Umbra 10, 228: Tyrel Returns from Aberdeen

Tyrel returns from Aberdeen to be greeted by Logen and Nimue - Duplicate


Log Title
Summary: Tyrel returns from Aberdeen to be greeted by Logen and Nimue
OOC Date: October 15, 2013 (OOC)
Related: None
Players:
Tyrel Logen Nimue 
Grand Foyer
The Main Foyer of Darfield Castle is an impressive room, purple and grey marble columns stretching along the walls to the high vaulted ceiling above. Between the monumental columns are padded marble benches for the comfort of those who would socialize here. The marble floors shine gently in the illumination from everburning tapers that provide a flickering light. The recesses of the immense entryway are still, however, shrowded in shadows.
Umbra 10, 228

The Lady Nimue, by either sheer chance or careful forethought, is attired in well-suited colours for the grandeur of the castle foyer - the deep lavender velvet of her otherwise simple gown lends her perhaps a touch more glamour here than it might elsewhere, given the scheme of hues in the vast hall. Without her hunting mastiff today - the enormous creature doesn't seem quite appropriate in places such as these - she is accompanied solely by her elder handmaid and ever-stoic guardsman, who is smartly presented in the earthen livery of House Forrester. For the time being, the man seems relaxed, despite his looming presence never being far from his charge.
The lady herself is engaged in polite discussion with another young noblewoman, discussing whatever girlish matters are the topic of the day.. and frankly, behind her attentive expression and ready smile, it might be apparent under closer scrutiny that the chatter is superficial and of little consequence. Hardly a rare thing, in courtly company. But it's always nice to be nice, and Nimue's warmth in the offering of pleasantries seems genuine, quiet laughter occasionally punctuating the seemingly endless monologue of her current companion; a pretty blonde in a far more ostentatious dress. Each to their own. In the dull clamour of the foyer, with all its coming and goings, the brunette seems content merely to pass a little time with those who cross her path.

The prince is leading his shepherd, Duke, out towards the courtyard without leash or rope. The large, muscular but lean breed trots at his master's heels obediently. The golden coat with that dark almost black-brown diamond on its back gleam in the light as noting a healthy coat and diet. Logen himself is dressed in leathers, strips of the material that have been laced together into an intricate pattern with a guardian posed eagle working into the central solid plate. The prince's cloak of dusty browns and golds billows softly around his shepherd and his ankles. For all the world he seems in no rush and in fact stops to lean down and give his boy some lovin's, the large dog wagging his tail and barking softly at the pets.

Prompted by the gaze of the blonde she speaks with, Nimue casts a glance back over one shoulder to see what has drawn the attention from their little chat.. then turns smoothly to better face the prince who crosses the marble floor. With one hand swept before her, she dips a practiced curtsey in his direction, lowering her green eyes in a momentary downward flit of respectful recognition also before straightening once more. A momentary pause, and she murmurs her excuses to the young woman she had been standing with and glides a few steps forward, shaking back her long dark hair and hesitantly seeking to intercept as the young man slows, should she be permitted.
"Your majesty.." Nimue's tone is gentle, naturally, and laced with the subtley different inflections of the South. Accompanying the words with a slight smile, she glances downward to the magnificent hound that's so enjoying the attention from his master. Clearly a dog person, then.. as anyone who had seen her bear of a pet would have gathered. "Forgive me, but I could not help but wish a closer look.." Her green eyes dart back upward to Logen, brows arching in request as one hand slowly extends a little toward the shepherd. "..may I?" Well, it's only polite to ask, no matter how enticing it is to pet the creature.

The sad truth of the shepherd's purpose become evident as it starts to growl deeply and teeth are bared when the lady approaches. "M'lady, be cautious. He is a war dog, as well as a guard dog." a look to the animal, "Sit." the short clipped command and the dog is on his heels and alert, with his nose pointed up at the prince as though asking if he'd done wrong. His eyes swivel and pivot about as he listens, but his nose is always up turned towards his master for the next instruction. Logen looks to the young woman and nods his head, "Greetings. My apologies for that… his breed is specific for war and protection, they are trained to only allow two to pet them, no more. I fear you'd lose the hand if you tried."

Tyrel moves into the foyer, a half dozen attendents trailing in his wake. "…and have them ready for me to review within the hour. See that the knights who will be bearing the messages are of stately bearing and have a proper squire of at least a year's training." The majority of the servants move off then to do as instructed. Tyrel then looks about at the gathered company, "Brother, Ladies, good day." His personal guard moves to join those already stationed in the room.

Nimue looses a soft chuckle, entirely unperturbed as she watches the fine animal. "Indeed, I should expect nothing less from a princely companion.. if anything I am flattered he would consider me a threat." Her smile lingers, a brief glimpse of white teeth as she returns her gaze to the taller man before her. "There is no need for apology, I assure you. My father's own hounds are of a similar temperament.. suffice to say we all had more than a few nips to the fingers, as children." The temptation remains, as it does with anyone fond of animals, and the young lady steals a last look at the obedient dog before settling to a focus upon the Prince.

"He is a beautiful animal. Forgive my boldness in approaching without consideration.. nor proper introduction." Sweeping a strand of long hair back from her cheek in a seemingly habitual motion, she offers, "..Lady Nimue, of Sky Forest." No sooner has one introduction been politely offered does another figure approach. Nimue's handmaid draws her attention with a gentle clearing of her throat, prompting the turn of wide green eyes in Tyrel's direction and a graceful curtsey in response to his voiced greeting. "Majesty."

A servant runs up to Logen, "Your highness, your highness! Your royal brother has…" the news dies on the lips as he realizes the fast moving Tyrel has outrun the gossip.

At Tyrel's sudden appearance Logen is stiffened suddenly, "Stay." is the only thing said to the shepherd as the brother of the crown prince turns on his heel and in very uncourtly fashion proceeds to toss propriety out the window and sweep his brother into a huge hug. There are no words, but Logen is certainly choked on emotion as his grip tightens around Tyrel. After several long moment he lets go and steps back, "No more trips. No. more. trips."

A smile breaks slowly over Tyrel's somewhat tired looking face as his brother moves towards him. As Logen picks up speed and starts to spread his arm that look shifts to one of surprise, "Logen…Logen, Logen." He says attempting to stem the oncoming royal glomp, but there is no denying it and since dignity and decorum have already fallen away he wraps his arms around his brother with what mobility he has left. When they break away from eachother he smiles slightly, "If I did not travel, brother, then I would not receiving greetings such as this, and I would miss them." His hands lower to his side subtly correcting the lay of his clothes and leather. "We will talk soon, I heard rumor of trouble, then news of worse as I was returning."

Remaining respectfully lowered, one shoulder dipped forward before herself as is the custom of her elegant curtsey, still Nimue permits herself a barely-suppressed smile at the effusive display from one brother to another. It's hardly something she would frown upon, but then things are very different here at court. Forcing herself to composure - not without some difficulty - the young lady presses her lips in a firm line until that almost-grin is quelled. And breathe. Her handmaid and attending guard also, of course, curtsey and bow, respectively, toward the Crown Prince. And neither one of them seems in danger of laughter. How typical.

Glancing aside a moment, keeping her gaze swept low even as it's cast through the silken curtain of her long hair, Nimue steals another look at Duke. No, the dog isn't smirking either. Just her, then. Good thing her features were tilted downward. Caught inadvertently in this little tableau of reunion, she can do nothing but hold her posture, entirely out of place but seemingly quite accepting of it.

<FS3> Tyrel rolls Perception-2: Good Success.
Even with the glomp, a pretty lady's smile will always catch a lord's attention.

"Yes, later… and you must meet my wife when she is feeling well enough or not at work in the infirmary." Logen then turns back to Nimue, "Forgive me m'lady. I, have not seen my brother in some time." A glance to Tyrel, "And we'd left things on a sour note… so." he sighs and looks back. "Prince Logen Kilgour, and allow me to introduce my elder brother, Prince Tyrel Kilgour, Marshal of Mobrin." He looks to Duke, "Duke, mark." The shepherd is pin point turned and to Logen's heel in seconds.

Tyrel looks over at Logen as he mentions the sour note and a brooding cloud darkens his face but it breaks as he looks back to Nimue. "Lady, you do your family credit bringing such a pleasant air to such a day that has been full of such dark tidings for me. I look forward to seeing with what brilliance you shine on a bright day." He then moves to leave, "You will both excuse me."

Thus released, Nimue rises slowly back to her full, diminuitive height, venturing a shy glance between the two Princes as her hands gently smooth her skirts. Maybe she should sometimes dress as over-the-top as other young women here at court.. but alas, it cannot be helped now. "Your majesty has no need to apologise.." she assures Logen, first and foremost, her vibrant eyes holding upon him as she speaks, "..being parted from family, regardless of the whys and wherefores, is trying for all concerned."

A swift smile is spared in admiration as the hound so promptly obeys his master's beckoning, and then it is to Tyrel that she looks. It's odd that so soft-spoken and apparently gentle creature should at the same time carry herself with such a quiet confidence and poise, but Nimue certainly manages not to quake in the presence of the Royals. "Majesty.." she murmurs, again. "I doubt I shall be the first or the last to utter such insufficient words in your presence.. but welcome home." It's a kindness to say so - this is far from home, and she hasn't been here particularly long. But judging by the response of those in the hall, Logen included, it seems he has been dearly missed.

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