(514-05-18) Requesting a Favor
Summary: Sir Bryce de Baverstock asks Lady Lysanor de Dinton for a favor.
Date: May 18th, 514; before the joust.
Related: Wedding Tournament logs
bryce lysanor 


Tent City - Carlion


When in use, this area is a veritable maze of pavilions, colorful pennons, banners, and other signs of heraldry indicating the various knights who occupy them, it's a bustle of activity, noise, and a variety of scents. When not in use, it's a rather barren, plain open field.


It is the day of the Joust Tourney, and the area where the knights that are competing have erected the tents and pavilions is crowded and abuzz like a beehive - servants busy on errands, squires applying the last bit of polish to helmets and shields, young lads carrying lances over to the tourney field as many a lance will be cracked or even shattered today. The knights meanwhile display a calm that contrasts somewhat to the excitement apparent in the other people in the area.

Such is the case with Sir Bryce as he stands before the tent with the Baverstock shield on display. He appears to be ready, attired in the tabard of red and black above the maille that is indispensable in the tilts to come. The helmet for now held under his arm, the Baverstock lifts his gaze to allow it to drift over the scenery, dark eyes flickering with the contained fire of anticipation of the contest in a face of rather angular features.

His gaze shifts to Carl who is arriving just now with Devil, the black courser who seems to have recovered well from the mishap at Imber, and Bryce regards the steed with a smile of fond pride.

Lysanor de Dinton has been just as busy with aiding in the preparations for her knightly family members as any of the other servants and squires about. Even now, she returns to join her brother at the Dinton tent, their red and blue banner flying high. She is not alone, however, being in the company of one of her young cousins and a small handful of female companions, bringing their chivalrous relatives baskets of fresh fruits and bread. At the very center of the group is Lysanor, her thick mass of red hair making her all the more noticeable in a sea of various shades of brunette. Not as lively or as animated as some of her giggling and blushing female companions, the young Dinton maiden's fair features are still lit up with a friendly warmth as she titters alongside the others. There is much laughter in the air between the young ladies and a few even begin to separate once they near their own tents.

As their group slowly begins to dwindle, leaving only Lysanor and her young cousin to journey the rest of the way together, there is a moment when her pace does slow and her gaze glances out to where the Baverstock shield is displayed so fiercely. She didn't expect anyone to be there and if so, she would assume that they would be busy gearing up for the tournament to come. So when she does catch sight of Bryce de Baverstock standing there just outside of his family's tent, her pace almost quickens if he had not taken notice of her. It is, however, fortunate that their eyes do meet and so she graces him with her usual warm smile and an acknowledging nod, though she does not look as if she will make an attempt to join him just yet, even if her pace does slow.

Such fiery color of hair should be bound to attract the attention of one Bryce de Baverstock. But then again, mayhaps he was lingering before his tent for that very same reason, to look for a certain someone, with the tilts about to start in less than an hour? Apparently, he catches sight of her and their eyes meet, when his attention is diverted from the brief inspecting glance he had given his steed. Lysanor’s smile will elicit one of his own, the warmth in his dark eyes appear to be underlined with a hint of urgency as if there was something he wished to speak with her about. This impression will soon be confirmed, when a hand comes up in a wave, and Bryce calls: “Lady Lysanor! Do you have a moment?”

Carl offers a smile as well to the lady, the usually unnoticed squire smile, before his attention is required, when there is a rather vehement tugging at the reins he holds in his had. Devil seems a little agitated, prancing a little; hooves stomping on the ground, as a loud whinny leaves the black stallion in the moment it tilts its head up – perhaps seeking attention, or just sensing the excitement of the impending joust, apparent in the current activity in the tent area.

Though she had thought to hurry her steps, silently Lysanor hoped that the Baverstock lord would, indeed, call out to her. Even still, her young cousin is pulling her along and for a brief moment, her gaze is even diverted, distracted by the excited tittering that the teenager engages her in. It is when she looks back to the man does her heart warm, seeing his hand raised to get her attention and then hearing her name called upon his lips.. "Isobeth, return to the tent and I shall follow shortly" The younger girl looks between both her cousin and the Baverstock lord with wide eyes before nodding obediently and skipping off.

It is now when she approaches him does she grace the lord with a more formal curtsy, her eyes lowered demurely before she rises once more. "Sir Bryce, I was hoping that I would be able to catch you before the games began, but I had a feeling that you, like every other knight, would already be quite busy." Looking down at the basket hanging from her wrist, she offers, "I was bringing a light snack for Cyndeyrn and the others, did you wish for a piece of fruit or even some sweet bread?" When she finally notices Devil there, being drawn by the man's squire, Carl, the Dinton maiden says lightly, "I am glad to see that Devil is doing much better. I know how you worried for him after Tilshead and Imber. Amalthea was confident that he would heal up completely given time."

Bryce’s hand is lowered in the moment he sees Lysanor has noticed his wave, but then again, it was hard not to, given he had called out to her. He, the usually quiet and observant fellow, who would never raise his voice unless it was really necessary. A smile warms his angular features, as he is offering a courteous bow when she graces him with such formal curtsey. “So was I,” he admits in regards to hoping to catch her before the joust; his dark eyes drift over her frame, slipping from her comely face to the basket as he follows her glance. “Oh no, thank you, I am fine,” the Baverstock declines her offer of food. “I am not really hungry at the moment…” The excitement, and all the adrenaline… Her remark on his black courser is received with a smile, when Bryce’s attention shifts momentarily towards the horse. “Devil is fully recovered, and I am glad for it. He can’t wait for the games to begin.”, the knight states, eyeing Devil’s stomping and prancing with fond amusement. “And I am glad your cousin was so kind as to take a look at him after our return from Tilshead. It seems her assessment of his injury was quite correct, after all.”

His gaze shifts back to the petite lady standing before him, and Bryce considers for a moment before he addresses her again. “Lady Lysanor… I wanted to ask you for your favor, so that I can wear it through all of the tournament.” The words leave his lips with surprising ease, still there is a slightly awkward flicker in his gaze. “After all, your token of luck managed to bring me back from Tilshead in one piece.” And there his gaze flits downward for a moment, before he meets hers again. “I shall compete to present my family… but I’d very much like to dedicate my efforts to you as well, to fight in your honor…” Bold words. Perhaps it helps not to think too much about it all, or he would certainly not say them. But then again, Bryce de Baverstock is known for his honesty. Why keep up a charade of hints and maybe’s, when it is sometimes best to go for a direct attack, dropping any complicated manoeuvres?

"The excitement and adrenaline of the tournament season has never put a damper on Cyndeyrn's appetite." Lysanor counters in a light-hearted tone, knowing full well that her brother would never turn down food. "But I'm sure that you know this as well, being such a close friend to him." She does remember those days past, when the boys would be out playing in the training yard and waving around those little wooden swords. How close Cyndeyrn and Bryce were then and it does remind her of how long she had known the Baverstock Lord for. The discussion on Devil continues to keep her spirits lifted, but it is what comes next that leaves her absolutely breathless.

Though it truly shouldn't come as too much of a surprise to Lysanor, for she did give him a good luck token for his journey once as it is, so it would only be fitting if he eventually asked for her favor, and yet, the small Dinton maiden looks rather taken aback by it all. Never has Bryce de Baverstock ever asked for her favor. Not in how many years she had known him for. And while there may have been that moment of surprise that was clear upon her face and could be seen within her expressive eyes, she does well to keep her elation subdued to maintain that demure yet elegant aura. That does not stop her pale cheeks from glowing a healthy pink, however, as she finally musters the courage to speak. "I am deeply honored that you would be so kind as to ask me for a favor." As far as she could remember, Bryce had never worn another lady's favor. Or at least not one that she had witnessed.

Considering this thoughtfully, she reaches behind her, in the same manner that she had done within the Baverstock hall, to lift her necklace up and over her head, the chain moving past much of that thick mass of red hair on her head. But the pendant just wouldn't do… and so she also unties the braid of ribbon securing her locks and begins to carefully twine the ribbon together with the pendant's chain to fashion a distinctive little charm attached to a braid of ribbon in her house's colors. There were times, due to her nervousness, that she stumbles in her work, but she is more than glad for this moment to give her time to ponder on this request of his even further. When the favor is completed, her eyes lift up to view the man's, before she rather confidently steps forward to tie the braided ribbon around one of Bryce's arms, at his bicep, making certain that the her pendant, while secure, can be clearly seen as well. "May this favor protect you from harm and grant you the strength which you need to succeed in any and all of your endeavours." Satisfied with how her favor is positioned on his arm, she takes a respectful step back, though her eyes are alight upon his features fully now.

An amused chuckle leaves the Baverstock at her remark about Cyndeyrn’s appetite, but he nods. “Rather the opposite,” Bryce comments with a raised brow, his thoughts perhaps lingering for a moment as well on good old times. When he asks Lysanor for her favor, his hazel eyes take in her reaction most attentively; oh yes, the question itself was posed in an outward calm manner, but in fact it reflects little on how Bryce is truly feeling at the moment, that odd nervousness kept at bay beneath the polite façade of the Baverstock knight. A bit of air leaves his lungs in a relieved exhale when the surprise in her expression shifts, and a blush blossoms on her comely features. Hearing the words she replies, but somehow not taking in their meaning, when her smile and the gleam in her eyes tell him already all he needs to know, Bryce de Baverstock watches her as she goes about the task of removing the necklace with the pendant from her slender neck, and using the ribbon of her hair as a means to produce the favor he had asked for. His patience is indeed rewarded, when the knight finally extends his right arm to have her wind the favor about it. “And I shall strive to honor this token by giving a good showing in the lists.”, Bryce says with the most pronounced smile she has seen on him so far.

"I am confident that you will." Lysanor remarks to the mention of his striving to honor her token. "Walking passed the many tents set up on these fields, I am still in awe at everyone who had shown up. Some, I've only ever heard mentioned in glorious tales told through a bard's lips. And yet, I know that you will strive to succeed and perhaps bards will be singing of your own tales of glory, Sir Bryce." She lingers for a moment longer, allowing for an odd yet serene silence to encompass them both, before the poor girl realizes that she ought not stay for too long and that she still had things to do. Gracing the man with a final curtsey, she announces her departure just as her eyes catch sight once more of her favor tied neatly around the man's arm, filling her with warmth. "I must be off, My Lord and help my family with the preparations for this tourney. And… to bring my dearest brother something to eat before he fights while famished." Those eyes then lift to meet with Bryce's once more, "Good luck, Sir Bryce. And thank you for honoring me with your request." The faint blush at her cheek aside, she does well enough to contain her excitement, and soon she turns, her long flaming red hair whipping through the air so that any locks which had once hung before her shoulder now cascade down her back as she hurries off with this warmth in her heart.

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