(514-06-14) Burcombe Girls Are Cruel
Summary: Dai and Morag reacquaint themselves in Sarum's local apothecary shop.
Date: 14 June 514
Related: None
dai morag 


It is not every time one finds themselves in Sarum. Not by a longshot. And when one does, it is often found in inns and other fun places. Still, there is a certain allure that comes with the apothecary, and it's own out of the way placing within the town. As if someone had a secret or was stumbling into shade. As the door opens, it is no midwife with chasing skirts, or young maids looking for some remedy that comes traipsing in. But rather, the man is long and lean like a skinny wolf from the wilderness, padding silently in through the door. Eyes squint as they come accustomed to the light, though windows do help some. Boots scuffle along the flagstone floor, as fingers lazily trace along a shelf of whitewashed oak, before he is walking towards the fireplace and likely some cauldron brewing.

The knight offers his own smile, before calling out his presence and likely familiar voice: "It's hotter in here than outside. Are you melting fat from some beast?" Dai is teasing of course, and likely doing so as a means of boisterous hello, than anything else.

Morag peers around one of the shelves at the sound of a familiar voice, and upon espying Dai, her features settle in a warm smile. "Sir Dai," she greets, "Merry meet. Maerwynn's in the back, and yes, I do believe she's boiling something. It does make it rather warm in here. I'm only in to pick up a few things and offered to mind the shoppign area until she's finished. How are you? Well, I hope?"

Morag indeed catches him a bit off guard, but the warm smile is quick enough to be returned, as well as a bit of swagger taken in his steps as he manuevers to get a better view of the Lady. "Merry Meet, to you, Lady Morag." he intones with a bit of a wry smile. "I was hoping to stir her, needed, something for dreams." he intones a bit softer, as if such divine work need not be boasted of. "And to see about some other odds and ends, whilst here. A pleasure seeing you though." And there he studies the Burcombe with inquisitive eye. "Missed you at Beltaine. I do hope it was blessed."

Morag smiles faintly at that. "Something for dreams…mugwort? Or d you want something a bit more potent like valerian?" She gestures in the direction of the aforementioned herbs. "Beltaine was lovely; Gwynn was the victor, and so it would seem summer shall be short."

"Had I been Lugh, perhaps that would have been different." Dai states, almost matter of factly, before he is looking to where she gestured, and then he is moving, hopefully with the young lass in tow. "I was m' Mater. She had new acolytes, and well.." his detour doesn't need to be spoke on further. "Valerian." the knight states before he is reaching for some. "I like longer summers, to be honest. Fall was nae'r my favorite. But that was likely because I was whipped into helping harvest hay."

Morag is one-and-twenty, and many a woman of her age has had one, if not two children. "I do too." she agrees, with egard to longer summers. "You would have been well pleased by the May Queen, I'm sure." Not that she'll reveal who that was. Though it wasn't her. She moves to the scales, waiting for him to fetch as much as he needs so she can weigh it and give him the price. "I do like Autumn, though. But then, Danu favors the harvest and the ripeness it celebrates. The trees are beautiful, and the smell of the burning leaves and the crispness of the air are perfect to me."

A glance is given over his shoulder to the woman, and he is grinning almost wolfishly. "Well, now you will have me ever guessing and pining as to what I might have missed. You are a cruel one, my dear Morag." he teases back before he is guessing at what he needs before he is moving over to the scales and placing his hand weight to it. "Aye and there is the Hunt, which is ever exciting to see. Will you all be hosting anything for Samhain, or shall it be proper at the Stones?" Dai asks.

"My sister is the cruel one, and known for it, too." replies Morag with a grin, and looks to the scale to take its measure. "Burcombe had the honor of hosting the celebrations for Beltaine, and as is tradition, the honor for other holidays shall be offered to other pagan Houses."

"Sir Catryn is not cruel." Dai is quick to defend the rather notoriously cruel knight. "She is just thorough in her sparring, and duels..And." and he laughs there to the grin before he is nodding back. "Of course. For some reason, I had thought you might be hosting Samhain as well. I suspect that might go to the Laverstocks, or perhaps one of the Northern pagans." such as himself. "Other than a wonderful Beltaine, how have you been, Morag?"

There's an arch to the young priestess' brow. "They literally call her Catryn the Cruel." Which she finds endlessly amusing. "Sixpence, by the way. And I've been well enough. I got to go to Carlion for the wedding." A sudden smile curves her mouth. "I presented a carving of Danu as a gift to the king and queen. They accepted it and I met Sir Kay as well. Guenevere is just as beautiful as they say."

"Is she?" Now that is something for the knight to chew on. "I was on garrison, though I would have loved to attended. I know Glaw was up there for the tournament, as I imagine was your dear sister." A grin all the same. "They also call your brother black-but for what reason?" he shrugs. "People do not find you all as endearing as I do." he grins before he is reaching on his person for money and counting coinage. "Sixpence." he states before placing it down. "You can chew it if you like." Some folks don't trust a bastard's money. "Mayhaps the King is lucky I was not there. I might have wooed her." A treasonous act, but one can jape and jest about treason as long as one does not go through with it, right?

"That reminds me, I should come and visit you all soon. It's been too long since I have forced my company upon ye."

Morag is a bastard too, she knows the feeling. She collects the money and puts it in the strongbox. "My eldest brother is called the Black because it is carried from our father, who was called Roaman the Black. My sister may be cruel, but my father's rage is legendary." And contrarily, Morag is proud of it. But then, her family tends to ignore the stigma of her bastardy, when outsiders do not. "And you would have been in the company of many who likely fell in love with her."

"Good company, I hope." Dai teases before he is collecting his herbs since they are all nice and paid for. It seems both of their families have been for them, save perhaps Dai's step mother. She rather loathes him, and the feeling is quite mutual, despite all that. "Well. I am glad I have not seen that directed at me then. Does your brother's rage follow, or is it merely sins of the father-or whatever christians are spouting these days eh?"

"Caerwyn has his own black struggles to face." Morag seems ill inclined to give too much away about her family. "I should think being as sharp-eyed as you are, you'll get the measure of any of my family you should meet."

"I tend to. I haven't met Caerwyn yet. Catryn I believe kicked my arse a couple of time in my youth when I first got my harness. I am wiser now and a better spear dancer." Dai comments, before he is nodding. "Well then it is settled. I should come and visit your family, if only to spend or force more time with you upon myself." a grin and he is leaning there close to the scales. "Assuming of course you enjoy my forced company."

"Well enough. But you know who I think would take great pleasure in your company?" Morag's smile is sly. "My cousin Eirian. She's very beautiful, and some even whisper that she's part faerie. It isn't true of course, but well…you'll understand if you meet her."

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