(514-05-21) Favorable Baverstocks
Summary: Shortly before the Grand Melee is about to start, Bryce and Landon talk about favors.
Date: May 21st, 514, before the Melee
Related: Several logs, will add links later
bryce landon 

The Wedding Tournament was in high swing, with the contests already in their third or fourth day, today’s highlight being the Grand Melee. Bryce is inside the tent of the Baverstock, seated on a camp stool, elbows on the armrests (because it’s a fancy camp stool!), and fingers steepled before him; his dark brown eyes staring but distant as his thoughts are obviously engaged elsewhere. The dark-haired knight with the angular features wears already his maille below the red and black tabard that sports the golden bear; wound about his right arm is a lady’s favor, a braided ribbon of red and blue, with a pendant twined about it. beside him, on a small table, a mug of ale, untouched so far.

Landon flap of the tent is pulled back in such a huff that it makes an audible snap as the younger Baverstock stomps in. He looks up from having to stoop at the entrance, grumbling, "Pardon Brother—" but then he's throwing down his blunted tourney sword with a lack of care for where it goes. He's tossing his helmet on the cot reserved for him and is moving to douse his face in water from the basin that's often left there for that reason. Splashing water on his face, he hunches over the little wooden table that support its.

Once he towels off his face, he slicks his hair back again with whatever water remains to cling to it, as he tromps over toward his cot and eases down into it. He pulls two favours out. One is braided, white, gold, and black. The other is a softer green and blue, trimmed in golden thread. His eyes snap across the Bryce. Words yet unspoken, but the weight of him setting the two favours out should speak enough of the trouble upon his shoulders - if the loss to a Burcombe hadn't already pricked his pride.

Bryce looks up when his brother makes an entrance that is hard to ignore, his gaze lingering curiously on Landon as he tosses sword and helmet here and there, then following the tall knight as he moves over to sit down and consider.

"Hmm…", the older Baverstock makes, tilting his head a little as he turns on his seat, and the seat with him, regarding the dilemma of the two favors with faint curiosity. "This looks like you have a decision to make, brother," he remarks softly, his dark eyes lifting to meet Landon's gaze should he look his way. It is now that he reaches for the mug of ale and takes a sip from it. "You already have a preference?", inquired with a casual smile. "Really, brother… This is quite impressive. Your first tourney, and you have two favors to wear?"

Landon’s forearm braces him over in a lean as it settles across his thigh above the knee, the other hand more toward the upper thigh and waist. It’s a contemplative posture, elbow out and pensive facial expression. His barrel like chest swells as he inhales, then exhales with a slight nod to his brother’s words of needing to make a choice. His eyes turning across from where he’s laid out the favours to where his brother is coaxing him to speak upon it.

“I don’t know that I do. Maybe I do. I don’t know. They are both women I have met when I was younger, befriended during my squirehood years,” he marks the gold, white, and black one first, drawing it up into his hand. “Unlike Catryn, who spurned my advances before I even made them fully,” that too was a while back, “I hadn’t necessarily tried the same with either of them. I suppose I was … more cautious /after/ Catryn not to make the same mistakes.”

“I know them as friends. One, she saved me. The other, I saved her.” He nods to the braided ribbon of gold, white, and black, “I gave these as a token to Lady Signe, long ago. She kept them all this while… She gave this back to me without word and knowing I carried another’s. But I haven’t seen Signe for years, until now.” Then he pulls up the other ribbon, soft blue and green, “And the Lady Nalia… whom I only knew as Lilia this whole while and only recently discovered her true self. I asked her of the favour after I knew she was a Lady. Perhaps because I thought, I would… like the chance to kiss her.”

His hand rubs the back of his neck, for colour had risen there, as he sets the favours down, “I don’t know what you intend for me,” because he knew his cousin had been arranged already, “I don’t even know what I intend to do with either of them.” He sighs, “As I said, the Lady Signe I haven’t seen for years, but, I … got upset when I couldn’t win a duel in front of her.” A beat, “As for Nalia, she is… breathtaking, but she spoke of changes and made me think something has happened recently to turn her eye upon someone else. She has yet to see me in any of the events.”

“It is confusing brother… I know naught what to do,” he finally gives break to let Bryce respond in return.


Bryce rises from his seat and deposits the mug where it was before on the small table. Stepping closer he looks down at those two favors, his forehead wrinkling slightly. "I doubt you can wear both," he states with a soft sigh. The mention of Catryn de Burcombe in context with amorous advances has him shoot Landon a slightly put off glance, followed by the shake of his head. But apart from that he will listen, the paragon of a helpful older brother. "Ah, I see," a faint smile there, when his brother expresses his dilemma with words. And even if that smile dims at the mention of Lady Signe, it is little more than a passing shadow that brushes over his angular features. "You request favors to demand a kiss later?", Bryce drawls, his arms crossing before him as he lifts his dark gaze from the pair of favors displayed on the cot to the pair of eyes of his brother. His gaze flits briefly towards the favor that is wound about his own arm, and one corner of his mouth lifts into a temperate half-smile.

Amusement dims, when Landon addresses him in the true manner one would address the head of the family. "I don't really intend anything at the moment, least of all for you, Landon, unless you wish to propose a betrothal yourself," Bryce de Baverstock clarifies, as the smile fades and a faint line appears between his brows, the faint line of responsibility and the need to do the right things that serve the Manor of Baverstock. "With Syndra, it was different. It wasn't me who came up with it in the first place. That was Lorcan's doing. He suggested it to me, and he had somehow gotten word of the Wylye wishing to establish a bond between our families… And so the betrothal was agreed on, between Syndra and Sir Malcolm de Wylye." The matter brings a frown to his face, and he turns, facing the exit of the tent, with his left side turned towards Landon.

"Syndra wasn't exactly enthused when she learned of it, and in fact… meanwhile other matters have lead to us finding a different arrangement.", the Lord knight continues thoughtfully. "Why, shortly after we spoke about it, Ormond came to me, and confessed he fancied Lunete de Wylye. Sir Rowan was agreeable to switch the arrangement to those two, which in fact earns us a dowry."

"I know /that/ …" Landon grunts out just beyond an audible rumble, like a bear rutting around in the dirt, in regards to wearing both favours. His eyes lift at Bryce's glance at the reaction he wears from Catryn’s involvement, "I was a /squire/ once Bry. She was a girl, I was a boy.. Didn't matter then that she was Burcombe. I floated over the river and… She holds it over me you know." He curls his hands around the two favours, then opts to put one in each hand. "Do you think I could just mix them up behind my back and make you pick one?" He jests … while DOING it.

"What?! No. No. Well… maybe?" He laughs a bit, "You know me better than that. I'm better with fish and boats, than I am with handling … courtship. And kisses."

The matter of intending to do something with his future has Landon give a mock sigh up toward his brother, "You aren't making this any easier on me you know. You should just tell me who to marry and that's that. I won't have to worry about losing a friend because I couldn't wear her favour." He squints, "They really complicated things. Or I did. Ugh." He holds both hands out. "Pick one?" Said with that puppy dog look that makes him look pretty harmless and pleading at the same time. For the big brute he is.

He watches his brother with a curious lift of his brows, putting his hands down if Bryce didn't pick a hand. He had nothing bad to say about Lorcan. He knew his uncle better than he had ever known his own father. "Oh. Well, seems that all turned out then, for Syndra. Now, why are we talking about her??" He lifts his hands up again, giving them gesturing motions, "You were going to pick a hand."

“Oh, please,” Bryce says with a dismissive gesture of left hand, brows knitting ever so slightly. “You knew you’d better beware of those Burcombes…”, said as he lifts the mug of ale to his lips., his forehead wrinkling in amused protest when he hears Landon’s jest that then proves to be a suggestion. A shake of the head there, “You can’t mean to… solve this by nudging me to decide it?”, he chuckles in slightly incredulous protest, the vacant hand lifting in a resolute gesture. The chuckle dying on his lips as he rolls his eyes. “It’s not like any of us is versed in that.” Courtship and kisses. “But at least I’d thought you’d be more open to that kind of diversion than I could ever be!”

Dark eyes glance towards the taller brother, and Bryce shakes his head, “No! I won’t decide a thing like that, just because you are too lazy to make up your own mind, Landon!” His gaze shifts towards the hands and his eyes widen as realization dawns upon him. “You are really meaning this, are you? Even if I picked… you don’t automatically end up as the betrothed of the lucky lady in question…” Even so, Landon’s puppy look draws a chuckle from his lips. “You shouldn’t wear any of those two favors, brother. You don’t deserve either of them.”, says Bryce backing away a little from the offered choice of hands. “Yes, Syndra is spared this time,” he states, a bit of awkwardness flashing in his gaze. “It is not like I enjoy arranging matches, especially those that,” a cough there, ”are made more out of political necessity rather than personal preference.” Even if those would predominate. Looking up, the older Baverstock brother frowns ever so slightly at Landon’s persistence. “Something tells me I am going to regret this…”, Bryce mutters as he chooses a hand, lightly tapping onto it with the index finger of his right hand.

Favors are hidden, bunched up in Landon’s fists, left Signe. right Nalia.
Bryce rolls, result: even -> left; odd -> right
Bryce rolls 1d6 and gets (4) for a total of: (4)

He chooses the left hand that holds a beautiful favor of gold, white and black.

"Yes well, try telling that to a sixteen year old version of myself. I was quite a mutt back then," he tells his brother in relation to the Catryn experience, "At that time, I thought of it as a personal challenge - woo a Burcombe and I’d be the most romantic knight this side of Sarum. I guess that's where I went wrong huh?" He muses further over the back story between the personal rivalry between Catryn and himself. And then there was the hands wrapping around the favours and covering them up as he switched them back and forth behind him, grinning at Bryce's exasperation for it.

"What do you mean by … that brother?! That I should be more open to that kind of diversion? Are you suggesting I haven't been absolutely chaste? 'Cuz I have brother. I wouldn't despoil a woman that way. Well I hugged one - quite frequently - and the other one saw me naked…" He shrugs his shoulders as if that was nothing, gesturing that aside, "They’re just friends. Besides. Until you get married and spit out a couple rug rats, Lorcan suggests I don't mess it up with… inappropriate and unbecoming behaviour." Because there was always the potential Bryce could fall in battle. "'Sides, yer the romantic one between us. At least you know where your heart is." A nod to that mysterious favour, "You ever going to tell me who it is huh? Or do I get to find out when you're marrying her?"

"Heeeeey. I'm not lazy…" He retorts in a slothish way just to get his brother's goat, "Indecisive and not really sure that either relationship is anything more than platonic… but not lazy." A lopsided grin shows to Bryce, "Yeah… And that isn't my intent. They're both Pagan's… Not sure how Lorcan would feel about it, let alone you-" he watches Bryce's reaction for the mention of the religion both women share. His mouth falls open in mock pain for being wounded over not deserving either of them, answering with an amiable rebuff, "You're right. I don't. This is the only way to decide it." As for Syndra and arranged marriages, he simply shrugs at it, offering, "Part of your duty to see us off properly."

Then as Bryce is about to pick, Landon's mouth pulls into a wide grin. Eager and childish.

At the moment of reveal, Landon heaves a breath, "At least one of them will be happy. Suppose that means I ought to go speak with Nalia…" And he starts to push down on his knees, to rise from the cot. "She might slap me you know…" He impishly looks to Bryce and stage whispers, "I'll just tell her it was your fault."

"A challenge.", Bryce echoes dryly in regards to the Burcombe, dark eyes flitting down and up his tall brother's frame. "You've certainly had strange ideas at that age, apparently." Brows lift and he smirks, "Oh, I'm not suggesting anything of the kind, you not being chaste and all. Wasn't it you, after all, who told me just a few moments ago you asked for a favor to… receive a kiss from the lady in question…?" Nothing judgmental there, in the expression on his angular face, mild amusement glinting in his gaze instead. "Even hugging…" He shakes his head. "Is usually not done, brother." The news about the other lady seeing Landon as the Lord had made him elicits a slightly astonished "What?" But he takes it all in good humor, a chuckle there as he shakes his head. "You are telling me you are acting chastely? Are you listening to your own words, brother?"

Not that Bryce is really meaning to lecture Landon; when in fact he cannot resist to note: "If it is friendship, you owe it to the ladies in question to… be careful and discreet about such behaviour." His eyes narrow ever so slightly when Landon states Bryce being the romantic one, but even so his lips cannot help but curl when attention shifts to the favor wound about his own arm. "I will tell you who it is… And in fact, marriage seems to be a possible option." A rather cautious yet reluctant statement, that, but so true to Bryce de Baverstock's guarded manner. "Even so, I will wait with disclosing her name to you until I have had the opportunity to speak with her."

Then it is about those two favors, and Bryce listens with an unmoving mien when Landon states that both ladies in question are of the Pagan faith. "Such has happened before in our family," is his rather casual statement. "And I will not keep you if you are inclined to be wed to one of them." His enthusiasm is not overwhelming though, as light flicker there in his gaze. "With Lady Signe, I was aware. She regularly visits the village of Baversham, and I know she is holding rites for the few Pagan followers on our lands."

The pick is made, and in the moment Bryce sees which favor Landon hid in the hand he chose, there is a slight roll of his eyes and one corner of his mouth lifts in a faint wry grin. "Go to Lady Nalia, tell her I was the one who in a way led to the decision. She'll slap you nonetheless, I'm afraid."

"What was I to do when you were out at the Dinton's? I had to amuse myself in some manner, like poking a snake with a stick," Landon adds in with an infectious playful tone over Catryn, "She does bite. Don't go near that one." His leg was still feeling that sting.

"A thought of /a/ kiss is different than actually getting to that stage…" He says dryly up to his brother's razzing, "And it was hugging to /greet/ someone… No one saw," he ensures, as his own cheeks heat up despite himself, thinking of the Lady Nalia, "I /know/ it's not. You know when you're excited to see someone, you just want to scoop them up in a hug. That's what I do. I've hugged you quite often, doesn't mean anything, right?" He rolls his shoulder at the good humor, "What?” Mock astonishment, “I never told you that I was naked and drowning and Lady Signe pulled me from the drink? — Gee, I wonder why I didn't want to mention that before." Something about pride no doubt.

On the more serious edge, Landon takes the imparted wisdom with an incline of his head, murmuring, "I really should sort it out." Yet then there's Bryce, being rather cloak and dagger about his own love interest. "I told you about Lady Signe and Lady Nalia… and you won't return the favour when you're talking about marriage? C'mon, you can tell me. What are brother's for? How am I to properly grin like an idiot at your future wife if I don't know her?" Because he so would.

Such is the transition back to his own two ladies and the matter of their religion. Seeing that it wasn't a problem for Bryce, well, not openly, causes Landon's enthusiasm to shine, a gleam of relief. He probably wouldn't marry anyone that Bryce didn't approve of, Bryce has to be aware of that much at least - the loyalty that his younger brother showed him. At the mention of Signe practicing in Baversham, he furrows his brows, "Huh. She never told me that."

Then without notice, the taller Baverstock reaches his burly arm around Bryce to haul him in for a 'bear' hug. "GRRRR—" the noise he makes when he squishes Bryce against him, "Thanks Bry."

Bryce checked his Honest at 16, he rolled 13.
Bryce checked his Trusting at 10, he rolled 9.

"You know there is a difference between a brotherly hug, and a hug given by a knight to an unmarried lady…", Bryce drawls tilting his head to the side as he shoots his brother a dubious glance, eyes narrowing slightly at stories about Landon's miraculous - and bared - rescue from the waters that could have become his wet grave. "Yes, you did tell me their names," he allows with a nod, when his brother keeps poking about his own favor, "as for grinning like an idiot… that is what should keep me from telling you.", Bryce counters with a grin of his own. A shrug of his shoulders the reaction to Landon being oblivious to Signe's occasional activity as Pagan Priestess on Baverstock lands, before Bryce is caught in his brother's arms, a gesture he returns, even if air is pushed out of his lungs momentarily from the fervent hug.

Once the grip loosens sufficiently as to allow the older brother to draw a breath, his chin lifts, bringing his mouth closer to Landon's ear as he adds with a faint grin: "You are right, though. It is not fair to withhold her name. It's who you may suspect it is. But really, Landon… It's hardly more than a favor… And she is an old friend… Don't jump to any premature conclusions." Bryce looks up into the face of his taller brother, as the grin fades and uncertainty enters his gaze. "The favor… belongs to Lysanor de Dinton."

It's Landon's turn to roll his eyes at Bryce's drawl, shrugging. He only happens to show a smile for Bryce's eye narrowing then, "I'll tell you about it sometime. It'll make a good story over ale and when we're old men," he chortles. "Awww c'mon," he elbows Bryce with a conspiratorial manner, "You know you want to see me grinning like an idiot."

And once his arms come back from Bryce, he holds his one hand slightly on the other's shoulder still, good naturedly keeping his brother within grip. At the name, Landon tilts his head back and lets out a gusty laugh, that shakes his large frame, as he smacks Bryce on the back, in a gesture that goes along with his 'whooping' … !!

"I knew it! Well, I didn't, but, I had my suspicions-" he actually brings his hand up to Bryce's cheek and pinches it, mocking their mother's tone, "Oooo you two are sooooo cute." Another snicker before he claps Bryce on the back to draw him in for another hug, more brotherly patpats, "Good for you though Bry. She's a good woman. She'll give you lots of babies—" and that's when he anticipates a shot from Bryce, so he's ducking out of reach with a laugh, moving toward the flap of the tent, "This is cause for celebration. Ale brother, you and I, shall have ale!" His finger points to Bryce, to hold him to it, as he backs out of the tent.

His voice can be heard out there billowing, "CARL. Your knight is in love. Get us some ale boy!"

Maybe his trust in his brother's discretion was a bit premature, after all? Bryce shoots him a glare at the mockery, when Landon imitates Lady Meredith de Dinton who has stayed behind at Baverstock Manor. "Didn't I ask you just now, not to jump to conclusions?" And indeed, his own fist comes forward in a rather robust brotherly punch into Landon's side - a thing you can do before a Grand Melee, but probably not afterwards! Following when the taller Baverstock evades in direction of the tent flap, Bryce seems almost reconciled. Until that rather enthusiastic call to the squire makes his eyes roll in exasperation at his younger brother.

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