(514-06-06) Invasion of the Burcombe Family
Summary: Caerdin, Heulwen and Caerwen are having a nice time of it until more Burcombes arrive, as well as a recently tragedy stricken lady and her cousin.
Date: 06-06-514
Related: The Hadyn dying one.
caerdin caerwyn catryn rickard morag cynrain heulwen erylys dywana 


Wainwright's Inn

A large common room here houses tables during the day, to serve visitors food and drinks. Though at night, this large room is converted into the sleeping area for visitors who can't afford to stay at other locations in the city. Much in the manner of the Great Hall. The walls here only have a few tapestries upon them, something down by the peasant folk that seems to eschew their way of life, mostly farming. The room has a good ten tables during the day all of them closest to the large hearth in the wall opposite the bar. Behind the bar is a door which leads to both kitchen and the home of the owner of this Inn.


I don't have the beginning before I got there. Feel free to add

So what's better than one Burcombe? A whole flock of them. And so shortly after Heulwen's arrival, not one, not two, but three Burcombes come through the tavern door, familiar faces on either side of one that hasn't been seen in recent days. Morag, for her part, is leaning on Rickard's arm as they walk, beaming up at him. "You're taller." she tells him, despite the fact that he's probably the same height as when he left.

There's the gooey-eyed stare from Caerwyn as he steps forward and lifts his hands up as if to touch Heulwen's… but he doesn't. The introduction to Caerdin, the reminders of familial connections (and the boundaries that come with), it all fades into a hazy tunnel vision as Caerwyn - green-eyed and paper-hearted - looks down into those dark brown eyes and sees nothing but eternity in a single instant. He opens his mouth, trying to give form to the words he has roiling in his insides, before he finally steps forward and blurts out:

"Nothing makes sense without you." Caerdin might be watching, the pretty barmaid who spilled fine Cymric ale on his shirt might be watching - the whole fricking world might be watching, but nothing makes sense except this moment. Pale skin flushed almost pink in the darkness, Caerwyn tries to find his wit again. He's close enough that Heulwen can smell both the cheap ale splashed on his tunic as well as the slight hint of spiced oak in the faint cologne he wears (a dandy, really, in this day and age, is the only type of man to wear -cologne-). He starts to say something else—

And promptly, as if the Burcombes had internal radars installed, invade en masse, and The Moment is gone. Or, if not gone, then diluted, washed away like the River Nadder.

Catryn doesn't lean on anyone, she doesn't usually touch anyone except maybe her twin and Morag. She looks a little brooding, but it's her usual look. When she notices her brother, the twin one, her lips twist in a scowl, but it's not unfriendly. The reference to Rickard being taller brings her attention back to her sister and second youngest brother, "Taller, hm?" There's a gauging look in her eyes for a moment but it's gone whens he looks back to her twin and the others near him.

Rickard flashes a grin at Morag as he walks in flanked by family, "You are entirely too biased, my dear sister. With all the training I've gone through, I was sure to be a little shorter, from the regular beating and practice." Did Rickard just come here straight from the road? Because the young knight is still dressed in his travelling clothes…or maybe that was the point, expecting to end up with a bit of ale splattered around. Who knows? To his eldest sister, he simply rolls a shoulder and lowers his voice, "From down here, everyone looks taller."

Regardless of the reasons, Rickard looks QUITE happy to be surrounded by familial faces, even if one of them PROBABLY isnt happy at their sudden arrival, "CAERWYN!" A bright smile lights across his face. Caerwyn was spilling heartfelt thoughts to a lady? Whoops.

Heulwen grants Caerdin a warm, fond smile as he finally manages to put a name to the face, and she bobs her head to him as a sort-of farewell before he heads off in another direction. Her attention turns back to Caerwyn in time to meet his gaze, and she opens her mouth in preparation to speak. Alas, he gets in the words first, and the bluntness of his declaration startles her. Blinking rapidly, Wen lifts a hand and reaches out to touch the damp ale stains on his tunic—only to jerk back suddenly at the sound of voices behind her calling his name.

The presence of other Burcombes is enough to push Heulwen back a step or two, leaving a much more socially acceptable distance between her and Caerwyn. She clenches her hands together and then presses the resulting fist into her skirt as she turns about to greet with a quiet smile the others making their way into the inn.

The door opens for what must be the hundredth's time that day alone, what with all returning to the city. Of course the figure that moves inside, nudged so by a few different guards and a young girl does not look as if she really wants to be there at the moment. Dywana is dressed in a cloak of blue, but her pale lovely features are more so, and her eyes are on her hands almost staring at aflicker of silver but she sighs and glances up, blinking once and then turning to the large guard next to her. "Why are we here? I.. should not be gone.." The voice is soft, but powerful, and so full of confusion and heartfelt sadness that it can almost be felt. It's clear she notices nothing and no one but where those pale eyes rest on the poor guard who clearly wishes to be anywhere but where he is.

Failed.
Caerdin checked his Gaming of 8, he rolled 13.
Failed.
Caerdin checked his Awareness of 5, he rolled 15.
Failed.
Caerdin checked his Generous of 13, he rolled 18.

It's not for a few more openings of the door before Erylys moves within the inn. The young lady gives pause, to look about the area before her gaze falls upon the large guard who seems to be attempting to herd Dywana towards a table. Dressed this day in a split skirt of black paired with a dark tunic, the huntswoman weaves her way through the various tables and comes up just behind her cousin, soon to slip one arm through that of the other Berwick St. James. "Dywana.." So much may be conveyed in the whiper of her cousin's name in that moment.

No. Caerdin is certainly not watching Caerwyn and Heulwen be lovesick fools with one another or whatever foolishness might be going on. No, he's at another table having a whispered conversation with a man. Chuckling, he leans in, grabs a pair of dice off the table and gives them a toss. Doesn't seem luck is with him today. Laughing, he claps the man on the shoulder, drops a couple of coins on the table so that the men can share some ale, and then he is heading back towards where Heulwen and Caerwyn are sitting. Perhaps he will catch up a little with his cousin. He doesn't notice Dywana entering as he nears the table. "My pardons once again, cousin, but would you mind if I sat with you a while? I am only in town briefly on some business and was going to take a meal. Still, I can also buy you one if you are hungry, as I offered earlier." Though as he says that, he hopes that she doesn't mention anyone else. There was being generous to a cousin and then there was feeding a whole bloody family.

"That's my excuse also. Everyone looks taller." The scowl that follows Catryn's words is enhanced and very real, "Especially Dinton heirs." Dinton is growled out and the disapproval in her tone is heavy. Except that's when she notices the woman with her brother, and puts it together. Forcibly, her features are schooled and she offers a nod to the lady at her twin's side. A loft of a brow as she throws a questioning look to Morag that seems to ask, 'Is this the one?'

Morag releases Rickard into the wild, which is to say, she lets go of his arm so he's free to move around the room, or toward Caerwyn, or whathaveyou. Her gaze flicks briefly to Heulwen, who gets a soft smile; but then Morag shifts so that it's only Cat can see her expression. She offers the tiniest of nods, and speaks very softly. "She's nice. Don't scare her." Her mouth curves in a grin.

Glancing about at the sudden rush of nobility into the Wainwright's Inn - why the heck would -anyone of noble birth- be frequenting this hellhole if not to arrange a secret meeting? - Caerwyn turns to look at Heulwen once more. As she steps back, he closes the distance, and presses something folded in between a linen handkerchief - and then tears himself away like a boy being forced to go to bedtime despite wanting to continue whatever adventure he was in the midst of. When his relatives show up - cousins and sisters and the like! - Caerwyn gives them a pointed glare and storms out past them. This crush ain't working out so well.

Caerwyn carries, with him, the faint odor of cheap ale. Either he's been in his cups or… an egregious amount spilled on him.

The guard opens his mouth to answer the small woman but then turns to Erylys, "Lady Erylys, she refused to go back.. well outside the other Inn.." He looks sheepish but it seems the silent tiny form of Dywana is difficult for the large guard to deal with and he passes it off to her cousin.
Dywana blinks once as someone places their hands on her and her tiny form stiffens but will relax once she hears the voice. Those eyes that are pale as ice this day look up at Erylys mutely and then she sighs softly. "They said, they would bring me his head.." Ummm, that voice, those words, it is enough to send shivers down more than one who is listening, the pain and tightly leash fury is intense.

Failed.
Rickard checked his awareness of 5, he rolled 17.
Critical Fail!
You check your awareness at 10, you rolled 20.

"Do not worry, I will take care of her." Erylys informs the guard, though is happy to have him remain nearby. With her arm to slip through Dywana's, she turns to her cousin, nodding at the words, her own expression composed but hard, "And that they will, my dear one. You need to try and eat and drink something, then we will go finish preparing for the trip, yes?" She doesn't immediately notice those that might be gathered within the inn, or those that might eve push by to leave, her attention given to her grieving cousin.

Rickard blinks as his older brother stalks out past him, his mouth opening for a moment, then pauses, and glances at Heulwyn. A pointed look is leveled at Catryn and Morag, along with a lifted brow, and a softer, "He's gotten testy while I've been gone, has he? Has Father been on his case?" The comment seems distracted, probably hasn't been in the room long enough to clue in on everything else yet, like someone else talking about being brought someone's head!

Failed.
Caerdin checked his Awareness of 5, he rolled 16.
Failed.
Caerdin checked his Awareness of 5, he rolled 6.

Dywana dismisses the guards who have been herding her around when she has not simply been staring into space. Or more to the point talking to the Goddess in such a way that their poor male bodies are feared for.
Those eyes watch her cousin but as she seems to agree with her, there is only a little nod as she is herded towards the table. Once there, she sits down and brings her hands up in front of her and twist the silver chains over and over, biting her lower lip as she does so. "We.. must leave soon, the moon must be full when he returns to the earth. The hunter will be honored by this.." She doesn't raise her lower her voice, and the mix of emotions would be scary for anyone who knows her, but she seems oddly calm… at the moment.

Failed.
Heulwen checked her awareness of 5, she rolled 10.
Success
Dywana checked her awareness of 10, she rolled 3.
Success
You check your awareness at 10, you rolled 6.

The answer from Morag seems to suit Catryn more than enough and her expression softens, but only for her sister, "I won't," she reassures, and there is actually warmth in her tone. Caerwyn's departure is surprising enough to illicit the prescribed response, a glare to his departing back, but when she speaks again, it's to Rickard. "Running away from his problems like usual." A careless shrug is given, "I am not his keeper, he can seek attention all he wants without me running after him." The words are a bit harsh, but directed at her twin and not Rickard. Directing her gaze to the woman in question, she tilts her head marginally, studying her, her features not unfriendly. "My lady."

To a passing server, Erylys orders ale and whatever food they might have made - stew more than likely. Then, taking a seat next to Dywana, she nods at her cousin's words, brows furrowed as she watches her fidget so. Reaching out, she clasps her hands with Dy's if allowed, to offer a comforting squeeze to them, "It will be so, just as you have delcared it to be, cousin. This I promise you.."

Morag turns to face Heulwen after watching Caerwyn rush past. "Lady Wen," she says warmly, "I'll be going to collect berries in a few days time in the woods around my family's manor. I'd be so delighted if you could join me." Her gaze flits around the room, her lips briefly tightening when she sees Dywana. Now isn't the time though, with Morag's family around her.

Dywana stops touching the chain but even with Erylys's hand, she moves the chain out of reach as if worried someone will try and take them from her. But the words do relax the Priestess and she leans back in her chair, her eyes moving from her cousin to look over the crowd, for the moment it does not look as if she notices anyone, her pale eyes looking almost blind. But then a slight jerk from her body and she looks back to Erylys, another slow blink. "Erylys.." It's whispers as if she is just now cluing into the fact that is cousin is there.

Heulwen's steady gaze darts from the face of one Burcombe to the next; some she recognizes, other she does not. Her attention is thus taken away momentarily, long enough for Caerwyn to step closer and press something into her hand. It could not have been smoother had they planned it; she immediately closes her fingers around the fold of linen, glancing up to him briefly before she slips the article into her pouch. Perhaps if they are lucky, nobody will have noticed.

Wen waits approximately fifteen seconds after Caerwyn has stormed out to begin heading toward the door herself, sidling past the Burcombes with a polite smile and a bob of her head in simultaneous greeting and farewell. "Sir Catryn," she greets in return, pausing to bob a curtsey like a polite young lady would before looking to Morag. "And dearest Morag, what a kind invitation. I would be delighted to join you, but I beg your forgiveness for being unable to linger. I would love to share a drink with both of you, but I'm supposed to be running an errand for my brother and I'm afraid it will not keep. Will you pash my good wishes along to your family? Oh, and if I do not see you before the appointed time, perhaps you could send word when it is we are to meet? I think my cousins would be delighted if I brought back fresh berries for them."

It might be considered a bit rude that Heulwen does not stay to receive the response, but instead reaches out to squeeze Morag's hand briefly before hurrying out the door.

Caerdin seems to be a rather oblivious sort today, his attention is focused mostly on his own immediate surroundings and right now he's mostly paying attention to cousin Heulwen, waiting for a response regarding the offer he'd made earlier. And… then Caerwyn is leaving. And… then Heulwen is leaving. Then the Broughton is sort of standing there looking at a room full of Burcombes. He flashes a smile at the group. "It seems my cousin is off in something of a hurry. I apologize for the two of them leaving in such a hurry though."

Surely Erylys cannot begin to understand the depth of pain her cousin feels, but surely, she is there for Dywana through it, offering to be her rock should she need it. She doesn't take offense nor attempt to touch the chain that is kept from her, but merely sits by to wait the arrival of the food and drink ordered. When finally it would seem her cousin acknowledges her company, she nods her head once, "Yes, it's me, here to keep you from getting into trouble, dear cousin. "

Rickard mmms softly at Catryn, a more neutral expression on the younger Burcombe's face as he murmurs, "So some things /don't/ change in my absence. Well then. Perhaps something to drink is a good idea after all!" He turns on his heel to eye the rest of the room and where his OTHER sister might be heading, watching Heulwen head out after making her farewells. It's here that he pauses and makes note of Dywana's presence, lifting one brow at her level of distress, enough to give Erylys a curious glance. Apparently choosing to file this away for a moment, he gives Catryn a more imploring look, "Do tell me you are thirsty, my dear sister. Less than a moment in the door and I am already feeling a little confused. Apparently I've missed quite a bit."

Smooth, but not smooth enough to fool his twin. "Caerwyn left, fully intending on her following." It doesn't make her irate, but Catryn outright laughs instead. "Sly dog. He's learning." That settled, and with a perfectly good table with a perfectly handsome guy standing nearby it, she walks over and slips into a seat adjacent to where Caerdin is standing. "No apology necessary. I hear you're buying food?" Looking up, she flashes him a smile, she's mostly joking. Mostly. Unless he was really buying food. Lifting her gaze to her brother, she gives a waggle of her brows. "Always thirsty, especially for the ale here, much better than the Boar's Beard. Have a seat, let the Broughton here buy us a drink."

"Trouble just finds me. I thought the Goddess had blessed me, but I don't understand these new.. tests.." Dywana frowns softly, a single tear falling from her lashes before she blinks and shakes her head. It seems a force of will is used to focus on Erylys but she finally makes it with a very weak, very bad try of a smile. "They want me to eat?" She nods back to where the guards are staying near the door.

Success
Caerdin checked his Generous of 13, he rolled 11.
Success
Caerdin checked his Chaste of 13, he rolled 10

.

"In time, you will understand them. And until you do, then lean on those there for you, hmm?" Erylys offers to her cousin softly, another squeeze of her hand given before the server returns with a couple of pints of ale and a bowl of stew with a hunk of bread. "Yes, they do. They say you have not, and while I understand why you don't feel like eating.. you need to do so. At least a little, hmm?" She leans in to whisper softly to Dywana then, her gaze upon her cousin to see if she acknowledges what is said.

Catryn's words give Caerdin pause and he tilts his head just slightly to stare between her and the door where Caerwyn and Heulwen have left. "Tell me, whatever do you mean by such a statement? There is nothing to speculate about the two of them, of that I am certain." Leave it to someone like Caerdin to not put two and two together in exactly the same way as Catryn would. Certainly a good Christian girl like Heulwen wouldn't have such thoughts. Certainly not.

"Food?" He asks, a little hestitantly as he turns his attention from the matter of Caerwyn and Heulwen to Catryn's next question. "Ah, well certainly. One musn't turn away a hungry mouth in their time of need." He smiles, waving over a serving girl. "Please get some stew and some bread for these fine people here and some ale to quench their thirsts. My thanks." He reaches over and hands the girl some coins to pay for the meal.

The small form of Dywana has her shoulders falling at whatever Erylys says, it's clear she doesn't want to agree but she finally nods to her words and reaches for the ale.. Which is probably a bad idea. A little sip is taken and then another, and unless Erylys takes it from her hands, which she will not fight, she drinks the whole mug sip after sip.

Morag blinks suddenly at Catryn, as if being snapped out of a reverie. She blinks at her sister, and then looks to Caerdin. "Thank you," she says, "That's very kind." A smle is offered his way, but as she takes a seat, she offers a quiet murmur to Rickard. "That's Lady Dywana. Someone very dear to her was recently murdered, right here in the streets of Sarum." Morag worries her lip. "Sir Hadyn de Tisbury. I met him a few times. Pagan, honorable, very kind. They had feelings for each other."

Rickard's smile resurfaces as he approaches the table, offering a bow of his head before taking an offered seat, strategically leaving empty space around Caerdin just in case Morag comes to find a place to plant her rump, "I could never refuse an offer of someone else buying a drink." The smile is leveled at Caerdin, "I thank you for your generosity, good sir." Though yet again, a curious look is shot over at Dywana and Erylys, watching them for a moment, then blinks as Morag explains. In a more hushed voice, he murmurs, "Well, I recognized the face, but I had no idea…a murder in the streets? How horrible."

Oh, one can be certain that Erylys is NOT going to let her cousin drown her sorrows in ale without eating something! After the first few sips, she reaches out to press her hand against Dy's arm, to keep her from downing any more of the ale, "Stew and bread too, Dy." She says quietly before glancing to the others, though only in an abstract way before her attention returns to her cousin.

Success
Caerdin checked his Just of 16, he rolled 15.

There's another flash of a smile, it's ever so brief and very rare from the eldest Burcombe present. "I do appreciate your generosity, you're a good man." A sly look crosses her features, "Have you met the lovely Morag de Burcombe?" Indicating her sister, "And this is Sir Rickard de Burcombe." She doesn't give her own name, "Morag, darling, this is Caerdin, Sir Caerdin, heir to the Broughtons." A tender look is given her sister, but once more it's brief. Hearing her mention the other woman and the loss, she looks towards the other table, "Tough." Love, she doesn't get, so she doesn't understand the depth of despair from the other woman. Not romantic love anyway.

Caerdin smiles at Morag and Rickard. "It is a pleasure to meet the two of you. I do not believe I have ever run into either one of you before, but I have been quite busy as of late and my duties have left me little time for anything else." There's a brief smile of apology, as if he needs to actually apologize to them for being busy seeing to his own manor but it's meant out of courtesy.

At Morag's words, Caerdin's eyes go cold and there is a sharp intake of breath. Quietly, he says to the table… quite oblivious to the fact that Morag hadn't been making it a table-wide conversation, "That is a terrible crime and it shall not go unpunished. The perpetrators of such a deed shall be found an they shall pay for their crime in this life and in the next." Then it clicks in the back of his mind. Hadyn de Tisbury. He almost spits right then and there.

"Sior and Iorveth are not fit to ever be called Sir again. I do wish that the proclamation from His Grace had omitted that title for they are undeserving of it. They lack honor and if I ever come face to face with them, I shall pray to God that he guides my hand and provide that poor woman the justice that she deserves, for God is wise and shall deliver to both of them a punishment quite fitting for their deed.""

Critical Fail!
Dywana checked her awareness of 10, she rolled 20.

Dywana is so lost in her own thoughts, it does not even dawn on her to listen to anything else around her. And while she doesn't fight the mug being pushed down she does wrinkle her brow and turn her eyes back to her cousin. Her mouth opens to say something and then her shoulders drop again as she reaches for a piece of bread. For those who knew Dywana or know her now, this is not at all normal.

Critical Fail!
Erylys checked her awareness of 10, she rolled 20.

"It's a pleasure to - " Morag starts to say, but then whoa, Caerdin's strident call for justice would earn him a step back, if Morag had still been standing. For a moment she simply is at a loss for what to say. And then, "May your god and all the gods we and Sir Hadyn worship see that justice met, Sir Caerdin." She doesn't want to start a quarrel, but those gods deserve their mention. She looks hesitant. She is so happy to see Rickard, gone for so long, but her fellow priestess is in pain. "I should speak to her, even if just for a moment."

Dywana is not the only one who's not paying attention to surrounding conversation! It would seem that Erylys is concentrating upon her cousin, leaving any need for awareness to the guards that are with them. Good thing, right? With her cousin's frown, she sighs, "I know, it's not the best, but it's what they got. So eat a little, please?" Making sure that Dywana eats some stew and bread, she sits by her side, wanting to do more for her cousin than she is.

Rickard settles into his chair, giving Catryn a soft look at her comment to the other table, but doesnt seem to say more to it. Instead he turns his attention back to Caerdin and offer, "A pleasure to meet you as well. It seems I have a lot to catch up on, but this is sort of a horrible way to catch up on things. Has the Lord's guards and knights not apprehended the murderers yet?" Then Morag talks about speaking to Dywana and he hesitates before offering, "Perhaps I can offer mine as well? It has been several years, but I'm sure the lady remembers me."

The guards are watching the pair of ladies, or well one is while the other is watching the door. It is out of place to have so many of noble birth within the Inn but things seem.. steady for the moment.
Dywana looks at the stew and then dips her bread into it, bringing that to her lips as she chews without really tasting any of it. "It's fine Ely.." Well she is alteast using a nickname, so she must be in there somewhere. Her free hand goes back to playing with the silver chain and she seems thoughtful, her going distant, and will only eat again as Erylys nudges her.

As Morag's voice fades with the rising of the Broughton's, Catryn gives him a quizzical look. "We all face death in battles, in raids. I assume he died valiantly at least." A nod is given to Morag when she mentions going to see the other woman, but then so is Rickard! Leaving her abandoned over here with the handsome Broughton. "If you don't come back I'm eating your food and drinking your ale," she grumbles the threat, disgruntled. Well Caerdin was still there, she looks back at him, "So, you're going hunting him? I'll go."

Erylys continues to nudge Dywana to eat more when she stalls in doing so, keeping a sharp eye on her cousin. She won't force her to eat the whole bowl, but at least enough to appease whatever family that might question the guards or Ery herself.

Morag's comment seems to calm Caerdin down a little and he relaxes his shoulders and nods. "My apologies, Lady Morag, I meant no offense. Sir Haydn's beliefs were his beliefs and he served the realm well." Though perhaps he could have been served better by one God instead of several, but that wasn't something he ever spouted off in public. It was rather rude and only caused more problems for everyone involved.

"I believe that hunting these two down and bringing them to justice is what is right and must be done, yes. If you are offering to lend your sword in the pursuit of justice, Sir Catryn, I would glady have you at my side for such an undertaking." He nods, once and then looks around the table. "I seem to be the odd person out here, as they say. I will leave you to your meal, please enjoy it. I wish you all a pleasant evening, but I think it is time for me to depart." He lets out a long sigh, though the falseness of it is betrayed by his smile. "There are days when I wish I had an older brother. Be well, all of you." And with that the heir of Manor Broughton heads to the entrance of the Inn.

Morag flashes a smile at Caerdin, though blinks at his departure. "I'll only linger for a moment." she reassures Catryn, and tilts her head toward Rickard. "Come on, then. Let's go see to her." And with that, Morag is on her way, fully expecting Rickard to follow. "Dywana?" murmured softly once she's loitering next to the other priestess' chair. "Dywana, I heard - I'm so sorry."

Rickard rises to his feet and nods at Morag, linking his hands behind himself as he follows at her side and approaches Dywana and Ely's table. When Morag expresses her apologies, Rickard takes on a more somber expression and adds in a quiet voice, "I only just returned today and heard the news. If there is a way I can be of assistance, m'lady, I do hope you will let me know." His glance shifts from Dywana to the lady with her, a curious look to his face while he waits.

So Catryn is Pagan, but mostly because her family is, there's nothing and no one in particular she worships, so she just gives a bland look to Caerdin when he mentions the God or Gods debate. Her food was here, that was more important than religion for a knight. Energy! Tearing off a piece of bread, she pops it into her mouth and chews before responding. "I am offering my sword, Sir Caerdin," the words delivered flatly especially as she realizes he was leaving. "Leave note with me when you're going to leave and I'll go. I'll remain in Sarum until the departure." As Morag and Rickard leave, that leaves her there alone, and she reaches for her brother's ale, because… why not?

Voices…and her name…Dywana blinks gently from where she is again staring at the food in front of her, but she did eat three or four bites. With a jerk her eyes are pulled up to first Morag and then Rickard, the former is blink at gently before she shivers softly and nods. "Morag.. I.. we should talk.. soon.." The voice is soft and there is a tiny bit of pleading in it before she frowns and then glances back over to Rickard.
The paleness of her eyes search his face slowly, a flicker of something appears and disappears before she cracks a smile, it's not much, a tiny twist of her lips.. but more than any since things transpired. "Rickard.. you got taller…" she whispers to him, unknowingly echoing something said before. But then she follows his gaze to Erylys and she flushes softly. "Morag, Ri.. Sir Rickard, my cousin.." That is about as good as it's going to get from Dy at the moment.

Erylys is protective, see her straighten in her chair when others approach at first? But Morag is recognized, and her quiet words offered to Dywana enough to leave her looking to Rickard with some curiosity. The beginnings of an introduction started, she finishes them for Dy, "Lady Erylys de Berwick St. James, cousin.." To the Lady at her side. A brief understanding smile is given to the two then, "Nice to meet you both." Even under such situation.

Morag isnt quite sure as to Erylys' title, so Morag simply offers her a respectful nod. She reaches out and if permitted, gently squeezes Dywana's hands. "I'll leave you be in a moment," she assures, "But yes…we'll be speaking very soon, my friend. I'll come to see you."

Rickard offers a soft smile to Dywana's flicker of one, and keeps his voice down, "Everyone keeps saying that, but then if I had gotten any shorter, I might have vanished." And then she's introducing her cousin, and Rickard offers the lady a more erstwhile bow of his head and an equally as soft, "Rickard de Burcombe, m'lady. A pleasure to meet any relative of the Lady Dywana." With that said, however, Rickard seems sensitive to the idea of letting the priestess types talk, and backs up a step, presumably to turn and go a-hunting for the ale. Hey, that very same ale that wench Catryn is scarfing down!

Cynrain makes his way inside. He tosses his cloak over his shoulder. Pressing forward, he moves towards purpose of drink. The sort that burns the throat and loosens nerve. Finding suitable refreshment, he turns to survey the contents of the room, attempting to discover who is discernible among the random crowd within.

Dywana reaches a hand out and pats at Morag's arm, "Come.. to Tisbury.." She requests, a little frown tugging at her lips when she says this and then her eyes are dropping down to her hands again and she withdraws her touch from the other woman. A few more silent moments and then she seems to remember herself again and looks up at the siblings, her eyes follow Rickard retreat a frown coming again but that does not seem at the Knights behave and then eyes flicker up to Morag, as if trying to say something without words before she let's her cousin nudge her to eating once more.

The wench is enjoying it very much thank you. Her own ale is in front of her on the table and she leaves that until Rickard's is gone. She was left with the food and drink, and she was hungry. And thirsty. Eating her soup, she follows it with a sip of her brother's ale. When Cynrain walks in, she watches him walk past, just.. watching him for a moment before going back to her food.

Cynrain spots Catryn and moves in her direction. He dips his head lightly and says, "Merry Meet, Sir Catryn. It is good to see you again. May I have the honor of your company?" He grins slightly before the grin fades as his eyes glance towards Dywana and Morag. He returns his attention to Catryn.

Morag steps back again, to accord Dywana her space, and gently tugs at Rickard's arm. "Come. Do you want to meet Catryn's betrothed?" She phrases it just so, because she wants to see the look of shock on their brother's face.

Rickard is already turning to head back to the table when Morag tugs on his arm and says her little thing, causing him to blink. Glad he wasnt drinking right then, or there would have been ale spewed everywhere. His eyes widen, "Her /what/? Did everyone suddenly get promised while I was gone?" His expression melts into a grin as his attention shifts back to the table and the man that's approached it, "Oh, now this, I do have to witness myself."

"Merry.. what?" Catryn eyes Cynrain, the ale poised as she's about to take a drink of it. Her brow arches and her demeanor doesn't seem to be inclined to be any more friendly to him than she is anyone else. "You can sit where you wish." She motions towards the chairs, but looks to Morag, "You've met my sister, haven't you?" Because.. reasons. Seeing Rickard approaching, she looks between him, Morag and Cynrain and lifts the ale, downing the rest.

"Hardly. "Caerwyn's unmarried, but well. Hush about that, by the way. Maelgwyn's also still defiantly a bachelor. Eirian's Eirian, and Rozenn's been betrothed to a Pitton. A Christian, even." And Morag's like, whaaaaat over that. "Sir Cynrain? Would you care to meet yet another sibling of mine and Catryn's?"

Offering a nod to Catryn, Cynrain turns his attention towards Morag. His eyes take in her appearance before slowly nodding once in her direction. "Merry Meet to you as well, Priestess. Yes, I would like to meet another member of your family." he takes a sip of his drink and begins to look as though he's feeling awkward all of a sudden. Something doesn't appear to be right in this moment.

Rickard chuckles softly as he is sort of indirectly introduced, approaching Cynrain with a bow of his head, "Well met, sir. Rickard de Burcombe, just recently returned, though still regretting I did not make it in time for the tournament. I hear rumors that I missed quite a lot." A hand is offered in a greeting, while a curious look is given to Catryn and exactly WHICH mug she's picked up. There might have been a raised brow there.

Listening to Morag mention about the marriages or betrothals, and lack of them, Catryn smirks, "We have been under no pressure to set a date for which we are both grateful." Looking back at Cynrain, catching the nod, she doesn't say anything when he doesn't, but she gives her attention to her brother. Her lips twitch and she places the spent mug down and reaches for her own to casually sip the ale still left inside. "I hope your visit with the lady was good."

"It was brief." Morag says upo returning to her seat. "She's in shock. I'll journey to Tisbury later in the week to check on her. Oh, Cat." Her tone is gently reproving, "Did you drink Rickard's ale? Here, Rickard." She nudges her own tankard toward him. "Have mine."

Cynrain reaches forward, clasping the forearm of the other man. He nods once, "Likewise and welcome home, Sir Rickard. I'm certain you've been deeply missed. It would have been nice to have met you during tournament but at least you stand here now, awaiting whatever comes next." he looks to Catryn then once more before returning his gaze to Rickard, "Well, I am not one to interfere with joyous reunion. I shall come by and visit Burcombe Manor when you all return home." to Morag, he nods once and says, "And Merry Part and may we meet again, Priestess…" looking back to Catryn, he offers a small smile and says, "Apologies if I've interrupted important affairs of family. If it is not too inconvenient, I'll finish my drink nearby." and he takes a seat at one of the chairs.

"He has been deeply missed." Catryn gives her brother an affectionate look before he has to take his leave. The look then turns to her sister, "You're a better person than I, Morag, much better. I admit I have a hard time thinking to do friendly acts like that. Though I am sure you should go. If Cynrain needs to accompany you in your journey, since there is indeed a murderer on the loose, I am certain he would volunteer."

"Aye, I probably should." Morag agrees, moving to rise. "And you know me." In that Morag's the sort who would give someone the shirt off her back…and that's wh when they were little, Catryn taught her how to keep an eye out for those who'd take advantage of her. And beat them with a stick. "But it's highly unlikely that they'd accost clergy of either religion. It's very bad luck. And you should keep your betrothed company." Cue dimpled smile.

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