Nar 04, 228: Shelter from the Rain

Shelter from the Rain
Summary: On her way to the Bard's Tale Tavern, Emerit gets drenched by a downpour. She meets two other women on her way there. One accepts her invitation to join her for a drink, the other declines her offer.
OOC Date: 07/07/2013 (OOC)
Related: None
Victoria Wenna Emerit 
Village Square, Darfield Village
This lovely little village stands in the shadow of Darfield Castle. Most of the local peasants reside here, working the fields and carrying out their daily lives under the protection of royal family. The cobblestone path veers off into darkness southwards towards the marketplace. Torch sconces illuminate the buildings and the narrow path at night time, shadows cast all about.
Nar 4th, 228

The humidity within the area is almost unbearable, dark clouds roiling above as rain slants down from the skies at an angle and hits the earth with warmth. The winds are coming in from the east, though they'll often start to change directions almost at a whim, as if one of the Gods or Goddesses or all of them were dancing. In this deluge is Victoria, leather hood drawn over her head as she walks in from the main road, a rucksack slung over a shoulder, her bow over her shoulder and her quiver of arrows on her back. Amber gaze is keenly looking around, steps taking her towards the tavern to escape the weather.

The heat and the rain have Wenna moving slowly down the road as she uses her cane to walk. Under one arm she carries a plain wooden apothecary box and over her shoulder is a canvas satchel that has been treated in pitch to keep it waterproof. Her dark brown hair is almost black from the droplets of water has soaked into it. She catches sight of Victoria and she offers her a nod of her head in greeting.

From the direction of Darfield Castle a small group is approaching - on foot, and obviously in a hurry to escape from the downpour. The slender figure leading the small group wears a hooded, dark green cloak, but just as the rain starts to grow in intensity, she lets her head fall back, welcoming the rain drops with her young face. As a a side effect her hood drops down, uncovering fiery red locks that soon stick to her head, but that doesn't bother Emerit at all. She stands there for a moment, her armes stretched to the side, chuckling happily as she gets soaked. The three guards behind her come to a halt behind her, exchanging helpless glances with each other until one finally clears his throat. "The tavern, your highness? You wanted to go to the Bard's Tale Tavern…?"

"Ah. Yes. You're right." Emerit replies lowering her gaze from the dark sky above to the people standing there with her. "Better get in there quick. My brother will be wroth at me… for entering it in this state, alas… This state will have to do, I suppose." Another light chuckle follows, and the young princess rushes towards the tavern's entrance, pausing for a short moment to offer the two unkown women a greeting with a nod, before she opens the tavern's door.

Victoria can't help but notice everyone on the same path as she, and at first she'll nod and angle her steps towards Wenna, easy smile playing over the tanned woman's lips as she eases in to fall alongside the woman with the cane, "Do you need some help carrying anything?" Unencumbered herself, since the majority of her belongings are slung in some manner over her body, allowing hands to be free and clear.

Then the nod from the woman with the escort, and Victoria raises her gloved hand upwards in greeting, feeling quite amiable on this gorgeous day.

"I am well dear mistress." Wenna says to her as she moves to step out of the way so the Princess and her entourage are able to pass. She offers a small awkward curtsy to them. She then looks back to Victoria. "It is my box, but if you would be kind you are welcome to join me in the tavern for a drink and you can get the door." Her accent is flavored with the dialect of Greenshire.

One hand still at the door's handle, Emerit turns, her moss green eyes studying the woman who raises a hand to greet her. One brow is arched, as she apparently contemplates something. Her guards meanwhile exchange another glance, one of them even gives a light shrug. They will have to wait in the rain until their princess finally steps inside. Thankfully, the Mist of the Island has made up her mind. Her eyes lighten up as she hears Wenna's proposition, and smiling amiably she addresses the two. "You there, and you too, woman. The rain makes us all alike. It does not care about the usual boundaries between nobility and common folk, as it drenches us all the same. Maybe you'll accept a drink from me. In exchange for tales and facts you have overheard during your work and travels…?" Noticing the glances of her guardsmen, she sighs and moves in finally without waiting for the women's reply. The guards follow her inside with a look of relief.

Victoria chuckles as she keeps her hood up, hearing Emerit's words as she looks to Wenna, "I would be delighted to join both of you." As for the usual boundaries between nobility and common folk Victoria will just shake her head with broad amusement, "Ah, the boundaries rarely stop a good conversation from occuring, your Highness." But then the woman is already heading inwards and Vic moves to follow, keeping her pace even with Wenna's so they can enter in together.

Down the street a young boy runs. The boy is about seven years of age he is dressed in brown breeches and jerkin. He runs up to the tall woman with the cane as he calls to her, "Mistress Wenna!" He hands Wenna a letter sealed in Wax letter. She nods to him. Breaking the seal she reads and frowns. She looks down at the boy, from her pocket she takes out some coin to give him. "Tell him that I am on my way."

She then draws her attention towards the princess and the Victoria. She raises an eyebrow at the princess. "Your highness of Mist Island, I would have to decline, it is very kind of you to offer such. I am certain your Queen mother would be filled with pride at your dedication to those who are freemen and woman and those who are beholden to the king and his family here. But are you not afraid kind Highness of scandals that may arise from your company?"

Emerit was inside of the tavern's walls already, and turning she has perceived Victoria's entrance. "I hope so. I do enjoy conversations, Mistress…? I am Princess Emerit Moniwid, a foreigner in your lands and delighted to learn anything new about… your customs… gossip… anything." One slender fingered hand moves upwards to push a wet strand of fiery red hair out of her view as she notices the other woman's absence. But her voice can be heard through the doorway that has been left open.

Few swift steps bring Emerit once again to the porch, and hearing Wenna's decline of her offer she lowers her head looking a touch disappointed. "I am sorry you can't join us, Mistress. The Queen Mother you refer to… It is not my mother. I am Princess Emerit Moniwid, from the Duchy of Rustle Island. A stranger. And no scandals will occur, I assure you. Three competent guards are watching over my safety."

Victoria stamps her feet as she steps into the tavern, hood pushed back off her head, dry hair given a ruffle before she yanks off her gloves and tucks them into her belt, cloak pushed back over her shoulders then as she walks in further, looking around to see who is here and who she recognizes, "Mistress Skyhawk. Victoria." Answering the Princess as she moves to a table and drops down into a chair. Waiting for a lovely beer wench to come around and give her a mug of ale, "Victorer — pleasin' seein' you 'gain." The lovely blonde busty woman intones to the Huntress, "We have a Princess joining us today-" Victoria states twisting her head 'round to look over her shoulder at the guards.

"Princess, your guards cannot protect you from loose tongues." Wenna points out as she turns to leave. The boy has taken off and is running back out into the rain. She soon is out of sight.

Bard's Tale Tavern, Darfield Village
The Bard's Tale Tavern is where the locals come to drink, game, talk, and generally relax. The atmosphere in the main room is crowded, smoke-filled and noisy. In the southeast corner, to the right of the main door as you enter, is a large stone fireplace; on the other side of the door, a window shows the flickering torchlight from the village street. The furniture is coarse, yet comfortable; mostly plain wood, but a few of the chairs have upholstered seats. Hardly any of it has escaped the years unscathed, though; nearly every table, chair and barstool carries nicks, dents and stains, whether from bar fights or simply clumsy customers. The wooden floorboards are regularly swept clean.
At the far end of the room is a long bar, and on the wall over it a large, hand painted sign. Behind the bar you can see a door leading to the tavern kitchen. A staircase along the west wall leads up to guest quarters where weary travellers can rest and relax.
July 7th, 228

Emerit watches Wenna as she vanishes in the rain, her demeanour thoughtful for a moment, which makes her look very young. "I have guards…", she replies vaguely, but Wenna probably doesn't hear her anymore. And so the Mist of the Island shrugs and returns to the table Victoria has picked. "Aye, a princess.", she adds to the serving wench. "A princess in need of a drink. What might you have here? A cup of wine? Ale? I would be fine with either."

"Oh, you'd like their honey mead here, your Highness." Victoria suggests as she gestures to the wench, "Two, please." Fingers raising up to further the request before she rolls her shoulders back, water dripping around her seat to the floor from her cloak, east smile upon her lips, "I find it strange, your Highness, I seem to fall across the paths of many nobles lately. And now you, today. Fine company, I won't complain but .." Lips tug to the side in a lopsided smile, her golden gaze dancing brightly, "I seem to find myself in fine company often. What brings you to this tavern?"

"Mistress Skyhawk. Might I inquire, which House you are sworn to? You must be, as you mistook me for a daughter of the Queen…?" Emerit replies, casting a sage glance towards Victoria. "Mead well be fine.", she says to the serving wench, removing her drenched cloak and handing it to one of the guards. She wears a plain dress in unobtrusive dark blue, but as the attentive eye will see, it is made of a high quality fabric. Emerit's moss green eyes lighten up as their gaze returns to the Skyhawk mistress. "What brings me to this tavern? The hope of catching some fresh gossip, I suppose. I hope you can offer some…?"

"Oh no, that wasn't me-" Her slender hands raise up to ward off the idea that she mistook, "I'm afraid that honor goes to the other woman who's name I did not catch unfortunately." A light roll of her shoulder, smile bright, "I am ..sworn to House Forrester. I'm one of his personal escorts. Ranger of Sky Forest." As for gossip, the woman will consider this, waiting for the two mugs of mead to be brought. When they are she will reach for one, the wench curtsying deeply to the obviously noble woman Emerit, "Ah .." Reaching out mug is drawn in and lifted up to her lips, a slow drink taken, "Mmm!" Yes, right hand lifts away from the mug as if she just caught one, "There was word the Princess here was quite ill, word was people thought she might die."

Emerit listens attentively to what Victoria has to say, taking a sip from the mead as soon as the serving wench returns with those two cups. "House Forrester. I see." she remarks, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity. "A ranger, indeed? The kind one would need for a hunt?" A pause, as Emerit digests the news about Princess Caillin. "Aye, I've heard that. I have met her. Poor creature.", the Bastard Princess remarks, moss green eyes clouding with worry.

"Yes, just the same, Princess Moniwid. I am a quite proficient huntress as well." A laugh then as she tilts her chin in towards her chest, head canting slightly towards the side as her cheeks rise up in color merrily, "Ah - I do not wish to brag but I won the archery competition at the Festival yesterday against many formidable opponents." Yes, she'll just toot her own horn, mug raised again to get drank deeply from, "Mmm, yes. But I also just heard last night during festivities that she's better now, or so some of the servants have been saying, I'm not sure to be honest. I have to admit I've only been here a few weeks and gossip has been .." Lifting a hand up in the air lightly, wiggling fingertips, "Mainly about one person. OH!" Ha, she does have some, "News, really, Prince Tyler Kilgour is to be married. Yes. I saw him yesterday at the tournament, and his lady is /beautiful/, from a tropical isle I believe."

"You won at the archery competition?" Emerit echoes, beaming with excitement. "I am sure such a position offers a lot of opportunities, for adventure and the like…?" The mention of Prince Tyrel though seems to dim her enthusiam down a bit. At least slightly. "Well. I've heard that rumor as well. But it is not my island he chose his future queen from. I hear she is from House Aberdeen, Princess Ciarrah. My sisters are very beautiful and accomplished. I wonder why Prince Tyrel chose to overlook their qualities to choose this bride instead…" Another sip of the mead is taken, Emerit's cheeks coloring already a little from its effects.

Victoria raises up her mug and gestures it towards the Princess, "Yes! Last rounds I was against ah, Prince Abderdeen I believe, and beat him rather soundly." Ha, too pleased beyond words the Huntress will listen further to the Princess as the conversation soon drags away into waters she's not sure she wishes to wade into, "Ah, Princess, I have to admit when it comes to matters of ..that sort I'm woefully undereducated on why …anything happens the way it does. My knowledge is out there-" Out she points with her mug, "Where things are a lot less complicated and everything makes sense."

"Prince Conall Aberdeen. He's my cousin. His aunt is my… stepmother of sorts." Emerit replies before thinking. The cup is emptied, soaked fiery red locks shaken a little, as the Mist of the Island listens to Victoria's words. "So true. I can't even claim to understand the deeper secrets of… politics and match making…", she mutters. But then a guard enters the tavern, his livery fitting all too well to that of those three guards that already accompany Emerit. Leaning over to her he whispers confidential words into her ear. And so the Bastard Princess rises, regret showing quite openly in her demeanour. "My… brother awaits my return. I am sorry. The bill will be on me." She gestures at the serving wench who offers a nod. And then she rises and vanishes through the door, four guards with the coat of arms of House Moniwid following in her wake.

"Yes! That's the one. Prince Conall Aberdeen. I'm terrible names." Said as her fingertips snap together as if the name had completely escaped her, "And is he? Interesting. Well, I'm slowly starting to patch at least who is who together." A likely lie, as the Huntress is wont to pay attention to other matters. Golden gaze watches curiously as the guards come in and speak to the Princess, Victoria taking her time with her own mead, watching the exchange with mug against her lips, slow sips taken. Finally as the woman rises up Victoria does the same, her mug set down and a bow flourished, "Your Highness. It was a pleasure, and thank you for the discussion. Perhaps we'll cross paths again." And then she's gone, Victoria settling back into her seat with a shake of her head, "How am I running into all these bloody nobles moths to a flame. Or vice versa." So strange. But she will sit for a while in quiet contemplation.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License