(514-04-25) Stable Banter
Summary: To pass the time somewhere dry during a sudden storm, a group gathers in the warmth of the stables.
Date: 514-04-25
Related: None
amalthea lysanor martyn heulwen bradwyn 

It's rainy. The fields are muck, and the weather only looks to be worsening. Dark storm clouds crest the horizon, spewing angrily on everything in their path. It may only be early evening, but for those unfortunate enough to be caught out in the mess, it might as well be black as a raven's wing. Conversely, Dinton's stables? Warm, dry, and very appealing. Inside the small wooden building burns a cheery fire, well tended by one Lady Amalthea de Dinton, who sings off-key while she brushes and soothes the few horses Dinton boasts of.

Having been out and about, it was just a little too far back home to Baverstock as the weather came over Martyn and his horse. And since he was far closer to Dinton, he decided to drop by there, until the weather clears up. Now he's reached that destination, dismounting and leading his horse over in the direction of the stables. "Hello…" he offers in the direction of the one inside there.

With the weather turning for the worse a small party approaches Dinton asking for shelter from the storm. After a bit of discussion and introductions they are permitted in, as the horses are lead to the stables. Among the few horses is an average size man looking to be a hired servant or the like, but there is also a giant of a man. Standing at a full six feet in height, he wears a hooded cloak to give some relief from the rain, though he looks soaked through the bone even with the hood up. Once in the shelter of the stable and the horses led under the tall man removes his hood and looks about with strikingly blue eyes, clearly trying to find the one in charge of the stables. As Martyn arrives at nearly the same time the other man is offered a nod in greeting, but as he clearly isn't in charge of the stable the blue gaze finds the tall woman as a charming smile is offered, "Who oversees the stables my dear?"

It may be unusual for a lady to tend to the stables, but nonetheless, there one appears when summoned, all good cheer and dry, if humble, clothes. If she's armed for her own protection, it doesn't show. Instead, Amalthea comes armed with a bright smile and an exuberant greeting. "Caught out in the storm, were you both? Bring your mounts in through the thoroughfare here, won't you? I've several empty stables towards the back. I fear you were not the only ones with the ill fortune of this soaking." There's a beat, barely space for a breath, and Amalthea points to herself. "Lady Amalthea de Dinton, and I am the stablemaster here. May I know your names?" Her eyes sparkle, like she might enjoy announcing her profession.

Martyn nods, expression a bit unreadable, which probably is because of the weather. A smile and a nod is offered to Amalthea as well. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Amalthea. I'm Sir Martyn de Baverstock." A brief pause and a nod offered to Bradwyn as well. "You as well, Sir…"

Bradwyn smiles as the stablemaster speaks, then comes the title and he grows a bit more serious, but not fully. Sir Bradwyn de Idmiston, returning home after my time among House Tisbury. An honor to meet you Lady Amalthea." bowing his head with a bit of courtesy. His name as well as that of House Tisbury may or may not be known as the houses of pagans to the those present. He then starts to lead his horses further, relieving the servant of the reigns of the horses they were leaving, seemingly an extra set of hands for so many horses. He then returns the nod to Martyn, though clearly his interest is more on the lady.

"Sir Martyn, a name I have heard before, I think," Amalthea replies ponderously, scratching her chin with a single ragged fingernail in thought. "Certainly Baverstock, with whom we are allied." She trails after both men, the better to oversee their mounts. "And Tisbury I am aware of, though not quite so fluently. A pleasure to meet the both of you, though I apologize for the circumstances." Because the rain is all her fault, of course. "Still, we shall have your mounts - and yourselves - warmed up and fed in a trice. Might I offer you something warm to drink after I rub the horses down, Gentlemen?"

Nodding slowly as he steps inside, Martyn smiles. He pauses a little as he hears Amalthea's words, "Wait… that incident at the market in Sarum…" A brief pause, before he nods again to what's said. "Well, none of us has frozen to death, my lady. So there could certainly be worse circumstances." Offering another nod and a smile to Bradwyn as well. "You picked a bad day to travel, I suppose." There's a brief pause as the lady mentions something warm to drink, and he nods, "That would be quite wonderful."

Bradwyn smiles softly to the woman's words as though to some internal thought but doesn't voice whatever it is. Instead he says, "Something warm would certainly be appreciated lady Amalthea, as would something to eat. I am honored by your generosity." He then nods to Martyn and says, "It would appear you have as well Sir Martyn." as he ducks down, perhaps out of habit as he walks deeper into the structure, seemingly unbothered by the ragged scars on his face, marring a face that may otherwise be quite handsome.

"If you both follow your noses to the fire," Amalthea gestures to the contained circle of fire, surrounded as it is by large stones, "there is tea in the pot hanging there, and some stew in the pot next to it." Two pots hang on a spit where the lady indicates, the smaller filled with tea and the larger with the aromatic stew. "Help yourselves, the dishes are on the ledge behind the fire keeping warm. I shall see to your mounts and join you in only moments, if you do not mind?" She's already a flurry of action, all lithe, swift movements as she starts rubbing down one wet horse with a warm, dry towel. "I hope the rest of your party fares well, the both of you?"

Moving to the fire, Martyn takes a few moments to stretch out a little. "Ah, excellent…" he offers, before he nods at Bradwyn. "Was out on a small trip, didn't get back home in time. Since I was near our dear neighbors here, I decided that this was the better chance to get out of the rain." Moving to get himself some of the tea and stew. "Thank you, Lady Amalthea."

Bradwyn nods and asks, "Do you have any in the way of strong drink Lady Amalthea?" in a respectful tone, allowing her to escort his horses away, which largely shiver, shake, whinny, or lean against her as they are brushed as though to give their own version of a thank you as Bradwyn goes to fill his bowl and takes a seat by the fire to warm his bones.

All goes as planned. The horses are well cared for, tucked away to wait out the storm in the coziness of the firelit stables. It doesn't take Amalthea long, given her soothing-yet-firm command of the creatures. She continues to chat with their owners, though, as she goes about her work. "You are more than welcome, Sir Martyn. It is the least I can do after my unfortunate collision in the market caused you to delay your business in attending that poor woman I ran in to. Tell me, does she fare well, the lady Laurwyn?" She says it abashedly, a blush creeping upon her cheeks. If he doesn't remember, she certainly does, though Bradwyn's question is good enough to distract. "I am afraid I do not, Sir."

All are gathered in the stables, the two men around the fire serving themselves tea and stew from the pots hanging over the flames, while Amalthea tends the horses. It's a stormy, stormy night.

Martyn nods a little, taking a sip from the tea. "I have not seen her since that day, but she was brought to the healer, so I'm sure everything turned out well," he offers to Amalthea, along with a quiet smile. "Accidents happen every now and then, you should not blame yourself." Another quiet nod, and some of the stew eaten.

Bradwyn downs the bowl of stew as though it were a drinking bowl, but then he is an athletic man who stands at six feet in height. Seems he isn't overly concerned about etiquette given they are in a stable drying off, though he isn't some uncouth brute either as he chews the meal ad swallows adding, "I understand lady Amalthea. You have been generous with what you have as it is, I can certainly make due. Please join us, it is always a pleasure to have such wonderful company." He then moves to fill his bowl once more, after all large men have large appetites.

All are gathered in the stables, the two men, Martyn and Bradwyn, around the fire serving themselves tea and stew from the pots hanging over the flames, while Amalthea tends the horses further down in the stables. It's a stormy, stormy night, and the three are passing the time until the rain ceases by amiably chatting.

Having heard that one of her cousins had brought guests over, and on top of that, have situated the party inside of their stables, of course Lysanor is curious and thus brings her other cousin, Heulwen with her, when they go to investigate. The Dinton with the shock of auburn hair is in high spirits after having returned not long ago from Exeter and so she is chatting quite excitedly with her Wen over various topics. The conversation at hand, however, hits far more close to home. "I'm not certain what was going on, but at one point, it seemed that the Burcombes were trying to.." Her brow furrows gently for the moment, just thinking of it, "lock everyone into the tavern. Or some such. It was chaotic." She is dressed in a simple ensemble, wearing a white tunic beneath and a brilliant blue one over it, all tied together with a red corded belt. Once they step into the stables proper, does the conversation halt and she graces the gathered with a polite bow of her head and friendly enough smile. She recognizes Martyn of course, "Sir Martyn, it's wonderful to see you again." And here she curtsies to the man, before her attention turns to Bradwyn as well now. "We were curious about our visitors, cousin." She speaks to Amalthea, "It looks like you've handled things wonderfully here." This is said in approval of just a hospitable set up. In the stables.

Linked arm-in-arm with Lysanor in companionable ease, Heulwen trails along beside her on the way from manor to stables. The ever-present wind flips her cloak back briefly, but with a quick twitch she secures the garment close about her. "I have come to find that whenever the Burcombes are present, chaos reigns. I think it's a kind of—air? It seems utterly effortless, too. Or perhaps it is just the way everyone else reacts to them. I cannot decide." She murmurs this quietly, having no desire to loudly broadcast her opinions to all and sundry.

It is with a sigh of relief that she slips into the stables, shaking back her cloak over her shoulders and eyeing the arranged guests with raised eyebrows. Knowing none of them - except, of course, her lady cousins - she dips into a quiet curtsey for the men before offering Amalthea a cheerful smile. "Leave it to a lady to make any place feel cozy."

Amalthea has just finished tending the horses and seeing them stabled for the foreseeable future. She makes her way to the fore of the small wooden building, towards the fire and the growing gathering. There is a pause beside Martyn and a soft, "Thank you," for the man, before the woman straightens to her most unbecoming height. "The Ladies Lysanor and Heulwen, gentlemen. You know Sir Martyn, and this," she dips her chin politely to the other man, "is Sir Bradwyn de Idmiston, who is just returning from Tisbury. They were both caught out in this beautiful storm. Have you come for tea, cousins?" she offers, the light in her eyes a teasing sparkle.

Nodding at the words of the others, Martyn pauses as the new arrivals, getting to his feet and offering a bow in return to them. "Lady Lysanor, Lady Heulwen. It's wonderful to see you." Nodding a little, he offers them both a smile. "I was passing by, and since the weather caught me unprepared, closer to here than to home…"

As more enter Bradwyn drinks down more of the stew, a bit slower this time as there are larger chunks which he takes the extra time to chew. As other arrives, strikingly blue eyes study the pair for a few moments as Bradwyn continues to chew and then wipes his mouth on his sleeve, swallowing and bows his head respectfully and says, "I thank you for the hospitality of your house and the praise the quality of your stew. Ladies Lysanor and Heulwen." Each offered a charming smile to off-set the ragged scars which mar his face. As Martyn stands Bradwyn says, "I ask your forgiveness for not standing, but the roof is a little low for my comfort. I hope you do not take it personally." Though his full height isn't obvious as he is seated, but his long legs and trunk does hint it is greater than most men.

"Indeed." Is all that Lysanor will say in response to her previous conversation with Heulwen regarding their family rivals, an amused smile on her lips, nevertheless. Her arm still linked with that of her cousin, she guides them both over to where this little feast is being served, bringing over a pair of seats for the both of them. "Tea sounds wonderful right now. The walk here was a miserable one, but the warmth found within is greatly appreciated. Hopefully, the weather begins to clear."

When the introduction is made to the stranger, the petite red-head ahs lightly, before lowering herself into another curtsey as well. "Sir Bradwyn, welcome to Dinton." She then laughs, already being able to tell that the man is as tall as her brother, about. "Tis fine, please. Remain seated and enjoy yourselves. As for me, I was hoping for some good conversation, though as I have said, tea is greatly appreciated."

"Sir Martyn, Sir Bradwyn," Heulwen murmurs, repeating the names almost as if to herself as she greets both gentleman. She casts a grateful look to Lysanor as her cousin draws up seats for the both of them, but she waits for Lysie to sit before following suit. Her hands reach up to fiddle with her cloak clasp for a moment before she casts the garment off, letting it dangle down the back of her stool and into the hay (for all she cares). "Sir Martyn," she begins, directing her query to the aforementioned knight with a polite smile, "you mentioned you were on your way home. Whence had you come?"

Amalthea steps in to ladel out tea for her cousins into tin mugs, well-loved, but piping hot and more than enough to warm the cockles of hearts. "Lysanor, Heulwen," she murmurs, passing to each in turn before serving herself and resuming a post closer to the horses, yet still in the fray. "Were you perchance still at the market, Sir Martyn?" she asks, curious now that the embarrassment of that situation has left her.

A brief pause at the question, and Martyn smiles momentarily. "Today I had visited a place a little northwest of here, Lady Heulwen," he offers, looking around once more. "It's a quiet place, where I like to go to think, every now and then." Taking another sip of his tea, he adds, "I'm afraid it's nothing more exciting than that." A smile is offered to Amalthea as well. "Not the market this time."

Bradwyn continues to use his bowl of stew like a drinking bowl. A couple more pauses to chew and the bowl is drained for the second time. Long as none attempt to stop him he leans forward to fill his bowl for a third helping. At least he is well-mannered enough to chew with his mouth closed. Listening to the various discussions as he chews. Once he swallows he adds, "Was that a temple to the Christ I saw on my way into the stables?" in a curious tone.

"Thank you, Amalthea." Lysanor responds gently to her cousin, feeling the warmth of the mug against her slightly chilled fingers. Her blue eyes looks at those around her now, over the rim of her cup when she takes her initial sip of the pleasant tea. Once the cup is lowered, doe she muse, "I suppose you do not wish to share this location, Sir Martyn?" A smile forms on her lips now, "I do understand the need for sanctuary and peace. Sometimes, to clear my mind, I wander the hills and mountains that rise up behind our manors. I find the view breathtakingly beautiful." To Bradwyn's question, she nods quickly, "You were not mistaken, Sir Bradwyn. It is our family's chapel, small and cozy. I always feel safe when I'm there."

Heulwen offers Amalthea a very warm smile, indeed, as she reaches up to accept her tea gratefully. Spring it may be, but storms still carry with them the an echo of the chill of winter. She exhales between pursed lips, blowing across the surface to cool her drink while watching Martyn over the rim. "Perhaps he wants to keep it a secret, cousin, lest others discover his sanctuary and disturb the peace. I cannot blame you for that, Sir Martyn."

When her tea has cooled enough to sip without scalding the roof of her mouth, Wen falls silent and looks to Sir Bradwyn. Lysanor fields the question neatly, leaving her own mind to wander and her gaze to drift about the stables. "Yes," she adds almost as an afterthought, turning back to the group and nodding. "We are quite lucky to have the chapel. I love to spend an early morning in there before my chores."

"I have explored much of this area, and to the northwest of here," Amalthea muses, eyes lightning once more as she rubs her chin absently. "Is it the small birch grove backing the stream? Or the cliffs closer to the coast? Or," she barely has time to draw a breath, "closer to Wylye, there is a rock-cavern that sparkles quite prettily…" She trails off, lost in her own thoughts, now.

"Well, if I share the location, it may not hold the same sanctuary," Martyn replies with a smile, although Amalthea's words make him pause momentarily. "I hope you can forgive me for that." Nodding, he adds, "And both the hills and mountains are fine places to wander. The sparkling cavern, I willhave to visit at some point, though."

Bradwyn nods to Lysanor and drinks the majority of the broth from the stew, perhaps using that in place of drink. He then nods in agreement to Heulwen's assessment of a sanctuary and says, "A blessing a Danu isn't lightly shared." Then he looks to Amalthea as she speaks of a similar place, if not the same one.

Laughing softly, Lysanor nods to her cousin, Heulwen, "I will not pry any further, I do not wish for Sir Martyn to give up any of his secrets. Especially ones as important as this." Drawing in another sip of her tea, the young red-head's eyes peer out at Bradwyn when he then speaks, studying the man in quiet contemplation for a moment, before she joins in on this cavern which her cousin has found. "I would love to see it, Amalthea." She then turns to look at Heulwen, this bright smile making her face glow, "A crystal cavern. It sounds lovely, I think. One day when the weather clears. I mean, truly, we have just finished with winter and while I do understand the need for rain," A quiet sigh escapes her lips, "I'm sure that there will be plenty of time to enjoy the beauty which spring has to offer us all."

"I must admit that I do not make enough time to simply wander," Heulwen observes aloud, gazing into her cup of tea before looking up to Lysanor and then the others in turn. "I have not discovered any pretty caverns or picturesque riverbends, because if I am going out, it is for a purpose. I have a specific destination and a specific task to tend to at said destination, and I never leave time for wandering. I think, perhaps, that is something I will do more of this spring. I'm sure you know many pretty places, Lysie? Perhaps you could take me along on a walk one fine day."

Wen pauses for a moment to take a sip of her tea, and finding it to be quite of a pleasant temperature, takes several more to ease her dry throat. "Sir Bradwyn, were you on your way home as well before the rain caught you? My cousin did say—of Idmiston? I have never been that way. Would you tell us of your home?"

Martyn smiles as he listens, offering a smile to Lysanor. "Hopefully the weather will permit more trips like that," he agrees. Nodding a bit as he hears Heulwen's question to Badwyn, smiling as he listens for the answer. Taking another sip of his tea.

Bradwyn nods to Heulwen and says, "A true shame Lady Heulwen, you should indeed take the time to enjoy such things. True wonders can be found in the most unlikely places." When questioned he says, "I have barely been home in the past eleven or so winters, as I was squiring under Sir Mathias de Tisbury. From my youth though our home is found along a steep bank of the Bourne River. If you ever find yourself that way, the fruits of our old growth orchards must be tried. Those trees have provided apples and pairs for generations. Dried fruit, preserves, desserts… Though what we are best known for is our cider and wines. I will confess that is what I am looking forward to most concerning my return."

Lysanor cannot help but sigh once more, this time to Heulwen's words to her, this is both soft and brief. "I wish it were so true, dear cousin, that I would have the time to wander and explore. Very much like yourself, however, there are many chores to be done and lessons to be studied still. I do, however, find a spare moment every once in a while, though even then father and Cyndeyrn do not like me going too far without accompaniment and for Cynd, that's usually him acting as escort." Her face brightens once more now, finding the humor in it all, "Not that I mind my brother's company. And he does give me time to think and clear my mind when necessary. But yes, when I am able, I shall call upon you and perhaps we can wander and explore together."

Her bright eyes then return to Bradwyn, and just like the others, she listens attentively to his explanation of Idmiston. This is a place that she has heard of, though very rarely has she had the chance to visit or even pass, due to it's location. "You really do take your service to House Tisbury very seriously. Even my Lord Brother has returned home from time to time during his squiring at Wylye, but then again, yours is a far greater journey than even Wylye is to here." Leaning forward to set her cup down now, she then straightens with her hands within her lap. "Idmiston sounds beautiful. One day, I would like to visit your home. It would be quite the journey to visit each and every manor in Salisbury."

Heulwen exhales a sigh that very nearly echoes Lysanor's, hearing with a slight frown of her cousin's own lack of excursions. "Still, yes, should we find time I would very much like that. Perhaps if my own brother is home, he can come along and keep Sir Cyndeyrn company such that they leave us quite to our own devices." Her cheeks dimple briefly with the smile she offers Lysie, but it disappears in the midst of a wistful expression as Brandwyn describes his home.

"That sounds divine," she murmurs in agreement with Lysanor, sighing once more with great longing. "Wandering through and picking fruit straight from the tree…" Her smile softens, and she lifts her cup of tea in a semi-salute to Bradwyn. "It is a wonder, good sir, that you possessed the willpower to leave."

"It sounds quite wonderful, Sir Bradwyn. I hope I may be able to visit your home at some point in the future as well." Martyn replies, before he offers the other man a grin, "One would need to try some of those wines and cider, right?"

Bradwyn finishes off his third helping, swallowing then looks to Lysanor and says, "Forgive me Lady Lysanor, what lessons keep you so busy?" a mix of curiosity and perhaps something more in his tone. He then nods and offers another charming smile as she compliments his home and adds, "The distance was the main obstacle, though those of House Tisbury treated me like one of their own family and so I would both kill and die for those of them that took me in with such warmth." Clearly he considers at least those of the Tisburys he knows as family as well.

He then smiles softly to Heulwen's comments of his home, perhaps in remembrance and says, "I can assure you Lady Heulwen. There is nothing like the experience of plucking a sweet, juicy fruit as it is the most ripe. Especially with a hint of dew dripping along the sides, as though wanting to be eaten." offering a wide, charming smile. He is talking about the fruit of the orchards right? He then chuckles to Martyn and nods saying, "It is what we are best known for as I've said. The fruits are second to our cider and wines."

Lysanor has not kept track of how much Bradwyn had eaten thus far, having only showed up after perhaps his first serving or so? But she is not unused to large knights having hearty appetites, for her own brother can knock back several servings on his own as well. "I hope that you're enjoying the stew," She says with a hint of amusement in her voice, "If I had not already eaten earlier, I may be tempted to have a bit myself. Still, perhaps when time permits and your orchards bear the colors of delicious fruit, would be you be so kind as to permit our visitation then? Why, the Baverstocks, if Sir Martyn wishes, could join us."

To Heulwen now, the auburn-haired maiden nods her head quickly, "Good thinking, Wen! Kamro and Cyndeyrn will have so much to talk about. Hunting, fishing. They will not miss our presence when we do wander off to explore the flowers in bloom or marvel at breathtaking views from atop one hill or other." All of this sounds very exciting that she wishes that it had stopped raining now, that they may wander.

But alas, the rain continues, even if more lightly than just a few moments ago. Her attention on Bradwyn again, she says in a matter-of-fact tone, "All of the skills necessary for running a household. My Lady Mother has been allowing me some first hand experience in the matter. It can be quite daunting, but exciting at the same time. So much work goes into the task, but this is why, I'm sure, that she is glad to have my assistance, so that she may not have her turn to breathe!" It is when their Idmiston guest speaks of the deliciousness of these fruits that the young woman simply listen, as if she can actually see and taste everything described. "That truly is tempting." If there were any other ideas that a fair maiden may have received from such a detailed description, Lysanor is oblivious to it all.

"I think a trip to Idmiston is a wonderful idea," Heulwen murmurs to Lysanor, offering her cousin a warm smile at the idea. "If it is only for a short while, I am sure it would not be too great an imposition. It would be lovely to meet more of your family, Sir Bradwyn, and to get a view so different from our own." Wen swirls the last swallow of her tea around in her cup before knocking it back, and she leans forward to set it down with a slight thunk. "Speaking of necessary skills, my own Lady Mother has requested a few things of me before I retire for the day, and I have an entire basket of mending for my brothers to tend to. I am afraid that I will have to take my leave, although you are the most pleasant company, good sir."

Rising up from her stool, Wen plucks up her cloak and shakes it out carefully before swirling it about her shoulders and clasping it closed. She is careful to tuck her hair behind her ears and then under the edge of her hood once it is flipped over her head. "Is there ought you need here, cousin? Should I send someone down with more tea?" Her gaze flicks over to the Idmiston knight, and she tries to subdue the rising smile of amusement. "Or perhaps more food?"

Bradwyn smiles to Lysanor and leans over to fill his bowl for a fourth time and says, "The best test of the quality of a food is to taste it for yourself." he then extend his bowl towards her as Martyn excuses himself and asks, "Are you sure I cannot tempt you to take a bite? Perhaps accepting a bite from a follower of the Old Gods is a temptation to resist for one who serves the Christ?" He then offers a bit of a wink and another charming smile and asks, "Surely a bit of temptation wouldn't do that much harm? Or would it be better to leave you wanting, letting the anticipation grow until you may visit and I may offer you a bite of our fruit instead?" That last question is certainly a bit of flirtation mixed with a hint of playfulness about the two religions, though he clearly does not seek to offend in either regard.

He then nods respectfully to Heulwen as she excuses herself and says, "I am sure you would be welcome with equal hospitality as you have offered me Lady Heulwen. As to food, thank you but the stew is fine for my liking."

He then looks back to Lysanor and adds, "If I may offer advice Lady Lysanor. Perhaps you can suggest using the gifts of Danu into your lessons. Playing instruments in a meadow, dancing in a field, singing in the forest, or something to that affect. You continue your lessons in a new setting,a dn also get the time to enjoy your surroundings, perhaps even be inspired by them."

It's at that point Amalthea returns, well-pleased with the care of the horses, and having helped Martyn re-saddle his upon his departure. Brushing her work-roughened hands brusquely, she tips her head bird-like. "Who is dancing in fields and singing in forests?" the lady interjects, cocking a wing-like brow. "That sounds a bit risky."

Critical Success!
Lysanor checked her suspicious of 10, she rolled 10.

"I believe we are fine. Thank you, Heulwen." Lysanor pipes up, rising just as her cousin does, for the moment, before settling back down. "Oh do not remind me. I am needing to do some mending myself. I will find some time tonight." Though there is a spark in her eyes at the thought of all of her sewing and weaving tasks. "When I do find the time, I think I shall make something nice for myself." Favors to give away, more than likely! "Be well cousin, I shall see again shortly, I'm certain. For supper no doubt."

While she may be hospitable to a point, when Bradwyn brings up her own faith alongside his and in a way that makes her a bit uneasy, while the auburn haired maiden doesn't frown outright, the warmth of her expression begins to cool and he now has her full attention, with those bright eyes upon him, her expression unreadable. "I would not say that, Sir Bradwyn. Temptation truly can be a dangerous thing." Her words, however, come off as light and this time, she reaches down for her already cooling cup of tea to take in a much needed sip. Hearing the man's suggestion too, Lysanor only nods slowly. Not knowing what this Danu is, nor caring to inquire, she understands his sentiments, "You are more than likely right. One day, perhaps."

Bradwyn studies Lysanor for a bit, bowing his head to Heulwen and then back and asks, "If not something to eat, perhaps you would permit me to tell you a story? If so what sort would you like to hear on this dreary evening with such delightful company?"

Amalthea settles herself back down, smoothing out the copious wrinkles in her plain tunic as best she can. No embroidery here. "I love tales of adventure, myself," the young woman opines, reaching out to grasp the tea ladle and scoop another round into her cup. "Have you fought many glorious battle, Sir Bradwyn?"

Bradwyn checked his orate of 10, he rolled 8.

Her feathers still a little ruffled, Lysanor remains calm, her gentle demeanor keeping her far more level-headed. "No, I am fine, thank you." She finally responds regarding the food. "Even though your talk of orchards and the like have me craving fruit now." There is a pause now as she regrets even mentioning the fruit, something which was part of their previous conversation that she wished to dismiss. "But no. This tea will sate me until supper." With Amalthea's return, she graces her cousin with a smile, "You are so good to our horses, cousin. They simply love you, your presence soothes them." Her eyes then lift to catch sight of her snow white steed, Snowfall, right after she says this. But to the mention of a tale, while Lysanor remains wary of the topic of such a tale, her cousin's curiosity allows her to say, "Yes, that would be nice. A tale over some tea, hopefully something light and warm."

Bradwyn says, "Sadly no Lady Amalthea. In truth I only recently was given my knighthood. Why I am finally returning home for good. A tale of adventure then." He then turns his own strikingly blue eyes to Lysanor to see her tastes, if she will even hear the tale.

Once the offers are made Bradwyn begins, "There was once a beautiful woman, who's skin lacked any imperfection. She was a woman of the wilds, her hair like rich soil, eyes like the forest leaves. One evening, wrapped in a cloak of the finest fur she came across a pool in the forest, like a perfect mirror reflecting the moon and stars as the night rose during her trek. Unable to resist the sight of waters so still they looked as though they had never been touched by mortal hand nor deed since the dawn of time."
Pausing to judge their reactions he continues, "Shedding her cloak, leaving only the night air to guard her modesty she made her way over on steps so light it was as though she feared each step might wake some horrible beast. Her toe touched the waters so clear the floor of the lake itself could be seen as though there was no a drop there at all. A single ring shimmered out from where her toe touched, the water surprisingly not cold but warm to the touch. Only a touch and the warmth spread through her body as though it was a perfect summer day."

Studying the two still he continues, "That is when it came. Out of the darkness an arrow struck the soft soil surrounding the pond. A dark oaken shaft with fletchings like the grasses of the field. "You have intruded mortal!" came a soft voice from the wood. The giant of a man even lowers his voice to a whisper to mimic the softness of the voice. As soft as one might imagine a lover might give before the act begins.

The woman clad as she was born stepped back as a few thin figures with sharpened ears emerged, armed with bows of darkened oak. All would seem lost. Then those creatures learned a lesson about watching a maiden as she tried to bathe. She moved like a bounding deer, striking like a thunderclap, each of the creatures fell one after another. In the end the woman stood there, unarmed and in a greater need for a bath than when she arrived. Soon the maiden sank beneath the surface of the pool of perfect warmth and…" trailing off he adds, "Well I have left you with a tale of warmth, I hope it was light enough as well." offering each lady a charming smile.

It has her blushing sure enough, and Amalthea makes no pains to hide it. She listens, but most of the time her eyes are wide like she can't believe what she's hearing. There's even a few hisses of indrawn breath. At the end, Amalthea muses abashedly, "I certainly like the message well enough though a story with such nudity would have made my father quite upset." She looks down into her tea cup then, pretending to consider its depths studiously.

Once the tale begins, Lysanor is quiet and attentive, allowing the man this moment to speak even if in her heart, she fears that he will attempt to sway her ideas of his own beliefs. So when he starts to speak, she is every cautious. The tale itself does grasp her interest, but it is a man discussing the nude form of a female and very much like Amalthea, Lysanor feels the heat of her own embarrassment flush at her cheeks. However, her features do harden all the same, perhaps even more so, do this fact. As the story continues, however, her mind ignores the very idea of this woman's nakedness, for the rest of the story becomes far more dark. In the end, however, she is uncertain as how she should feel about the tale. The comment from her cousin, does bring her to say, "Yours and mine both. Cyndeyrn as well, I'm sure." For her brother is always protective of her. Rather than outwardly complimenting the man on his story, Lysanor intones more mildly, her gaze never leaving Bradwyn's, as proud as she is, it's as if she has little to fear. "It is indeed quite an interesting and entertaining tale both. One worthy to ward the terrible weather away." That said, she then asks, "What does that story mean to you, Sir Bradwyn? Out of curiosity, I suppose."

Bradwyn nods to Amalthea and says, "Forgive any offense, our ways are not as… Reserved. Besides I thought it would be acceptable enough, after all women know how women bathe far better than men. Surely either of you would be tempted to bathe in such a pool as well. No I am not asking either of you to answer, that is for you to consider and think about for yourselves. Still few women could have survived such an encounter with faeries as she did, which I suppose makes it more of a tale to entertain. I have told that story a few times before, one woman was even able to guess how it ended." chuckling softly.

He then looks to Lysanor and says, "In truth it is more of a cautionary tale, though a bit dark which is why I didn't finish it as you sought something adventurous and light." His tone is even and he seems to enjoy telling the story, or perhaps stories in general. His attention was on both women however, and if his words are true the story may have nothing to do with Lysanor and any similarities in appearance merely coincidence.

Amalthea murmurs something soothing to her cousin, at the same time casting a wary eye on Bradwyn. "I should get back to my duties," she harumphs, standing up and setting her unfinished tea aside. "I shall be here, though." The implicit yet unspoken 'so don't try anything funny' is there. "Good eve to the both of you. It seems as if the storm has nigh passed."

Lysanor, herself, does not speak on what is acceptable or not to the ears of a good and pure Christian woman, nor does she forgive him for any offense taken, if that is truly how she felt. Instead, she can only nod, "Your story, this cautionary tale, is very much why I believe that we all must be wary," And when she speaks of we, she speaks of good Christians, of course, even if she does not outright state this. "There is temptation everywhere, ones that will lead you astray. It is our strength of will and our firm beliefs that will keep us on the right course."

If she sensed any resemblance between herself and Bradwyn's fictional character, she says nothing of this. In fact, the very idea would most likely horrify her. So, just as she was when the man had spoken of fruit, she remains blissful unaware. However, with Amalthea's departure, Lysanor does find herself in an odd situation. "Thank you, Amalthea. I may have to return home myself, to ensure that we have enough ingredients for tomorrow's meal and then to finish some of my sewing." Amalthea's lingering presence, however, does keep her comforted, thus the diminutive Dinton maiden remarks, "I do thank you for your tale, Sir Bradwyn. It was… though provoking and something to consider. And just as I had mentioned before, if you would be so kind to allow us a visit to Idmiston, we would be greatly appreciative."

Bradwyn nods and says, "My cousin would have to give their blessing to such a visit but I am sure it would cause no great issue given how generous you have been with your own hospitality to myself." He doesn't address the religious undertones present in Lysanor's words, though he does bow his head in parting adding, "Thank you once more Lady Amalthea for your generosity." He likely notes the underlying tone from her, though he doesn't comment on it, he also remains seated. Draining the fourth bowl of stew he places it aside and says, "Once more I am sorry if any of my words have caused you offense Lady Lysanor." Likely noticing the change in her if nothing else as he adds, "The tale is one of caution because when it comes to the faeries, matters typically end with death or the abduction of the one involved. They are said to take an interest in maidens at times, though this was more a case of defiling something they hold dear. You are correct in that you must always be alert, and not travel alone. As to your kindness I shall speak with my cousins when I return, perhaps something can be sent as a gift of gratitude for your hospitality, while also giving you and your House a taste of some of our wares to inspire a trip for a taste of something fresher. I don't know matters of transportation of such things well enough to know how easily wine or cider might be transported though I'm sure fruit wouldn't survive such a long trip."

"Your cousin?" Lysanor now asks, not knowing much about Idmiston as both Houses are so distant from one another. "Perhaps my brother or my own cousin will know of him. I always assume that all of the knights know one more, for they had been brought to tourneys and battle alike as squires." Her words lose any tension which she had held earlier, returning back to a far more cordial and friendly tone. To his apology again, she shakes her head, deciding not to take offense to any of it, for whatever she had seen in the man before, the strange playfulness in his words and in his eyes, they are no longer there. Of course, this does not set her entirely at ease, but at ease all the same. "There is no need to apologize, you have graced us with pleasant," enough, "company and a tale for my cousin and I to ponder and remember for all times, one which I hope, will keep us wary and safe." Though, she had announced that she ought leave at some point soon, Lysanor does not attempt to chase the man off, allowing him to finish his meal and drink in comfort. "My family would love that, to receive such a gift." Her lips lift into a smile, when she laughs and states, "I trust your courier to deliver the items safely and in good time."

Bradwyn nods and says, "I would hope so, though as an Idmiston I would miss the chance to witness the reaction of your family in person, yet such are the way of things. As to my cousin, Gwynedd de Idmiston. His father and my grandfather were brothers. Gwynedd's heir being Lady Gwynaelle de Idmiston is also my cousin. If you are able to visit us you will see my eyes is a common enough color among the Idmistons, though my height comes more from my mother's side."

Lysanor ahs softly, hearing of Bradwyn's cousin. As a gracious hostess, she will continue the conversation as best she can, though at some point, she does announce her need to return back to the great hall, for duty and chores call. "The rain looks to be clearing, I hope that your journey back is a safe one." There is a pause here, when she wonders, "Are you heading to Tilsbury of Idmiston this evening? It's already growing dark and I'm uncertain if you would make it Idmiston before nightfall."

Bradwyn says, "Given the hour I doubt we'll make it back to Idmiston as we left Tisbury and was delayed as it is by the weather. We will find a place to make camp along the road I have no doubt." It is then that he finally stands, nearly to his full height as he hunches over a bit to avoid the risk of bumping his head and offers a sort of bow, given his awkward position and says, "Once more I thank you for the hospitality and fare Lady Lysanor. Give my gratitude to ladies Amalea and Heulwen as well." as she moves to slip his damp hood back over his head and goes to collect his horses and the servant who had slipped away early in the discussion so they can be on their way.

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