sound points. Corrie sighs and reaches forward, taking a bigger mug of the stew and actually beginning to drink and chew it, more than the ale. She'll eat tonight and every night before she heads into the swamps. "Alright, alright…I'm eating! We're both eating… And I'm plenty healthy, thank you very much. We can't all be hips and breasts, you know…" She states with a bit more of a teasing, mock defensive grin.

A chuckle of laughter, and Tia also takes some more food, eating as well. She is still drinking her ale, just a little over half done that first mug. "That's perhaps a good thing, or else the world would be a boring place, don't you think? If we were all the same?" She leaves it there, before she asks softly, "Is Lady Cherise okay?" Yes, she did hear the comment, and she's curious but not about to push too much, as it's not really her place. At least the Flints do their gossiping quietly and where they won't be heard.

Cordelya doesn't really mind doing gossiping as long as the flaps are shut! And Gods, she's itching to gossip a bit. Her lips settle into a rather worried line. "She is physically fine herself. Stressed, yes, but we all are. As for the baby… That, I don't know. She's had bleeding, and while that can sometimes come, so steady it is rare, especially this far along. And she insists on walking, jostling the baby about. She won't stay put for even a day or two like I've told her. If…if I didn't know better, I'd say she -wants- to lose the baby." Corrie admits, and yet there is this sinking, sick suspicion in the back of her mind that her instincts are right. And she hates it.

Tia listens, and she blinks a bit, at what she hears. "I see," she says after a moment, while she's still thinking. "Not sure I know what to make of that. Maybe she's scared?" Tia thinks that she herself might be frightened, were she pregnant, so you never know. "It is a big unknown after all, so I could see it being more than a little frightening. If she's worried about appearances as well, she'd not be telling anyone, except maybe her Lord Husband." She doesn't know if Corrie's instincts are right or wrong, but Tia is always willing to look for the kindest explanation, rather than the nastiest. At least until proven otherwise.

The Ladies Flint are alike in that. Always looking for the sweet hearts in people, the kindness in their minds, but after the few things Corrie has seen from Cherise, well, she just can't let the curtains be pulled over her eyes much longer. "…I hope you're right. She's probably just worried. But… I don't know… I…" And yet, Corrie cannot bring herself to speak truly ill of the woman. There's something there, on the edge of her lips. She shakes her head afterwards. "Never mind. All I can do is hope she listens to me, and not the Maester who has never even ahd a chance to bear a child and only wishes to please her, not the babe within her. Time will tell, in all things…"

Tia finishes up eating, and then finishes up her ale. "Time will indeed tell," she says with a half yawn and then a sleepy smile. "I'm sorry, Corrie. I just - I think perhaps I should go get some sleep, or I might end up with my face in the stew." She pauses and then says, "Besides, poor Adara is still waiting on me, and she's got work to do yet before she can sleep." If you will excuse me?"

Cordelya finishes off one last bite of her stew and stands, smiling warmly to the woman. "Oh, Tia, of course. Go, go sleep… seems like everyone is tired but me, and I was up half the night… but that is life. And I'm glad we spoke. I'll make certain we make proper goodbyes before I go, whenever that is." She leans over to tug Tia into a tight, firm, sisterly sort of hug.

Tia promptly returns that hug, and then she steps back. "I'm glad we got to talk as well, Corrie. And even if you're not tired, maybe you should go keep your husband company for a while," she suggests, before she moves over to retrieve Adara, and then the two slip out to find the other tent.