|You Might Have Opened With That|
|Summary:||Martyn and Senna encounter each other in the camps outside of Seagard.|
|Army Camp — Outside Seagard|
|Tents and soldiers, yo.|
|February 14, 289|
Much of the host that freed Seagard has fractured in the aftermath of the battles, heading home until they'll be called back again for the final push. Still, there are many from too far away or without the resources to travel back and forth who have lingered, setting up their own tent city outside the walls of Seagard. Senna is one of the denizens of that camp, and at the moment sits outside a small, simple pup tent on the outskirts of those of the Nayland forces who remain at the city. With a small pot of water over the fire, she slowly stirs a stick through…yes, that would be clothes. How else do you get blood and the like out of your dresses, after all?
One of those staying on the other side of those walls would be Martyn. However, at the moment he's moving back in the direction of said walls, from the wilderness outside. He's making his way through the camp outside for the moment, looking around rather carefully. Passing not far from where Senna is sitting, as he continues his slow walk. Looking rather relaxed at the moment, it would seem.
Using the end of the stick, Senna pulls some of the fabric out of the water, checking along the hem for lingering stains. She hisses a bit when she touches it, jerking her hand back and giving it a shake to try to cool it. "There's your scalding water, Senna," she sighs to herself, wiping her hand on her skirts and pushing the dress back into the water for another round of circling. A quick glance takes in Martyn's pause, though she doesn't say anything just yet.
Martyn looks around for a few moments, pausing as he sees Senna and the water, offering her a bit of a nod. "Looks like the water is quite hot," he offers a bit quietly, before he looks around at the rest of the camp again, a bit carefully.
"Only chance of salvaging the dress," Senna answers Martyn with a rueful smile, tossing a few dried herbs into the water and giving it another stir. "Too much blood and guts can be hell on a healer's clothes." She arches a brow slightly as she watches him, still stirring slowly. "Lost?" she asks.
Unable to hold back a hint of a smile, Martyn nods a bit as he hears the part about the blood and guts. "On behalf of the men doing the fighting, I must say we're sorry for spilling our blood and guts on your clothes, then." It's offered a bit lightly, before he shakes his head a bit at that other part. "No, not quite lost. After all, I can see my destination from here." Gesturing towards the walls, before he adds, "Heading through here was the easiest way to get from one point to another at the moment."
Senna laughs, a low, rich sound. "Or at least it looked like it from outside the maze of tents?" she guesses, amusement in her voice. "You'll find each camp has its own sort of order, but there's not enough central leadership and discipline here to put all the camps in the same condition. Makes it a bit of a maze until you know your way through it. You've hit the Nayland quadrant so far," she points out. "When the orientation of the tents shifts, you'll be in the Charlton camp, which leads into the Flint camp."
Martyn chuckles. "I must admit it looked like the easiest way from the outside, that's true," he admits, with a bit of a nod. Nodding a bit as he hears the explanation about the different parts of the camp. "I can't remember army camps being this difficult to navigate before…"
"Been a part of many camps, have you?" Senna asks with a small smile, still stirring at the pot. There's a distinct herbal smell to the water, particularly lavender and mint. Herbs that are easy to find and easy to slip into the water in the process of cleaning.
"A few," Martyn replies, before he adds, "But that's probably the big difference, I was a part of it. Here I have the luxury of being one of those from inside the walls, so I haven't gotten to navigate through here before I made the mistake of thinking what looked like the easiest way between two points. I should have known that's not always the case." He looks over to the pot. "Even though I remember you said that it's to get blood and guts off your clothes, it doesn't smell too bad," he offers.
"Well, you know. If you start wandering around smelling like blood and guts, people get nervous when you say you're there to see to their injury," Senna winks. "That, and I don't particularly care for the stench myself. One of the nice things about being here with the camp is there aren't too many fine ladies who need their laundry done, so I can take care of mine a little better." She glances toward the city, then back to Martyn. "Native of Seagard, then?"
Martyn nods a little bit. "More or less, yes," he replies, before he adds, "Grew up just outside of here, but spent much time here. Spent a number of years living in Fairmarket as well, though." He pauses for a few moments, glancing around for a few moments, before he adds, "That's where I learned that the most important thing wasn't how the person seeing to the injury smells, but how good they are at doing what they do. Not that it's not usually true that people tend to get nervous at the smell, of course."
"Mmmm. The source of the smell matters, though," Senna points out. "You don't want a healer bringing infection from another patient to you." She quiets for a moment to carefully turn the bundle of cloth, making sure nothing gets burned. "But if I'm entirely honest, I prefer to smell decent," she admits, looking up with a small smile.
"Quite true," Martyn offers with a bit of a nod. "And I'm sure nobody blames you for that." The last said about the part about smelling decent. A brief pause, before he adds, "Still many wounded people in the camp, then?"
"Not too many," Senna answers, and there's a touch of relief in her smile. "Thus why it's finally safe to wash things and not immediately see them a mess again. Everything that's left is mostly mending bones, and there's nothing to do for those but time. Were you here for the battle itself?" she asks.
Martyn nods a little bit as he hears that. "Those broken bones take a lot of time too, don't they?" he offers, before nodding again at the part about the battle itself. "I was here for it, yes…" He trails off a bit at that, expression a bit thoughtful for a few brief moments.
Senna hums quiet agreement in regards to broken bones, then shifts her weight to lever the pile of fabric out of the water once more. This time she lets it steam for a moment, not checking on stains just yet. "And if this is your home, I imagine you intend to be a part of the attack on the Iron Isles?" she asks while she waits, the bundle steaming even in the warm summer air.
"That is correct," Martyn replies a bit quietly now. "Not sure if I look forward to the fighting there, but we all need to do our part of things. Besides, if being a part of it can keep them from similar attacks in the future, that's a good thing." A brief pause, before he adds, "What about you? Will you be one of those going there to heal the wounded?"
"After the fact," Senna answers with a faint, rueful smile. "I've no interest in being on a ship in that direction before we know the outcome of the battle. Mostly because I've no interest in becoming a thrall." Once the bundle has cooled a bit, she reaches out to gingerly pull a flap of fabric free, giving what appears to be a sleeve a careful inspection for lingering stains and dirt.
Martyn is unable to hold back a bit of a grin, "See, that's the good part about being part of the battle. Becoming a thrall rarely happens then. They will probably just kill me instead, if it gets that far. I'm not planning on things coming to that, though."
"That's the good part about being a man," Senna corrects with a wry smile of her own, apparently finding the dress clean enough to prop it up out of the water by spanning the stick over the lip of the pot. "In the battle or not. Are you a foot soldier, then?" she asks, taking another stick and starting to twist the fabric around it, working out some of the water. "Or are you a knight?"
"A knight," Martyn offers. "My name is Ser Martyn Mallister. A pleasure to meet you." He then looks to the work with the dress for now, keeping quiet at the moment.
Senna blinks once, pausing in the twisting to look back at Martyn. "You might have opened with that, you know," she notes, a faint smile not quite covering for the tinge of pink around her ears and neck. Flustered or no, though, she recovers quickly, keeping one hand on the bundle while dipping into a curtsey, flicking her skirt with the other. It's surprisingly graceful, even. "A pleasure, Ser. Forgive my informality? I'm Senna Delacourt, serving the Nayland household."
Martyn considers that for a few moments. "I probably should have," he admits, nodding a little bit. He then nods again to the part about forigiving the informality, offering a momentary grin. "If you forgive me for not letting you know who I was a bit earlier in the conversation."
"Hardly necessary, my lord," Senna assures with a small, slightly sheepish smile of her own. "I'm usually a bit more careful, but I thought I knew most of the important faces in the camp by now. The fact that you belong in the castle explains that little oversight," she chuckles softly, turning back to her laundry to give it another twist. Herb-scented water trickles down, taking a good portion of the dirt and grime with it. It won't be perfect, but it's as clean as anything is likely to get in an armed camp. "Were you inspecting the camps, then?" she asks curiously. "I imagine young Lord Patrek is grateful for whatever aid comes his way right now."
Martyn nods as he listens, "I'm certain Lord Patrek is grateful for all the aid," he replies, with a bit of a smile. He then adds, "And I must admit I was curious about how things were out here, that's true." If that was the primary goal of his trip outside the walls or not, he doesn't say.
"But?" Senna prompts, lips curving at one corner as she notes that evasion. Once she's squeezed most of the water out of the dress, she lifts it from the prop over the pot, turning to carefully spread it out over a line strung from her tent to another. Quick snaps here and tugs there pull out any incipient wrinkles before they can think about settling in.
"But when I was out here, I figured that taking a look at how things were here wasn't a bad idea," Martyn replies, with a bit of a nod. He then glances around for a few moments, before he adds, "I should be heading back inside, though. There's a few things I need to take care of back there…"
"Of course, my lord," Senna says, bobbing another curtsey without seeming to pause from her work. "It's been a pleasure to meet you. If you find yourself in need of a sweet-smelling healer, you know where to find me," she adds with a brief, deeper smile.
Martyn nods a little, with a bit of a smile as he hears that. "I will," he replies, adding, "It was a pleasure to meet you as well." And then he makes his way back towards the walls of Seagard.