|You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet|
|Summary:||Darek has a nameday celebration. The Ash and Oak Inn will never be the same again.|
|Related Logs:||While My Fiddle Gently Weeps and others.|
|Room name goes here!|
|From the courtyard before the L shaped inn, the Ash and Oak opens into a sprawling taproom designed to house both commoner and noble alike; dimly light, the atmosphere within is one of intimate privacy, with tables arrayed in such a fashion that they each seem to linger within their own shadow, while the bar itself stands out under the illumination of several brightly burning candles opposite the main door. To the right of the bar, one finds a hallway leading back into a section marked strictly for employes and to the right? The kitchens.|
|A large hearth sits on the wall to left, lending its warmth and glow before an assortment of benches and its heat is pushed to the rooms for the smallfolk that sit above the stables; small spaces not meant for the claustrophobic. Curling up to the very rooms themselves weaves a staircase, where only two at a time can walk if they don't mind their shoulders touching. On the right, coming off the wall itself rests a wide staircase, leading up to the more lavish rooms designed with a noble's comfort in mind.|
|2 November, 289|
Escaping the ever crushing press of arrangements within the confines of the manor, is one Aeliana Ashwood; septa and handmaiden in tow. If you -asked- her, she was out trying to meet and greet those who hadn't been housed in the keep, but that was only if you asked her. Otherwise it just looked like a woman tucked away at one of the tables in off to the side against the wall but certainly not in a corner. That would simply seem far too lurkish.
There is a party going on at the Ash and Oak this evening. It's not a 'proper' party, it's not a party with a great deal of expense behind it, but it's a very-well-libated party, and it's a very loud party. It consists of a dozen or so squires and young day laborers, plus another dozen or so young women—daughters of local families, maidservants at the Keep, and the like. At the center of it, deep in the heart of the common section, stands Darek Boldt. His perch atop a table sets him above the crowd, and the music he wrings from his fiddle is — atypical. In another day, in another time, it might be called 'Back in Black.' Here and now, it's loud, it's aggressive, and it's loud. Yes, it's loud twice. The young stablehand thumping out a beat on a drum in his lap isn't helping much.
Kerrigan makes his way into the inn, looking more than a little grateful to have finally made it there. Or, maybe it's the promise of a drink that has him so pleased. The fact that he's walked into a party only seems to improve his mood, as he weaves through the crowd towards the bar. The aforementioned drink is acquired in short order, and he finds himself ending up near Aeliana's table.
'I wouldn't do it, milady,' Myrth, who had absolutely no sense of humor warned, looking up from an overly large slice of cake at the table that sat adjoint to the one Ae herself sat at. She didn't want to be -that- girl; the one who only had company from the help; no, she'd sit by herself first and she did. "But I've seen that maid before," Aeliana complained and it could have, possibly sounded like she was sulking. 'And I've seen that boy before,' the old septa muttered with a nod of her head towards one Darek Bolt, but at least she said no more than that. "But listen to him play!" At least she had picked up from enough of those present what the party was for. That decided it.
"Barkeep," Ae could be loud too, when she wanted to be. And the boy served Ashwood, loyalty beget loyalty in turn, "Three pitchers of your finest ale, to the table of honor!" The half shouted order -did- bring the latest entrant to her attention though and on her side of the room that looked…so very empty compared to the other, there was some small relief in it. "I think they're determined to make us look rather boring, don't you?"
Darek hangs the song up on a vibratto, the fingers of his scarred left hand trembling, and then there's a momentary flourish that sends the broken strands of horsehair shaking from the end of his bow, and he bows, sending luxurious hair dancing around his head. The squire straightens back up with a grin on his sweat-shined face bright enough to lance dimples into both cheeks. Letting his fiddle hang down on the red cloth sash about his neck and one shoulder, he collects a tankard from the table by his feet, basking in the whistles, hoots, hollars, and applause from the rest of his party. He lifts the tankard, then frowns down into its emptiness. "Hey… who's turn is it to buy?" There's some shuffling, some patting for pockets, and then the pitchers ordered arrive, just in time, to cheers from all about. Darek leans down to question the serving girl, then straightens up again, flourishing his bow as he drops into a bow and calls out, "Seven keep you, Milady, for you've kept us in drink!"
"We can't have that," Kerrigan interjects, from where he apparently was unabashedly eavesdropping on Aeliana's conversation. He flashes a grin at her, before tilting his head towards the rest of the inn. "Would you care to dance?" he asks, ignoring septas and maids alike. He doesn't look like a nice boy, alas. He looks like a disheveled rogue.
"My pleasure!" The lady calls offering a low sweep of her head and what could have been a bow were she not seated. "Felicitations on your name day and thank you, for that amazing bit of playing!" Ae responded to the bowing Darek with a smile, before glancing sideways at the noblemen with his question, "You'd risk it? With a stranger who might step all over your feet?" The girl taunts, already rising to her feet. There's a moment, where she looks like she's considering it, heavily and then, a glance is shot back towards the name day boy, er, young man, person. "D'you think there might be enough room in your party for two more, if we promise not to be stuffy and pompass?" She grinned.
Darek quaffs from his refilled tankard, smacking his lips in apparent approval for the quality. From his perch atop the table, he considers the query long enough to make it clear that he's had quite a couple of drinks before this one. "I certainly don't think there's an reason to keep a couple of pretty g — " he slows to a halt and corrects himself, "Ladies — " but neither maid nor septa are ladies, "Pretty people! away from a good time." At least one of the maids in the group does not look particularly happy by the additions, but she hides it with a curtsey. Darek pauses then, seeming to recognize that he's left someone out, and he tucks his bow into the same hand as his tankard so he can scrub back his hair with his other hand, adding to Kerrigan, "And someone to buy the next round is always welcome too, Milord." Better safe than sorry with the titles, and the suggestion from the nameday-squire draws a cheer from the other youths about him.
"Hard to imagine," Kerrigan flashes a grin at Aeliana. "But, I think I shall brave the dangers of an unknown dancing partner, though my feet may not thank me for it later." His attention shifts over to Darek, and he laughs. "Always tastes better when someone else buys, doesn't it?" he agrees, motioning to the barkeep.
"And what says mine will?" Ae taunted, "I've caught no reassurances from you that you'll not offer the same." But she rises never the less, whilst Myrth buries herself into her cake with nothing to say for any of it. Some things just can't be helped and really, a dance is not going to kill her reputation. At least she's of age with most of those at the party, almost, rather than Kerrigan, who seems somewhat older still. "I hope you've gotten all your wishes," Aeliana offers the squire, even as she aims to tug Kerrigan into the empty space between tables.
Darek hangs his bow on a blunted metal hook sewn into his fiddle's sling, freeing one hand for holding his ale and one hand for gesticulating. "Always does, Milord. Especially since that's about the only way we get to keep drinking much longer." Okay, the laughter from the party that follows that statement might be a little embarrassed. Commoners are poor. It is known. Darek takes another swig of ale, clearing enough room in the top of his tankard so that he can hop down from atop the table without spilling. He promptly leans languidly back against the table's edge, giving Aeliana a cocky grin that dimples one cheek, "Not yet, Milady. The kisses come later on in the evening." That sets a few girls to tittering, and that blue-eyed serving maid who's been eying Darek to grinning like a shadowcat about to pounce. Darek continues, "And if you liked that song… just wait until I really get started. Like nothin' you've ever heard before, Milady." One dark eye winks shut, "And twice as good."
"If you wanted to play it safe," Kerrigan smirks at Aeliana, as she tugs him into the empty space between the tables, "you'd have stayed at home. I think you'll have to risk it, or my heart will surely break." If he has a heart, that is. "And it's too early and I'm too sober for heart-breaking, my lady."
"If you'd heard anything of Tanglewood, my lord, then you might know that Tanglewood isn't always the safest place," Aeliana counters in turn, a dark amusement in her eyes that lingers, even as her head turns back towards Darek. "And you've a line of them waiting, I'd wager, particularly with a look like that. Perhaps I'll have the pleasure of hearing you then," drawled amused, before including the unknown stranger into the circle, "He's quite good, isn't he? And a squire." Which was chiming against past gossip in her head, but she couldn't place it entirely. Just that nagging sensation that there were things to know. "But don't worry," the Ashwood reassured, "A man must first possess a heart for it to break and you, my lord, do not strike me as a romantic. Shall we dance?"
Darek watches the armored rogue do his flirty thing, pressing his lips together and managing not to snicker. It would be distinctly easier if he weren't five or six drinks in (luckily, over more than just an hour, or he wouldn't be playing anything but noise). Aeliana's words draw a distinct nod as he looks about the circle, "Wouldn't do to leave any of them wanting, now would it, Milady." The partial introduction draws a laugh, and he bows, "Darek Boldt, Milady, Milord. Squire to Captain Jac." He laughs at the Lady's teasing of the Lord. There's a moment's pause, then he sets down his ale and gathers up his bow and fiddle again, letting the bow rest across the strings a moment before he starts up with a slow, much more traditional sort of song.
Kerrigan raises his eyebrows at Aeliana. "Perhaps I will surprise you," he says, with a crooked grin, "for if there is anything I love, it's being difficult and contrary." He gives a nod to Darek. "I've been coerced into playing squire for this trip. I should've just let my brother send his sargeant after me," he remarks, cheerfully. He pulls Aeliana nearer, moving to put a hand on her waist. "And does the lady have a name?" he inquires, hazel eyes turned back to Aeliana.
"I'm told that we can be notoriously…problematic," by we, of course she means women, "When left waiting, yes." Replied, with humor in the tone, and there was a flicker of awareness in her eyes at the mention of Ser Jac's name. A little nod was giving and then a grin followed, "You'd wine with us, I think, one evening." In the wake of the boy's death. Ae remembered serving him now. But expectation flickers just a little, when that fiddle strikes up and the song he gives is a slow one. However neatly he plays that bow. Ae hasn't moved, there's a dash of resistance too, in the way Kerrigan tries to pull her close in favor of calling a tease in Darek's direction. "And you, helping him," she chides, "If there's a slow song shouldn't you be the one dancing to it?" She'd expected he'd keep with lively. This was refined, however beautiful. "This seems unfair. It seems terribly unfair to him, don't you think? He's girls aplenty waiting." Oh dear, she seems to have missed his question, rather on purpose.
"You mean you get run 'round the town all day, then have to train?" Darek's response to Kerrigan's words about being made a squire are squashed a bit by the angle of his chin against his fiddle, but the music continues onward. At Aeliana's complaint, he shrugs his free shoulder, "If you can play the fiddle, Milady, I'll dance." He holds the slow, sedate tune for a moment, and then, in deference to the Lady's wishes, he sends it down into a hissing snarl, then rises back up into something that has the young men and woman stomping and clapping, 'bum-bum-CLAP, bum-bum-CLAP.' Yes, the song that in another time and place would be called 'We Will Rock You.'
"Are you looking for an excuse to cry off?" Kerrigan'd like to know, raising a singular, challenging eyebrow in Aeliana's direction. "By all means, you may — the wallflowers are over there, my lady," he nods his head towards the other side of the inn, grinning good-naturedly.
"I can't play the fiddle, Master Boldt, but one can dance without it. Find someone to carry a beat and I'll save a dance for you as well," the lady teases, before Kerrigan's words draw her attention back and the changing cry of Darek's fiddle only makes that grin on her face grow all the more. "Not at all, my lord, not at all. But I wanted to dance, not sway at a funeral march," her eyes twinkle and as the beat settles in, Ae finds it. Not a prissy noble dance either, but a folk dance, learned at Kellen; all flouncing skirts and stomping feet; less for being held and more for forcing others to keep up.
"As you wish," Kerrigan gives a small, amused bow, before joining in. He might not have quite the same /flair/ that Aeliana does, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm, and it's clear he's done this once or twice before. He laughs, and when he's not trying to be a smart ass, he really is a rather personable, good-humored guy.
"Exactly as I wish?" Aeliana chuckles, before leading him about on a merry little chase; one to last the entirety of Darek's playing, before she's content and breathless, with a gleam of sweat on both brow and bosom. More than ready for a drink. "You're not half bad at keeping up!" The lady laughs; wild fey hair gone more askew than usual for her dancing. At least her Septa looked molified, she'd not done anything inappropriate. …yet.
Kerrigan's eyes hold more than a little bit of mischief. "I try," he laughs, running a hand through his messy hair. It doesn't help. "And exactly where did such a proper young lady learn to dance like that?" he inquires, lightly, glancing back towards their drinks.
"I could ask you the same," the woman laughed, huffing her bangs from her eyes, "But to answer you," a moment's pause was taken as a barmaid came by, in which a fresh tankard for herself was ordered, "my Uncle's holding is a small one, with he the only noble about for miles and miles. On market days and for the festivals if you dance, it's as the rest or not at all. Your turn," she prods him, with a grin.
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," is Kerrigan's reply to Aeliana, and he looks like he knows perfectly well how frustrating it is. He gives her a small bow. "I must be on my way — but maybe next time we meet, I'll find out your name." He grins crookedly at her.
"Of course you won't," the lady grins, "You'll offer vague half truths and leading statements. You're a good dancer, my lord, on more than just the floor." He was good with words as well. "I've a feeling that you'll be seeing me again, however and sooner than you think," it came with a wink and a curtsy for his promised departure. "Though, so that you don't think it's -you-," she warned, "I'm going to follow you out, for a bit of fresh air. Can't have your ego swelling over much, and well, I've work to return to myself." Which, was enough to prompt her entourage into rising to follow, while the handmaid squared her bill.
Freya Caul enters the Inn side by side with her lord and liege Alric, "It's been a long journey my Lord - I am looking forward to a beverage - oh look - it seems we have stumbled upon a party." Freya is still awkward in the lovely blue gown she has been placed in - the slink of the outfit making her more eye catching than usual. She tires to avoid standing on the hem and curses silently.
Darek tears his way through the aggressive rip of his chosen song, a rushing, riding tune that is interrupted by periods of silence in which the crowd of young celebrants stomp-stomp-clap. He finishes it after not too long, and collects his tankard of ale again, taking a slug from it only to have it immediately refilled from the collection of pitchers at the center of one of the tables. One of his fellow squires hoists his own mug, calling out, "To feeling like you're heads split in tomorrow morning before your knight gets to you!" Darek laughs aloud, lifting up his own tankard and calling, "To heads that feel like they're cracked in!" And then he's drinking-drinking-drinking-drinking… oh, his tankard's empty and the noble lady's gone.
The door to the Inn opens and a large guard, wearing the Erenford colors, though muted in tone, enters and holds the door open for three others to follow. The first to enter is a rather dour faced, formiddle looking septa. She stands in the doorway and looks the place over, frowning in disapproval at the party going on, but then a rosy cheeked and red-headed female is poking her in the back, urging her to keep walking in. The septa huffs but reluctantly walks in fully to the esablishment. "Well, it's the only Inn around." she is mumbling, as the red-headed girl, looking to be no older than sixteen skips in after her, followed by a mousy little brunette who is obviously a maid to the red-head. The red-head is dressed for travelling in a rich and expensive black velvet riding habit. She immediately looks for the Innkeeper, but with all the people around celebrating, she can't seem to place him. "Willo." the girl says to the mousy one. "Please see if you can find the Innkeeper and book rooms for us." she says with a smile, before turning her large and excited smokey blue eyes upon the gathering. She looks very keen to join, even though her old septa stands guarding her like a big, mean mother hen.
Alric moves in along with Freya. Nodding to her words. "So it seems." He says with a smile. Leading the way towards a table. Offering a nod to the leaving nobles as he continues on. Glancing over at Freya once in awhile. "Give it time." He says as she still seem a bit uncomfortable. Looking over to the singing folks. Studying Derek as well. Remembering him a bit at least. Though not approaching him. Just smiling and offering a bow of his head before he finally finds himself and Freya a table. Just as the door opens to show Erenford colors. Studying the people coming inside. He would perhaps not know her too quickly. But he has probably seen the young lady at least once. At his own sister's marriage if nothing else. Although that was some time ago and a lady as young as Roisin changes quite a bit during that age. He does offer an incline of his head in a rather respectful manner before sitting down and looking to Freya. "Now, how has your own stay been so far? Good sleep the past night I hope."
Darek slings his fiddle, hangs his bow from the blunted metal hook on the red cloth sling, and looks about the group of young men and women, "I need more musician friends so I can dance myself." The words are said with a laugh, perhaps a little too loud, but nothing is too loud when you're two sheets to the wind (just shy of three). One of the girls speaks up, "Filip's got the drum…" And indeed, one of the young men starts to beat a bit of a tattoo on the drum in his lap, and Darek laughs aloud, shrugging his shoulders, "You're just looking for a dance, Simone. But the nameday kisses come later."
Roisin grins and continues to look around, a perfect bundle of excitement. She is about to go lead them all to a table when she catches sight of the young woman who curtsies to her. She blinks. "Hey…" she murmurs. "That is the odd woman from yesterday…" She watches Freya for a moment, studying her in interest, until her gaze meets that of Freya's companion. Once more, she studies this figure, as if knowing him from /somewhere/. "Oh!" she says, and disregarding her septa , guard and maid for the time being, hitches up her velvet skirts and approaches the two. The speta growls quietly at her Lady just charging off like that, but follows helplessly behind, as do the mousy maid and the guard. "Excuse me, My Lord?" the girl asks Alric. "Young Lord Fenster, is it not." Eyes twinkling, she bobs a polite curtsy. "I am lady Roisin Erenford." she says to him. "Though you might not remember me. It has been a little while since you visted Heronhurst, after all." She then looks again to Freya. "Mistress Caul, was it?" she asks her, headtilting. "Tell me. Did you ever get your question about that axe answered?" Before either of them can answer, however, the red-head's attention is grabbed by Darek's group and she starts to giggle, blushing slightly as she overhears something about kissing.
Alric shrugs, "It is what it is." He tells Freya, about his own wedding approaching. Seeming rather calm about it. Glances to Darek and grins as he listens. Though soon enough looks back to Freya. "It is all fine." Looking to Roisin as she speaks. Standing up to greet her with a bow. "It is. And it is a pleasure to meet you. I never did have enough time to greet all of the people last time. Though I think I remember you, by name at least." He offers and smiles. Raising a brow to Freya. "You met?" He asks.
Before he can continue and offer more Talbot walks by. Greeting them all with a bow before whispering to Alric. Who nods in return. "I will be there." He says. Turning to Freya and Roisin. "I am quite sorry, my lady. I will be sure to catch up with you at some other time. Perhaps tomorrow? For now, I think mistress Freya here can keep you company." He says and looks to Freya, "Be nice." He says before starting to move along further into the inn.
Freya smiles at Roisin - and hikes her blue dress up so she can sit down before replying, "I am still not sure where it came from my lady - the knights were not especially helpful. Ser Kamron seemed reluctant to help someone 'convicted of banditry' as he put it but recommended I seek out a weapons master somewhere." Her eyes follow her retreating Lord further into the Inn. "We met a little while back" - she explains to Alric before turning back to the noblewoman.
"No. Now." The light-haired maid from the halls of the keep responds to Darek's 'suggestion,' and a cheer goes up from the young men of the party — and even a few of the women — as she steps up to the squire, digging her fingers into his hair, and hauls him down for a kiss. Simone is not one to be delayed, and Darek has been doing his best for more than a week now. For his part, the squire stands with one hand full of tankard and the other full of air, blinking in surprise.
Roisin nods to Alric, her grin spreading. "Yes, I remember seeing you but did not get to be properly introduced." She is all happy friendliness and when he announces his departure, she makes a slightly disappointed expression, but nods. "I shall look forward to seeing you again, My lord." she says, but then turns back to Freya. The easy frindliness wanes somewhat as she pretty much admits to being a convicted bandit. "Oh." she murmurs, her brow wrinkling. "I see." Septa puffs her big bosom out and reaches to try and steer the young noblewoman away from Freya's criminal influence. Roisin resists for the time being. "We met a very little while back." she says, eyeing Freya now with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue. "Yesterday at Heronhurst." She does, at least, offer the woman a bit of a smile before looking back over at Darek and his companions. She glances at Septa and bats her lashes. "Please?" she whispers. "Certainly not!" is the grim faced, funsucking reply.
Sela Hill has returned to Highfield — and just in time too. She hadn't necessarily forgotten Darek's nameday, but she hadn't expected the explosion of noise and celebration that falls on her ears as she pushes open the inn's door. She hesitates just a moment, blinking those big, brilliant blues at the sight in the common section. She does not linger there, allowing her pair of friends to follow her on inside. She nervously tucks her woolen cap in the pocket of her breeches. She is several spaces in now when Simone goes and kisses Darek, and all the excitement from the epicenter of the celebration draws her attention. She blinks, hand still half-stuffed in her pocket. As the Starks would say… Winter Has Come, and it's gone and iced her feet to the floor. She narrows her eyes.
Alric nods to Freya's explaination, "Ser Kamron is a just man." Is all he offers about that. Not really offering any personal thoughts. The words from Roisin makes him offer an apologetic smile. "My apologies, my lady. I am sure that we will see one another sooner than later." He says and smiles before he moves on.
"Listen to all of the excitement!" Aylene squeaks out happily as she comes ambling into the tavern, holding on to Nathaniel's arm for guidance. "Sela, do you see Darek yet?" she queries curiously. Her blond head looks from left to right, and her eyes are bright with excitement. Ambling in slightly behind the girl is a large black dog who stays very close to his Mistress' feet.
Nathaniel leads Aylene carefully into the already crowded and noisy room. His eyes sweep the sea of faces. He spots Darek at center stage of the impromptu gathering, and he leans to murmurs to explain to Aylene, "I see him. I don't know of Sela has yet, but he seems to be with another girl. If she still feels anything for him, this could be ugly."
Freya Caul smiles at the interposing Septa, "I wasn't really a bandit my lady - but I was near enough to a band to merit a short term of service in punishment. They let me go because of good behaviour. And some amatuer heroics." As Sela enters followed by Nathaniel and Aylene freya becomes a little overwhelmed by the number of people. Nathaniel would see her as even more out of place in the lovely blue gown that Alric has thrust her into. Very fetching - mathcing her eyes - but she can't quite get used to it. "Master Nathaniel - funny meeting you here."
Roisin , who is standing near Freya, and being tugged away to a safer, non-criminal infested part of the room by septa. She is only slightly resisting, for her curiousity is great concerning the young blond, but Septa is much bigger and much more determined. She finds herself being dragged away and now even further away from the party which is commencing. A decided pout mars her face as she turns to give her Septa a piece of her mind. That is when she notices the new arrivals. Septa is completely forgotten and her pout turns into a bright, happy expression. "Master Corbitt!" she exclaims and is just about to skip over to say her greeting when she takes notice a minor detail. Smile still in place, she stops in her tracks and inclines her head to him and his two other companions. "Good day." she says sweetly, then turns right around and walks back to her Septa. "Have the rooms been taken care of yet?" she asks. "Raina and her little entourage will be arriving soon, too do not forget!"
Darek doesn't exactly resist the grabby maid's kiss, but he doesn't exactly help much either. Eventually his free hand comes up to the back of her neck, but he draws away immediately there-after. "Fine then.." there's a bit of a sneer to his words, a cocky grin being stretched carefully across his face — but definitely not driving the usual dimples into his cheeks. He looks about the the group of young men and women, "Who's next then — " and there he stops, his eyes having slipped past the immediate grouping to settle on Sela, Aylene, Nathaniel, and that big beast of a dog. Okay, let's be honest, they settle on Sela. Almost imperceptibly, he leans forward, as if he were going to start toward her, but then a couple of giggling girls push another one forward, "Enna's next!"
"I see him," Sela says with a Northern's chill. "And he's kissing that… that…" She sucks in her lower lip to refrain from saying, but she ends up settling for an angry grunt. She is about ready to go storming forward, and her fists even ball up in preparation. She is stalled however by the sudden appearance of that bright and cheerful face of the young noblewoman. The thief backs up abruptly several steps, bumping straight into Nathaniel and Aylene gracelessly. Her blues glance briefly over Roisin's shoulder to narrow at Darek. "Milady," she says with automated etiquette. "Please excuse me a moment." She casts Nathaniel a glance, and then she is stepping forward with determination. "Hey, Simone!" Sela calls as she approaches the maid…
Damn that being blind thing. Aylene reaches out to try and grasp at Sela's hand, both in comfort for the other girl and also in a subtle restraint but she misses by a long shot. She stumbles back, into the courier, as Sela backs into her and the girl frowns. "Nathaniel, don't let her get too far!" she whispers urgently upward. "Please?" There are voices coming from every direction and the little bard slinks back a little, her hand touching the top of the dog's head. "Go get Sela. I'll be okay."
When Aylene stumbles back against him, he reacts on instinct, reaching with his other hand to steady her until she has her balance again. In that instant, she has time to whisper to him, and he nods to her urging. "I will," he confirms. "You're just to she left of the door. Stay here. I'll be back for you as soon as I can." Then he moves away from Aylene, only to hear Roisin's call. He turns but before he can offer a reflexive bow, she has diverted to give instructions to her septa. He frowns and imagines what report the septa probably will give to the girl's older brother considering the tone that the party already has taken. He searches for Sela, and quickly finds the petite brunette. "Sela!" he calls while he approaches her. He strides forward, reechoing to grab one of her arms if possible.
Roisin turns back around at the sudden commotion, her eyes going wide. She watches as people bump into one another and one girl with Nathaniel seems to be grasping around, before backing into him. She walks forward to offer aid, despite her septa trying to hold her back out of the confusion, but hesitates. There is confusion in her gaze as she looks from the blind girl to Nathaniel and then to the dog and finally to the girl who looks like she is going to strangle someone very, very soon. Truth be told, her own cheerful demeanor has waned somewhat and now she just seems wary. The mousy little brunette maid comes up and lays an arm on her mistress, whispering. "They's all commoners, Lady. Best not to worry your pretty little head bout 'em. If you like, I can see if I can be of assistance while you go and find the noble's section. That's where you belong, Lady." Her Septa nods approvingly and fixes Roisin with a beady eyed stare. Clearly, though she doesn't speak, her eyes are blaring her words of , "Don't you dare get involved little missy!" Roisin, however, is too busy now looking at Sela. With a grin now forming she suddenly calls out, "If your going to hit, use your fist, and put your strength into it! That's what I'd do!" An angry gasp from Septa and she is once more getting dragged away, though she keeps watching Sela, who is obviously going to fight for her man. She tries to clap for her, but that is rather hard given the fact she's being dragged by her collar in the opposite direction by a huge, mean old woman with a cane.
Darek sort of half-turns toward Enna as she's pushed forward by her friends, although he keeps his gaze on the advancing Sela. And with that advance, Enna suddenly decides that she really doesn't want to kiss the squire, ducking back behind her friends. Darek opens his mouth to say something, but then Simone is stepping forward, crossing her arms across her chest and lifting her nose at Sela, "What do you want, you little thief? I thought they threw you out of Highfield for stealing things." It takes a teenager to be really, really that snide, and Simone has gotten it down to a science.
Freya watches the chaos with detached amusement taking her drink she ambles on over to near where Roisin and her Septa are retreating from the frackas. She seems to trip on the hemline of her dress and winds up kneeling on the floor where she deftly and quietly pins a loose thread from the bottom of the Septa's hemline to the floor with a sharp bit of wire. Just enough for her ensemble to unravel should the septa walk far enough. Job done she walks back tot he bar, "Excuse me my lady…" she says to Roisin - and waits for the fun to begin.
Sela doesn't necessarily need Roisin's encouragement, but it does stoke that already hot-burning flame in those too blue eyes. Perhaps she had intended to punch the little maid, but Nathaniel is there with his hand on her arm. Good thing a woman is armed with more than her fists. "You are so dellusional, Simone. You go simpering around the Castellan and the Ashwood ladies as if you are one of them — too bad they all know your mother was a common whore. Like mother, like daughter," the thief snaps back. She flashes a glare over Simone's shoulder toward Darek.
She's missing all of the fun. Little Aylene stands near the door, her hands clasped together over her mouth as she looks about with confusion and concern on her face. Her large black dog, Sphinx, winds around her legs, whining quietly, nudging at her elbow. After some quiet contemplation, especially when she's been given orders to stay where she's at, the little bardette takes up the dog's lead and murmurs quietly, "Darek." And off the pair go, inching around the edge of the crowd, but aiming for the center of attention.
Darek's face is a sight. If he hadn't just added a near-full tankard of ale to the six or seven he's already had tonight, he might have better control over it. There's hope, there's pain, there's anger, there's sorrow, and it's all there in his features. The group of a dozen or so young men and a dozen or so young women that was previously celebrating Darek's name-day with beer, laughter, and music have all backed away and gone quiet, watching the confrontation between the two young women. Simone's jaw drops at Sela's barb, and her pale features flush. And then she uncrosses her arms and swings one hand, aiming to slap the theif across the face. That's enough to shock Darek out of silence, "What the fuck?" He'll freak out about that nasty, nasty big dog once it gets closer.
Whether it is perfect timing or terrible timing, the door to the Ash and Oak Inn opens up to admit yet another patron though this one is one many in Highfield would recognize, it's the Sheriff of Highfield. Having heard of a little party that was happening for the nameday of a particular Squire, Erik decided drop by for a little fun as there should be an overabundance of drinks and good fun. What he didn't and doesn't plan to do is do his job at the moment, which would displease him greatly.
Nathaniel closes his hand lightly around Sela's arm and throws a cautionary look at Darek before he bows his head just enough to murmur intto the brunette's ear, "Sela, we didn't come here for a fight. Remember? Ask yourself this. Is she really worth fighting?" He looks back over his shoulder to the left of the door where Aylene should be, but he doesn't see her. He frowns darkly. "Take slow breaths. Calm yourself. Aylene has moved. I need to find her and be sure that she's safe." He releases her arm and takes a step back. His eyes begin to rove the crowd, looking for that very familiar face.
Unfortunately, Roisin's Septa is moving. In fact, she's practically barrelling toward the door to the Nobles Section, her cane in one hand, the scruff of Roisin's velvet's neckline in the other. Roisin is wide eyes and and clapping for Sela as her dainty slippers slide upon the floor. She is practically being carried, and her guard stays before her, blocking the path of anyone who tries to get too close, though did step a bit to the side at one point, to grap the wide-eyed Willo's arm and tug her along, too, thus allowing for Freya to 'accidentally' bump into the pair and quickly do her dirty work. Suddenly, there is another gasp from Septa, this one a mixture of mortifaction and rage and Roisin is suddenly free of the old tyrant's deathgrip upon her collar. The little noble, so soon let go of, falls right upon the floor, on her bottom, blinking in confusion. As she looks up, she sees her guard and her maid have turned around and are /both/ staring with eyes like saucers past her, in the direction of Septa. Ever so slowly, and with great trepidition, Roisin, too, turns her head ad looks up from her vantage point upon the Inn floor, only to see that her big, huffing, mean-spirited Septa standing there, her overskirt having fallen to the floor and leaving her lower body clad in petticoats. Roisin's shocked gaze then slowly and reluctantly travels upwards, until it meets the purple face of her warden and she can swear she sees steam coming out of her ears. "Uh oh…" she whispers and scrambles up. "It was not me, Septa, I promise!" she pleads, eyes going to that cane, which now is held very tightly in the old woman's grip. At that moment, Roisin hears something she ought not have. Actually, two thing. The words 'whore' and 'fuck'. Her eyes widen in shock just as her guard takes her arm. No one knows, at this point, what int the world to do about Septa. None of the three dare to offer her aid.
Nathaniel's words start to loosen her fists, knowing that she came here for a better purpose — but Simone just knows how to make her angry. She is taking her first deep breath, but then the stupid maid goes and makes things worse. There is a sharp sound as Simone's hand impacts with Sela's jaw; the thief's head snaps aside, sending dark hair over her pale skin. She lifts her gaze toward Simone, glaring dangerously. "You are going to regret that!" She snarls as she advances on the maid girl, though she does not immediately aim to punch back. No, she's going to give Simone a chance to run.
Instead of a scene of fun and jubilation, Erik's cheerful expression grows sour as he sees that an altercation is taking place with a lesser one where the Septa is, apparently being undressed by someone. However, since the Septa is not particularly attractive, the Sheriff of Highfield ignores the chaperone and focuses on the fight that is no doubt erupting. With sure steps, he approaches the two girls and growls out loudly, "What in the name of the Seven is going on here!" The question more shouted than asked and the irritation on the Sheriff's face shows that an answer that displeases him may end up with some people in the dungeons.
And here comes Sphinx to surely make the entire situation even worse. The big dog comes bounding up on Darek, giving a small whuff in greeting as he draws closer. Aylene is ambling along behind, looking for wherever she's been led. The distinct sound of someone getting slapped makes the girl wince. "Sela, don't!" Don't what, is really the question, but best to just encourage not doing anything. "Darek, stop her!" She must be coming closer to the Squire so he can at least hear her loud pleading.
Darek is dumb. When Simone lands her slap, and Sela starts toward the other girl, Darek lunges forward to get between them, "Wait, wait… what the fuck is going on?" At least that's a little more coherent, even if it's barely audible under Erik's shout and Simone's screech of, "You little slut! You didn't want him and now you're coming back and you can't have him!" Perhaps not coincidentally, Darek has turned toward Sela as he moves to get between the young women, his back to Simone. His eyes flicker past the lovely little bastard girl, to Erik, and then back, "That's the Sheriff, Blu — Sela." The words are quiet, hushed, a warning. And then he raises up his voice, "Leave off, curse it, Simone. No one here owns me." And then there's Sphinx, and Darek perhaps shows why no one is likely to want to own him, as he gives a sharp, unintelligible yelp and flinches back from the big friendly dog.
Just before Darek manages to squeeze himself between Sela and Simone, the former bumps into the girl with a snarling whisper. Whatever is passed between them is enough to send another angry flash in Simone's green eyes. The maidservant is about to advance on the retreating thief, but there's the squire to act as a proper cushion between the raging girls. Darek's initial words draws a flash through her blue eyes, and she turns toward the Sheriff with an accustatory point of her finger. "She's a thief, Milord… I came here to confront her. Master Bertch's wife lost some heirloom silver, and I seen Miss Simone with it!" As Sphinx and Aylene come near, Sela, almost subconsciously, steps between Darek and the big friendly dog.
Nathaniel has left Sela to take slow calming breaths while he searches, elbowing his way through the crowd, for Aylene. He bumps into a squire who spills a tankard of ale on him. The courier inhales sharply at the feeling of chilled liquor spreading over his tunic and trews. He looks more frantically around him. Then he sees that petite blonde ahead, just beyond reach, heading toward Darek. He sees the crowd parting to make way for Sphinx, and he flashes back in memory to another time when the dog eagerly ran to the squire and caused terror. He presses forward and caslls, "Aylene! No! Pull Sphinx back! Aylene!!!"
When the Squire that is the center of feminine attention steps into the middle of the fracas, the Sheriff's eyes settles on the young man as if to see whether or not Darek will be taking charge of settling the girls down, who he apparently knows. Of course, the girlish cry, at least that is what it sounded like to Erik, from the young man's reaction to the large dog does not instill a lot of confidence into the Sheriff. For the time being, Erik stays his hand and the hand of the law, apparently not the type to go arresting people at the drop of a hat, not yet at least. Eyes do flit from face to face, only to study for future reference on who is present in case things go south. Of course, when the vocal and direct accusation of thievery is announced, Erik's eyes narrow and focuses on Sela for the moment, "Girl, you just made a serious accusation with your words. You best be sure of them because I am not the type who enjoys being lied to." No attention given to Simone just yet.
Roisin , as more use of the F word is used, blushes very, very deeply. "Come on Little Rabbit." her guard says and at least he is more gentle as he offers his hand to her to take and stand. She does so, but her eyes are now searching the room, as if looking for someone. "Take Septa upstairs to our room." she says to Willo, still distractedly searching through the crowd of people with her eyes. She obviously sees what she is looking for and her expression alters a little, but she suddenly is very eager to take her leave. Her guard is very determined to get her out of here, and for once, she doesn't fight as he leads her, not towards the Noble Section now, but back towards the Inn exit. Her mouth is set is a very decided frown, and her shoulders are straight, back rigid. She says not one word to anyone, though does give the newly arrived sheriff a curt nod. Yes, she is very displeased.
"Nathaniel?" Aylene immediately calls out. Seems she's gone a little bit off course and now seems a little lost. With a frown, she hesitantly moves to the left, and then the right. Sphinx at least isn't going bounding after Darek anymore and is content to plop himself down on the floor and scratch an itch. Hearing Erik's warning to Sela, the bardette draws herself up. "Sela wouldn't ever lie!" Her protest in her friend's defense loud and shrill.
"I don't lie," Sela says without dropping those blue eyes from the Sheriff. "Check her pockets. She's been thieving all around Highfield! They say her father is some fleecer from King's Landing." Sela turns that fiery stare toward Simone, who is staring jaw-dropped at the bastard's accusation. Shock is soon overshadowed by fury, and Simone turns sharply toward the Sheriff. "My father was a farmer from the Crownlands!" She manages to protest, her voice gone squeaky with anger.
When the dog doesn't seem ready to assault him again, and Sela and Simone don't appear ready to go for each others' throats again, Darek steps back, patting down his fiddle and bow with one hand and taking another swig from his mostly-empty tankard. And then there's the Sheriff. Switching hands, he knuckles his forehead to the knight, "Ser." And then he's looking between Simone and Sela warily, "Uh…" Brilliant. Behold the effects of too much beer. "I don't know what in the seven hells is going on, Ser. I was just here celebrating my nameday and…" he gestures with his mug between the two angry women. Aylene's support for Sela causes him to blink, and he adds, "Hullo Aylene. Uh, Nathaniel. And sometimes Sela tracks stuff down for people…" There's a bit of a question in his voice, but it's technically, sort of, support.
A brief glance is offered to Aylene who speaks up for Sela's defense before Erik finally turns his full attention on the accused, the poor Simone. "Your father may be a farmer from the Crownlands but that doesn't mean you are not a thief. Now, we can easily prove your innocence, let me search you and where you are staying for stolen goods. If you are not found, then she," Nodding his head towards Sela, "Will be the one that is hauled to the dungeons." Now it is up to Simone on how she wants to answer the accusations laid out against her.
Coming down the stairs, Lady Jocelyn Nayland has her hand resting on the handrailing and the clink of her shoes is accompanied with the sound of the maid and guards that follow after her. She is well accompanied and seems comfortable with her arrangment of guards. Coming into the the overly crowed Inn, Jocelyn blinks at all the people that are present. Her maid comes to her side and leans to whisper something to her. The Nayland woman nods her head, and the maid is soon seeing going in search of place to sit.
Nathaniel loosk around again when he hears Aylene calling his name. Once he finds her bearings, he heads toward her. He reaches to touch her arm with his hand. "I'm here," he assures. Then he leans his head toward her and briefly tells her what has happened, speaking quietly enough so that he won't distract others in the process.
Simone is exceptionally beautiful — she probably could have been confused for a Lannister if not for the fact her blood is as common as dirt. Of course, being beautiful tends to get a common girl all she needs, so intelligence is not really necessary. Neither is a survival sense. The maidservant juts out her jaw stubbornly at the Sheriff. "She is doing this on purpose. She is trying to humilate me in front of Darek!" She steps back from Sela, and inadvertedly Erik, glaring at the former. Sela crosses her arms at her chest. "Master Bertch says he's missin' a silver chain bracelet and an old locket." And guess what happens to be in Simone's skirt pocket?
Aylene's foot stamps with her impatience. "Sela wouldn't ever do anything bad like that! That… that…" She lifts a hand and points off in the random direction she hopes Simone is standing in (and hey, she's only a few feet off!), "That woman has to be the whole problem. Getting everyone else in trouble. She should be sent off to the WALL for all her meanness!" As Nathaniel approaches, she sniffs. "Don't let them hurt Sela, Nathaniel. The other one is mean. It's all Darek's fault for being a big jerk about this anyway!" She's not exactly speaking loudly but she's not keeping her voice down either, especially at her most recent accusation. "Why are boys jerks, Nathaniel?"
The mousy handmaiden, Willo nods to Roisin and gulps in fright as she approaches the now half-clad Septa. "Uh….Mistress Helgii?" she squeaks. "Maybe if we went upstairs we could repair the skirt—" The Septa's cane comes thundering down upon upon the Inn floor. "Mark my words, I will make sure Milady's brother and cousin hear of this!" she says, her voice shaking with rage. She is, thankfully, too upset to offer any arguments to poor little Willo as she is ushered upstairs, but does keep barking out her indignation and threats to her Lady's honor.
Roisin, is at the exit and her face is red with anger. "One moment." she murmurs, and as she overhears Aylene's words, she turns around and calmly walks over her and and Nathaniel. "I do not know the answer to that, Mistress, but do assure you that master Corbitt here is someone very qualified to answer it." She smiles sweetly and then turns on her heel, raises her chin and nods to her guard, who opens the door for her.
Darek's nameday party is now officially over. In fact, some of the young men have vacated the area entirely now that the Sheriff has arrived. A couple of the young women too. There's still a bit of a crowd around the confrontation between Sela and Simone, however. In the midst of it, Darek blinks hard, looking at the tankard of ale in his hand and very carefully setting it aside. He looks between Sela and Simone, and lets out a long, heavy sigh, "Well fuck a duck. So you just came back to nick her, Sela?" And he slumps a bit further, starting to turn away. Aylene's comments cause him to blink, "Wait… what? How's this my fault, Miss Ayl — I mean, good to see you, Miss Aylene, glad-you're-back-and-all, but she," he points back to Sela, "dumped my ass. Not the other way around."
Beauty usually works on distracting Erik in most settings but when there are a ton of people around and there is a requirement of him doing his job, he usually stays on point. It also helps that Simone is not using her feminine wiles right now to convince the Sheriff that Sela is the evil one so with a sigh of irritation, Erik lays out the truth for everyone, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way is I search you, Simone, and if you're innocent, that girl goes to jail. The hard way is I have to find Master Bertch, ask him if he is missing a silver chain bracelet and an old locket, and while I am doing that, you two will be sitting in the dungeons waiting for me to come back." Then he'll search Simone and Sela both to find the culprit. The Sheriff then looks at Simone and then Sela to make sure they understand the seriousness of this issue, then back to Simone to wait for her answer.
The Nayland guards come forth coming when they finally see all that is going on around the room. Jocelyn frowns as she watches and places a hand up to stop her guards from getting involved. "No. Dont. I'm sure the Sheriff will-" she stops when she sees the man that they are calling sheriff and gasps. Are you kidding me? She stares at Erik from a distance, watching him move in the direction of the crowd and she shakes her head. "Its hopeless." she murmurs and turns her head to look up at the guard. "Why did I come to Highfield again?" she frowns and looks back at the crowd, only to hear her guard say, "I though the same when you gave me the orders, Mi'Lady…" a sigh escapes the Nayland and she stays where she is, not moving to any table just yet.
Sela does not seem to budge on recinding her accusation; no, she's holding her ground. Simone looks as if she is about to make another demand, like how she will not be humilated here in the inn, and that Erik should not accost her unless she is in the presence of her Lady. But, she decides these things are useless. She extends her arms, illustrating that Erik can have a go at searching her. Sela casts Darek a glance, and she scowls. "Would you shut up," she asks him sternly. "And stay put." Because she's not done with him either!
Freya has moved up near the stairs to get a better angle on her handiwork with Roisin's Septa ad she overhears the Nayland lady, "Why Mi'Lady the weather here is so nice this time of year what other reason would anyone need. Save for a wedding. Not enamoured of the local authorities I see." She raises her cup to Lady Jocelyn - but is still alternating her attention between the fight and the rampaging Septa.
Aylene is distracted from her adamant demands that Sela is innocent by Roisin's approach and proclamation. Her head tilts to the side and she seems baffled. "No, no, Nathaniel is one of the few that isn't a jerk," she says brightly. "You must be thinking of someone else. He's one of the good boys in Westeros. You are silly to think anything else." Alas, she can't see the noblewoman to get an idea that maybe she shouldn't be talking to the other girl in such a fashion. "But Darek. He's a big meaniehead. I'm sure he did something that hurt Sela and made her leave. Because it's always his fault." She nods her head. Yep, she's absolutely certain of her logic.
Not realizing that she was being overheard, Jocelyn turns surprised eyes to Freya, noticing the girl beside her for the first time. Opening her mouth to speak, she closes it and looks on at the crowd. Finally, she says, "Lets just say I know the Good Sheriff better than I would like to relate." grim to this fact Jocelyn welcomes back the company of her maid to her other side. "M'lady, it might be best we wait.. There seem to be some sort-" "I know." Jocelyn cuts Iulia off and grins. "I saw. No need to make excuses for my benefit dear. I can see." A gentle hand is placed on Iulia's shoulder and patted gently in effection. "All this is over that boy? Am I to understand this correctly?" she looks at Darek and nods in his direction.
With Simone making his night easier, Erik releases a sigh of relief that he doesn't have to haul two catty girls down in the dungeons as it will most likely result in him being clawed and kicked before the night is over. When the maid servant offers herself up to be search, the Erik moves up behind her but he doesn't take any liberties this time, perhaps because there are quite a few pairs of eyes watching. His hands immediately goes to the obvious locations, like Simone's pockets, and what does he find. Trouble. Pulling out what Sela has slipped inside earlier through her stealthy evil ways, Erik holds up the stolen goods, "Girl. What is this? And don't you lie to me."
Darek looks at Aylene, looks baffled, looks to Sela, looks even more baffled, looks to Simone, doesn't look any different, looks back to Aylene and Sela, squeezes his eyes shut, opens them again, scruffs back his hair out of his face, and sighs again heavily. "Seven save me from women." It's a fervent prayer that hasn't come anywhere near the squire's consciousness since he was 13. And then he looks over at Sela, rolls his eyes, and sulks, "Fine. You can tell me how we're through and all that shit again." He gestures over to the table he was standing and playing on in the better parts of his nameday celebration, "I'll be over there for when you want to tear me a new one to cap off the night." And he slumps over in that direction, unslinging his fiddle and bow and starting to pluck idly at the strings, a sound somehow resembling raindrops falling into a stream.
Roisin doesn't turn back to reply to Aylene at all. Instead, her eyes search the stairs for her Septa and handmaiden, making sure they are alright. Her Septa is still proclaiming all manner of outrage, even if she looks ridiculous doing so with a purple face and clad in petticoats. Roisin looks to ger guard and, once more raising her chin, nods decisivel and takes charge of her situation. "Alright." she says. "I am absolutely cannot leave without Septa." she murmurs to her guard. "Otto will kill me if I were separated from her. Thank you for being-" Her eyes look pointedly around the room, stopping on at least a couple of faces. "The only one to come to our aid. I shall remember to inform my family of how loyal and caring a retainer you are." she says to him. "But I must follow her upstairs." she says firmly. "Even if it means staying in this place a moment longer than I would like. She cannot go out exposed like that."
Sela would be defending Darek at this point, but she really is focused on Erik and Simone right now because this is when it all, well, goes as planned. She crosses her arms firmly as Erik pulls the bits of silver from the maidservant's pocket. "I told you," she remarks as Simone starts to panic. "Those aren't mine!" Simone announces, which is perhaps a painfully obvious statement to make. "I've never seen those before!" She looks toward Sela with huge green eyes. "You did this! You framed me!" And she starts to advance on Sela with her claws out, releasing an enraged scream; the actual thief digs her heels into the ground, and her little hand forms a proper fist.
Nathaniel looks at Sela, then Simone, and finally at the Sheriff before he assures Aylene, "The sheriff is here, apparently He'll see to the truth of this. When Roisin stalks over to them and advises the bard to identify him as an expert on jerks, he simply murmurs, "Aylene, let's give the sheriff time to sort out this situation." He bows to the young lady. Then he suggesters to the petite blonde, "Let's find a table."
Freya nods to Jocelyn - Freya herself has been jammed into a slinky blue dress that looks great on her but she feels rather awkward in by Alric. Purportedly this is to make her look more presentable to the nobility - time to test that theory evidently. "Aye it would appear so. A lively night. I'd imagine the serving girl there did have those things planted on her - not that it will make any difference now mind. Probably get a T branded on her hand or her back flayed or worse. And for what?" Freya curtseys to Jocelyn, "Forgot my manners - I'm Freya Caul Mi'Lady - a House retainer - here for the wedding."
Aylene's nose wrinkles as no one seems to be paying the least bit of attention to her obviously important declarations and nods, taking Nathaniel's arm. "That sounds like a good idea," she agrees. "But do let me know if Sela needs something. We can't just leave her when that other girl is obviously at fault here." She frowns and twists towards the sound of the violin. "Do you want to come with us, Darek? You shouldn't be alone on your nameday." And then her head snaps upright at the screams.
And this is where the Sheriff himself steps in between the two catraged girls though his hand reaches for the apparent thief, Simone. A firm and hard grasp is laid on the maid servant's upper arm which should restrain her properly and prohibit her from throwing her claws on Sela, "You will be coming with me, girl. And you can spin me a wonderful tale about how these got into your pockets." However, before Erik begins to drag the poor framed girl to the dungeon, he does level his eyes on Sela, "I hope you will be staying in town for a bit. Just in case I have questions." Better to have that out there in case there are loose ends to tie up.
Darek looks up sulkily at Aylene's very kind invitation, the plucking noise halting for a moment as he gestures to the pitchers and pitchers of ale still on his table, "Plenty to drink here. Party's all over anyhow." And then Simone's paniced voice cuts through the resuming din of the common room, and he looks up, gathering his bow in the same hand as his fiddle so he can rub at his face with the palm of his other hand, "Seven help me… is it too much to ask for to have a nice, fun nameday? She just has to come and ruin things." Of course, the sulky grumble of his voice doesn't really match the way he gathered his feet under him when Simone started toward Sela again, but that sort of motion is just unconscious.
Watching in astonishment, the pieces of silver are taken from that girls pockets after the Sheriff searches her. Jocelyn raises her eyebrows in surprise, but is leaning an ear towards Freya as she speaks, eyes still glued to the situation and how it will unfold in front of her. "Lady Jocelyn Nayland." she says, repeating her name as she has hundreds, perhaps thousands of times before. "Pleased to meet, Mistress Caul." Whe one of the girls is grabbed, Jocelyn blinks in surprise and purses her lips to see what the Sheriff will next do. At one point, Jocelyn glances at Darek with a bit of Pitty, hearing that its his name day. "The poor lad." I think the Nayland just caved a bit.
Roisin 's guard nods and starts to guide her towards the stairs. Under the circumstances, the fiery tempered redhead had been holding everything in rather well. Her behavior had been pretty good. Now, though, something happens that sends her remarkably close to the edge. Fire paints her cheeks and she walks rigidly over to nathaniel and his companion, but merely leans in to whisper something to the young courier before striaghtening up, casting him a disdainful look and turning her back upon them. "Let us go now." she murmurs to her guard, and the pair start to walk up, following her poor septa.
Freya watches the girl get led away, "Or maybe she did take them - seems a shame to break up such a lively party. It's usually flattering to be the center of attention of more than one female - but to be the object of a female rivalry - well that can be downright unpleasant." Turning to Jocelyn, "A pleasure to meet you Mi'lady - A Nayland? From Stonebridge or Hags Mire?" freya asks always curious to speak to travellers.
"I work in the Manor, Milord," Sela says firmly. "I won't be going anywhere." She waits until Erik has committed to dragging Simone off before she turns precisely to narrow a look on Darek. "Are you done sulking?" She snaps, her anger still palpable. "I didn't even come here to… turn in… Simone. I came here to see you, you fucking dolt." She casts a glance toward Nathaniel and Aylene before looking back at the Squire; she crosses her arms firmly at her chest, glaring at the fiddler.
Shaking her head at the scene, "Stonebridge, Mistress Caul." Jocelyn replies to Freya as she watches. "I'm here for the wedding celebration." One of the guards as spotted Roisin's reaction to all that is going on, and comes to stand beside his Lady. "Mi'Lady, Might I suggest we take the same leave as the Lady there?" He asks Jocelyn, "I'd fee much better if you'd allow me to escort you out of all this mess and somewhere much more safe." her guards were protective and they had been selected for this trip for that reason. Dragging her attention away form the scene before her, Jocelyn says and nods, "Yes. I agree. Take me from this place and I will go where you advise is safe." turning her head back she inclines it to Freya, "Good to have met you, Mistress Caul, please take care of yourself and stay out of this mess. Keep yourself safe." With those words, the Nayland is ushered toward the exit by maid and guards.
When Roisin returns to hiss something in his ear, Nathaniel inhales sharply and blushes to a hue of red that almost matches the raspberry of her lips. He remains there, frozen while she heads storms for the exit. Then he looks at the table that Darek has indicated, but frowns for a moment and shakes his head. "We … probably should sit at another table, Darek," he answers, giving a small but certain nod to Sphinx, and then a look at Sela to suggest that the squire probably should have his own private moment with the brunette.
With Sela's confirmation that she will be in town, Erik gives the girl a nod before turning back to Simone, "Now we go to the dungeons, where it's quieter and you can tell me how this isn't your fault." Words which will most likely go in one ear and out the other unless the maid servant is incredibly convincing. Without much of a good bye to any who may still be watching, the Sheriff of Highfield promptly escorts the girl in his hand out the door.
Freya moves up behind Nathaniel and company, "Still ignoring me I see master Nathaniel?" she says to the courier playfully. It would be something to see her out of her manacles. "What a mess," she says wathcing the retreating sheriff and noblewomen.
Stepping in from the outside, Robben pauses a bit as he sees the crowds inside. Looking around a few moments, he pauses for a few moments as he sees the Sheriff making his way past with someone. Offering the man a nod, before he steps further into the room, shaking his head a little bit now.
Hearing the inhalation of breath, Aylene looks up at Nathaniel. "Are you alright, love?" she asks, her fingers tightening over his arm ever so slightly. The blond bard's normally cheery face is brought down with concern and restlessness. "Did something happen?" Her head turns, hearing another voice approach. "Who is that?"
Darek looks up at Sela for a moment as she approaches, and then he levers himself up out of his seat, letting his fiddle hang on its sling. That still leaves his bow in his left hand, but he doesn't even seem to notice, frowning down at the little thief, "You could have done that any time in the last — " he bites down before he can spout out exactly how long it's been since Sela left Highfield, "However the fuck long it's been since you left." His eyes narrow, "Or here's an idea, Sela. How about not fucking leaving in the first place?" Nathaniel's concern causes Darek to flick his bow dismissively, "No. You all enjoy the ale. It's the good stuff. I'm gonna get some cursed fresh air." And then he turns about to try and stomp off.
Sela glowers at Darek, that wintry anger far more menacing than whatever her noble father may provide. "You are so… stupid!" She snarls at him, though as he starts to stomp off, Sela is hot on his heels. "We're not done here, Darek Boldt!" She gives him a shove. "We're gonna talk about this either here, or outside, and I ain't goin' anywhere until we do!"
Nathaniel takes a slow breath and sighs heavily. "I'll … be fine," he assures Aylene, although his voice is still usteady. He shakes his head. "That was a Lady," he adds. When he hears Freya's voice behind him, he turns enough so that his eyes can travel slowly over her. "Mistress Caul," he identifies the woman. "Both of us seem to be far from the Roost, but in your case, I'm sure that it's a good sign."
"Nathaniel…" Aylene doesn't sound certain and she shifts closer to the courier. "You don't sound like you'll be fine. You sound worried and upset." She frowns and scowls at whoever is now interrupting their conversation. Her jaw sets stubbornly and she just hugs Nathaniel's arm within her own and waits in silence.
Freya moves around the table not sitting down because she wasn't invited, "Aye out of manacles and a retainer and courier now much like yourself. Who is this lovely lady?" she asks - her accent is a thick thieves cant.
Darek stumbles with the shove, blinking hard against the effects of alcohol. Straightening up again, he looks down at the angry little thief for a long moment, then reaches out with his free left hand, trying to catch it at the nape of her neck and draw her head up for a sharp, short kiss — anything but delicate. If it even lands, it does not linger, but Darek is straightening up again, "I didn't want you to leave in the first place, Sela. If you're going to fucking stick around, we can talk. If not, just take a long walk off a tall cliff." I'm tired of playing around." And then he's turning around again, striding in the direction of the inn's back door.
Sela juts out her jaw as Darek turns to face her as if she might be ready for the verbal onslaught. Instead, she is gathered up at the nap of her neck; she arches on her toes quite subconsciously to meet that less than delicate kiss. Her body arches up against his against her will, though when it comes to Darek, Sela's will has never been that strong. She falls back when he releases her, stunned at first. He perhaps gives him a chance to say those words without interruption. She blinks several times after him before falling quickly into stride behind him. "I told the Sheriff I was gonna stick around," she says angrily — though only half-heartedly so — behind him as they step out.