(514-05-20) Who We Are
Summary: Merryn and Rozenn finally get past the awkwardness of arranged marriage and give in to a mutual interest.
Date: May 20, 514
Related: Battle of the Banns
merryn rozenn 

There are suggestive poses at the end. Absolutely nothing overt and all FTB, but just as a heads up!

Sir Merryn de Pitton is seated outside one of the tents in the small area set aside for Pitton among the other Salisbury houses. His squire on loan for the festivities is seated next to him, in much a similar scene to the one earlier, carefully applying salve to the knight's bruised up shiled arm, which is an impressive black and blue between the elbow and the shoulder. This also of course means his tunic is laid out on the bench next to him, revealig the mottle of burn scars, that cover quite a bit of his back and sides, as well as the few more recognizable sword or arrow inflicted scars. It's no wonder the man constantly moves as if he has a pole shoved up his back. He takes the rather clumsy treatment of the squire in stride and without complaint, offering tips when the young boy stumbles, rather than chastising him.

Unfortunately, Rozenn de Burcombe was unable to attend Sir Merryn's joust. The joys of having your own packed schedule as a Knight. The ladies are much more free to attend as they're wont. However, the woman was able to get word of his victory relatively quickly and has made her way into the maze of tents in place for the vast gathering. She's out of her armor for the rest of the day and in a bliant instead; a red thing, with black and yellow at the hems of the long sleeves and the v-shaped neckline. Rather than the corded belt a lady would wear, however, Roz has her sword belt in place and her cloak trailing behind her; set to life by movement and breeze alike.

In one hand, she's holding a basket. Near the tents flying the banner of Pitton, the brunette slows. She's already spotted Merryn, slowing her stride until she stands not too great a distance away. "Merryn." They tentatively began to use the more familiar terms and she's trying it on for size. "I wanted to pay congratulations for your victory."

Merryn checked his chaste of 13, he rolled 5.

At the sound of Rozenn's voice Merryn draws himself up a bit more rigid, a slight flush coming to his cheeks. Though there's nothing he can do about his partially undressed state at the moment, not with his relatively mild injuries still being tended to. But he certainly looks a bit awkward as he turns to regard Rozenn over his shoulder. "Rozenn, I.." He looks betwee the young boy at his side and his betrothed and lets out a soft, sullen sounding sigh. "Thank you. Please." He motions towards another stool outside the tent with his free hand. "I didn't see you in the stands." It's more of a statement, and he doesn't sound upset by the fact either. "Though other things were occupying my attention, sadly."

"I was unable to make it out, I'm afraid." Shifting the basket to hold in both hands before her, Rozenn approaches a few steps nearer. She's doing a decent job of not looking too closely at the scarring, but cannot help how her eyes do drift by small measures. At the least, she does not seem reviled or upset by it. "My sister is performing in a few challenges and I opted to observe her." A brief pause, then, as she brings the stool in nearer to settle onto. "I hope it wasn't a disappointment."

To this, she seems genuinely apologetic. However, the woman would be very hard pressed to choose someone over family. Even the man she is due to be wed to. The basket is balanced in her lap and she redirects pale gaze to the contents within. "I brought some things to share, in celebration. I hope you're not averse to sweet things."

"It's no worry, I had your favor." There's a slightly bashful smile from Merryn at that. "Besides, I'll have you as a captive audience furing the grand melee." The squire finishes tending to his arm and bows low as he makes his excuses to leave, Merryn dismissing him with polite nod. He tests his arm a few times and nods to himself. "I took a bit more of a battering that I expected, luckily, so did my opponent." He picks up his shirt now that he's free to do so and tugs it down over his head. "Sadly, I think the opposite could be said of me, I enjoy them quite a lot, enough that it annoyed the manor cooks when I was a child."

You check your Chaste at 7, you rolled 6.

And even though putting on the tunic would be reason enough for Rozenn to get a good look at the man… she restrains herself. Perhaps it was in understanding where some of that discomfort stems from. Crossing feet the ankles, she balances the basket properly in her lap. The first thing pulled from within (and passed over to Merryn) is a wine skin. Following that are some carefully wrapped tarts, some rolled crepes, and then a stoneware dish that is revealed to have custard. Treats, indeed. Some are passed over to the man and other items, she holds. Without a table, it's somewhat tricky.

"I would hope you can forgive me if I am not as captive an audience as you say during the grand melee. We're all working in the Earl's glory, yes?" There's a brief pause, lips curving into something of a smile. It might even be an attempt to be flirtatious. "But I'm sure you'll have my attention plenty of other times."

You check your Flirting at 10, you rolled 18.

Merryn doesn't do up the laces on his tunic however, perhaps the presence of desert distracting him from his previous embarassment. He sets some of the items down on the seat next to him recently vacated by the squire, motioning for Rozenn to come in closer and join him. "Quite the selection you've brought." He grins as he picks up one of the tarts, taking a bite out of it, washing it down with a swig of wine, offering the skin to Rozenn after his drink. "It's quite good, thank you. I fear you might spoil me at this rate."

There's no need to ask — or gesture — twice. Rozenn does move to sit next to Merryn; arranging the treats between them. Whether for convenience or as a buffer remains to be seen. The woman picks up a crepe, breaking off a section to dip into the custard. She follows this with a sip of wine, flashing a brief smile upward at Merryn when he speaks of being spoiled. "There are worse things your betrothed can do, I'm sure. I did not see your run, but I hear you performed very well, against someone said to have greater skill. You deserve to be spoiled at least a little."

Merryn checked his modest of 13, he rolled 19.
Merryn checked his proud of 7, he rolled 2.

"He jousted well, but when he did not unseat me quickly he became flustered." Merryn breaks off a piece of tart to scoop up some custard. "He became too overconfident he could win and I took advantage of that." A note of pride works its way into his voice, his usual calm and passivity lost for once in enjoying his accomplishment. He leans in towards Rozenn slightly. "My steed is also getting an extra treat, I sent a few apples to the stables, he performed admirably." Another grin spreads out across his face as he finishes off the tart, licking a few crumbs from his fingers. He doesn't dive back into the treats, instead watching Rozenn quietly for a moment. "I am glad we are finding common ground to get along on. I admit I was worried initially."

You check your Flirting at 10, you rolled 11.

"It's a smart point to press. Overconfidence is many a Knight's downfall." When Rozenn looks up again, Merryn has leaned in nearer. She watches him, but is, for the moment… otherwise frozen in place. As if she'd forgotten everything she may have said or done. The grin loosens the nerves a measure and she looks down to the crepe she holds. More dipped in custard and lifted to lips to eat. It gives her time to consider a response.

"I did… I still do, a bit." Blue eyes have fallen to rest in the space between; unable to meet his eyes for the moment. "We come from very different sorts of families. But I would rather find common ground to share than to be miserable out of obstinance."

Merryn takes his cue from Rozenn and doesn't lean any closer, instead grabbing up another small tart which certainly seem to have garnered most of his attention. "If I may be so bold, I think we both could have done far worse. You should come by Pitton after we return home, meet my family. I wouldn't say no to coming out to Burcombe either." A small but hearty laugh comes from the man. "Perhaps I should thank you cousin in person for standing in my cousin's way." He breaks the tart in half in his hands, holding out the larger of the two halves towards Rozenn.

You check your Romance at 2, you rolled 4.

"We could have, yes. Though I'd like to think myself a worthy match." Even if she's nearing a point of being too old to be proper marriage material. There's a glance to the tart offered and Rozenn does smile as she accepts it; fingers brushing over Merryn's palm in the process. "I'm sure Caerwyn would appreciate that. I would be glad to see Pitton. Consider the invitation accepted." She straightens, then. Not so much trying to lean away (or worse: escape), but to retrieve the wine. A sip is taken and the 'skin offered over as she begins to tuck into the tart.

Merryn accepts the wine skin with a grateful nod, taking another sip to wash down a bite of tart before offering it back. "I look forward to the visit then. Fortunately our houses are not to far apart. It's not as if you are being sent off to some faraway land, you will still be close to your family.." The words are offered as some sort of balm, as he knows the arrangement probably still stings the proud knight. His eyes glaze over a little as he stares off into the colorful maze of tents. "At least until one or the other of us is sent by the Earl to fight in some distant land."

The skin is accepted in turn and Rozenn takes a small sip before balancing it in her lap. "While it is not always the way… Often enough, the woman finds herself taking her husband's name. It's an eventuality I was prepared for." The brunette stares to the tart in her hands before finishing it off. It's a few quick bites, then another long drink of that wine. She's lowering the 'skin back to her lap, to balance against her knees, when Merryn speaks again. Pale eyes follow his… though only briefly.

Rather, the Burcombe ultimately takes the moment to study the Pitton Knight. The man who she is — it has been decided — to wed. She lifts a hand and (with only a small measure of hesitation) reaches out to brush fingers against some hair that has come free of the braid he keeps it in. It's a very delicate and even intimate gesture, executed with only a slight shake to her hand. As if she's trying it out for size.

"It's up to you. I won't force anything on you one way or another. I would want our batrothal to be a peaceful one. At least between us." Merryn gives a slight smile, still peering off into the distance. As she brushes the hair out of his face, he doesn't flinch or lean away, but he does blink a few times. After he sits up a bit straighter, rolling his shoulders to work out some of the tension as he finally seems to fully relax from his earlier bout. He holds out his hand on his knee, palm up as an invitation should she want to take it.

You check your Flirting at 10, you rolled 4.

Capping the skin, Rozenn sets it on the ground between them; leaning it against Merryn's boot. It's a way of making him aware of its location without having to discuss it. For the moment, she realizes that changing topics might not be for the best. Or at least… not preferred. The woman shifts, closing the distance between them. Her shoulder to his back, barely, as she takes his hand… But it's not just resting her hand on his, no. Roz slides her hand between his arm and body, winding limbs loosely together. Only then does she settle her fingers to his. It brings her close. Moreso than she has been previously. There's a sort of heavy weight to her heartbeat… and yet it flutters. Her breathing has quickened. Just marginally. This terrifies her in some small way.

"I'm glad my favor seems to have brought you luck," the Burcombe finally manages, in a quiet voice.

Merryn checked his chaste of 13, he rolled 3.

Merryn wraps his fingers between Rozenn's, holding her hand tightly. It seems the hand holding and close sitting is enough for him for now, just glad to have the contact. He reaches down with his other hand to draw the scarf from the top of his boot where he tucked it while his bruises were being treated by the squire. He just lets it dangle loosely between his fingers. "Would I be welcome to wear it during the grand melee, even though you'll be fighting at my side?" He turns to regard Rozenn, that annoyingly loose bit of hair dropping into his face again. "It certainly served me well already."

You check your Chaste at 7, you rolled 11.
You check your Lustful at 13, you rolled 7.

Though she stopped being a 'maid' some time ago and has never felt shamed for that fact, Rozenn has never been courted. There's many leagues of difference between a roll in the stables or beneah the stars and someone showing an actual tenderness and desire to get to know you for more than simple, carnal pleasures. The Burcombe is finding it makes her feel things. What things, exactly, she's not sure she can identify.

When Merryn turns towards her, holding the scarf, she reaches to brush her fingers over the dangling edge. "Keep it," she offers, at last. "You deserve to be wearing a favor from your betrothed." There's even a bit of color to her cheeks. Her free hand lifts, finding that loose bit of hair and reaching to tuck it back behind his ear. The opportunity is taken, fingers sliding against his neck. She doesn't shy from the scarring, either. Lips parted slightly, the woman stares at the other Knight. There's something of a desire in her gaze; desire blending with curiousity.

Merryn checked his lustful of 7, he rolled 5.

There's a brief nod from Merryn as he tucks the scarf into the top of his boot once more, where he's sure it can be safe. And when he turns back she's waiting for him, her hand on his neck and her gaze on him. There's only a moment's hesitation before he leans forwards and presses his lips against those of his betrothed. It's not a forceful kiss, more soft and tender, almost timid. Though perhaps he lets it linger just a bit longer than would be altogether appropriate, if she was a lady and had a chaperone, but neither was the case. One of his hands going to rest on her waist with a light touch.

On the one hand, Rozenn was hoping for this. She didn't realize she was until he was looking at her, but there it was. A sort of flipping sensation deep in her stomach. On the other hand, she wasn't quite brave enough to initiate it of her own accord. Having actual feelings for someone changes the playing field. Especially someone who others decided she'd be a match for. Only her loyalty to her family kept her from wholly rebelling and fighting the betrothal.

Their lips meet and her eyes fall closed as she leans into the kiss. One hand still palm-to-palm with his, the other slips from the Pitton's neck to shoulder; fingertips curling into the fabric of his tunic. When the kiss breaks, she doesn't retreat far. Blue eyes open and lift to find his. "Would it be strange to ask to carry your favor in return?"

As the kiss breaks, Merryn's eyes meet Rozenn's. Luckily he's smart enough not to ruin the moment by speaking, instead just offerins another of those small smiles, and a bit of that embarassment that seems to come with close contact. Fierce on the battlefield, but it seems affairs of romance reduce him to a bit of an emotional tangle. But he does leave his hand on her waist, almost protectively.

Her question seems to catch him off guard for a moment, as it likely is a very strange request. But he thinks for a moment and finally nods his head. "I guess that would only be fair." He gets to his feet and disappears into the tent.

You check your Chaste at 7, you rolled 16.
You check your Lustful at 13, you rolled 3.

Nor does Rozenn try to leave his grasp. As a female Knight — particularly one of a greater height than many of her peers — she is often the protector. Someone displaying such tendencies towards her is new and… she doesn't hate it. Or at least she's tolerating it. When Merryn assents to her request, there's a small smile. The woman shifts back on the bench to wait, leaning to retrieve the skin and drink deep.

Eyes away from her betrothed, she sees the area… empty. Most people off at the current events and many sites, such as Pitton's, arranged in such a way as to provide some level of privacy from surrounding gatherings. Pushing to her feet, wine in hand, the woman follows. Roz stops, however, once past the tent entrance; heavy fabric falling closed behind her. It's not as much a breech of personal space as it may be to have followed him, say, to a bedroom… But it's close.

Merryn has found his way over to his chest, moving some items aside. The inside of the tent isn't all that amazing, just a chest, his armor, and one bedroll for himself and one for his on loan squire. He eventually stands up, bearing an old cloak, starting a bit as he turns around and sees Rozenn standing in the doorway of his tent. "Ahh.. I didn't have a kerchief, not one that you'd want anyway." He pulls out his dagger and cuts out a section of the cloak, which on better inspection has a bit of fraying and some holes, almost time to retire it anyway, he just goes ahead and does it early. He walks over and holds out the section, orange and green with the Pitton lion embroidered on it.

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

Once inside the tent, Rozenn finds herself uncertain again. She just watches Merrin, lips pursed in thought. Funny how things are so easy with some people. 'Desire' being a straight road from point A to point B. With Merryn, however, the road is more like a foot trail through the woods, after a long winter. Some points and bends are still recognizable, but others are totally different. Where you thought that root was is now a morass of leaves overlaying new growth. She has to step carefully and that is not something Rozenn has ever been good at… or known for.

"I didn't give you much time to prepare," the woman admits, quietly. Blue eyes flicker and drop to the offered fabric and the Burcombe steps in to accept it… though she doesn't stop there. Her fingers fold over his, capturing the fabric between their hands. Her other hand goes for Merryn's tunic as she grabs at it and pulls him near: intending a resumption of their earlier kiss.

Merryn checked his lustful of 7, he rolled 6.

There's not much uncertainty in Merryn's eyes as he watches Rozenn, more the careful judging of just what this might be leading to and if its appropriate. Always the pesky honor and chivalry running through his head. As his makeshift favor isn't taken, and instead his hand grabbed he decides to just give in. Lips pressed against hers in a much more eager kiss than the previous one. And soon his free hand has gotten away from him, tangling itself in Rozenn's tunic, trying to work it off of her in an eager need as he tries to lead their entwined bodies over to the bedroll.

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