(514-06-03) Talkative Ambitions
Summary: Breaca de Wylye encounters Leodwen de Falt in the Cathedral of Blessed Mary in Sarum.
Date: June 3rd, 514
Related: None directly
leodwen breaca 

Cathedral of the Blessed Mary - Sarum

One of the few stone buildings in Sarum, aside from Sarum Castle itself, this cathedral is spacious enough to easily fit 50 people seated and perhaps 100 with standing room in the eaves. The large wooden doors face east, with thin but colorful windows lining the outsides. A wooden floor gives echoes to feet that walk upon it, the same wood as the pews and the support beams. The rafters are evident, showing some artisan spent time making them more than functional. The stone has been standing a while and despite the best efforts of the clergy here, there is a little tinge of green near the windows and door, where cool, wet air does seep in from time to time.

When there is no mass or other event, the Cathedral of the Blessed Mary is a place for prayer and contemplation, such as on this late morn on a lovely day in late May. Maybe due to the fine weather outside, the blue sky and the warm rays of a late spring sun, the cathedral is currently less frequented, with only a few present inside of the impressive stone building. One such person sits not too far from the altar with the artful depiction of the crucified Jesus Christ, the lady in question rather young in age, her demeanour that of a faithful Christian, hands folded before her, eyes closed, as her lips move ever so slightly in silent prayer. Long blonde tresses spill out where the hood of her cloak has slipped off her head, the young lady wearing a dress of dark green beneath. Dark brows curve above her eyes that are of a hazel color, a fact, that becomes apparent when she slowly opens them, focusing on the cross before her. And the silent prayer that probably had been of rather personal nature, shifts into a more audible declamation, as the language changes to Latin.

“Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi…”

Another young woman walks into Cathedral of the Blessed Mary. However, this one has a bit of a sceptical look in her slightly squarish face. Breaca has the pale skin of nobility, dark brown tresses which descends to her waist in the back. Plump lips of a pale pink surround a wide mouth, light brown eyes peer out from under dark brows scanning the benches. A pair of beaded earrings dangle from the young womans ears, and a lean neck leads down to a bit of cleavage, though not too much.

She is wearing a purple gown that seems to shimmer blue at certain angles, with a simple decorative pattern of a pale gray or dull white. A black, woven cloth belt with a tan banded trim and studded with elliptical gold disc, each studded with a different semi-precious gem. A decorative gold clasp holds the belt in the front. Thick, heavy embroidery adorns the hem of the gown, the outer edge of the outer sleeve which covers the upper arms, and the front of the bodice below the cleavage. Browns and pinks, and whites are found throughout the embroidery in both the material itself and the beadwork that forms basic patterns. An under-dress peaks out at the top edge of the bodice embroidery and also extends past the outer sleeves to the wrists in a pale, dull blue.

The young woman gives just a brief glance to the other lady before moving to settle on the opposite line of the benches. She folds her hands on a lap politely and stabs her look into one of the Jesus Christ faces as if saying ‘Hey, I am here again, will you be able to hear me now, or are you deaf?’ Of course, her thoughts remain as thoughts and she politely makes a sign of the cross. Lips do not start moving because she decides to keep her prayer private.

Leodwen checked her Awareness at 7, she rolled 3.

“… Miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem.”

The steps of any visitor to the cathedral are bound to attract attention, hardly muffled as they are, amplified through the polished stone floor and the majestic architecture of the building. Leodwen de Falt looks up, pausing in her prayer, as her head turns just so, hazel eyes flickering with curiosity as she regards the new arrival. Her head is inclined in polite greeting towards Breaca, a lady she is not acquainted with, still, both the facial expression and the glare the woman gives the depiction of Jesus Christus at the cross draw Leodwen’s attention. Her gaze shifts briefly back towards the altar, to finish her prayer.

“Benedictus qui venit in nomine domini. Amen.”

After which, Leodwen makes the sign of the cross, her gaze lowered in respectful reverence to the Lord and His Son.

She moves to stand and after another brief glance towards the altar, she walks over to where Breaca sits. “A good morn to you, my lady,” Leodwen half-whispers, a warm smile now blossoming on her face as she inclines her head to the woman. “You look as if you don’t wish to be here…? I am Leodwen. Leodwen de Falt. I haven’t met you before, but then again… I am not so often in Sarum.”, she offers, giving Breaca a friendly nod of greeting, as her own hands fold before her. Breaca may glimpse a necklace about Leodwen’s neck, a pendant in the form of a raven. But apart from that, Leodwen seems to be rather tall for a woman, 5’3”, slender of stature, with comely features that emanate youthful enthusiasm.

Breaca checked her Heraldry at 5, she rolled 15.
Breaca checked her Honest at 10, she rolled 6.

Breaca looks up at the stranger, when she is approached. Her dark eyes land on a pendant in the form of a raven at first. However, she does not link the raven pendant with the raven of family Falt in her thoughts. So, when the other lady introduces herself, Breaca nods her head and gestures for Leodwen to sit down beside, “It’s nice to meet you, lady Leodwen de Falt. I am Breaca de Wylye. It is not a surprise, that you didn’t see me before. I have so much work at home.. So, yes. I am a rare guest in Sarum myself.” She does try to be quiet, however she does have quite a firm and bossy voice. So, even if she tries to whisper, her voice sounds a little bit too loud than it should.

“Not that I do not want to be here… The architecture of the Cathedral is just marvellous. However, I sometimes wonder why do people spend so much time praying, when they should trust themselves more and just work. So, here I am, asking support, when I can actually get what I want myself. I just need to concentrate…” She kind of drawls and her look slides from Leodwen back to the image of Jesus Christ.

Leodwen checked her Pious at 10, she rolled 14.
Leodwen checked her Worldly at 10, she rolled 15.

A young lady of the Roman Christian faith probably should feel offended by the manner in which Breaca voices her opinion about people praying too much. Leodwen is not! The blonde lady de Falt tilts her head in curiosity, and even a hint of mischief is sparkling in those hazel eyes of hers, as she sits down where Breaca has indicated. “Lady Breaca de Wylye, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Leodwen smiles, keeping her voice still to that unobtrusive whisper as not disturb other – more pious – visitors to the Cathedral of Blessed Mary. “I’m usually at home, at Falt Manor… Well, to be honest, I lived at Chalke Manor last year… You see, I was married to Sir Dafydd de Chalke…”, she begins to explain, the mirth dimming ever so slightly for a second. “But well… He got killed. Saxons.” The latter offered with a light shrug of her shoulders. “We never… didn’t have children, so… I returned to my family. Widowed as I am. I am looking after my brother now. But then… he got married just recently, to this lady who is also a knight. Sir Myfanwy de Cholderton. As his newly wed wife, she claims much of his time.” Leodwen draws a deep breath, after this brief outburst of loquacity. “So…” And here her hazel eyes meet Breaca’s gaze, and a slightly audacious glint enters the Falt lady’s look, “I’ve come to Sarum to look for alternatives… Things to do. Anything. Rather than wait at home for my uncle Sir Cadogan to find me a new match.”

Breaca rolls her eyes just a little bit at the outburst of another lady. She did not come here to listen for a life story of another. Lady Wylye does have enough of her own work, and thoughts, and goals. However, she tries to stay polite. A smile curls her lips up showing a little bit forced friendliness. The young woman turns to stare at the lovely creature in front of her. Breaca’s eyebrow raises up just a little bit and she nods, nods, nods again in an understanding or just in a manner to let Leodwen know that she is heard. Once the Falt finishes telling more than needed, Breaca nods once more, “Looking after heirs or heads of the houses is just pointless. One way or the other, he will do whatever he wants. He will be seduced by his wife at the end, and then he will do everything what will please his wife. So, congratulations for finally understanding, that you must look after yourself. I would suggest to find yourself a position at court. You will have more chances finding a little bit better than average husband for yourself.”

Despite Breaca more or less backing up what Leodwen had already in a way said in her own words, the blonde de Falt widow vehemently shakes her head when the other lady labels Leodwen’s task thus far pointless – to look after the head of her manor! “Aww….”, she drawls, “You don’t know Custennin, my brother. Such a warmhearted bear of a man. He cares for our family, and I am sure, he’ll have more time, once he has gotten used to…” she sighs, “this arrangement. I accompanied them to Carlion, for the wedding tournament. I really expected Custennin to get quite battered in the knightly contests, that he would need my healing skills… But…” And here she chuckles, the melodious kind of chuckle that is seldom heard in these pious walls. A few heads turn, glances are shot her way, and Leodwen de Falt reacts at once, covering her mouth with her fingers as she shoots Breaca a slightly caught glance. “Custennin did too well in the contests! No one was really able to do much harm to him.” The pride and love for her brother is evident from the tone of her voice that is once again lowered to a half-whisper.

A nod follows, after Leodwen has listened to Breaca’s advice. “I shall go to court and speak with Earl Robert. Maybe he can help me find a useful occupation.” Hazel eyes flit to the Wylye lady. “What about you? Is there an office you plan to apply for…?”

The melodious kind of chuckle pushes Breaca’s smile away like the rainy clouds steal the sun and the dark haired woman stays seated with emotionless expression, “Congratulations for the victory, then. I believe I heard some people talking about mountainous man in the tournament. Pity, I did not participate as a viewer. My cousin was one of the participants, Lord Rowan de Wylye. Of course, I can’t praise him nor slate, since I didn’t see his show-off with my own eyes. Others may report some insights to me, but that will never be a fact. It would be just a mere interpretation made by someone.”

Breaca inhales some air and she tosses a few displeased looks toward the possible gawkers, who require silence for a better interaction with God, “I have made some plans, yes. You should have some ideas too, because if you will approach Earl Robert with a vague request… Well, you will make fun of yourself. He is not a father, who could offer what shall you do with your life. Make a list of positions, which interest you, and have a detailed argumentation, why would you be a better choice than other ladies. Judging from your voice, you could try to speak with Earl Robert’s wife instead and get yourself something more artistic.”

What an odd reaction, that! Leodwen studies Breaca with a hint of surprise when the other woman’s smile vanishes at once, not really joining in her mirth, but rather… detesting it? “I was there watching,” she states, keeping an amiable expression to her comely features. “It was a spectacle… And worth the travel, even if the distance would have been twenty times farer. The High King was there… His Queen,” Leodwen rolls her eyes in obvious thrill, hands joining before her. “It has certainly been an experience I’d never want to have missed!” But then, her almost swoon is such a crass contrast to the rational expression on Breaca’s face, that the Falt lady falls silent then, nodding to the advice – even if she might not heed it. “I shall speak to the Countess…”, she decides optimistically as she moves to stand. “Thank you for the instructive conversation. Have a good day! I believe our paths shall cross again…” Saying as much as she offers a graceful hint of a curtsey, and moves to leave the Cathedral of Blessed Mary – with the required decorum.

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