(514-08-22) Some Shade
Summary: Amalthea is impetuously energetic. Again. Rowan catches on at the end.
Date: 514-08-22
Related: Logs of Amalthea and Rowan
amalthea rowan 

The summer has descended upon the land and the dry heat was palpable. The villagers were still hard at work, but notably sweater and smellier than usual. Some of the men eye Amalthea curiously as she happens by - she was an unfamiliar face to them, but pretty! They do not dawdle long lest they be berated by their wives working alongside them, though.

Rowan was present, looking over the apple orchard in the back of the manor and speaking with the workers there. Should they be asked, any of the village men would point her in the correct direction to find him.

Critical Success!
You check your energetic at 16, you rolled 16.

Amalthea, not even the least bit travel weary, is galloping across the land. The mount is fresh, and the lady seems likewise. She wears no cloak, only a plain tunic, dark tights, and tall leather boots to encase the long legs clutching the sides of the beast she rides. Her hair is a thick, dark cable streaming out behind her, and her normally plain features transposed into something like radiance, so focused is she, on her destination. Barely does the lady stop to receive directions to the lord of the manor, but when she does, it's with a bright flash of smile before she's spurring the dappled mare on its way once more.

The thunder of hooves, no doubt, will give the Dinton away, long before she reaches her husband-to-be.

The sounds of thundering hooves coming towards him certainly draw his attention away from the worker he was chatting with in alarm. Most people do not charge at him while on horseback! Thea was not most people, nor was this even the first time she's done this! He blinks owlishly up at her and steps back, dearly hoping she stops. The worker seems a little disturbed, as well, ready to bolt.

Critical Success!
You check your horsemanship at 15, you rolled 15.

It's almost majestic, the way Amalthea handles the horse beneath her. There's the barest touch of her thighs to the creature's heaving flank and it launches into a sideways slide, pulling up only feet from Rowan, allowing it's rider to leap down with the momentum. Right in front of him. Show off. "Rowan! Rowan!" She pauses, hopping from foot to foot, carried away by the ride, by the energy and life coursing through her veins. "I love you! Do you know that? I love you!" And she'll leap to throw her arms around him, checking none of the force of her long, bouncing frame.

The worker promptly bolts, taking refuge behind a nearby tree. Rowan looks like he's about to join him, but his betrothed once again artfully stops just before running him over. He stares dumbfounded for a long moment, experiencing a mixture of relief and awe, before his expression softens at Amalthea's happiness to see him and he clears his throat. "I-I see—" Then she declares her love for him outloud! His face heats up, though he could easily explain the redness on the heat. He catches her with a stumble, but remains on his feet. "I didn't expect to see you!" Though his smile seems to suggest it was a pleasant surprise.

"I did not expect to come," Amalthea replies, forthright and not even a little out of breath. Taller she may be, but it doesn't seem to matter in the way she embraces him for a long moment before attempting to step back. "But I had to see you. I had to tell you. I had an epiphany after speaking to your brother. You ought to marry him off and fast, by the way. But, he does have wisdom! And he said something. And I just… I had to come." It's only now, the dregs of her impetuousness wearing off, that she looks around, and her own flush finds her cheeks.

Rowan simply holds her for as long as he's permitted. They were fairly close in size - much more so than other couples, but that simply means he doesn't have to cramp his neck to kiss her! A hint of concern now seeps into his countenance as she explains his brother may have something to do with this impromptu visit - and the recommendation that Rowan get him hitched! "What did he say now?" He doesn't quite roll his eyes, but it is clear he is tempted to.

"He only pointed out," Amalthea replies, her smile a bright thing on her face, despite the heat that still lingers upon her cheeks that has nothing to do with the sun, "that I am fortunate to have found you. Rowan, if I have done aught to jeopardize that, to make your life harder than it already is," here, her bronzed eyes cloud, her smile diminished, her fingers laced together before her to still them, "then I am sorry. More sorry than I ever have been."

He chews nervously on the inside of his cheek, but what Amalthea says alleviates his anxiety somewhat. "I count myself the fortunate one. I did not expect to marry someone I truly wanted." His hand travels up to brush her hair back, behind her ear. "There wasn't a moment where I was angry at you, Thea. You have no need to apologize, and I'm sorry I may have been a bit… curt. My frustration was with Sir Martyn." Rowan's own demeanor dims. "I hope you understand that."

You check your trusting at 10, you rolled 6.

Amalthea listens, watches, careful and intent on seeing the truth at the heart of the matter. In the end, the Dinton lass nods her head, eyes soft on her future husband. "I do. I understand. It was wrong, impetuous of me to have asked you to intercede. That you still did, knowing of sir Martyn's feelings for me…" She reaches out a hand to touch his, smile wide and growing wider still. "You are God-given, Rowan. Truly. I am unworthy, though I will try harder to be such."

Rowan checked his chaste of 13, he rolled 18.
Rowan checked his lustful of 7, he rolled 12.

The warmth in his smile returns and he leans in to kiss her cheek. "You are more than worthy, Amalthea. You need to simply continue to be you to keep me happy. I will be blessed to have you as my wife." He looks aside, to the worker now re-emerging from the tree he was hiding behind. "And I'm glad you finally get the chance to see your future home. This is Mabon, overseer of the orchard - give us a little privacy, if you would." The farmer nods sagely and skitters off.

"You have already met my brother, but you may want me to introduce you to the rest of the family when they are present. They are… an interesting bunch," he explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I would say the same of mine," Amalthea assures him with a cheshire grin, surfaced with the peck to her cheek and stretched to abandon with his words. "I meant what I said about marrying your brother off, though," she adds, chuckling. "I have never seen a man more in need of a woman's gentling. And he is very wise, Rowan," she offers this up, eyes twinkling. "I mean that. But I think his… erm. Bluntness? May hold him back from possibility." It's hard to tell if she's serious, or teasing one brother or the other. "I wish to meet your family. Very much. Perhaps… after a bath and a change of clothes?" She winks. "It won't wash away the horse smell, but it scents it a little better."

Rowan chuckles and nods. "I agree with that assessment, but she would have to be quite the woman to soften him up. He fully expects me to marry him off for profit - the health of the house is what's important to him. My cousin Breaca is the same way, to be honest. And my mother." He cants his head thoughtfully. "But… we will see."

The Lord of Wylye offers his lady his arm again. "Want to go for a walk along the river? We don't need to be in a hurry to meet the in-laws." He wrinkles his nose. "And I'm not sure how much you enjoy the scent of sweaty man."

You check your honest at 10, you rolled 5.

"Oh," Amalthea drawls, casting Rowan a sidelong glance that speaks of thoughts very unChristian dancing in her head. "I think I should enjoy it quite a bit." A moment later, she adds, smiling wickedly and taking his arm, "The walk, that is. I should be pleased to walk with you along the river, Rowan. Tell me about Wylye?" It's a very clean change of subject, almost innocent, save for the words that preceded it.

Rowan checked his awareness of 5, he rolled 7.

The innuendo goes right over his head - she is clearly speaking about the river! He likes rivers, too! "I suspect it isn't terribly different from most manors," he admits as they proceed to stroll leisurely towards the chalk stream which runs alongside the lands. "But our manor itself may be sturdier. We replaced the thatched roof with wooden tile recently and have a fire place. Separate kitchen, too." One day, Amalthea may figure out why, but today is not that day. "We fish, we farm, we fight…" A thoughtful pause. "Do you know how to wield any weapons, Amalthea?"

You check your prudent at 10, you rolled 18.
You check your reckless at 10, you rolled 4.

"I can use a dagger with some small skill," Amalthea replies to that as she walks arm in arm with her intended along the river bank. It must lull her into a false state of security, for the reckless side of Amalthea takes over (as it so often seems to) and the lady then admits, impetuously, "And sir Martyn is teaching me to wield a spear, as well, so that I might better bring game to the table while hunting."

Rowan checked his honest of 16, he rolled 13.

The river was calm - it was too small to be otherwise - and there is a smattering of villagers fishing within it with their nets. It is shallow enough to stand in! A few children splash about at the edge, obivious to the couple strolling past. Rowan's expression doesn't change at this revelation, but one brow does lift ever so slightly. "He hunts, hmm? A spear is a more prudent weapon than a dagger, though the latter may be useful if you found yourself in another… unruly mob.

You check your lustful at 7, you rolled 3.

His calm acceptance is what tips the odds in Rowan's favour. "I hope not to have to, for a long time. In fact, do you see that spot behind the rather large tree there, just a ways up? It looks quite secluded. Certainly a long way from any unruly mods. Perhaps," Amalthea murmurs, her voice low and rather close to his ear, "you might show me /that/ spot?"

Critical Success!
Rowan checked his lustful of 7, he rolled 7.

"Violent mobs seem to materialize when you least want them to, really." His brown eyes lift up to regard the large oak tree his lady was referring to. Unlike before, he seems to comprehend her meaning… or at least the general gist. The blush is subtle this time, as well as the wry grin which follows. "It is a rather nice tree," he answers, too low to be overheard. "And we could certainly use some shade…"

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