|Summary:||The first day of the tourney at the Twins doesn't go quite as planned.|
|Date:||May 18, 2012|
|Related Logs:||Not really.|
|Tourney Grounds — The Twins|
|Grass and horses! Lots of knights!|
|May 18, 289|
The crowd and bustle of the campgrounds at the Twins has slowly but surely made its way to the lists. Knights have armed and armored themselves — or, more likely, their squires have done it for them — and a certain tension of anticipation has started to hum in the air. It is not quite time, but it is close, and the chatter is unceasing. The erected stands are available for the nobles, and is particularly full of ladies, though there are plenty of noblemen who have come to watch without competing. The smallfolk are gathered in their own area on the grass, well-separated but no less excited for the day's entertainment.
The Charlton campsite has been erected on the grounds, the pavilions tall and wide with their proud green and red banners flying high. Separated from her husband for the time being, Cherise, along with her two handmaidens and a guard, are soon making their way toward the wooden stands in hopes to claim a prime seat to observe the festivities.
One Knight that is not going to compete in this Tourney is Ser Wayland Frey. The man is not one that everyone knows and it's not one that is seeing around often enough, however, he is here today and it seems that he is here just to watch. With all this said, he is wearing Brigadine armor and has his sword with him, and for the time being, he is just standing around the tents, mostly focusing his attention to the place where the jousting is going to take place. There is a young boy that runs towards him and says something, the man looks down, nods silently and the boy runs away. He turns around and just starting to quietly walk around the area.
The Lady Roslyn Nayland has yet to take a seat within the crowd of nobles, instead her gaze sliding across those gathered as if searching for someone before she determines a path. Dressed in a bright blue shimmer of silk, the color does little to improve the splotchiness of her skin where it flushes in parts from a lingering fever, of the equally bright red of her nose where it has been rubbed raw. Her curls have been left to fall over one shoulder to detract from the symptoms of the cold, and certainly hazel eyes almost seem a lovely blue against the color of her dress. Those eyes spot who she is looking for, lifting her hand to gesture to the young lady as she calls, "Lady Rosanna."
Ser Riordan Nayland, the Lord Regent of Stonebridge, is for the first time in months, once more outfitted for a joust. He moves at ease among the hustle and bustle like on returned at long last to the home he grew up in, leading his large white charger to the waiting area. He is outfitted in his full plate, made to gleam and shine in the sun produced by a fresh polishing. Over his armor, meanwhile, he wears his tourney cloak, held in place by a two large harpy-shaped clasps attached to his armor. The cloak itself is a shimmering black in color. What appears to be flames of orange and green lick up from the very bottom edge of the cloak forming the tail and then swoop up into wide spread wings and end in the head of a massive flaming harpy. Behind him, the lad assigned by his Lord Father to act in the place of a squire follows with the Nayland Knight's helmet and shield. And his expression? The normally jovial knight is without expression, as he glances to the stands. If he sees whatever it is he seeks, it doesn't show, and his eyes soon move to study his opponents.
Kamron managed to get settled into his armor by his squire Percival without too much trouble. Percy has only dropped Kamron's helmet three times thus far, although he yet holds it ready. A pair of pages have custody of the lances the Mallister man plans to break, although one of them has also been told to watch Kam's courser — not that Three looks like he plans to go anywhere. Kamron moves through the competitors, greeting and jesting with those he knows, but offering polite nods even to those he does not. Beyond the closed helm that Percival carries, Kamron is in his usual brigadine armor, the breastplate and maile polished as best as they can be. Still, it's clear that they've seen hard use, and while Kamron has had them functionally repaired, he has not had them relaquered, so the breastplate and spaulders are an uneven shade of purple, flaked completely away here and there.
Having arrived a bit early the fiery haired maiden, Alys Charlton, sits in the viewing box; light blue eyes scan over the array of colors that stretch out on the field that surrounds the tourney grounds. waving to her cousin Cherise then pats the empty seat beside her. "Good day good-cousin." She chirps before straightening her grass colored skirts. The embroidery that dances around her bodice and hems is that of the red berries of the Charlton sigil, mistletoe. Soft red velvet lines the inside of long sleeves showing now as she hails greets her cousin.
"Oh, Lady Roslyn!" Rosanna is quick to move through the crowd to the Nayland lady, hands extended to clasp the other woman's when she is in range. "Shall we find seats together?" She is resplendent in a lighter spring green gown that gleams in the sun, but she frowns as she gets a better look at Roslyn's face. "Are you unwell? You ought to wear green. It will make you look much less red." She's so sensitive.
Jarod mills about the crowd of non-competitors. He's dressed in green tunic and dark trousers, and sturdy leather boots minus spurs, though he does wear his sword at his side. A green-and-orange sash is also tied at his swordbelt, bearing the symbol of the Crane-and-Harpy of the Stonebridge Naylands. Though he's otherwise without armor or surcoat. He winds his way through the throng to try and find a good space to watch the action.
Rutger is here as well with the other knights. Clad in armor mot as fine as his brother, but good and gleaming. Rutger is wearing a long tabard of quartered orange and green, with the harpy on his chest. Helm in hand, he looks to the other gathered knights while his squire and pages see to his steed and lances. Noted at his shoulder would be embroidered fabric. sporting a ripe apple tree.
"I doubt there is little help to that," Roslyn says roughly, throat protesting against the abuse it has taken over the past three days of sickness. If her smile is subdued and there seems to be some lingering tension about her, she still clasps Rosanna's hands in return with her warm ones. "I must look for my lady cousin, first, but I would wish to sit with you, Lady Rosanna." She pauses, sweeping another glance over the gathering nobles. "I have heard that Lady Anais shall be in attendance, and have been suggested by more than one person that we should sit with her, as well."
In the midst of the fray is a Frey. Well, one by blood if no longer by name. One of Lord Frey's numerous granddaughters, Lady Tordane has made her way to the tourney grounds. A handmaiden and pair of guards follow closely, the latter particularly wary in such a busy area. Valda is dressed entirely in Tordane colors, even adding a gold necklace for the touch of yellow. She slowly moves through the crowd, pausing to exchange pleasantries with her many acquaintances and, seemingly more, family members.
While some familiar faces are appearing, Wayland does nothing to greet them, at least not yet. Like many others, he is taking his time to find a decent spot to watch the Tourney. In addition to that, he is probably scanning the grounds for any potential threats. All in all, his expression is neutral and he seems to be focused on what he is doing. With all the Freys around, it is strange that he is not actively seeking to exchange words with his family.
And also amongst the other knights is Hardwicke, yet another competitor waiting for the bouts to begin. He sees to his own horse, a chestnut courser, rather than the squire he has brought from the Roost, but he is particular like that. He bears the markings of House Terrick, naturally.
Cherise smiles broadly once catching Alys' pale hand among those seated. Aided by one of her guards to climb the seats, she comes to join in the spectators beside her lively cousin. "Good day." She greets, a few shifts of her form corrected the lay of her gown. She drew a red silk shawl over her head, adding a layer of protection between her skin and merciless heat from the sun. "I hear your brother is to compete. Have you seen him at all this morning?"
"No, no, no. What have I told you?" Martyn's voice can be heard from where he's getting his armor where it's supposed to be. "Order is very important. Always remember that." His squire nods a bit to the instructions, and soon thereafter the knight is properly clad in his armor now, and makes his way out where the other idi… the others who will participate in the joust is. Studying them a bit carefully for the moment.
Rosanna tucks Roslyn's hand into the crook of her elbow. Look, she will take care of you. With — her arm. "Then we shall have to find her," she says cheerfully of the Nayland's erstwhile cousin. "Is she? I'd be happy to sit with her, as well. I am rather fond of Lady Anais."
Kittridge is with the knights as well, his squire Brynner assisting him in doing a final check over of his equipment and his horse's. He's clad in a dark green coat of brigadine plates, and carries a helm edged in paint of a similar color. "Hold this," he says to his squire, passing it off so he can tie an emerald green ribbon to the top of the helm.
Having wished her family luck as they set out to (hopefully) prove they are above all and not (pray the Seven) lose any armor to competitors, Muirenn makes her way to the seats set aside for the retinue from House Mallister. Accompanied as always by her Septa, handmaiden, and a guard the red headed girl performs a perfunctory obeisance as politeness dictates to whichever lady Frey is overseeing the galleries to which she has been directed. As she turns away, her cheeks flush in excitement as she avidly takes in the sights of her first tournament.
There is yet another Terrick Knight that is also preparing for the day's event of the Joust. Kell has just finished donning his own armor, making sure everything is fastened and secured, for his own safety. With that out of the way, he heads over to his own Steed, the one gifted to him by Lord Jerold to begin looking over the beast he will be riding today.
Kamron works his way back to the Terrick and Mallister men after his quick whip-around to see who's present. He nods to Hardwicke, Kell, and Martyn, a crooked grin on his lips as he holds his hand out first to one and then the other, "Ser Hardwicke, Ser Kell, coz." One eyebrow rises up, pushing the scar above it upward too, "Problems with your armor, coz?" For all his talk of avoiding marriage, an embroidered piece of cloth is tied about his right arm, pretty clearly a favor, but also carefully wrapped to hide whatever initials might be stitched upon them.
"You shall have to watch for the Lady Anais, then, and I shall keep an eye for my cousin, Lady Jocelyn," Roslyn murmurs quietly, though she likely does not get far in searching out the crowd for the missing ladies. Instead, she gets distracted for a moment by watching the gathering of knights, and in particular Kittridge as he attaches a ribbon to his helm. She flushes all the redder, surely from the fever. As if reminded of it, she asks conversationally, "Tell me, Lady Rosanna, have you seen my lord brother?"
At long last, Valda has spoken to each and every Frey she knows of… save one. Which is convenient, for the man is sitting in the Nayland area where she is headed. Quick flicks of her wrists snap the sides of the skirts of her dress inward as necessary to prevent them from being stepped on or dipping into anything unpleasant. The latter is a particular risk with all these horses around. As she nears Wayland, Lady Tordane dips her head and neutrally offers, "Good day, ser."
"Ser Kamron," Hardwicke returns succinctly, not yet looking up from his final inspection of his mare. He sports a favor as well, a pink beaded ribbon wrapped securely about one arm.
Breaking her gaze to the lists as Cherise sits, Alys flicks a wrist to one of her handmaidens to signal for wine. "He is?" Alys turns and gives Cherise her full attention. "I had not know," she shakes her head. "Silly me, I should have known he would. Though, to answer you, no. I have not had the pleasure of Andrey crossing my path." She turns her soft mauve colored lips up into a warm smile, "How do I find you this day cos?" the handmaiden hands down two glasses of Riverland red wine, Alys takes them and gives the maid a nod offering one out to Cherise.
"You do have more than one," Rosanna points out to Roslyn, even as she begins to look about for any sign of Lady Anais. "You will have to be more specific than that." Her gaze narrows on Kittridge in the distance, securing that favor. "Who did he ask," she wonders.
Riordan's gaze as it wanders over his competitors is slow and meticulous, though none so much as when his eyes find Ser Kittridge. His eyes narrow slightly, and to most it likely seems a look of stern disapproval. At least for those who don't know his cousin Ser Rygar. But, for those who know them, they might note how the Regent's eyes study the way the Groves knight moves in his armor, the way he interacts with his horse, even the way his straps are done up. Though, it might also be noticed that Riordan's lips thin ever so slightly at the green ribbon that is mounted atop the other's helm. After a long moment, Riordan turns back to his own armor, gesturing his 'squire' over to assist him. As for whether he has a favor of his own? The cloak he wears makes it hard to tell at the moment.
When someone addresses him, Wayland turns around to find Lady Tordane. He offers a nod to her and says "Good day to you as well, my lady" And that's about all he says to her. His attention returns to his duty and he takes a deep breath, potentially bored with all the waiting before the event starts. Left hand rests on the pommel of his sword and his fingers idly tap on his belt.
"Cousin," Martyn greets Kamron, shaking his head a little bit. "No, no problems with the armor, just with that pig-headed squire who evidently haven't been paying attention to what I've said to him…" He turns to nod at Hardwicke and Kell as well. "Sers…" That favor on Kamron's arm catches his attention, and he raises an eyebrow, as if to ask about who he got it from.-
Amidst the chaos, Lady Jocelyn makes her way through the crowds. Her Lady's maid just behind her as she steps and on the other side an excited looking guard. "Oh M'Lady! Look!" The maid says in an exclaimed whisper. Outward appearances only, the Lady's Maid was more excited about the going events than Lady Jocelyn herself. "So, I see." Jocelyn points out, but her eyes as searching through the crowds for a familiar face, at least one.
Like the other competitors, Inigo Vance is appropriately outfitted and armored for completions. His armor is fancier than than a plain set, though not so fancy as to scream of lavish wealth of anything. There is a bit of scroll-work engraved on various metal pieces like curling smoke and the Vance dragon and tower on the breastplate. Otherwise, he's dressed in the dark green of his house colors. He mills around with the other knights, fidgeting with his armoring and clothing. All of his armor is painstakingly buffed to a gleaming shine, but he keeps rubbing at it now and again anyway.
Accepting the glass in hand, Cherise lowers it to rest against deep green fabrics laying against her lap. "Long." She answers at first, her blue eyes float over those gathered. "I am happy to be on familiar grounds, however I had not wished to be parted from my son so soon.
"The one who is courting you, Lady Rosanna," Roslyn answers, quickly, patting her hand—vaguely against Rosanna's arm. She says nothing on the topic of Kittridge's favor. Instead, there is a hint of a grateful spark in her gaze where Lady Jocelyn finally catches her attention by virtue of her excited maid. Tipping her chin towards her cousin, Roslyn informs Rosanna, "That is the Lady Jocelyn." And begins to steer her that way.
"Greetings, Ser." Kell says as he turns way from his steed to Karmon who sends a greeting his way, also adding a nod to the Mallister knight. The ex-Hedge Knight also returns a greeting to Martyn as well. Kell himself also seems to be sporting the ribbons of Banefort coloring he received since the days the men left for Seagard, though instead of being wound around the hilt of his blade, this time is tied around his wrist where part of his gauntlet is covering it, perhaps trying to make it somewhat inconspicuous.
A sweep of her hand and her skirts are smoothed behind her thighs and the teenager sits. Laced into her gown tight enough that nothing untoward happens when she bends, Muirenn leans forward and studies the knights milling about the leasts. Giggling she murmurs, "Miniella, are they not all so dashing in their armor?" there is a pause and she amends that, "well, most of them are anyway. There are some that…" a subtle gesture indicates an older, rotund knight in House Butterwell colors, "Most of them are as handsome as I hoped. Though do not my cousin and brother outshine them all?" There is a pause and then curiously, "I wonder whose favor Ser Kamron is wearing."
"Oh, that one," Rosanna replies to Roslyn in a light-hearted tease. "I had chance to take a turn with him this morning. He showed me the lists." She follows Roslyn's indication to Jocelyn, studying the woman as they approach her.
"Better soon than near never, my lady. He will be a worldly lad if allowed. Fear not, he will be alright." Alys offers Cherise a smile and a light squeeze of the hand. Turning to the lists she comments. "What do you think the outcome will be? I dare say, I know scarce few of these knights." Alys sighs heavily at the admittance.
Kittridge finishes tying on that ribbon, holds the helmet up to catch the breeze, and observes the effect, before looking to Brynner. The pair discuss for a moment, and then the Groves knight dons the helmet and they consider again. It's all very vain and silly, but eventually they seem to choose to leave it where it is, the helmet is removed once more, and Kit heads over towards Ser Rutger. "Ser," he greets him, "I didn't think you were one for the tilts."
Iulia's eyes lit up as she stepped in behind the Lady Jocelyn, so ever excited. When she was given a neutral retort the young handmaiden's lips curled. Speaking in a hushed tone to the Nayland woman, "All the women are expected to fawn and bat their lashes at the competitors. They seek favors and such." She tells Jocelyn while her eyes take a profound interest in the field.
"And? Does he wear your own favor?" Roslyn prompts conversationally, her smile somewhat tight but offered to Rosanna in any case. Since obviously Kittridge isn't wearing his sister's favor. Once they near Jocelyn enough to be polite, she calls out, "Cousin. I believe the Lord Regent would like for you to sit with me, my lady."
Valda settles in, falling into the same silence as her cousin. Her gaze moves over the knights preparing to joust, lingering for a moment on Riordan before scanning the rest.
Kamron tilts his head slightly at Martyn's inquiring glance, his grin curling up at one corner, "Something intriguing you, coz?" Immediately shifting the topic (mean one that he is), he nods at his cousin's words, "Always hard to break a new squire in." Percival blushes behind Kam, holding the closed helmet tightly with both hands. "Have you decided who you might want to challenge here today, sers?" The question seems to be open to Kell, Martyn, Hardwicke, and anyone else close about the cluster of Terrick and Mallister knights.
"My husband has assured me of that." Numerous times. Cherise drinks slowly from her cup, gazing to the list just as Alys had. "Who is to say? I have attended a few tournaments in the Westerlands but never here in the Riverlands." She comments, "I heard there may be a woman seeking to compete."
Rutger looks back over towards Kittridge and he nows his head. "Ser Kit." said before helm is put on. Face plate remains unfastened as he takes in the other knight's appearance. "Normally no." And a chuckle follows."I do prefer the melee, but because of the occasion, I saw fit to joust." A grin added. "Lady Rosanna was telling me how fine you ride." a beat "I hope we don't face, lest you unseat me early."
"He does indeed," Rosanna answers Roslyn, voice airy and innocent. "He asked very gallantly for it. Well, once I made him stop talking around it and actually ask me for it." She offers Jocelyn a welcoming smile as she approaches, but waits for introductions.
Kittridge nods at Rutger, and then laughs, "Has she? And here I've gone to such trouble to talk down expectations, so everyone will be pleasantly surprised if I stay on my horse the full length of the course. I ride fine, sir, it's the jousting that's the trouble." He grins, and shrugs, "We'll see who luck favors today. It isn't generally me, though, so I wouldn't trouble yourself overmuch. What did my sister give you as a favor?"
Hardwicke glances over at Kamron at the question, brow furrowing with a frown — and then looks back to his horse. So polite.
Fussing and double, even triple checking the fastenings on his steed, Kell turns his head slight towards Kamron as if to consider his question, "Not exactly, Ser, I doubt I am skilled enough to pick at my leisure on who I wish to challenge. Though I pray that the Warrior will be guiding my lance true today."
"Some wine please Minnie." And a goblet is brought, tasted, and then after a moment the lip of the vessel wiped clean and passed to the young lady. Muirenn lightly clasps the cup and continues to scan the lists. "Do you see House Bracken anywhere Septa?" she inquires with a discreet murmer as she looks towards her prim instructor of Heraldry and good behavior. It is a moment and then the red stallion on a field of gold is pointed out and the maiden studies that cluster of knights intently.
Alys says, "Women? How unseemly. Everyone knows a woman's place is not on the tourney field." Alys chortles at the thought then waves her hand as if to dismiss it all together. Looking to the knights and squires that mill about Alys ponders. "Surely you know of a few of these knights Lady Cherise. You know my lord-father never brought me out to these events." She smiles, "If you had to bet on any one of them, which would you choose. And do not say anyone in the family, as that would be a safe bet." a wide grin spreads across Alys' face, though, one of her deep red brows lifts slightly upward in question.
Finally, Wayland does look back at Valda as she is now sitting fairly close to where he is. "When was the last time you gave a Knight your favor, my lady?" asks the man, turning his gaze to look at the crowd. The question is asked with a casual tone, but he doesn't wait for the reply, if she says something, he'll hear it. He never liked the jousting, mainly because he has been always pretty bad at it and just stopped trying. Melee is his thing, but then again, he is going to be skipping this one.
Rutger shows his arm where the fine cloth hangs. carefully tied and stuffed. "Fine embroidery on her handkerchief. An apple tree in bloom. Apples and other ends. It is as fine as she." a grin there. "It reminds me of the gift you gave her." A nod before he is rechecking his helm. "Best of luck to you ser, I can handle the riding its the lance that too bothers me. Fucking unwieldy."
"Shouldn't the answer to that be 'whoever I can beat'?" Inigo wonders of Kamron's question as he catches it and butts into the conversation with a flash of grin. Polite. At least he's stopped fussing with his armor for a moment.
It had been some time for both of them, and so when Jocelyn sees Rosyln coming toward her, its not right away that she recognizes her. Instead she gets side tracked by Iulia's words and a spark of amusement lights her eyes. She too joins in staring at the competitors, "Do you have a favor to bare?" She asks. Just then noticing Riordan and she says, "Ah, there is my cousin." commenting on it in passing to Iulia, observing his armor and then that of the other competitors.
The Greeting from Roslyn draws her attention back, at the greeting she inclines her head, "How nice of him to suggest so. I'd be delighted."
"How I wish he was knew…" Martyn replies to Kamron, with a bit of a grimace, before that other question makes him shrug a little bit, but he doesn't answer at the moment, expression changing a bit as he moves a few steps away from the others, closing his eyes at the moment. One fist clenching and unclenching as he seems to be concentrating on something.
"Ah, yes," Kittridge nods to Rutger, smiling, "The apple tree handkerchiefs. Our mother has a few of those as well, she had them made up for herself and Rosanna a few years ago. They're very good." He adjusts his helm under his arm, smoothing the brilliant green ribbon attached to it and says, "Aye, I can hit the mark most of the time, but. It's a bit more delicate than that, isn't it? And I've never really put the time into perfecting it. Not like we get as many tourneys 'round here as in the Reach, after all."
Justin has arrived into the great gathering of folk, and there are so many people! He has settled his horse and stowed his things where they will be safe. Now washed up and changed, he begins to walk around to see the Twins and to look for familiar faces. Surely there is a schedule of sorts he might find near to the lists.
Kamron chuckles softly at Kell's response, shrugging off Hardwicke's more brusque reaction. He moves around behind Kell, noting, "I'll check the buckles you can't see yourself." Not 'my squire will,' but 'I will.' He looks over at Inigo as the man speaks up, a smirk twisting his lips upward, "Where's the fun in that, ser? not that you'd seem me challenging Ser Jaime Lannister or Ser Barristan Selmy if they were here, or even the Mountain that Rides. But where's the fun in picking on free-riders and hedge knights?" Giving a bit of a wave, he introduces himself to the Vance, "Ser Kamron Mallister." A glance is cast over to his cousin, "And my dour cousin, Ser Martyn Mallister."
Valda arches an eyebrow at Wayland in a rare show of surprise. "I am a widow with a grown daughter. Knights do not line up in request for my favor, ser." Her gaze returns to the field as she waits the beginning of the event.
Anais couldn't possibly miss the joust. It would be a tragedy of the highest order. Even if - or perhaps because - she doesn't have a husband or suitor in the race. She's attended, as ever, by a handmaid and a pair of guards as she braves the crowds of nobles, weaving her way toward a spot to watch the fun. Mourning has been abandoned in favor of Terrick colors, fine purple and gold embroidered silk that must have been part of her dowry wardrobe.
"I hope you shall be as delighted with the Lady Rosanna Groves, though I am sure you shall be. Lady Rosanna, this is my cousin Lady Jocelyn Nayland. Lady Jocelyn, Lady Rosanna," Roslyn introduces all around, words stuffy from the cold that still makes it hard to breathe, but she manages it all politely. "I am glad he rides knowing that you wish to see him do well."
With a sigh, Muirenn leans and whispers into her maid's ear "I wish that *HE* were here. I should dearly like to see him in a tournament one day. Perhaps the next one he will not be bandit hunting." The handmaiden gives a faint smile and pats her lady's hand affectionately as the Septa glares in suspicion at all the unheard whispering.
Wayland nods his head after hearing Valda's response, however, he doesn't look at her. "That you are, yes. However, the question has been left unanswered." And he's not going to repeat it because at this point, he assumes that it will be left that way. He takes a moment to take a look at the newcomers, mostly ladies it seems…this doesn't present harm in any way.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Jocelyn," Rosanna greets with warm cheer, dipping in a quick, polite curtsy. It's then that she catches sight of Anais over Jocelyn's shoulder. "Oh, Lady Anais!" she calls over.
"A few." She answers however when challenged to name a particular knight Cherise simply points at random. "Oh I do not know, that one." Brown hair, armored and tall, ever careful not to speak certain names. "Nor in battle and yet, there was one." Her cup is raised though she pauses before drinking from it, "And for yourself?"
"And you as well, Lady Rosanna." A small curtsy is dropped as well as an inclining of her head. Jocelyn, nods her head, "I'll be delighted to sit with you both. I confess I either do not recognizes or know many that are around me." As if to confirm what she is saying to be true, she glances around them.
"Perhaps 'whoever I believe I can beat' then?" Inigo offers as a correction to his previous statement. "Nothing assured either way, but a chance. Seems to me that while a challenge is welcome, there is little point in running headfirst into a wall." He inclines his head and introduces himself as, "Ser Inigo Vance."
There is a brief look of surprise on Kell's face when Kamron offers his assistance on checking his own fastenings as the Terrick Knight does not have a squire. "Thank you, Ser, much appreciated." It's always good to have someone else look over the kit, just in case. He does give the Vance knight a glance as Kell himself seems to be set. "There is certainly more fun when there is a challenge to be had in competition, Ser." He also then adds his own name to the introductions, "Ser Kell Drakmoor, Sworn Knight to House Terrick."
Well, and here is one of the few advantages to being a hedge knight: a fellow can show up where and when he likes without any leave of blessing from a lord. So it is that Ser Benedict Lawson arrives in the tourney ground at the Twins, guiding his black courser through the milling crowd, taking quiet note of those gathered to participate.
"Look for the young ones," is Hardwicke's dry-toned suggestion re: who to challenge. He glances over at Inigo, likely recognizing him if the Vance has already been about the Roost, but jerks his chin in a nod. "Ser Hardwicke Blayne."
"That is sure to happen when we have been surrounded with so many males in our immediate family," Roslyn offers, her tease lacking something in her tone for all that she makes the attempt. She sweeps a curtsey towards the Lady Anais as well, directing their growing group that way with a wave of her hand to Jocelyn and steering Rosanna with her hand still captured in her arm. "Lady Anais." This greeting is polite, but lacks any warmth.
"Lady Rosanna!" Anais calls back to the other lady when she hears her name, rising up on her toes with a swift smile to better see over the crowd of guards and courtiers. "There you are. I knew your brother planned to be here, but I was wondering if you'd be attending. Lady Roslyn." She smiles as well to the Nayland lady, then nods as well to Jocelyn with another polite "My lady. They haven't started yet, have they?"
"Really?" Rutger says with a snort. "Then it must mean she holds much affection for me, in order to part with something her mother gave her. A mother shows love, compassion and devotion after all." he notes before he is looking to that green ribbon. And there a smile shows. "Why Ser Kitt, is that my own sister's favor you sport. Or have you found a lady in house Tordane who fancies you?" A tilt of his head, before he is turning to motion to his squire.
The goblet is held in one hand and Muirenn waves towards Justin in hello as she notes him wandering toward the Terrick-Mallister contingent. A silver and black clad arm lifted, though for the moment an excited grin as opposed to a shout accompanies the greeting. Another giant wave is given to the other knights in the contingent before she lifts her cup for a sip of wine.
Kamron tugs on a few straps here and there on Kell's harness, making sure they're secure, "Not a problem, Ser Kell. I'd offer Percy's help, but he's trying not to drop my helm." The squire holds it up a moment, Percival noting, "And I haven't in like five minutes, Ser." Kamron shakes his head at his squire's words, glancing back to Inigo and Hardwicke in turn. He chuckles softly, nodding, "So long as it's not Ser Jaime, that's probably damned good advice, Ser Hardwicke." He nods to Inigo then, "Nothing's ever sure." Percy is the one who notes Muirenn's wave toward the Terrick and Mallister group, and he carefully tucks Kam's helmet under his arm to poke his knight's arm and gesture up to the waving Mallister. Kamron blinks at his squire, then follows the gesture, raising his own arm in greeting.
Alys scratches her chin, "I think I should need to see a round or two before I could decide." She quirks a smile, "Yes I should be able to make a choice after that." A curt nod and a sip of her wine before she continues. "How is my dear cousin, Ser Aleister, my lady?" Alys brings one of her milky white fingers to her hair and swirls one of the three ribbons she wears around it. A red and green ribbon, braided, and embroidered at the ends with the three mistletoes of House Charlton.
It will take him some while to make his way around the lists, looking to the clusters of Knights with a good many of them in armor to compete. Justin drifts through them until eventually he sees a spot of certain colors that catch his eyes, drawing him closer to where Kell, Kamron, Martyn and apparently Muirenn and others have come together. When he catches sight of Muirenn lifting am arm to wave, he smiles a little and waits until he's close enough to say, "It is good to see you got permission to attend, Lady Muirenn. Is there an event about to start or are they warming up for practices?"
Kell can't help but chuckle in amusement at the exchange between Kamron and his squire, shaking his head slightly, "Well, if the helm breaks after being dropped, it wasn't a very good helm to begin with." He has seen those types of squires before, though some tend to grow out of their shyness and become rather valiant knights. "I'm glad that we will be riding with our arms for fun and competition this time, not for blood." It almost seems like it has been too long.
Cherise smirks a little, reaching into a pocket sewn into the fabric of her skirts. Withdrawn are two handkerchiefs baring the embroidery of Charlton. "Does it truly matter which one receives them? Just find a handsome face, flash your beautiful smile at him and offer him such a coveted favor." She gave one of the silken handkerchiefs, perfumed with her own scents to Alys. "It is a token of luck and should one be without it, I hear the events do not turn in their favor."
"Shall we find our seats?" Rosanna asks, looking between Jocelyn and Roslyn. And probably Anais, who will just have to sit with them off-cam. "I would hate to lose all of the good ones."
Eyes still closed, Martyn mutters something under his breath as he takes a few deep breaths. Because his eyes are closed, he doesn't see much of the happenings or hear much of it, at least not until he now opens his eyes again, a bit slowly.
Inigo has been at the Roost long enough to likely be recognized by the usual residents. "With age comes experience." Or so he assumes is the implication of Hardwicke's suggestion. "No," he agrees with Kamron, shaking his head lightly. "Nothing's ever sure."
"Fortunately, the Jaime Lannisters of the world are rare," Hardwicke says with a snort in reply to Kamron. "As are the Barristan Selmys."
Beaming, Muirenn inclines her head in a nod and the tendrils that have been left to fend for themselves outside the thick coil atop her head sway. Leaning from her seat in the galleries to speak down at Justin in the lists she gives a light laugh, "Indeed! Uncle Jerold gave his permission and told me to enjoy myself. It is so very exciting!" Her grey eyes shine and her bared shoulders lift in a delicate shrug, "I am very unfamiliar with jousting so am unsure if this is for practice or for the actual event." As people begin to move to their seats, she gestures "Are you going to sit with us or shall you stay down there with the others?"
Kittridge chuckles at Rutger and nods, "Naturally, I quite agree. Though I would not quite call them a gift; my aunt and cousins have them as well. I think I may even have one, somewhere." He thinks a moment, looking thoughtful, and then shrugs, and turns back to grin, "Why yes, that is the Lady Valda's. I had hoped for Frey blue to give me luck at The Twins, but got Tordane green, instead." He grins wider, snickering for a moment and then says a shade more seriously, "But yes, that is your sister's favor. She was kind enough to grant it to me."
"Indeed she was. She is quite protective of that." Rutger says with a grin. "If you will excuse me, briefly Ser." And he is moving to fuss with his horse
"Of course," Roslyn agrees naturally, swallowing hard at some bile in her throat as she catches sight of Justin. She does not direct their little group there, instead flushing again and looking towards the knot of knights and watching Kittridge and Rutger converse for a moment. "It seems your brother has found mine," she remarks to the Groves lady even as she takes her seat. To Jocelyn, she questions, "Do you have everything you need, my lady cousin? It shall get hot within the stands."
"Ask him? Oh no dear cousin. I fear I shall live a day in the chivalrous mind and await a knight to earn my favor. Did you know cos, that Baelor the blessed's rejected Queen then Princess Daena Targaryen loved the joust? She would oft bestow favor during tourneys to the most chivalrous and deserving knight. A wild one that." Alys grins, " Besides cos, the watching is the best part. Let a knight ask me or earn it from me." A chuckle escapes her lips, "Or is that to involved, my lady. I should think it fun." Squirming in her seat Alys gets comfortable and sips her wine.
Justin lifts up his voice to carry to where Muirenn is seated, "I will linger down here for now incase Ser Kamron, Ser Kell, or any of our others have use of me, thank you Lady Muirenn." He is himself not garbed in armor but rather only some of his nicer clothes.
Kamron nods at Kell's words, "Too right. On both counts." He checks one more buckle, then gives Kell a slap on the shoulder, "Had everything settled just fine." Inigo's words, and Hardwicke's that follow, draw a laugh to his lips, "And unfortunately, Ser Hardwicke, the Freys of the world are not so rare." He adds in a grin, lifting whatever antagonism that may have come with them, "As are the Kamron Mallisters." No sense actually -insulting- the hosts. After all, he's tossed himself into the same group as them by his words.
Rosanna sighs at the sight of Rutger and Kittridge. "I'm sure mine is saying something perfectly obnoxious," she tells Roslyn.
Falling into step with Roslyn and Rosanna, Jocelyn follows their guidance to find seating. Silent for a time, she turns her head and watches all the men, congregating and speaking with one another. When Roslyn makes comment of her brother, she turns to see, regarding him and the other male that he speaks to. "I believe so, My Lady." She says in response to the question asked to her. "Do you, My Lady? You do not seem well, I should hope you have all that you need. Can I have something fetched for your comfort?"
Valda gives her cousin another look, a bit longer this time, but says nothing. Her focus returns to the knights waiting in the lists, head canting slightly as she spies those clumped together in conversation.
With the slap on the shoulder, Kell turns and dips his head respectfully in thanks to Kamron, "Thank you again, Ser. Can't be too careful, even during a joust." As for the comment about the number of Freys, the Terrick Knight can only smirk slightly but doesn't add any comments himself.
With another emphatic nod to Justin that sets even the waist-long curls a trembling, Muirenn sits back in her seat and takes another sip of her wine. "You did bring my…" before the girl's words are even finished, the handmaiden lifts a leather satchel. With a sigh of relief, the Mallister maiden finishes, "I knew I could count on your Miniella. Excellent." Not that she would ever outright insult any healer provided by the Freys, for her family and friends the teenager does not plan on entrusting their health entirely to any of that ilk.
Kittridge nods to Rutger, saying, "Of course, ser." He turns away as Rutger checks on his horse, scanning the skies for a moment and frowning at the dark clouds accumulating there before turning to eye the stands.
"Neither you nor I are Princesses Alys." Cherise returns flatly after drinking from her cup. "A shame though, the men should be seeking favors rather than proper ladies chasing knights begging theirs to be worn." The lady Charlton smirks. "Some traditions have been sadly lost." As for the mention of her husband Cherise allows her eyes to wander towards the camps, "He seeks to enlist in the melee. I suspect he somewhere with Lord Andrey."
"Surely not, my lady. He cares a great deal for you, after all," Roslyn counters quietly, her gaze remaining on Kittridge even where he looks towards their seats. Her lips twitch in a quick smile, a silent gesture, before she turns to her cousin. "Perhaps some watered wine, if you please, Lady Jocelyn. I believe it would do us all some good."
"Exactly," Rosanna replies to Roslyn with a long-suffering sigh. Stupid Kittridge, caring about her not getting strangled by suitors. How inconvenient.
Martyn looks around for a few moments again now, shaking his head for a few moments as if to clear it, but doesn't say anything to anyone at the moment. Seems like someone is enjoying whatever little silence he can find at the moment.
Overhead, the sky is beginning to darken as dark clouds start to gather. Ominously.
"Well, we can't all be Jaime Lannisters or Barristan Selmys, can we? Then it wouldn't be special anymore," Inigo comments with a quick smile. "Oh, are there many copies of you, then? I only see the one." He jokes of Kamron, skipping joking about of the Freys.
Finishing the check of his armor, Riordan waves off his 'squire' as he hears the sounds, his eyes glancing to the sky. "Well, there goes that," he says, brow and lips both quirking in a smirk that does not quite touch his eyes. He shakes his head to himself, glancing once more to the stands, and simply remains by his horse, seeming to wait for something.
Raising a brow Alys grins mischievously, "Are you sure, my lady? My father calls me princess every time I see him." A small chuckle and a nod, "Traditions are only as dead as you let them be. I choose to keep it. It is such a lovely idea, love and chivalry prevails." A soft smile forms across the young alabaster lady's face. "I am not naive, mind, it just seems… Well, proper. I cannot argue with that, nor can anyone else." This time she laughs, trying to quiet it by bringing her hand to her mouth.
Benedict glances upwards as the clouds gather and the sky rumbles. He frowns, one hand rubbing over his horse's nose. "Not promising," he murmurs.
Kamron nods to Kell, "-Especially- during a joust." Inigo's words draw a laugh to his lips, and he nods, "There are plenty of hot-headed young knights who should think a bit before they act." He shrugs a little helplessly, "It's just that not all of them are named Kamron Mallister." The darkening of the sky draws a frown onto his face, and he shakes his head slowly, "I hope those clouds veer aside. Tilting in the rain is little fun for any involved."
At the sound of inclement weather, Muirenn gives a slight frown and sighs "No…Septa, do not insist I go indoors. We packed my heavy cloak with the deep hood, I am sure I shall be fine and I promise that I will not catch cold and get sick again." The thought of being made to miss this first event is quite devastating to the girl. The Septa frowns and replies tartly, "Lady Muirenn, I was charged by your mother..your father..your Lord cousin…and Lord Terrick to watch over your health and so I shall." She lifts a finger and continues overriding the protest the elderly woman sees brewing in Muire's eyes, "HOWEVER, it is not yet storming so we shall await and see." Satisfied, the russet haired girl sits back and remains quiet.
"And about ten times more dangerous," Hardwicke adds to Kamron's words darkly, eyeing those clouds with a frown.
"Can't fault the young knights too much for being that way though. Most lack experience, especially one who is unblooded and has never been to war." Kell says as his eyes scans the crowd, as there are certainly those type of knights here today. "Their heads are filled with heroic stories and whatnot, not what actually is." As for the rain clouds, the Terrick Knight does look up with his eyes, nodding in agreement.
"You should be grateful that they are not all named Kamron Mallister," Inigo continues with a smile. "That would be quite the identity crisis." His cheer is short-lived as he looks up at the sky. "Too dangerous, if that keeps getting worse," he opines following Hardwicke's dark comment.
Those clouds keep coming, blown in on a stiff, chilly wind that whips suddenly across the grounds. In the distance, thunder rolls.
Justin turns away from Lady Muirenn up there in the stands being fussed at by her Septa. He walks the short distance further to join the Mallisters and others associated with Terrick's Roost of late. Nods to that gathering, "Ser Hardwicke, Sers Martyn, Kamron, Ser Kell, Percy," his light baritone greets them. Justin hooks his thumbs into his swordbelt and glances up at the darkening sky before he looks back to them, "Might get a bit slippery."
A slight pause, then Justin says something low to Kamron.
Jocelyn turns herself toward her Lady's maid and murmurs a request to her about retrieving watered wine. Enough for all the Lady's to enjoy. When she turns back towards the Ladies she remains silent again, listen to the conversation around her.
"Exactly?" Roslyn repeats with a look towards Rosanna, though she is soon distracted by the murmuring crowd and the clouds that gather in the sky. Her brows draw together, and with reluctance she pushes to her feet. Still flushed from fever and stuffy from her cold, she says needlessly, "It is better if I do not get caught when that storm breaks, as I will only be lectured for it. I am sorry, my ladies." She curtsies briefly, before turning to make haste to the Nayland encampment.
Kamron nods to Hardwicke, agreeing, "Bad footing for the horses, bad seating in the saddles, and bad grip on the lances." He nods to Inigo, chuckling again, "It would be quite the chaos, Ser Inigo." Kell's words draw further laughter, "The young knights, sure… but I've already seen seven battles and two wars. What's my excuse?" Justin's arrival causes the Mallister to hold out a hand to clasp in greeting, "Lord Justin." The quiet words cause him to frown in thought for a moment, and he looks up to the darkening sky and leans close to the Terrick's ear to murmur a response.
"Quite sure Alys." Cherise returns, a small smirk before standing up and extending a delicate hand for her guard's assistance. "Then see to the sights good cousin, let them see what Charlton has as an offering." When her guardsman approaches Cherise is soon descending from the seats, "If you will pardon me, I will return. I suspect that when I do, that handkerchief shall be tied around a knight's long pole." She smiles before moving to the ground and taking off in some other direction.
"Oh," Rosanna says, gaze lifting as Roslyn stands. "I'm sorry you must leave. But maybe it won't rain at all?"
When Justin joins them, Kell dips his head respectfully in the young Terrick's direction, "Greetings, Lord Justin." As for Kamron's excuse, the Terrick Knight can only shrug his shoulders with a chuckle, "Some just never grow out of it, Ser."
Whatever answer he gets, Justin likewise glances at the darkening sky and frowns. He gives a further low comment before he looks to Kell, "Surely some of us can learn from such antics, to observe what not to do." He gives a grin towards Kamron.
Jocelyn looks from Roslyn to Rosanna and then back to the leaving Roslyn. A frown set on her lips she glances around at those that seem to be doing similar to what her cousin has just done. Finally looking upward she sees the daunting clouds the threaten to drench them all.
Kittridge peers at the sky, peers at the stands. Stands. Sky. Stands. He frowns, spotting Roslyn leaving the bleachers without the other ladies, and, after a quick word or two with his squire, he strikes off across the grounds to intercept her. "Wise to head back before the rain comes," he says as he strides up to the Nayland lady, "Care for an escort? It doesn't look likely we'll be starting anytime soon."
Saffron Banefort has escaped the trilling, merciless clutches of her dear sister just in the nick of time. Ask anyone and they will all attest that Lannisters, even the ones married into the family, melt in the rain; its a proven fact. Picking up her skirts, the young woman steps off toward where she should find the Mallisters — she did promise Muirenn she would spend time with her during the joust. If she wasn't in a new dress, nor her hair so painfully done in intricate braids, she probably wouldn't have cared about the threat of rain — now though, even as she walks on toward where she will find familiar faces, she peers up at the dark sides.
"World is chaotic enough without adding to it like that," Inigo says to Kamron, and toes at the ground that is still dry, though it doesn't look like it will stay that way. "Bad everything and likely to result in a mess," he murmurs. Justin gets a nod, before he squints up at the rolling clouds as a stiff wind ruffles his hair.
Finishing whatever he was doing to get himself ready, Martyn offers a nod in Justin's direction now as he hears, and sees the man. "Lord Justin," he offers to the man, before he goes quiet again, keeping his attention on their surroundings now, a bit absently.
Justin gives Inigo a nod since he didn't see him when he first walked up, "Ser Inigo. Good to see you've come as well." They have apparently met. Did he just catch a glimpse of Lady Roslyn coming down from the stands over there? His pale grey eyes follow her progress to watch her go but he keeps his place, not moving to intercept her departure.
"I am sorry, but it is better safe, Lady Rosanna. Please, take care of my cousin," Roslyn offers in goodbye, her smile a quick flash as she gathers her skirts in a careful hand. Intercepted as she makes her way away, surely there is a maid following her to keep such still proper as she agrees quickly, "If you are sure you will not miss your match, Lord Groves, I would be honored." Her nose wrinkles and holds that way for a long moment, warding off a tickle in her throat and the urge to sneeze. Finally, she takes a deep breath and adds, "If I did not, my brothers would likely throw a fit. And I have already made Lord Riordan upset enough with me for one day."
A flash of lighting colors the darkening sky, and thunder rumbles loudly in quick pursuit.
"Of course." Rosanna's gaze lifts at that pairing of thunder and lightning, and her lips thin. Then she turns her gaze to Jocelyn and forces a smile. "Do you reside in the Mire, Lady Jocelyn?"
Kamron shrugs helplessly at Justin's words, "Only the gods know, Lord Justin. Although I bet they delay the start until tomorrow if this doesn't turn aside," Apparently, that is in response to the Terrick's murmured words, as Kamron gestures up toward toward the darkening sky. The words Justin speaks to the group cause him to chuckle again, "Indeed. Do as I say, not as I do, and all that." The flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder causes Kam to look immediately to the horse-lines, where one of the pages serving him for the day is watching Three warily, even if the grey horse didn't do any more than toss his head and snort. "That'll do it, I think, Sers, Lord. None of the coursers or destriers are likely to run if that keeps up."
Kittridge shakes his head at Roslyn, "It is looking less and less like there will be a match," he says, "This seems like the sort of storm that comes with rain you can't tilt through." He offers his arm to the lady, mostly holding in a smile as she struggles not to sneeze, and then starts toward the Nayland tents, allowing her to set the pace. "Your brother is cross with you?" he asks, lifting a dark brow, "That is some nerve."
With a small sigh, as the lightning flashes, Ser Benedict moves to lead his horse back to the stables. Lightning and metal armor… a sorry combination indeed.
Justin twists his mouth, "Or they'll run too well, bolting left and right. When the wind starts rolling in, they'll get spooky." A good number of folk, especially among those who have come to watch, are starting to trickle out of the stands to seek shelter, "Tomorrow may be better, or at least wait a bit for the storm to pass over."
The sudden sound of thunder causes Jocelyn to jump in reaction. Startled, she looks up and back at the clouds, seeing the lightning strike. The question draws her eyes back to Rosanna and nods her head, "Yes, My Lady, for the time being. I've not been there long only a few weeks."
Roslyn accepts the arm with a press of her fingertips light against it, her gaze catching on Justin for a moment where she sweeps another look over to the knights at the subject of her brother. She does, at least, have the decency to look slightly guilty before straightening with good manners and allowing herself to be led away before the storm breaks. "With good reason, ser. He was not pleased to hear that I gave you my favor," she admits, wincing faintly. "Though, I am sorry to hear that you will not be riding today. Do you think they shall try later? Or tomorrow?"
"Of course, Lord Justin," Inigo replies with a quick smile. They have indeed met. "I could hardly keep myself away. Besides, I have stakes in all of this-" He breaks off as lightning flashes and thunder booms in the not-so-distance. "Well." The lightning and thunder speak for themselves, he figures, without further comment. He turns to look at his horses (his horse, mostly) in case the brown stallion is getting overly antsy in the poor weather. "Could take awhile for a storm like this to pass and the ground just after…" Well, it would be bad.
Riordan's gaze finds Roslyn, and watches her and Kittridge, but only briefly. He then turns to his 'squire', murmuring to him lightly. And he turns, leaving the lad with his horse and equipment, and begins making his way towards the Nayland encampment, and his tent.
And then, finally, another crack of thunder sounds, and the skies open up. It starts to pour. Not just rain. Pour. (Show's over, folks.)
"Is that a good reason?" Kittridge laughs lightly at Roslyn's reply, ignoring her peering at Justin, "Am I so objectionable as all that?" He chuckles some more as he leads her away, though when the sky opens up he curses. "Shit! Sorry. Shall we make a run for it?" he suggests.
Martyn mutters a bit under his breath as he hears and sees the weather now, frowning a bit. "Go back to start…" he mutters, under his breath, as he looks between the others. "Looks like a good time to get back to somewhere that's drier, wouldn't you say?"
The skies open up and Jocelyn lets out a squeal. Had she been smart she would have started out when her Cousin had. But she wasn't smart it seemed. Instead, now she was getting drenched and looking around in the pouring ran before darting off to find shelter.
And there is the wind starting up, bringing the first large splatters of rain drops. Justin turns to lend a hand with getting the horses better secured or checking on them if they'll be left picketed - they don't mind the rain so much and there surely won't be stables enough for them all. The young Terrick lord glances once more in Roslyn's direction right before the wall of rain suddenly begins to pour down heavily. Yes, the field will be muddy going soon enough. People everywhere hurry to get out of the open.
And the sky tries to drown them. "Fuck me sideways." Kamron's curse is growled, and he gestures to Percival, starting immediately over toward the horses, as he says to the collection of Terricks and Mallisters (and Vance) "Let's get these horses in — and us before we drown." His steps start to quicken as he glances over toward where the Mallister-Terrick-Banefort collection of women had gathered, making sure they're off to somewhere dry. Behind him, Percy slips in the sudden mud and throws his arms and legs out in all directions. Through a minor miracle, he manages to stay on his feet -and- keep hold of Kam's helmet. Patting himself down to make sure he's actually alright, Percival then trots off after Kam.
Perhaps she shouldn't laugh, but the suddenness of the rain splitting the sky brings the sound bubbling to Roslyn's lips. She nods quickly, her free hand catching at her skirts as she moves to sprint towards the tents. In the sudden activity, she does not catch her brother's look. Luckily.
"I believe-" Whatever Inigo was going to say is lost as the sky opens up to suddenly just start pouring down on them with no warning drizzle at all. He curses under his breath and nods at Kamron's suggestion. "Let's," he agrees simply, before he moves quickly and with as much dignity as possible (as much as one can in armor in the rain) to manage horses and things before finally getting out of the rain himself.
Rosanna actually squeaks a bit when the rain starts falling. And then promptly runs off with her retinue to find their tents.