Page 043: Tits and Consequences
Tits and Consequences
Summary: Gedeon's squire expresses her displeasure about who's been polishing his lance.
Date: 24/08/2011
Related Logs: Carousing
Players:
Rowan Gedeon 
The Green, Terrick's Roost
The Green is a large field of deep green grass, nearly flat, that runs along the base of the towers. The road into town runs along the far edge, hemming it in neatly to a confined area where beyond a line of trees serves as a subtle windbreak. This area is most often used for drilling or practice for the guards but also serves as home for festivals, tournements, and another other gathering that might require the space for a large number of the local residents. A well-trodden path winds around the side of the wall and moves towards the coastline.
24th of Eighthmonth, 288 AL

The morning's meeting twixt knight and squire was brisk and light-hearted, fraught with the same banter and moments of playfulness that typically characterize their sparring. There's work to be done, of course, and occasional flashes of Roses's frustrated temper, but that's no reason not to have fun. When they meet on the green in the afternoon, however, there are no smiles for Gedeon from his protege. She stands armed and ready, face composed in frosty neutrality, eyes stone. "You're late. Again." Whether he is substantially late or not doesn't seem to be the issue — she's clearly not willing to afford him even a second's grace. "Let's get to work."

The morning was witty banter, good cheer and a roaring hangover for Ser Gedeon, and the space between training sessions has, more the most part, been spent sleeping, throwing up and dunking his head in the rain barrel. Still, he arrives to practice, kitted out and armed, expecting another cheery round of training. When he meets, instead, ice and stone, he blinks slowly. "No, I'm not," he points out. "What's wrong?"

The ice remains unthawed; the stone only glints. Her jaw tightens. "Nothing," she says flatly. "There's nothing wrong. All is as it should be."

The blond knight arches a brow, head canting to the side. "Then why is it you look like you swallowed granite. That isn't how it should be."

Rose lifts her chin a notch. "That isn't how what should be?" she asks, coolly. "Things between us?" She gives the question a moment to hang in the air. "There is nothing between us. I am your squire, and I serve you well. You are my knight, and for my service I am paid with the benefit of your experience. Now defend." She steps forward with a lunge of her rapier, ready or not.

Gedeon blinks in silent surprise for that assessment of their relationship. He jerks backwards as Rowan lunges, barely missing getting himself skewered before he brings his own sword up to block.

She doesn't even evince a twitch of satisfaction at catching him so off-guard, as she normally might. Gloating and strutting comprises quite a bit of their normal play. But not now. She simply renews her attack — again and again and again, thinking a step ahead to her next feint before the current gambit's met. Quite in earnest.

Gedeon doesn't try to strike back so much as simply block and dodge and try to keep all of his fingers and toes. Waiting for the squire to burn himself out, it seems, or perhaps simply waiting for him to make a mistake.

It takes some time — these past weeks have improved both her form and her stamina — but eventually, Gedeon's patience pays off. She leaves an opening as she swipes the stitching off his sleeve at the shoulder. She over-extends, taking a split-second too long to recover her guard.

He loses a fine sleeve, but he gains a chance, surging in beneath Rowan's guard to press his blade up against the squire's throat. "Now," he pants, "let us try this again. Why are you angry with me?"

She makes no formal declaration that she yields, though there's nowhere to go and no other recourse. She pants and glares daggers at him, fire and disdain. "Perhaps you'd like to guess," she hisses.

Gedeon studies the squire for a long moment and then sighs softly. "Last night at the Rockcliff," he supposes, withdrawing his blade and moving to sheath it.

"Smarter than you look," Rose says flatly. She sheaths her own blade, though she still looks like she'd dearly love to have his balls on it, shish kabob style. "Your next clue was going to be: what has nice tits, freckles, and a big mouth?"

"Well that's the point, isn't it?" Gedeon asks, running his hand across his face and through his hair. "Safer she squawking about how she was fucked last night than how Gedeon Rivers turned her down when his two companions took their own pleasure readily enough. We don't need anymore eyes on us than we currently have."

Rose laughs, rolling her eyes to the sky. "Oh, gods, is that what you were doing? Ay, me, I feel such a fool!" No sale, apparently. "Do you know what would be far more effective in keeping eyes from us?" She raises her eyebrows. "If there were nothing to see."

He draws in a sharp breath and then lifts his chin, jaw squaring. "Perhaps that's so, if this is how you plan to react anytime I do something of which you disapprove."

"Oh, don't you dare," fumes Rose. "Don't you dare equate this to 'something of which I disapprove' — as though it were some small thing and I, a hysteric. You fucked someone!" She punctuates the verb by shoving his shoulders hard as she's able. "You rutting bastard! You whoremonger! You — you Rivers!"

He steps back, either because of the shove or because he knows he ought to. He listens, quiet, watchful. "Yes," he agrees, "I did. So will you, when you wish to. This can't be… gods, this can't happen. This," he gestures broadly as if to encompass all of Rose's behavior, "cannot happen. You cannot let…" he bows his head, running a hand roughly over his face. "I'm sorry, I had no intention of hurting you, but there was no way to avoid taking one of the Rockcliff girls to bed without the whole damn Inn wondering why not."

"Maybe you just didn't feel like it," says Rose, stepping toward him, voice a growl. "Maybe you're the type of person who doesn't just fuck anything and everything that crosses their path at every opportunity. Maybe you got too drunk and passed out. You may not have done it intending to hurt me, but you did it without a care if you did. Fuck you, and fuck you again for acting as though this is somehow more dangerous and more inappropriate than what we do behind closed doors. As though I'd speak to you so if there were anyone to hear or see. Keep putting the wrong back on me as much as you like — it won't stick. You're pathetic." She breathes in deeply. "And we're done here." She turns on her heel.

"You're right," Gedeon says softly, "it's not any safer. And we are done. I'll see you at practice in the morning." He watches her go before he turns away in silence to head in the opposite direction.

~Fin