Sess 17, 229: Fishing for a Ranger

Fishing for a Ranger
Summary: Baroness Wenna and Baron Caedmon come upon a drunken fish of a Ranger and reel her in.
OOC Date: 3/3/2014 (OOC)
Related: Any of the Lakeshire wedding ones.
Wenna Caedmon Victoria 
Lakeshire Beach
This is no sandy shoreline by any means, but a rather pebble and rock choked region, with a veritable forest of broken boulders. Sides of these massive rocks are riddled with cracks and worn down into strange, warped shapes by the tide and the wind. Lichen has painted bright patches on the upper portions of the stone, while below is slicked here and there with layers of a thin, greenish slime. Lake seaweed often washes up, long tendrils of the stuff splayed out like limp fingers, the stench from them not quite overpowering the already strong smell of the lake.

The coastline continues onward into pebbled beaches and rocky tide pools, with the periodic flaring of beach grasses here and there. The waters themselves are blue-gray, flecked in the distance with white caps of foam and waves. Sea birds can also be spotted in the air and distance, fishing in those places where fish can presumably be found. From this vantage point, one can watch the ship traffic from the great harbors of Lakeshire.

Sess 17, 229

Victoria is seated within a rock pool, water gently lapping around her as little sea creatures dart around her bare feet, woman dressed in full leathers, hearing the merriment of the wedding even all the way down here, damn carousing carries on the air. Tethered to her are bottles of wine which float out away from her, clinking occasionally together, tied to her right knee. A bottle is in hand and her voice is raised up in a drunken song, her singing quite terrible, off key, "DON'T SPEAK. I KNOW just — just - WHAT YOU'RE SAYING. And …and …" Drink, "I don't neeeeeed your RReeaaasssOOOOONNNNS …." Arooooooo.

After walking for a long, slow time, Caedmon and Wenna wander down to the beach. "This is much better," Caedmon tells his wife while they plod at a snail's pace along the soft sand. "I knew that I should have drank another cup of tea, but I was hopeful that things would be … better than they —-" He breaks the sentence when he hears the loud, off-key, drunken singing. He frowns. "That sounds like a woman's voice. I'm no expert on drunks, but women don't seem to drink and sing like that unless they're sad. We should go and see if we can't help her.”

The smell of the cool night air and the sound of the lake water lapping against the rocky shore has Wenna inhaling deeply and slowly letting it out. Her and Caedmon are taking their time walking along the shore. She is dressed in a gown of amethyst silk and her hair is pinned up in a silver net. Star light and the pale light of Cri makes the gown look almost like liquid silver. He is also dressed in his fine clothing. The sound of the drunken singing has her wincing. "I think it is contagious, the wedding revelers is contagious. I would not be surprised if the old ones deiced to join in the merriment this night." She peers into the moon and planet lit night. "I think you are right my dear." She then kisses his cheek. "Another cup before you go to bed and I think we may have a rough night." She blinks. "Hrm..Hey Ho." She calls out to Victoria.

"Aassss wweeee DIIIIIIIEEEeeeeeeeee …both you, both youuuu and IIIIIIIIII…With my headdddd in my haaaaannnddssss I sit and…" And wait for her, she drops off to a deep note which reverberates in her throat, not unlike Princess Vespa's in space balls and her lonely tune, "Crrrrrryyyyyyyyy." Oh, company then, did someone call her a ho? Oh, no. Oh no! She may be a bit loose, but she's in mourning. A splash as she lifts a foot, going under briefly with a flail, then she's up with a gasp, thick curly hair now slick against her head and face, the wine bottle in hand dropped as both hands come up to push hair back, "/Ranger/, not /ho/." She'll call out, "I …I am not ..for sale." She'll sputter, bottles all coming to snag in together as she rises up out of the waters, leather dripping heavily as she tries to figure out who's coming.

While Victoria attempts to shift in her watery seat, Caedmon glances to Wenna. "That voice sounds familiar. Wait here. I'll step closer and see. Also, if she tries to attack, she'll only harm me and not you, too." Then he steps forward. "Ranger," he calls to Victoria. "My wife and I mean no harm. We are … concerned for you. I hope that you will take no offense at that." Then he looks back to Wenna and mentions, Rangers are usually men. This is quite uncommon. I have met only one woman who was a ranger, and that is Mistress Skyhawk.”

Staying behind him and listening Wenna moves forward. She stays far enough behind him so that if he needs to run he can. She peers at the figure in the star and light of the planet. Her foot falls are quiet and her eyes are wide.

Clink, clink. Her bottles will sound and keep her from early going anywhere quickly, indeed, she's busy drawing out from the rock pool, grunting a bit with effort, her back now to the pair as she pulls on her line from her knee, "Concerned for what?! You've …you've not seen my catch of the day." Giggle - she does not giggle. But there it is, followed by a grunt, the clinking growing more hollow as empty bottles are wrought up. Once free she will turn and stumble in the dark towards the pair with a deep sniff, line over her arm, bottles dancing together loudly, her hips swaying as steps stumble a little, bringing her closer into view, "Now …who's you …"

Caedmon steps toward the unsteady ranger while she is attempting to climb the dune toward them. He offers a hand to her. "I'm Caedmon," he answers, speaking in a quiet, reassuring voice. "Take my hand if you're unsteady. Neither of us will harm you," he repeats. "If you will forgive my saying it, you appear to have done some harm to yourself with those bottles." He glances along the beach, and he adds, "This is not a safe place for you, even if you are a ranger, if you've enjoyed too much wine."

"Wenna." Comes her response as she peers at the Ranger and her husband. She smiles a little and comments. "Perhaps you would like some food and or tea, to help balance your body. "That will help you." She offers. "Back at the inn, I do have my apothecary supplies." She says to him. "The fluid will help with the wine, or just join us for the walk back. Either way you will be better off for it. Partly because of what my husband did point out.”

"Baron, Baroness!" Victoria will enthuse, flopping forwards at the waist to give them both a truly delightful bow, "Why would I think you'd harm me, honestly, you've never seen someone drunk pry?" The woman will ask in an incredulous tone, flopping a hand out to wave off the assistance, "Nay, no harm no foul, drinking to memories gone by whilst you nobly types enjoy the joys of the thing that is marriage between folks who are /married/." Got that? Good. Up the dune she'll come, stumbling here and there, but coming up easily enough and once there she will sniff in deeply, "I'll walk you both back. Duty." Though thankfully she's /not/ on duty, having been given the eve off. Isn't Aldren nice?

Now Caedmon is certain of the voice. He nods and smiles. "Ranger Skyhawk," he greets. "I've seen many people who drank more than they needed," he confirms, "but you. I don't believe that I've seen you in this … condition." He glances back to Wenna before he adds, "As for the the festivities, they were more delightful to some than to others. We left to escape from the noise, and from some rudeness." He continues to watch while she ascends the dune, seeming to gain control of her footing with each step. "We'll walk together, and we'll watch out for each other, as friends should. As Wenna mentioned, you're welcome to come with us to the inn where we're staying. You'll have food there, and a place to rest.”

"Oh, I have many a memory I would rather not have, and they have a tendency to sneak up on you when you do not expect them to." Wenna confesses in a gentle tone. "Though be warned I walk slow. I think snails move faster than me on a dry summer's day." She adds. "But do please join us mistress, there be tea and bowl of stew.”

"I am sorry, I was out here for a reason, to avoid all who matter with …this." Yes, a haphazard flick of her hand to gesture to her leather soaked self, though with a sniff she will try to draw herself up most properly, "I have a tent, not far off ..Somewhere." A squint into the darkness, "Not at all near here." Admitted with a lopsided grin, her bottles brought with her and clanking together still yet making a musical accompaniment to their walk, "Slow is fine. I've not a hurry to anywhere this eve."

Caedmon shakes his head. "For now, you need sleep and a hot meal. You'll come with us to our inn. We'll ask for a room for you. We'll come and look for your tent on the morrow," he assures. "I imagine that Aldren will want to leave for Greenshire soon, and you should be with us. We never know when a good ranger might be of great help." He looks to Wenna and then offers his arm to his wife.

Taking Caedmon's arm Wenna leans against him as they slowly make their way to the inn and as they do they talk. She nods her head. " I really do think it will do you a world of good." She tells her as they continue to walk. "I think your tent is not far from the inn. How did you get up here?”

"You two aren't giving me a choice." Victoria will sigh mournfully, she can't have them telling Aldren she didn't listen to their words of advice, nor their invitation, "I sang my way here, following where the Mother told me to go, trailing her in the night as she beckoned me to drown my sorrows and keen my song." The Ranger states with a smirk, "I found myself fallen and thought perhaps the water would be nice, I was not wrong. And you, Baroness, Baron? Why venture out this way when danger lurks in the darkness.” Asked as she continues on with them to the lights of the city, eventually off into the Inn to get a room where she’ll crawl into bed and snooze the evening away.

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