(514-08-03) Introductions of Betrothed
Summary: Lady Braelynn meets Sir Padrig for the first time.
Date: (514-08-03)
Related: None
braelynn padrig arian caerdin cyndeyrn 

Ah, ye aulde market where everyone may meet by chance without feeling as if said meetings were contrived. Considering that so many families have just started moving out of their makeshift camps on the tourney grounds post-Saxon raid, it is no surprise whatsoever that the market is still packed to the brim with bodies bustling about trying to load up on last-minute travel supplies before returning homeward. It is a typical midsummer late morning, meaning that it is already getting a bit hot and the dust kicked up by all the passing feet is thick in the air.

One Padrig, a young Laverstock knight out of armor but not without the notable emblem of his house stitched into his tunic, is lounging on a stump outside the bakery holding a half-eaten thick slice of bread while waiting for his cousin to finish up business, and he uses this free time in trying to charm the bliaut off of the passing maids. A few ladies titter and flutter their lashes, several give him tight-lipped glances, and even a few more are accompanied by glowering men who are in no mood to deal with his crap.

Braelynn stalks into the market, carrying a medium sized wicker basket. Pale green eyes sweep the market for one vendor in particular. She is a woman on a mission, and, as it would appear, there isn't much to stop her from procuring the one ingredient she needs today. As she passes the knight standing near the bakery she warns him. "There was a cow in that bakery yesterday. I wouldn't eat that, if I were you." With that, she makes her way toward a nearby market stall, and waits patiently for the attention of the vendor.

Arian de Laverstock is loitering in the farmer's market with her cousin, though she has decidedly taken a slightly apart stance near her brooding kin. Her hair has been braided up and back, tied with a vibrant blue ribbon that matches the sky blue of her gown. She is munching on an apple, rolling it between her fingers as she casts a dubious glance first to Padrig and then to the approaching Braelynn. Her brows arch slightly. "A cow?" She glances at Padrig, smirking. "Eat it, Padrig. A bit of shit will do you good." Her voice is warm and teasing, trying to pull her cousin out of his broody funk.

Padrig pauses in a rather comcial, open-mouthed position with the bread held halfway to his mouth. He looks from Braelynn, who is heading away toward a stall, to his cousin and then down to the bread. He contemplates the possibility of bread laced with cow shit for approximately three seconds before deciding it will do no harm, and he shovels the remainder into his mouth in an act of rebellion. He chews it slowly, cheeks bulging, while staring rather intently at Arian; his gaze swings round to Braelynn just to see if she's witnessed this ridiculous act of male machismo. He can totally handle a bit of cow dung, you see.

"How 'ey ge' a cow in a wakawy anyway?" he inquires around the rather large mouthful, not at all perturbed by the accidental spray of crumbs that dust his tunic. He brushes them away with his fingertips and rises up from the stump, trailing away from the seat and closer to the Cholderton who may be a prime source for gossip. He manages to swallow most of the food on the way, so by the time he pulls up beside her, he's able to speak clearly again. "I mean, a whole cow? Inside there? Please tell me you were there to see it, my lady."

Braelynn gives him a sideways glance as he approaches, and nods her head. "Most certainly. The baker accused me of helping Sir Gaius bring her in. Mind you, we didn't." When the vendor turns his attention to her she points to a small pile of berries, though they don't look particularly fresh, or appetizing. She turns toward the young knight and informs him, "Sir Gaius was so gallant, though. He got the cow to leave." As the vendor brings her the berries, she pays him and slips them into her basket, before turning to face Padrig. "So like I said - You might not want to eat that bread."

Arian just casts her cousin a small, humored smile. "Does it taste good, Paddy? I mean… real good?" Then she starts to snort-laugh at the full-mouth words garbling out. She waits patiently for Braelynn to share her story, though she blinks sharply at the details, and then she cases Padrig a dubious glance. Taking in a breath and offering a dimpled smile, Arian gestures a bit. "Are you not the Lady Braelynn Cholderton? I have seen you about court…" She looks at Padrig meaningfully then.

"Oh, you know Sir Gaius, then? He's an interesting sort. I am sure he is much pleasanter when not bound up by Saxons," Padrig muses, scratching at his chin as he considers how the man managed to coax a cow out of a bakery. He flashes Braelynn his teeth in a wide grin as she tells him a second time not to eat the bread, and he spreads out his empty hands palm-up in demonstration. "Already did. Couldn't let it go to waste after it was paid for, could I?"

His attention is dragged away by Arian, and he leans out to rest an elbow on her shoulder in that chummy way of cousins. The knight's smile lingers for a little while longer after she mentions the woman's name, but it dissipates ever so slowly, and his arm drops down to dangle rather uselessly at his side. He offers his cousin a dark, rather unamused look. "Come now, Sir Arian, you know how you can be with faces…"

Her head tilts to the side, as Braelynn studies Arian for a moment. Her voice is apologetic as she says, "I'm sorry. Have we met? I'm terribly forgetful when it comes to names." For what it's worth, she looks rather embarassed at the idea that she might not remember someone she has previously met. "If so, I'm sorry. I'm often at court, training in record keeping and law." She holds her basket up and says, "When I'm not busy with my own studies, that is."

Caerdin checked his Awareness of 5, he rolled 15.

Caerdin de Broughton is one of many people passing through the Farmer's Market today. There isn't much of interest to him in regards to the produce, the prepared dishes? Those do get a glance at, his stomach rumbling each time he sees something that looks rather good. The temptations end up getting the better of him and at one vendor, he veers to his right and exchanges words and a couple of coins with the man and picks up a meat pie. He is completely oblivious to the presence of any other people of importance.

"I'm Lady Arian de Laverstock," Arian offers, using her Lady title rather than Knightly one. She gestures slightly to Padrig. "This is my cousin… Sir Padrig de Laverstock." There is something conspiratorial in her tone, as if she is trying to get both Padrig and Braelynn to fully recognize one another's presence. She casts a glance toward Padrig, meeting that dark look with one of pure sunshine a dimples. "What are you talking about, Padrig? I am quite knowledgable with faces… I mean, mostly." Or perhaps she just had been given a really good description of Braelynn to match once she caught wind of Padrig's banns.

If Padrig could hit his darling lady cousin right now, he probably would. His fists ball up at his sides, but he inhales sharply through his nose and exhales, eventually relaxing his hands enough to clasp them together behind his back. He rocks forward onto the balls of his feet and lets out a faint laugh, glancing between Arian and Braelynn like a man trapped between a rock and a hard place. "Oh, of course. Of course you would know her face, cousin. Lady Braelynn, as she did say, I am Sir Padrig, she is Lady Arian. What is it that you are studying, then?" His gaze darts to the basket, desperately seeking a neutral topic lest they all focus on the one already called to mind.

Her mouth makes a little 'o' shape as Braelynn realizes who she's just been introduced to. Her cheeks flush and she makes an embarassed little curtsey. She stammers for a minute before she completely ignores the obvious and simply answers his question, though she speaks a bit too quickly as she does. "I have a theory that if I boil these enough and then put the same herbs I put in healing teas in it, it will somehow harden. Then when tea is inconvenient. They could simply carry a few of these around, letting them dissolve slowly. I suspect it would be ideal for those on horseback, or away from home. Like knights perhaps."

Caerdin checked his Awareness of 5, he rolled 15.

Meat pie in hand, Caerdin turns and begins eating the thing at a hurried pace. It isn't his finest moment, but he's hungry and he doesn't want to just stand around in one place eating. At least the thing was small and wouldn't last him too long. Leaving the vendor behind, he continues on the way he was going, paying more attention to his food than he is anything else. This has the unfortunate consequence of him running into a young woman who seems to be counting apples. The young woman falls to the ground and some of her apples fall to the ground and roll away. Forgetting all about his meat pie, Caerdin drops the rest of it to the ground and reaches over and helps the young woman to her feet, apologizing all the way.

Arian is perhaps the worst matchmaker in all of Logres. Granted, she didn't actually witch this match together, but she is still quite amused by the joint reactions from the pair. She casts a glance at Padrig, trying for sheer innocence before her gaze settles back on Braelynn. She listens to the woman's response to Padrig's very thoughtful question. Her response does cause her brows to arch high, and she tilts her head with a touch of interest. Then she notices the woman with her apple and meat pie, and she blinks at the sudden distraction.

Padrig shuffles his feet a bit, clearly noting the expression on Braelynn's face. In an attempt at modesty, he glances away and gives her a moment to recover before the conversation carries along on a much safer subject. He exhales quietly in relief and offers the faintest of smiles, although he is not against giving Arian another dark glance before returning his attention to the Cholderton lady. "So—you boil the berries until they are a crust, combine them with the dried herbs of healing teas to form some kind of brick, and then on the road we could dissolve them at our convenience? Would they work in cold water, do you think, or would it have to be heated? Sometimes a fire isn't handy, and cold water is all we have at hand. Sometimes ale is all we have at hand. Sometimes nothing. I wonder how they would taste as is without being dissolved at all. What kind of berries are they anyway?"

Braelynn's brow furrows as she looks up at Padrig, and she seems to be considering what he's saying. She seems to relax slightly, as a subject she is fairly comfortable with is at hand, and she could certainly ramble on all day about her latest research experiment. "I'm not sure what type of berry will work best, though I suspect it doesn't really matter. I suppose it would have to taste, well, not horrible. Ideally you wouldn't need any water at all, just place them in your mouth and let them dissolve. If you needed water, then tea would surely be just as convenient. This is the 3rd attempt. The last 2… " she wrinkles her nose, "They were terrible tasting, and created more of a jam." She seems to be considering him carefully now.

After several more apologies and some replacement apples are purchased, Caerdin moves on from his little run-in with the woman. How embarassing, but it could have been worse. He could've walked into the backside of a horse or something and then gotten kicked in the face. Oh, would Aldreda still like him if a horse kicked him in the face? That was something new to think of and be concerned about. Waiting to hear back from his father regarding any arrangements that were maybe being made was nerve-wracking. He'd rather go riding against a horde of Saxons than wonder if he would be able to be bound to the woman had captured his heart. Wait, captured his heart? That was yet something else to think on.

Arian blinks at Padrig, and for a moment, looks quite surprised by the ease in which he is carrying on this conversation. She actually finds herself most impressed, though then abruptly suspicious. She starts to wonder if there was cow shit on that slice of bread Padrig ate. But then she intakes a breath, rolling her shoulders back slightly. "Well, that sounds quite impressive if you can make it work, Lady Braelynn." Then she smiles. "I'm quite envious of your academic drive."

About some typical business in Sarum, in fact likely at the keep itself, as the Earl demands a considerable amount of his time in personal service now, Cyndeyrn can be found ambling into the market. It's actually a bit of a routine now, these little trips when he has some time free, to browse about and find something for a snack, rather than having his sister's cooking to rely on back at home. Pausing to check on a piece of fruit here and there, and overhearing some bit of chatter that surely makes him want some berries now himself and looking around to see if anyone is selling them, he spots Caerdin - seemingly in some sort of daze - and makes some attempt at hailing him. "Coz, are you alright? You look distracted."

"Well, the minute you mention 'healing herbs', most knights are going to pinch their noses and knock it back anyway. None of that stuff ever tastes better than a cow shit," Padrig replies, offering Braelynn a shrug and a sardonic smile; he is aware he just mocked himself. "Wouldn't be the worst thing ever to try and make it marginally edible, though I pity the poor sot who had to test the first two batches. But my cousin speaks true - it's impressive work. We are much more inclined to use our heads as battering rams." He grins slyly at Arian for a moment before gesturing in front of Braelynn as if giving her room to move away. "But, Lady Braelynn, do not let us keep you from your work. I am sure my cousin has more slices of cow shit bread to cram down my throat for the crack I just made about her head."

Braelynn tilts her head and looks at her apparent betrothed. Known for her honesty, and sometimes known for being too honest, she quite matter of factly says, "I'm told that I'm to marry you." She looks at him, quite determined, "So I suppose some day you'll be the poor sot who gets to taste my concoctions." At this she smiles sweetly, and holds up the basket full of berries. She can't help but laugh at this, and she turns her eyes to Lady Arian. "You shouldn't be envious, Lady Arian. Sometimes it's quite troublesome. I always feel as if the solution to my problem lies just around the corner that I cannot see around."

More thoughts of a certain Laverstock woman float through Caerdin's mind as he pauses in thought. He is remembering her smile when he hears a familiar voice. Turning, he blinks and looks at Cyndeyrn. "Oh, hello cousin. Afraid I did not see you until just now… yeah I am a bit distracted." He gives a sheepish smile and gestures in the direction he had just come from. "Already had a few bad run ins, but I suppose I just cannot help but be distracted. There is a wonderful young lady who occupies much of my thoughts."

The boldness of Braelynn's words take Padrig back a bit, but to be fair he is the one who invited them. Abashed, the knight reaches up to rub a hand over his mouth to cover his faint smile while also offering Braelynn a slow nod. "Well, I suppose you've just affirmed that my cousins weren't in league with my brother to play a prank on me, but considering my brother has a stick rammed so far up his arse that he can barely walk, the chances that it was a joke were minimal to begin with. I could think of worse fates than having to chew on the occasional berry mixture, though, so I hope you weren't trying to worm a protest out of me. It's a bit early for the fighting, anyway. We've only just met." Padrig pauses, blinks, and then dips a quick bow to Cholderton. "And well met it has been, of course, my lady."

Hearing of whatever chaos his distracted kinsman may have caused, Cyndeyrn glances just a bit beyond, the way Caerdin suggests, before looking back to him, whereupon his expression takes a decided turn for the awkwardly uncomfortable when the cause for all of this is made known. "Oh, ah, I see. Well, yes, I suppose that is, erm, it can be cause for some… ah, wandering of thoughts." It is not the sort of thing the typically stoic Dinton likes to think of, let alone admit to suffering from on occasion himself! "Is this some woman you would have opportunity to court? I have, I suppose, been blessed in that regard, with my father consenting to my own inclination, the match being otherwise sound."

Braelynn returns Padrig's bow with a curtsey of her own. She can't supress the smile that spreads across her lips at his words. "I think we should endeavor that it will always be too early for the fighting. It's so troublesome, don't you think? It takes up space in our minds that could certainly be put to better use." As she rises from her courtsey, she gives him a warm smile and mirrors his sentiment with her own, "It's been surprising pleasant. I heard you were rather grouchy and sullen. You don't seem to be at all."

Caerdin gives his cousin a stoic nod, "Indeed. There is much to consider, with all that is going on and the responsibilities I have as heir, you know." Because rampaging Saxons should give anyone pause to think on the future. "Court? Yes, you could say that. She is very kind and pretty, and it is hard for me not to think about her when there is nothing else for me to think about… but that probably sounds a little foolish."

Padrig's eyebrows rise upward in surprise at this announcement, having never considered himself to be either such things. "Grouchy and sullen, indeed? I don't think those are adequate descriptors of my person at all, no, no. Rather, the person who spoke to you of me should have done you much better by saying I am a cad and whoremonger at my worst. I take nothing seriously, but I'm not particularly sulky. How rude. I bet it was Arian." He glares at his cousin. Again.

Braelynn's mouth makes the same little 'o' shape as it did when she realized who Padrig was. She is obviously surprised to hear this. Her betrothed a self-confessed whoremongerer? She simple gives him a weak smile and holds up her basket, stammering quietly, "I should go… much to do…" Before she begins to step backwards away from him and his cousin.

Cyndeyrn looks, again, as if he is not entirely sure how to comment upon his cousin's musings, or at least, how to do so without sounding either overly uncaring or overly sentimental! "Ah, well, it may sound a little foolish, but that is the way of such things. I think." He glances off, as to avoid the other man's gaze, and points out: "I made quite a spectacle of myself in front of the High King, of all people, over… such matters. So you are not alone in your, ah, foolishness." Then he manages to sort of straighten himself out a bit, and offers, "I wish you well in it, in any case."

Caerdin considers Cyndeyrn for a moment before nodding. "I wish I had been there to see that, but what is in the past is in the past. Still, it is good to know that I am not alone in my particular brand of foolishness." A rather boyish grin breaks out on his face but is quickly replaced by one of those expressions that only someone who just remembered they had something else they were supposed to do can muster. "Oh my pardons, cousin. I just recalled why I was out and about today. There are a few things I must see to before the day gets any later. Please, accept my pardons and I shall try and see you and Lysanor in Dinton soon." He offers his farewells once more before moving off into the market.

"A good day to you, Lady Braelynn, and I look forward to taste-testing your concoctions!" Padrig calls out to his betrothed as she backs away hastily, his expression most bemused as he makes a courtly bow to her nonetheless. He exchanges a look with Arian and offers his cousin a faint shrug, realizing only too late that he has most certainly put his foot in his mouth.

Braelynn exits the market, rather quickly, giving one last dubious glance at her apparent betrothed.

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