Page 337: The Right Thing To Do
The Right Thing To Do
Summary: Saffron and Kamron speak after the team melee; Kamron shares what he plans to do with the cask of wine he won.
Date: 22 June 2012
Related Logs: The Kaffron Betrothal & The Roost's Plight
Saffron Kamron 
The Mallister Encampment
OMG. Its murple-purple.
June 22, 289

There is quiet and happy conversation toward the Mallister encampments, through the line of tents toward Kamron's own. She is trailed after by Hara, who is more than happy to give the couple enough space to feel alone without being out of sight. When they come to the tent, the maid has decided to take her seat on a stool just outside the opened tent flap so she can listen to the excitement and still be able to monitor the two as they claim the inside. Saffron has stolen Bear from Kamron along the way, and she sets him on a little bed of linen she designated as his own. He drags his fishie-mouse along, settling in to chew on him. The Banefort girl turns to face her betrothed, a bright smile on her face.

Kamron looks down at the gnawing pup, "That thing isn't going to last long, the way he's going." For all that he's talking about the little fuzzy-thing and looking at it, his right hand slips out to take hers gently, almost shyly. Percy had scarpered out of the tent when the two returned, taking his own bits of maile out over his shoulder to poke and prod at it in preparation for the squire's melee. Kamron probably didn't even notice, His words are quiet, and if they aren't the intimate things that either of them might wish he were saying, they're still personal — sort of, "Your cousin showed well. Despite all those folks hounding him."

The shy capture of her hand draws a small smile on her lips, and the show of dimples are soft. Saffron's own fingers slip around his, drawing him closer to her as she remains at her place near the puppy bedding. Bear growls fondly with the fishie-mouse, though Kamron is right in his assessment as the knitted toy is starting to fray. She smiles down at the wee pup before her gaze lifts back to her betrothed — and there is the smallest glint of mischief in her eyes. She glances toward the tent door as she steps forward a bit, closing the gap of space between them within a few steps. She responds to him with purpose, though her lips have decided to linger at his cheek. "He showed very well — and he actually made them work for his yield." As she speaks, her lips softly brush along his skin.

Kamron steps aside as well, to where Hara can mostly see his back. Percy may have a better line of sight on the pair, but he's busy laying out and studying his maile for any rust. Kamron's free hand comes up to Saffron's waist when she steps close, but like the clasp of her hand, it's tentative and shy. "Then again, you're showing well right now." Where his touches are slow to come and light, his voice is quiet, but somehow still bold, "There may not be a whole lot more to do, but I will say that I rather enjoy what you can do, My Lady, and what I can." Ducking his head quickly, he lays a light kiss on her cheek.

"I've never seen you so shy before, Kamron," Saffron murmurs softly to his skin, though she does pull back enough to look up into those wonderful grey eyes. That mischeveious glint in her eyes has gone even further to curve her lips. The touch to her waist draws her fingers to touch the soft concave of his collar, fingers edging around the hem of his black tunic. "When you grow tired of my cheek, you should kiss my nose." And she points gently at the tip of her nose as if to guide his kiss to the mark.

Kamron shakes his head slightly, "I've never had a woman that I planned to marry before either, My Lady." Obligingly, he raises up to his full height, pressing his lips to the tip of her nose, "Next, of course, you'll tell me I should balance it out with one on your other cheek." And he moves over to brush his lips over that other dimple as well, another feather-light kiss. "Not that I've gotten tired of cheek or nose."

The Lady cannot keep her smile from doubling as he kisses her other cheek. It is a wonderment to her how it causes a small tremble to travel down her spine. She bites softly at her lower lip before she breathes solidly through her nose. "I hope you never will… but may a Lady make a suggestion?" There is a brightness in her pale eyes as she slips forward another half-step, and she is almost pressing against him as if to close in that last touch. She presses her lips to his then with the full warmth and will of a happy woman.

Kamron leans back just enough to bow his head, and then he straightens up again, leaning close enough that they can undoubtedly feel each others' warmth across the bare intervening distance, "I'm always open to My Lady's suggestions." His grin quirks up at one corner, "having complimented your intelligence and wisdom time and again, I would be a fool not to listen to you." He stands close, fingers of one hand wrapped about the fingers of hers, and his other hand lightly gracing her waist.

"You should give me room to grow, Kamron," Saffron says softly as she slides her unclasped hand across his neck, fingertips sliding beyond the fabric to keep with her fingertips with his skin as much as she is able. "I've become too perfect too quick in your eyes." She cannot withdraw her eyes from his own, though there is a small shyness that seems to feud with the hints of mischief and playfulness in her pale eyes. "We should sit," she says, perhaps a bit abruptly.

Kamron laughs softly at her words, although his eyes drift closed at the touch along his skin. He makes a soft, pleased sound at the back of his throat, and then a rueful smile touches his lips, "I do suppose we should, Lady Saffron." And his hand at her hip loosens just a touch, then drops to his side. Leaning forward to press another kiss on her cheek, he steps back and moves to guide her by their commingled fingers toward the camp chairs set up on either side of one of the little folding tables, "And I suppose your seat shouldn't be upon my knee just yet, My Lady."

Saffron laughs softly to his suggested restriction of where she should sit, and she colors up a bit at the mere thought of sitting astride his knee or slipped across it. She bows her head a bit as she draws him to a halt just before the chairs with a gentle tug of her hands. "Perhaps not yet… but I long for the day." There is a soft note in her voice as she slides into the camp chair, turning it so she can face him better. She does not quite seem willing to let go of his hand, but does just long enough so he can sit. "The tournament is almost done, and we return to the Roost soon," she says in a casual note as she gently turns his hand over, looking into his palm.

Kamron doesn't even bother loosing her hand, guiding her into her seat and then reaching across to drag one across the canvas-covered dirt of the tent's floor. Settling down into his own seat and resting his forearm on the arm of the chair so that he can keep his fingers entwined with hers. His smile spreads as she turns his hand over, "Just the squire's melee and the dance left," he agrees to her words, "And then we'll be back to the Roost, if it please you, My Lady. Assuming I can move after all the dancing you mean to make me do." For all that that could be taken as a complaint, the grin on his lips suggests that it isn't in the slightest.

There is a quiet moment from Saffron as she looks over the lines ingrained in her betrothed's hand. She traces over the lines, follows each little river along his palm. There is a small smile that quirks at her lips, but it seems a little shallow compared to how it would be when happiness draws out those dimples. "I will dance with you as long as you wish me to, My Lord. I would not want to cause you to be bedridden in the wake. That is a punishment to me." She offers a soft laugh before she exhales again. "There are times… I wish we wouldn't go back. To the Roost."

Kamron shakes his head slightly, his fingers twitching at the tingling tracery across his palm, "You know that tickles, right?" There's laughter behind the words, although he doesn't let it out full-force. "If Garett and the others couldn't keep me bedridden, I think I'll survive a night of dancing, My Lady." He curls his fingers around hers and squeezes lightly, "I understand the wariness. It's not the same as Seagard, even though Seagard is rebuilding too." He pauses, then adds, "I'm thinking of selling the cask of wine, Lady Saffron, and giving the proceeds to the Roost. What do you think of that idea?"

"I wish you didn't have to," Saffron says in brutal honesty — but who else is she meant to be honest about but her husband, even her husband-to-be. She looks quite weary now, in the soft lamplight of his tent. Her head remains bowed, her fingers tightening around his own with a small tension. "But, it is the right thing to do." That definitely seems to be the point of her tired voice. The right thing to do. She offers him the slightest curve of her lips, and she draws forward a bit so she can press her lips to his forehead.

Kamron smiles a little crookedly across to his betrothed, tilting his head toward her so that she can kiss his forehead, then leaning his head back against the frame of the camp chair, "I wish that neither Seagard nor The Roost needed the money, and that we could drink the whole cask with our friends and families." He brings up her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles and then letting their hands hang between them once more, "At some point, you may have to teach me to dance again. I haven't had a lesson since I was a page."

There is a touch of sadness in her eyes, but the Banefort nods her head gently. "Then perhaps we best hope we can put on a wonderful, beautiful wedding to make up for it." She offers him a softer smile before she holds his eyes with her soft blues. He manages to draw a laugh from her now, and she smiles a bit broader to the man. "Come see me tomorrow, before you go off to drink and be merry… I will give you a quick lesson so you are less likely to trip on the floor at the dance." There is a soft noise from the tent flap, and Hara stands expectant. "Milady, we are expected back soon," she says in her soft, plain voice. She does smile apologetically to Kamron.

Kamron nods his head, "I'm sure that Lord Mallister, Father, and Mother will help with that." He gestures around him with one hand, "As you can see, we Mallisters do special occasions right." There's a pause, and he grins a little crookedly, "You know, I never did ask when your nameday was, My Lady. All this time, us betrothed, and I don't even know when I owe you a present." Still, when Hara returns, Kamron rises to his feet, although he doesn't drop Saffron's hand. Nodding forgiveness to the maid only trying to do her duty, the Mallister looks back to his bride-to-be, "One of these days not too far in the future, My Lady, you won't have to go back to your tent in the evening." There's a certain softness to his voice and smile that suggests he actually isn't talking about anything in the husband-wife line of work, just the simple fact of not having to leave his company.

As he stands, as does she. His hand is gripped softly in hers, and she reaches to take the other gently. She holds his gaze for a long moment before she steps forward to deposit a kiss on his lips — and the tiniest squeak from Hara suggests she has turned away to give the two a sliver of privacy at their goodbye. It is a quick, light thing, nothing to blush over. "You have a long time yet before it comes again, Kamron… First of May, though, for your knowledge." She squeezes his hands for a long moment before she offers a soft, light laugh. "That day cannot come soon enough, My Lord," she murmurs before she steps away, fingertips sliding from his. "Tomorrow then, Ser Kamron." And with one last longing look, she slips after Hara to head back to the solitary Banefort tent.