(514-02-02) Feasts and Festivals
Summary: Arian and Kamron discuss the differences between pagan festivals and Christian feasts, with a cameo by Daveth.
Date: February 2, 514
Related: Ghostly Festivities
arian kamron daveth 


The Festival of Candles is just a matter of days away, and the Laverstock brood is preparing for their travels to Stonehenge. The Farmer's Market of Sarum is an ideal place to find those last-minute necessities, and so that is where the young Lady Sir Arian de Laverstock can be found with her ill-tempered minder and what looks to be a page around the age of eight. The boy is heavily laden in what appears to be bundles of evergreens and the tiniest of flower buds. He shifts about his pack, looking morose at such a lowly job for a page.

Arian looks a touch morose herself, looking over a bushel of late-harvest apples that somehow have survived the winter, perhaps thanks to a well-made cellar. She plucks up one of the small, red and gold fruits, turning it over in her hand. The merchant looks hopeful as she brings it up to sniff at it, but she does not seem overjoyed by the apple despite its good shape and fragrance.

Kamron is in Sarum for religious reasons as well, having just filled his belly with food and wine at the Feast of the Presentation and witnessed a miracle — at least what some would call a miracle. Thoughtful now, he wanders almost idly through the Farmer's Market, his attention on… apparently nothing. He is paying enough attention, however, not to walk past the familiar lady knight, slowing a few paces shy of her when her profile catches in his distracted brain. "Ah, the lovely Lady Arian. Still in Sarum, I see. If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were waiting around for someone." Gesturing a little dismissively, he chuckles easily, "But I believe you already denied that, so as I say… if I didn't know any better." The bundles of green in the February dullness stand out sharply, "But you are clearly quite busy, but is the apple business or pleasure?"

"I'll take the lot," Arian tells the merchant, much to his surprise. He stutters out his requested payment, and she doesn't even haggle when she presents him with the needed coin. Morla casts the Laverstock woman a suspicious look, but allows her to handle the business without her direct intercession. At the sound of her name, she looks up and around. She blinks at the sight of the Dinton, and her smile quirks slightly. "Hello, Sir Kamron," she says, her voice a bit austere. She glances back at the page who has taken a moment to set down his bundles to stretch his arms and wriggle his mitten-covered fingers. "Oh… I suppose the apple business. We're on our way to the North soon." She gestures offhandedly. "But, no, Sir Kamron. I'm not waiting around for anyone… except perhaps for my brothers to be ready to leave." She offers the apple in her hand out to the page, who eagerly takes it with a murmured thank you. "What about you? Why are you still in Sarum?"

"The Feast of the Presentation." Kamron half-turns back to gesture toward not the giant Cathedral, but the smaller abbey in the northeast quarter of the city. "Celebrating the presentation of the infant Jesus Christ at the church." And then her words actually sink in, and he frowns in thought, "To the North? And here I thought Laverstock was to the east, and Dinton to the west." Now he's just teasing her, a little laughter touching his words. And then something clicks, and he nods to himself, "Ah yes… Stonehenge. I would have thought the little celebration for your people would have been in Laverstock. It's quite the trip for a commoner to make his way all the way to the 'Henge."

At his gesture, those glass-colored eyes travel up to the looming cathedral. The structure sends a small uncomfortable shiver down her spine, and she looks away quickly to resume her focus on Kamron. "Oh yes… I had heard about that. Quite a ceremony, I've been told." She turns to the vendor. "I'll send someone along from House Laverstock to pick up the apples." Then she steps away, though her attention falls back to Kamron. She frowns slightly. "Most do not travel that far, but we do…" She doesn't hestiate in being honest this time around, as if she has already decided that there is little point in being bashful. "Not for every Feast Day, mind you… but we long for winter to be over, and hope for good news from the Goddess."

Kamron nods along, the revelation… not exactly surprising him. Disappointing, perhaps, more disappointing than he expected, but not surprising, "I was wondering just how involved you were personally." He steps away from the stall, gesturing an invitation for her to walk alongside him, and then offers his left arm, "You know, the Romans have a great deal to say about pagan rights. Very dire, very curious." Frowning thoughtfully, he offers also, "I was raised with fewer protestations of Original Sin, and the understanding that everyone can do and be good, whether or not they are Saved."

Arian hesitates, and her mouth thins as she regards the Christian Knight. His offered arm is given a serious consideration, and she relents — but not before a certain degree of awkwardness has befallen them. She steps forward, taking his arm with a light touch unlike other times where her shoulder almost presses into his and her strides are closely matched with his own. She casts a glance over at Morla, whose expression has become more soured at her charge so easily giving in to the knight. "Well," she says albeit dryly, "I'm sure if the Romans say so…" Then she does look a touch affronted however. "I wasn't aware that I required saving, Sir Kamron…" Then she drops her gaze away, watching the market more than the knight. "The Festival of Candles is meant to honor Brigid… she brings the light, and fire, and warms the earth for the harvest. We honor her, and the coming of Spring, at the Festival of Candles. I would say that is not terribly dire."

Kamron notes the awkwardness, and he retreats into courtesy, "Of course, Lady Arian. As I said, however, my own teachings and training are less rigid. I'm sorry, however, for any insult I may have given. It is certainly not my intention to insult any lady, particularly one who is so charming when she smiles." To his credit, he actually listens to her explanation, and even inquires, "And how is the goddess of yours honored?" He even manages to curl one corner of his grin upward, "Or is it something that would make a poor Christian knight blush to his toes… or his ears, as the case may be."

Arian should smile when he compliments her, but he'll find her smile lacking in its usual warmth and dimpling. She glances down at her feet as they walk, and does not look back up until several heartbeats after his own question — and grinning joinder. "You would probably expect me to say that we all gather naked, dancing before a fiery bonfire, and engaging in lustful passions with whoever dares to cross a hungry Pagan's path." She smirks a touch, but breathes out a slow exhale that sinks her shoulders a touch. "We light candles… and a bonfire, yes. And there is dancing, but none is naked. We have a feast, often with foods we have saved throughout the winter for the Festival. The first newborn lambs are blessed, and some sacrificed so the Gods will sooner lift the veil of winter." She flexes her fingers slightly at his arm. "And often, intentions are made and favors given from hopeful lovers to those they wish to court. It is a popular time for the beauties of the manors, both man and woman, to seek attentions and see if those attentions are returned."

Critical Fail!
Kamron checked his chaste at 13, he rolled 20.

Okay, so maybe Kamron had been thinking something like that. The description reddens his ears, and he clears his throat, "Of course not." He still doesn't lie well, certainly not when he's not just treading around the bounds of courtesy. "That sort of thing is just folk tales, I'm sure." Good ones that are whispered by young Christian men throughout Logres. He nods along with the description of the rites until she mentions sacrifice, and then his lips thin. There isn't much to ask about that, however, and so the later commentary gets his attention, "And are these attentions as you would see in the court of Sarum, or are they more what you would see in a common room?" He just can't help himself, "It seems a little early to have ladies dancing about the fires with flowers in their hair, no matter how beautiful the image may be, considering that so few flowers have blossomed yet."

Success
Arian checked her lustful of 13, she rolled 2.
Failed.
Arian checked her awareness of 10, she rolled 16.

Arian finds herself amused despite herself, despite her earlier decisions about the Knight beside her. "Of course not," she repeats as he denies her accusation. Then she muses a moment, looking away toward the vendors who have turn to nuts and dried harvest in these latter months of winter. "I would say neither, Sir Kamron," she offers after a moment of thought. "It is about…" Her brow furrows slightly. "It is about desire." Then she shakes her head as if dissatisfied with that initial description. "Yearning. I've seen the most revered Ladies accept affections from the lowest of Knights… even if there is no chance that affection would ever been acknowledged or accepted in court." She smirks slightly. "Or the common room." Despite the hopeful way she describes the Festival, there is a heaviness that seems to afflict her. She offers a forced smile to the Knight. "My cousin is certain to have quite a few brave men approach her on that night, bestow to her their favor. Sometimes it is the only time one feels worthy of affection."

Words can stir imagination, and Kamron is fighting that tendency right about now. Her explanation eventually suits his mores, and he nods slightly, "That sounds almost romantic, actually." He probably shouldn't sound so surprised, but he smooths that away with a gentle smile, that remains in place despite her own forced expression. "And you intimidate the fools about you? Or at least the fools who you wish would offer you their… affections? That is the only reason I can imagine why a man would not want to see your bright smile light up your eyes."

Critical Success!
Arian checked her lustful of 16, she rolled 16.

"It is romantic." Her voice has gone soft, almost smoldering at the Knight's assessment. "It is perhaps the only time when someone can be honest with their hearts." There is just a moment where she has drawn closer against him, and their shoulders are pressed again and her fingers warm his forearm. But then she becomes aware of herself and quickly steps away, leaving the berth between them once more. "I am not expecting a favor this Festival." She offers him a soft, self-deprecating smile. "I suppose that, yes… I intimidate. But oft it is because, while alone, I am quite favored… but when the beauties of Lorges gather together? I don't compare."

Kamron rolls his shoulders unconsciously beneath his cloak a little, suddenly very cognizant of both her fingers warm on his forearm and the weight of the small iron cross hanging around his neck beneath his tunics. Oh, and the minder and page behind them. Clearing his throat to buy time to gather his thoughts, he shakes his head slowly, "You wrong yourself, Lady Arian. Every good and true woman has her beauty. Yours is in your strength and surety." Looking up to the market about them, he lets a crooked little grin slip across his lips, "And your smile and eyes. The nose is nice too. And the jawline, of course. Strong and fine."

Arian feels her cheeks warm as they pink, and she is finding an interest in her feet as they continue to walk through the market. "All good things, I'm sure… and all things that interested boys and men have considered… but…" Her mood lifts a touch, only to falter again as she lets her mind turn rational despite the warm hunger that builds in her chest and belly. "Your compliments are welcomed, Sir Kamron… though I think they are all for naught, don't you?" She tilts her head slightly, her attention on him now focused, waiting for any betrayal on his features.

Kamron's smile spreads as she blushes, a low chuckle rising in his chest. He starts to open his mouth to answer off the cuff, and something about the weight of the question causes him to delay, his smile fading away as he considers her words. "That depends on what you mean by 'all for naught,' Lady Arian. The compliments, and the sentiment behind them, are true. I would not play false with something like that." Assaying a smile and falling back onto humor, he chuckles quietly, "If you want to know if I will participate in a pagan rite to make sure that you receive the affection, as you call it, I think I will have to demur."

Arian's smile stays in place, even if the corners tighten a bit. She stops their advance around the market, turning to face the Knight. "Please, Sir Kamron… don't. You really needn't bother to say anything else." She glances toward the page, who has almost no interest in the interaction between the knights. He looks up and blinks as he becomes aware of the lady's attention on him, trying to quickly discern if he has missed something. The knight slips away from Kamron's arm, stepping to the page to retrieve one of the tiny boughs of evergreen leaves and barely awakened blooms. She steps back to Kamron, offering out the evergreen. "You should come to Imbolc. Not to participate… just watch. Might be good for someone of your faith to see how dire and curious our festivals are."

Success
Kamron checked his just at 16, he rolled 3.

Kamron stops as she does, half-turning toward her without releasing her arm, "Oh?" When she steps away, he rubs his bare hands together, watching her move away and return, his smile faded now and replaced by a thoughtful frown. The evergreen is studied warily, and he rubs his hands together again before his gaze rises up to study her clear eyes, "I… am uncomfortable taking that without knowing the full meaning of the gesture, Lady Arian." He actually sounds a little miserable saying it, and he is quick to add, "But I think it only fair to get a first-hand view of the festival, so that I can judge for myself."

Failed.
Arian checked her proud of 13, she rolled 17.
Failed.
Arian checked her modest of 7, she rolled 9.

Arian's heartbeat in her ears marks each passing second that Kamron regards the offered evergreen. Her smile weakens, becoming almost watery before she pulls herself together before she allows herself to give into all those things they say are features of her so-called weaker sex. The evergreen falls away slightly, and her focus drops to it. "Merely an invitation," she says, the lie given easily even while she takes a step back, and turns her hand around the evergreen blossoms. Her smile widens a bit touch, though it still is quite lacking compared to others she has graced him with. "Then perhaps I will see you there…"

Arian and Kamron are merely walking the Farmer's Market, though they have stopped not too far from a vendor who has a handsome harvest of nuts for sale — good, hearty foods for the winter when there are still several weeks or more of chill ahead. A keen observer might notice that they both are looking terribly awkward and in desperate need for some intercession before things get worse…

It might not even take a keen observer. Kamron looks down at his feet for a moment, then steps forward to hesitantly reach out toward Arian's forearm with his left hand, just a little grazing brush of fingers on cloth. "I will be there, Lady Arian. I cannot promise you will see me there, because… as of yet… I know nothing about the festival. But I will promise you that I will be there." He grimaces just a touch as he remembers something, "Although it will mean delaying another departure for a short while."

Critical Success!
Arian checked her merciful of 10, she rolled 10.

It's at this point that a composed, yet plainly tipsy young Christian priest makes his way from the eastern parts of Sarum, over to the Farmer's Market. He seems to be taking a digestive walk, more than anything else. The short, unassuming man of the cloth espies the tense couple, and intervenes in an unobtrusive way as he passes by. "God bless ye on this fine evening, good people," he offers, smiling easily to both of them. "Today, we celebrate the victory of God's people against conspiracy most foul!"

"Well, at least that is something," Arian says with a comforting smile — though the smile is more for the Dinton than it is to suggest her own soothed being. The Knight tucks her hands deeper intoher cloak, and there discards the evergreen blossom behind her so that it can merely disappear from sight and mind. She turns away quickly, hand fluttering up to dash at her cheeks. That is when her gaze falls on the priest, and she intakes a breath to further pull herself out of the embarrassment of this moment. She intakes a breath, and offers the man a quick nod and smile. "Yes, and to you."

"It is indeed." Saved by the priest. Kamron looks away from Arian just in time to let her dash the moisture from her eyes without him seeing it, and allows him to compose himself a little better, "God bless you as well, Father, all glory to God Above." There's a little touch of laughter, and he adds, "And thanks to you and yours for the feast. A delightful way to celebrate the victory of the faithful."

Arian lapses into silence for a moment as she watches the interactions between the Knight and the Priest. She waits several moments before she gestures slightly. "I hear the ceremony and feast was quite lovely… I'm sure that it was a great wonder to those in attendance." She shifts uneasily from foot to foot, giving a bit of space between herself and Kamron. Behind the Lady is an elderly, sour-faced woman who must be the noblewoman's minder and a small page laden with bundles of evergreen and newborn blossoms. They both offer polite greetings to the priest.

"Are you two familiar with the story of the Deliverance?" Daveth asks, attempting to sound reserved, and not at all like he's quite absorbed in his love for God and his works in the world. Thanks to the ale he sampled earlier, he may not sound as composed as he'd like to be. "Quite grave, but a riveting story, nonetheless. A proof of our Lord's watchfulness against base treachery."

Critical Fail!
You check your religion at 4, you rolled 20.

Kamron looks over to Arian, "Actually, the highlight of the afternoon was the dead knight whose faith was strong enough to bring him back to find those willing to help rescue his long-captured son." Looking back to the priest, he adds, "Although the sermons and the feast were excellent as well." He shakes his head a little idly at Daveth, "It's actually the deliverance of Sir Ifron's son that I'm concerned about at the moment. It was quite fascinating watching the spirit interact with the table, never quite there." Evidently, he is quite distracted from his lessons, even those which were reinforced only earlier today.

Arian, perhaps wearied from reality, merely shakes her head when the priest asks if she knows the story. "I'm afraid, I do not, father. I was not told many Christian stories." Which perhaps may suggest she's not much of a Christian, if she is one at all. Kamron's addition at least breaks her somewhat from what is doomed to be a rather pathetic continuation of this afternoon's events. "A dead knight?" She furrows up her brow, and for a moment, she looks skeptical. She begins to frown. "Is that a common occurence?" The question is posed to the Priest instead of the Knight, relying on his knowledge than Kam's at the moment.

Daveth peers at Kamron as he waves off the story of Purim, but his eyes widen when he mentions the dead knight rising to restore freedom to his son. "That story ought to be told, but… this Sir Ifron, he rose from his funeral bier? You must be cautious, sir Knight. The Wyrd works in strange ways. Do you know the full circumstances surrounding the return of the knight's unquiet spirit?" To Arian he replies, "Only when mighty oaths and great desire remain do the restless return to their bodies. It is not God's will that a man live beyond his allotted time. Yet, no oath sworn in earnest may truly be circumvented, until it is fulfilled."

Kamron shakes his head at Daveth's questions, "He walked into the Chapel feast, but swore on a cross and in the name of Jesu Christo that he had no harm in mind for us and only wanted to see his son freed from his captor." Laughing a little too readily, his eyes a little too wide as he remembers sitting there at the table, the knight shrugs, "I do not believe it is common. I certainly have not seen it before." She may not have asked him, but he's going to answer, nodding at Daveth's words, "You'll have to excuse me, Father, but this struck me as rather important, and has dashed the story of the Feast of the Presentation straight from my head."

"Hmm." Arian glances toward the cathedral that looms in the distance, and then back to the priest and Kamron. "I don't even know what to think of such a tale… I suppose that there is power in all holy days." She shifts slightly before she turns to the page and Morla. "Go back to the inn… my brother will be wondering where we are… I'll have Sir Kamron escort me back," she says this more to satisfy her minder who is already on the edge of protesting at being sent away, though Kamron has apparently painted himself as harmless in Morla's eyes as she relents. The pair start off across the market, leaving the Laverstock alone with the priest and Dinton knight. Arian looks to Kamron. "So, you have accepted a mission from a ghost, Sir Kamron?"

Daveth just closes his eyes and smiles softly at Kamron. "Go with God, my children, and take care to swear no oath you cannot fulfill." With that, he's off down the street, to continue his quest for munchies.

Kamron bows his head to the minder and offers the page a smile as they depart, then turns his attention back to Daveth and Arian, "Presuming that the Earl allows it, several of us have agreed." He nods to Daveth, "If the justice of the situation had not called to me, I would not have done it. Go with God, Father." He bows his head and crosses himself before he straightens up, looking back to Arian, "And now you see, Lady Arian, what it is I may have to delay to fulfill your request."

The Pagan watches the Priest as he departs, bobbing her head gently in farewell. "Blessed be your journeys, father," she says softly. Then she glances back to Kamron, folding her arms together under her cloak. "If the Earl allows it, you shouldn't delay on my part." She offers him a small, almost apologetic smile. She steps away from the nut vendor now, no longer anchored by the Knight's arm. She casts a glance back, noting just once the fallen evergreen blossom before her attention falls back to the Knight. "I had thought that perhaps you were departing for other reasons."

Kamron watches her drift for a moment, then he steps forward, offering out his left arm once more. His eyes flicker in the wake of her own gaze, but return to her features again quickly, offering up a slightly-tight laugh and a smile. The awkwardness is not gone, but he presses on anyhow, "You thought there was something less important than a quest of justice from a ghostly knight that was calling me away from your side? And just what could you have thought would distract me from a promise, Lady Arian?"

Arian glances down at his offered arm, and she rolls her lower lip a bit between her teeth before she takes it — out of kindness. Her touch on his arm is light, but at least there is a touch. She shrugs slightly. "You are not beholden to me, Kamron." She glances up to him. "You needn't come to my side when called, though I can respect your desire to uphold a promise." She casts a glance to the nearest vendor, using the meager baker's goods as a distraction. "What was it that the ghost wished you to do then?" She glances his way, brows slightly arched.

Kamron watches her worry at her lip, his smile slipping broader without a thought. The use of his name alone burns in his ears, and he arches one brow, "Is it not enough to enjoy your company, Lady Arian? I would not have made the promise that left me beholden to it if I did not." Leading the way through the sparse market, he allows the diversion to the… safer… topic, "Sir Ifron. More than a score of years ago, his son was taken by a Cornishman during the Battle of Terrabil — the first one. The late knight wants his son freed of his bondage."

The Laverstock Knight looks startled by his words at first. Her brows furrow together deeply and her lips downturn slightly. Nothing about this is going the way she wishes it would, so she sinks into courtesy and allows her confusion to sour her belly. She does not respond to his question, but instead looks away and merely speaks to the safer topic they have broached. "More than a score is a long time for a hostage… there is no telling what to expect. He may not even be held against his will anymore."

Kamron frowns thoughtfully at her response, nodding, "Indeed. That is actually my concern. If his kidnapper has raised the young boy," who is now just about Kamron's age, actually, "from such a young age, he could view the villain as his true father. There has been some discussion of my cousin and Lady Seren perhaps accompanying us, to ensure that we do not seem quite the armed host." Tilting his head to one side, he arches a brow in question, "If you would be comfortable in the midst of a Christian host, with a quest given on a holy day, I'm certain you would be welcome. Another skilled sword and pretty face could be helpful, to say nothing of the keen mind behind them both."

Success
Arian checked her suspicious of 10, she rolled 3.
Failed.
Arian checked her courtesy of 5, she rolled 14.
Success
Arian checked her generous of 13, she rolled 2.

"Ah," Arian says flatly at the mention of his cousin and Lady Seren. She looks down at her feet once more, weighing the Knight's offer. "I will come if you think I will be useful to your cause, Sir Kamron," she replies after that thoughtful silence. Her fingertips drift slightly at his arm as they cross another sparse vendor trying to make the best of this late winter. She shrugs her shoulders a bit. "You should check with your Lady Seren and cousin to see if I would be welcomed first, though…"

Failed.
Kamron checked his awareness at 9, he rolled 12.

Kamron glances down at the motion of fingers at his arm, finding that he is intensely aware of that warmth. And quite unaware of the change in her tone. "It may be a question of faith, of course. I do not know how they would feel about having a Pagan on a quest begun in an Abbey. I don't see any issue with having a valiant and intelligent knight and lady along, so long as her heart is true, but I should ensure that the others feel the same, you're right."

Kamron may not mean it, but his words only further sour her belly as she is reminded how unwelcomed she may be. Arian puts on a small, tight smile and nods. "If they do not mind my presence, I will come along…" She lapses once more into silence as she watches the market now as the afternoon dwindles toward evening. She turns her gaze to the west, where the pale winter sun is already sinking to the horizon and threatening the night. But, the moon is already risen and glowing, and Arian finds herself looking up at the swelling guise.

Critical Fail!
Kamron checked his modest at 13, he rolled 20.

Kamron shakes his head slightly, offering up a laugh that is not quite as easy as his usual, "Of course you will. Because everyone wants to spend more time in the presence of my charming personality." He would normally cut himself deep there, but there's something about how the woman has gone quiet and subdued that inspires something else entirely, "Besides, how often do you get to complete a quest from a ghost? And one who likes to drink as well."

Arian arches a brow at his sudden boasting, whatever silent prayer she might have been offering to the moon faltering before it can begin. "I thought I was being offered because I am a vallant knight and a Lady as well." She smirks. "I wasn't aware that it was just to be in your presence." She shakes her head after a moment. "But, no… a ghost is not oft to give quests, particularly not this time of year." She looks to their lazy, aimless path across the market now.

Kamron presses his right hand to his chest, "Oh no… We get a valiant knight and charming lady in our party. You get the pleasure of my company. And the opportunity." Lifting his brows slightly, he adds, "He did, however, offer the hospitality of his hall, once his son was returned to his home. And really, that would be a story to tell the children, enjoying the hospitality of a ghost's hall…" And then he blinks, frowning thoughtfully, "Particularly not this time of year? Do ghosts give quests more often to…" he hesitates, "…is there a better term to use than 'pagan'?"

"How blessed I am," Arian returns dryly. "I suppose my presence is just to sate your own ego, then. Though I don't see how I would be needed, given the company you'll already be keeping." She considers his positive points toward his given quest, and she offers a small shrug. "Would be a fine story to tell… will certainly become quite a legend in time." His frowning question draws her brows up slightly, and she shakes her head. "No… Pagan is… fine." She then gestures aside slightly. "The veil between this realm and that of the dead only thins near the end of the harvest time… more common for spirits to slip into our world."

Success
Arian checked her religion of 10, she rolled 6.

Kamron chuckles easily, "Oh, a knight who looks less like a metal-sheathed monster and more like a beautiful lady could be very helpful indeed in Cornwall. After all, we are not particularly well-loved there after three major battles there within a single lifetime. And improving the obvious ratio of ladies to warriors without adding someone else who needs to be looked after could be invaluable." The information about the pagan outlook on the spirit world draws a slow nod as they pass a potter's stall, the knight glancing over the wares before looking back to the other knight on his arm, "Veil between realms?" Nodding slowly despite the incredulity in his voice, he considers, then continues, "A time when angels and demons can more readily touch the world of men. It seems a dangerous time."

The Laverstock purses her lips thoughtfully at the Knight's attempt to understand such things. "It isn't… angels and demons. Or at least not how you think of them… spirits include those of who have passed. They are not always kind though, seeking to reconnect with those of their family still living. Some can be ill-tempered." She gestures offhandedly, knowing she cannot fully make the Knight understand, but she at least tries — perhaps out of a futile hope.

Kamron shrugs slightly, his right hand turning palm-up at his side, "Well, you see them as spirits, I see them as angels and demons. Could it not be two ways to see the same thing? Whether they seek to guide or tempt, does it matter what they are called?" Reaching across his body to pat the back of her hand lightly, he chuckles softly, "If it makes you feel any better, the Spirit of Sir Ifron de Ansford was very jovial, and quite willing to swear in the name of Jesus Christ and on the cross. I think he is not one of the bad sorts."

Arian hesitates at his compromise, but the soft touch of his hand against hers draws a bit of weary air from her, and she offers a small nod. "I suppose so," she relents. "I suppose they could be the same." His reassurance does make her smile return — light and easy without the full blossom of dimples. "I'm not concerned one way or the other, Sir Kamron, though I'm pleased to hear that." Again, the normally energetic Knight draws herself into quiet contemplation. The market is starting to empty — not that it was terribly busy to begin with.

Even Kamron will eventually notice when his partner in conversation has gone quiet, and he nods slowly, despite the subdued smile. "I assume that this is when I return you to the care of the estimable Madame Morla." He waits a moment, then adds, "Did my presence interrupt your vigil before Imbolc? Is that a thing, a pre-festival vigil? Or do only we Christians do that?"

The Lady Knight draws her cloak around her as she drops her hand from his arm, stepping back a touch. "No, you needn't bother with that. I just told Morla that so she would be comfortable continuing to the inn. I have something else to tend to before I retire to the inn." She pauses, drawing her lip between her teeth again. "No… you didn't interrupt anything… I volunteered to get the bay laurels and the blossoms… we will be weaving them tonight and tomorrow, which I suppose is a vigil. They will need to be blessed before the festival."

Kamron drops his arm to his side as she steps back, disappointment flickering over his features. He looks down, gathering his cloak around him and brushing his fingers over the just-released forearm under the cloak. "I know you don't need the escort, Sir Arian, and if you'd prefer, I'll take my leave now. I… don't much like leaving things undone, but I don't wish to impose on you any longer."

There is a hesitant moment before her glass-colored eyes lift to meet his. She reaches out to gently touch his wrist despite its withdraw into the cloak, fingers lingering on his bare skin. "Thank you, Sir Kamron… for the friendly company. Do let me know what your Lady Seren and Sir Cynderyn say about the quest to Cornwall." The petite Knight steps closer, rising up to the balls of her feet to touch his cheek with those soft lips. The second time she has dared to kiss his cheek. She then starts to slip away, her fingers sliding from his wrist as she does. She turns to southeast, back toward the Farmer's Quarter.

The connection of their eyes draws a little smile back to Kamron's lips, and then there's the strike of lightning at his wrist. The energy runs up his arm to his spine, and he unconsciously turns his hand over beneath the touch of her fingers, his own fingers brushing the inside of her wrist. He's a little more prepared for the forward dart of the lady knight this time, with her previous demonstration, but he still does not pull back—his cousin would be so disappointed. It still leaves him quiet and still, a minor miracle in its own right, and eventually he murmurs far too late, "Fare thee well, Lady Arian." She's already out of earshot, and he shakes his head to clear it.

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