(514-04-21) The Market Flowers
Summary: Spring brings bright flowers to Eagle Market.
Date: April 21, 514
Related: None directly
arian eirian fayne kamron custennin heulwen martyn morag 

It is April. The first day of Spring has come and gone, and there is a powerful sense of rebirth and life in the farmer's market. Flowers are being sold, as well as seeds and nuts. A recent rain has passed, leaving the dirt of the market square wet and somewhat muddy, but otherwise fresh and pleasant having washed away the refuse and washed away gathered dirt and grime from the buildings. The cathedral bells softly toll the early afternoon hour — a pleasant lull between meals.

Lady Sir Arian de Laverstock has journeyed into Sarum to enjoy the spring day, and wait for her cousins. Her light woolen gown is an earthy green, embroidered heavily at the hems and wrists in flowering vines. Her hair — quite short for a lady — has been twisted up with a vibrant yellow ribbon so it is out of her eyes and off her neck. She is standing before a flower vendor, breathing in the scent of a bucket of multicolored blooms.

April's beauty draws out all manner of people to partake of the warmer air and quickening energy in the world. Such expression occurs everywhere, a byproduct of the warmer days, the longer bouts of pleasant weather coinciding to the excitement for Arthur's impending wedding. Inside the walled town of Sarum, even those delicate blossoms never exposed to the open sky except during the most sheltered moments stretch out their arms and meander together in clumps of two or three. The market won't see many of them afraid to dirty their boots and their shoes. However, the blue sky and freshness to the world are perfectly attractive to an unescorted young woman in a long wool bliaut and a hooded cloak. Eirian carries a basket full of simples and sundries plucked from the forest, a gleaning probably worth plenty in trade for those merchants refusing to head out to the river.

Dark hair piled up with an abundant supply of wildflowers might just be sufficiently exciting to mark her to those who know her. Delicate primroses and meadowsweet linger together, and she floats by the vendor selling similar things, exclaming softly. "Are those celandines?"

Having arrived in Sarum earlier that day Fayne is taking his time and wandering the market. Clad in a tunic and breeches of black wool and black leather boots the tall Stapleford man is practically dressed with a sword and dagger resting in thier sheathes at his belt. He strolls around by his self eyeing a few of the rarer types of flowers curiously. Drawing closer to the stall where Eirian and Arian linger he studies a collection of small blue flowers curiously. "A rare specimen…you hardly ever see flowers that shade, the conditions must be just right…" He mutters quietly mostly to himself and then he lifts his gaze from the flowers noticing the two ladies beside him. "Oh…hello." One he doesn't know but both women get a small if a bit awkward smile. "Lady Eirian…it is a pelasure to see you again." He looks to Arian and furrows his brow a bit as he tries to figure out who she is. "I don't think I've met you before though…Sir Fayne de Stapleford at your service." He offers a polite bow of his head to them both.

"Forget-me-nots," Arian points out to Fayne when he notes the small blue flowers. "Rock flowers… they can squeeze their tiny roots through the cracks of rocks and find the soil beneath." The Laverstock woman smiles, her dimples in full. Eirian's own inquiry has her brows raised slightly, but that is a flower type that she is not familiar with, so she has the vendor field the question. When Fayne speaks to Eirian and then to her, she turns slightly to regard both and bobs her head in an appropriately polite fashion. "Merry met. Sir Arian de Laverstock." She tilts her head, eyes slightly squinted as she regards Fayne. "Are you one of the Aunts brood?" Speaking of course of the infamous Stepleford aunts, of course.

The rain may have passed, but Kamron de Dinton is still wearing his cloak. After all, having just come in from Dinton, he and his companions likely rode through it. He is escorting a woman who matches his height (unimpressive for him, but more impressive for her), and he is grinning as he leads the woman with the sibling resemblance through the stalls, "No, I'm not looking for anything in particular, Wen, I promise." The words are accompanied by a touch of laughter, which may have been brought on by incessent little-sister needling, possibly even about the little band of pale yellow ribbon that she may have noticed wrapped around his left forearm when he pushed his cloak back in the face of the pale spring sun.

Gigantic, scarred, and pensively scowling, Custennin makes his way through the throng with a little more ease than might perhaps be expected - though that most likely has something to do with the eagerness with which many people clear a path for him. His clothing is fine, in a mixture of black, white, and dove-grey, but he lacks the specific accoutrements that might mark him out as a knight. Perhaps surprisingly, he is making his way quite firmly towards the flower-sellers… though his gait falters a little as he sees the cluster of nobles already gathered there.

Following her brother's lead, Heulwen not only sticks doggedly to Kamron's heels, but she also pauses to pull back her hood and flip back the edges of her cloak now that the rain has ceased. Her movements almost seem to mimic his in every way. She lifts the hem of her skirts and dances around a threatening puddle before catching him up again, and her tongue clucks against the roof of her mouth in mock disapproval. "Of course you aren't. It's an everyday sort of thing for you to wander around a market 'just browsing'," she replies, offering him a smug smile along with a nudge in the ribs from her elbow. The two pause to let a gaggle of ladies pass, and then cross from one side of the walkway to the other to glance over the stalls as they might. Her attention falls on the flower-seller some yards away, and she spares a glance toward the ribbon on Kamron's arm with an amused half-smile. "Either it is due to the fine weather and the ability to be outdoors, or perhaps it is the result of the wedding, but I do believe love is in the air, brother." She lifts her chin to gesture toward the crowded stall for emphasis.

"Properly wet conditions without the direct touch of the sun satisfies them. They pop up happiest in the boglands along the river. One cannot have enough of them," Eirian submits her knowledge with an idle wave of her hand, playfully casting away a lock of dark curling hair tooling around in front of her face. "Wet feet favour forget-me-nots and willows in equal stead. Less the more delicate flowers we know cannot stand snow or rain, wind or sharp look." The smile from Fayne warrants a dip of her knees under the gown, as far as simple curtseys go, the basket on her arm overwhelmed by the small floral larder she's found. Some of those choices are rare to find in a field, and speak to roaming around a forest. "Sir knight, what fine company to find myself in. And another of your kindred? Sir Arian, well met." Laughing blue eyes illuminate from within as she sweeps the vicinity of the market around the floral stall, finding much to be rather exited about. Familiar faces are a blessing. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Had I known so many would come, I should have arranged for a proper repast. It's lovely out here." Standing upon her toes, she brushes her hand against her brow. Is that disturbance what she thinks it is? Yes. Yes, it is, and a friendly wave becomes a bit too enthusiastic for modesty's sake. But then, she's a damn pagan right down to the delicate lunar bow inscribed in silver on her brow, suspended by a chain. What the hell is modesty?

"Quite lovely," Arian agrees in a small voice, though she does offer a small all the same between Fayne and Eirian. When the latter scopes out the market, the Laverstock finds her own pale eyes sweeping the stalls, pausing once at the scarred giant who draws her brows high, and then landing squarely on Heulwen and Kamron. Her smile doubles, showing teeth and dimples. She offers the vendor a few halfpennies, and collects the bucket of flowers she has selected. It is heavy, but the weight hardly phases the knight as she draws it up into her arms. She lifts her hand then in distant greeting to pair of Dintons, inviting them over to join the ever-growing cluster of nobles.

Kamron 'oofs' lightly at the elbow to the ribs, but his grin lingers on, "I've been known to…" and then she points out the ribbon that peeks out from under his sleeve, and he clears his throat, hurriedly tugging it down over the wrapped and re-wrapped ribbon, "You are welcome to think whatever you like, Wennie," now he's just trying to annoy her back. Still, he follows her gesture toward the group at the flower stall, "It's not a favor. I told you already, I haven't asked for a favor nor have I received one." His smile spreads a little and he leads his sister toward the gathering, inclining his head as he approaches, "Sir Arian, a pleasure as always." The others before the flowerstand get another nod, "Sir Kamron de Dinton and my far-too-inquisitive sister, Heulwen de Dinton. It is wonderful to see so many of Salisbury's best and brightest out and about on this fine spring day." The arrival of the Falt knight draws his right hand up, "Custennin, it is good to see my kin out and about as well."

Fayne's eyes widen in delight as Arian offer up new knowledge for him about the blue flowers. "Merry met." He offers back with a soft smile using a pagan greeting with no issue. The question has him nodding. "Yes, I'm Lady Diana de Stapleford's oldest." Looking back to Eirian and he smiles once more looking a bit awkward but still rather happy that she seems to think him good company. "It is lovely out here, its excellent weather to be out exploring the countryside. Unfortunately my family insists I take part in the upcoming tourney…"

Custennin blinks in surprise, brow unfurrowing as he spots Eirian's wave, realises it's aimed in his direction, and identifies the lady responsible. A broad grin emerges amidst his beard, and he rather self-consciously raises one hand in response - rather bashfully including Arian within the wave when he sees her looking his way. A momentary hesitation precedes the resumption of his progress, now aiming directly at Eirian. It seems that her presence makes risking the proximity of the other nobles worth the while of the ugly brute. Then he espies Kamron as well, and receives his warm greeting. Bowing deeply, he rumbles a response. "Sir Kamron. You are most kind. My lords and ladies."

"Of course it isn't," Heulwen murmurs, but her skepticism is wildly obvious - as is her knowing grin. Still, a sister can tell when she's pushed her brother just far enough, and so she desists that line of teasing. One hand flutters up to rest on Kamron's forearm as she rises onto her tiptoes, peering above the heads of some passersby when her attention is drawn by movement at the stall. "Oh, Sir Arian!" Her steps are quick as she accompanies her brother toward the group, and while she greets the known knight with a very warm smile and respectful dip of her head, her sharp gaze strays toward the unknown faces. Said smile softens somewhat, but she bobs a polite curtsey to Eirian and Fayne when her name pops up in the introduction. This is punctuated by another forecful nudge to Kamron's ribs with her elbow. "Merry met," she replies before trying to engage Arian in direct conversation. "A bucket of flowers, Sir Arian? I confess myself surprised, yet the wild colors do suit your complexion so. It would make for a lovely portrait, you with this wild array in your arms. Whatever are they for?"

Said scarred giant would be the one the dark-haired girl serenades with a jaunty greeting, and Eirian de Burcombe knows nothing of the business of subtlety about this manner of saying hello. She further glances askance where Arian looks to the pairing of Heulwen and Kamron, the similarity in features possibly granting some insight into their relationship. "'Tis a popular spot to be this afternoon." The spotted yellow and purple flowers in her hair ripple with light. "Sir knight, Lady de Dinton," she offers as a greeting. The introductions begin anew, and with her it is simple. Dipping her head, she says, "Eirian of Burcombe Manor." Custennin is well and very truly in danger of a more vibrant greeting, the young woman's hands clapping together lightly and her poise straightening a fraction. "How good it is to see you today. Have your wanderings taken you far and wide, or are you confined to these same walls as we?"

When Heulwen notes her bucket of flowers, Arian dimples lightly. "I'm quite fond of flowers," she confesses. "And the more mixed the colors, the better." Then she breathes out a sudden exhale, trying to look content as she speaks the next words, "I will be spending time with my Lady cousins brightening Laverstock. We've already done away with the winter weights." Then she turns to Fayne and Eirian, offering a gentle gesture. "Sir Kamron, Lady Heulwen… this is Sir Fayne de Stapleford and, you hav just met Lady Eirian de Burcombe." She casts Kamron a warning look at the name of the manor house. Dintons and Burcombes never get along… Now she turns her focus up — and indeed up — to the giant. "And merry met to you, Lord Custennin."

Kamron chuckles at Fayne's words, "'Insisting,' sir? Oh, have you never participated in a tourney? I find them quite entertaining, personally." And then he 'oofs' at another elbow to his ribs, "Ow, dang it, Wen." And then he blinks in surprise as his sister uses the pagan greeting. And then, of course, there's a Burcombe, and Kamron's smile freezes before he forces it back into mobility, perhaps at Arian's warning look, "God bless, Lady Eirian, Sir Fayne." And then he gestures between the women, "Those are wonderfully fetching bouquets, Ladies. Quite suiting to you both." A little chuckle rises to his lips again, "I would never have guessed you had such an attraction to wildflowers, Sir Arian. With such a love of nature that you have."

Fayne bows his head politely to Kamron and Heulwen as he is introduced. "A pleasure to meet you both." He falls silent now his expression turning thoughtful and a bit unsure as he looks around at the growing crowd. He almost looks a bit out of place just standing there without adding anything more to the conversation at least until he catches the warning look Arian gives Kamron. He looks to Eirian and offers her a small but reassuring smile. But then Kamron is speaking to him and he looks back blinking. "I have…just not that often. I prefer to quest in the countryside…" Which is Fayne speak for going out looking for historical sights and uncovering lost lore.

Several knights, lords and ladies are gathered around a stall selling flowers. The flush of April wildflowers makes for good business, as does the drying soil after an afternoon rain. Blue skies studded by fluffy white clouds and the departing charcoal veil of rain welcome those who seek fresh air cleaned of the dust and debris usually present.

"Oh, we should do the same, brother," Heulwen coos, eyeing Arian's array of flowers with a bit of longing before pulling herself back into the conversation. Her attention is drawn inadvertently to the looming cousin (or distant relation of some sort) - something that cannot quite be helped - and she tilts her head back to gaze up at Custennin with widened eyes. "God bless," she murmurs in greeting, perhaps a bit too taken aback to be her usual ebullient self. Glazed, her focus drifts ever so slowly back to Kamron, and then to Fayne, and then suddenly time seems to speed up once more. She blinks once, owlishly, and clears her throat. "Questing in the countryside, good Sir? And for what do you search?"

In spite of his bodily size, Custennin looks a little overwhelmed by the gathering of unfamiliar nobility… but manages to find a warm smile for Eirian and a half-bow for Arian. "You are most kind," he repeats - sounding as if he means it. "And… I have explored a little, but during this visit not ventured far beyond the walls. With wedding and knighting on the horizon, it seems that my kin and lieges alike wish me to be kept busy within the city."

The prospect of dimples and greetings soften perhaps any prospect that Eirian might cause for offense for the Dintons. Yes, the house may not get along with her own. Nonetheless, she resembles nothing more threatening than a scrap of linen blowing around in the wind. A curve of her mouth deepens a smile, friendly enough. "You are kind to say so, Sir Kamron. The earth gives up quite a treasure this year, and surely a sign of favour upon the Pendragon and all his people." She laces her fingers together beneath her sleeves, and sighs softly. "Have you been out into the woods much, Sir Fayne? Truly it's splendid at this time of year, and the last flush of the early blooming coming uon. Until the trees are fully in leaf, all sorts of unexpected things can be found." The tilting smile fades off into shadows as she takes her time to ascertain all the glittering distractions. Too many as the task may be. "Forgive," she says softly. "The wedding! But of course, I do have something for you on that score, Lord Custennin, if you dare permit me be so bold. I am reminded while everything else swirls around. It isn't here, though, and if you would care to escort me at your leisure, I can make sure you receive it. The whole is rather delicate, so you may need to keep it safely stowed, I fear."

Making his way along the market stalls, Martyn is stopping every now and then to look over the wares on display there. His steps take him further along, ending up taking him over towards the people at the flower seller. Stopping once more to look at some of the nearby wares, nodding a little at a leatherworker. "Looks quite nice," he offers quietly to the merchant.

Fayne looks to Heulwen with a look thats part surprise part faint excitement that someone is even remotely interested. He offers a warm but uncertain smile to the lady. "Historical landmarks and other such places where I can uncover lore on both the mundane and the otherworldly. There are some amazing sights to be seen and much to be learned from them. I study and try and learn as much about the places I visit as I can." There is a passionate interest to his voice as he speaks of this, as though this is where his true intrest and heart lies. He looks to Eirian and smiles warmly. "I had planned to venture into the wood nearby again at some point soon yes. And indeed, all kinds of things can be uncovered if one simply looks. Perhaps I could convince you to come searching with me sometime Lady Eirian?"

Arian's smile turns impish at Kamron's observation — or joking observation. She plucks a flower from the bucket — a bright lavender flower with sunny centers — and immediately offers it to Sir Kamron. "Since you are such a joker, you must now take this flower and allow your sister to tease you for a Lady giving a Knight a flower instead of the other way around." Though she is also a Knight too, but who is counting? She then smiles to Heulwen, offering a small wink. Then she turns back to the others, regarding Custennin, Eirian and Fayne in turn. "Questing the countryside?" She chimes in with Heulwen. "Sounds fascinating." She tilts her head. "What do you quest for?"

And then Eirian mentions the wedding, and Arian's eyes widen. "The wedding!" She almost fumbles with the bucket. "Oh gods, I have forgotten that is coming so soon…" And the woman known for her shy court appearances and simple choices of attire looks fretful, her brow furrowing deep.

From the opposite side of the market comes the Burcombe who was born on the other side of the blanket. (Though she often likes to note that she's quite certain no blanket was present during her conception.) A flower wreath rests on the crown of Morag's head, and her basket appears full of herbs both fresh and dried, as well as tiny bottles that clink gently against each other. Spotting the little gathering, she sees someone she recognizes, and well, if she didn't recognize her own cousin there'd definitely be something wrong with her. The healer-priestess walks up to the clutch of people, and as if she had a perfect right to do, sidles up to Eirian and starts to try and braid a curling bit of bluebell flowers into her hair. No direct interruption to any of her conversations, of course - unless the smacking kiss she presses to the other woman's cheek counts before she smiles amiably to those speaking to Eirian and goes right back to braiding in the scrolling flowers unless she's pushed off.

Kamron's chuckle is rueful this time, his right hand crossing his body to rub at his left hip, "I've found questing about the land rather more painful than tourneys, for my own part, Sir Fayne, but I do take your point." Heulwen's suggestion causes him to laugh a little more openly, "Yes, we can get you some flowers, Wen." When he is given a flower, he glances down at it for a moment, blinking, and then shrugs helplessly, snapping off the stem so that he can tuck it behind his right ear, "Thank you, Lady Arian. And you should not worry about the wedding. There will be so many people there that only those who are admiring you will be looking in your direction at all."

"For my part? Ahh, I was hoping to find wildflowers, in part. Suitable ones. But there seems to be something of a demand for them," Custennin answers Arian - rather perplexedly watching her reaction… before blinking. "Oh. I meant *my* wedding. Not the royal one. I am due to be knighted and wed, before the royal wedding and tourney. It is a little daunting. But fortunately I have some friends to assist." He ventures another smile at Eirian. "Though… you have thoroughly intrigued me. Should I come with you now to collect this… delicate treasure, my lady?"

Fayne's suggestion brings a flowering of excitement and an assertive nod. "As soon as your duties allow you, I will anticipate your invitation." The mild effort Eirian makes to disguise her pleasure is about as effective as an eclipsed sun, or turning back the River Avon. It simply won't work, except in token measure. The primrose and violet crown adorning her dark hair is a mirror, no doubt, of Morag's; there are two Burcombes so graced by flowers. Basket of simples over her arm, there can be little doubt of their connection. Nor does she start when her dark tresses end up woven with bluebells, an ideal complement to what she already adorned herself with. Delight flickers across her expression, a mask slipped sideways. What blanket matters? Old ways are old ways. She scoops her arm around the priestess' waist briefly in an informal hello, rather than rely on other methods. "Lord Custennin still requires flowers for his bride, I imagine. And we can scour some quiet meadows under watch to find them, should we not? This close to Beltaine, it ought not to be a difficult task. I think it a charming present, in fact, and put myself forward to do it if anyone wishes." Full mouth compressed together to hide the grin trying to form, she instead dips her head.

Dimples abound with all the smiling ladies, and Heulwen's cheeks are no exception; they appear when she watches Arian present her brother with a flower, and she laughs merrily as he tucks it behind his ear. Reaching up, she brushes some of his hair back and secures it more firmly so that the stem is all but invisible. "Now do you not look the dashing knight, Kam? I like it. The color suits your eyes." Her grin turns impish, and she casts a wink in Arian's direction as she speaks. The conversations continue to flow around her, splintering and rejoining in new and mutating subjects almost too quick for her to follow. While her gaze darts among the faces, there is little left for her to contribute, so she contents herself with staying close to Kamron while picking over whatever flowers might be leftover at the stall. Needless to say, the selection has thinned quite a bit in the past half hour.

Arian blushes vibrantly when the giant offers that he was speaking of his wedding, even if the reminder prompted her to become socially awkward concerning the royal wedding. She shakes her head, dropping her head a bit shyly. "I'm very sorry, my Lord… I'm sure you're wedding will be lovely, and I would be far more excited to attend yours." Which perhaps says quite a bit about how nervous large social engagements make this Knight. She then looks over toward Kamron as he adjusts his flower, and Heulwen makes sure it is secured. She laughs lightly, relaxing once more despite her earlier moment. The Laverstock glances toward Eirian, offering the Burcombe Pagan a small smile.

Morag finishes her ministrations to Eirian's hair, and tilting herself in a lean so that her shoulder touches to her fellow Burcombe's, before letting her gaze slide toward the others present. "Danu's blessing to you all." she offers in greeting, her smile steady. There's a method to her madness; such a greeting will likely determine who will be tolerant and who may choose to recoil from her pleasant, if heathen visage. "Or just to those of you inclined to recieve it in good grace." Hey, she's a Burcombe, even the bastards like to stir just a touch of trouble now and again. Grinning, she adds to Custennin, "May you be blessed with many healthy children."

A nod and another warm and perhaps even somewhat delighted smile is given to Eirian. "I will send an invitation as soon as I can manage then." Fayne looks excited but he tries to keep is as concealed as he can. Glancing around at the growing crowd he isn't quite sure what to do with himself. So he stays silent for now, calmly watching the other people here talk amoung themselves.

Kamron looks over to Custennin, his brows rising, "I hadn't heard, Custennin. I presume that congratulations are in order." He stands still for Heulwen to adjust the flower further, smiling at his little sister indulgently, "Yes, yes, get it just right," and then steps over to reach way, way up and clap the Falt on the shoulder. Morag's greeting causes him to flash a broad smile at the woman, especially when she leans so easily into the other Bucombe, "God bless you as well, mistress." It's the safe greeting, not knowing her rank or name, and offered politely and easily. Looking back to Heulwen, he adds, "I really should get back to my shopping, Wen. Would you like to stay here with these delightful ladies and courteous knights?"

Having finished that shopping at the leatherworker, Martyn shakes his head a little bit as he looks around. There is a brief pause as he looks over at where the flowers is sold. There's a brief pause as he looks around, before he moves over in that direction. Slowly, so he will not cause any disturbance in the crowd.

"I believe that I could pre-empt coming into my future rank a little, and invite Eirian to bring a friend or two, if she so wished," Custennin answers Arian, looking to Eirian for confirmation. "And thank you, Sir Kamron. I suspect that you will already be on the guest list, but I can certainly add you if you so desire. But I should be on my way to collect this gift of the lady. So…" Morag receives another half bow. "Thank you, my lady. Your kind wishes are very much appreciated. And to all, I bid a good day."

Heulwen sighs quietly, deciding that tomorrow will bring another fresh batch of flowers. She draws back from the raided stall and closer to Kamron once more, watching with wide-eyed curiosity as he speaks with very, very tall man. Her brother's query is enough to recapture her attention, however, and she shakes her head quickly. "The ladies are delightful as you say, Kam," she replies quietly, flashing a brief smile to Arian, "but I am growing a bit weary and I would much rather help you finish and return home. I've a great many chores to tend to, in any case, and my loitering will not be appreciated, I think. Sir Arian, I hope to see you at the wedding if not before then."

"Mother Don favours us all," Eirian adds; the sweetness of her voice mingling with the lower tones of her cousin. A knowing look slanted aside towards Custennin, and for those who think all Burcombes stir the pot, clearly she is the changeling child among them. Those brilliant blue eyes turn towards Fayne briefly and a nod is transmitted, and then she has no choice but to withdraw upon the matter of flowers and presents. "I yearn for the brighter days and longer hours, I think. Forgive me that I should have to take advantage of this now." Arm bent slightly, she extends her hand towards Custennin. "If I may? The destination is not terribly far and, with it, we might be able to dispense with something without fanfare. Let all the joy be upon you and your intended." The warmth and familiarity in her voice is almost identical to what she uses for Morag, and Fayne's not far behind. Lo! "Cousin, if you wish to catch up with me later, I would be delighted to show you what I found. The wood sorrel is remarkable. And we might brew a fabulous tisane!"

"Arian!" the name is called from across the courtyard, and there is a rather dour looking woman with a stern upper lip and jaw. She waves at the Lady knight to come forward, and she winces slightly. "Forgive me, I'm being summoned." The Knight smiles slightly toward the others, and then she starts to step away toward where the old woman awaits her. Arian hoists up her bucket as she departs, shaking her head slightly. Whatever she says to the woman is well out of earshot, but she at least gets a smirk in return.
Heulwen pages: No, I'm not drinking. It's just too busy a scene.

Morag bites at the corner of her mouth around her smile, as if to keep back something that might otherwise get her into trouble. "I look forward to it, Coz." she says to Eirian as she flitters away, like Eirians do. Turning her attention to those remaining, Morag offers to Kamron - and anyone else who's not familiar with her - "I'm sorry for having you at disadvantage. I'm Morag de Burcombe. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

Kamron nods to Custennin, "I'm sure Mother would have brought me along in any case, Custennin, but thank you for the kind invitation." Nodding to his sister, he offers out his arm again, "Well then, let us progress through the market, dear sister." Bowing his head to the others present, he intones, "Good day to one and all." He recognizes the sharp voice calling out the Laverstock's name, flinching just a little and then chuckling. He gives Arian an almost apologetic look, and then flashes a broad smile around the rest of the group once more before leading his sister off, "So… who will you be surprising with a gift next, Wen?" Just some banter between siblings as they wander on, Kamron now with a flower tucked behind his ear.

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