(514-10-03) Only Slightly Better than a Stable Hand
Summary: Talfryn is invited to stay at House Newtone, potentially for a marriage match. He meets a rather salty Vesper- his supposed potential match.
Date: 514-10-03
Related: None
talfryn vesper 


Talfryn rides up on his horse, dressed as one might expect a knight- although with far less armor. He's singing some wordless little ditty- a song of workers in the field, far from the fare most would know in court. He approaches the stables, and dismounts- he's been invited, after all. As one of the stablehands comes to get his horse, he's approached by another servant. "Ah, yes. Sir Talfryn de Idmiston here to visit the fine family Newtone." he says, with a nod of his head, "Thank you." he makes sure to add to the servant as they head off- which may, or may not turn their head depending on how this particular family speaks to their servants.

From behind Talfryn, approaching Newton from the opposite direction, comes a voice that can only be defined as a splendid mix of sultry and sulking. "Run. It's a trap." The voice is lovely in and of itself, and so is the owner of the voice, one Lady Vesper de Newton. From her perch on a horse, with two guards in tow behind her, Vesper sweeps Talfryn and glance from the tips of his knightly toes, to the top of his noble head. "A handsome trap, to be sure. But still a trap." She flicks the bright red fold of her cloak to adjust the drape, revealing a pretty periwinkle gown beneath, simple, but with intricate black-stitch at both hem and neckline. "I should run, if I were you."

"I expected as much." Talfryn says, with a half grin lighting his face. "Given that my Uncle was quite adamant that I be on my best behavior. Honor of the house, potential allies, all very above my head- or at least it would be, if I hadn't found that whole heir business dropped in my lap. Awful, that." He says- although, it was wholly due to his brother's very recent murder. Somehow, Talfryn keeps a smile. He gives Vesper a little look, but he doesn't stare- just a smile in the end. "So then- if I'm the trap, what does make you, M'Lady?"

"So much unwanted chattel," Vesper tells him with a bright, ice-edged smile. She settles back on her mount, far from expertly, but with enough assurance to keep the dappled rouncy still. "To be sold off to the highest bidder. Though," the lady adds, her tone wry, "I never said you were the trap. In a likelihood, I am the trap set for you by my marriage-minded older brother." One of the guards sharply clears his throat behind Vesper. "Ah, yes. Do forgive me. Might I introduce my nannies, Gerald and Brand. And you are?"

"Sir Talfryn de Idmiston." The Knight answers, giving a bit of a frown. "Oh, you're no chattel. Look rather more like a person, to me." he says, "Ah, gentlemen- Gerald, Brand. A pleasure, I'm sure." he offers to the pair of guards, before he leans over, "Am I in such danger to require two guards to protect me from you?" he asks of Vesper, eyebrows raised a bit- it seems like quite a bit. "In your own home, no less?" A round-about way to ask the question, perhaps.

Vesper's lips don't even budge and she answers the Idmiston heir deadpan. "Yes." He's saved from anything further when a stablehand comes to take Vesper's reins, taking very great care not to touch the woman in any way as she dismounts. The watchful gazes of Brand and Gerard do not change.

Dismounted, Vesper is perhaps not quite so intimidating, with her tiny frame and much smaller stature. Still, her chin sets at a lofty angle, and her cobalt eyes speak of haughty grandeur. "But lest I inspire the firing of any more stable hands, might I show you to your rooms, Sir Talfryn?"

"Firing of stable hands?" Talfryn asks, eyebrows knit together. "Having a problem with stable hands, huh? A shame, that. Rather useful for keeping the stables, I've found." He deadpans, as he nods. "I'd rather like that, M'Lady. I do have some unpacking to do- and I really ought to rewrap my tourny wound." he says, "I do hope I'm not a bother to you, or your family. This is a bit of an odd… thing.. for me, I admit." he's perhaps not the best with words. "Do you ever feel like a fruit on the stand? Out there for all the prospective buyers to peruse? Must be worse for you than me- at least I'll be going back to my home-turf when all is said and done."

Failed.
Vesper checked her merciful of 13, she rolled 14.
Success
Vesper checked her cruel of 7, she rolled 1.

Vesper's doctor-senses begin to tingle the moment Talfryn mentions he has a wound that needs tending. One who is paying close attention to the dainty, gorgeous woman might see it in the quick flicker of her concerned eyes to his person. But Vesper, righteous indignation at being potentially sold off to the man, flashes next and she turns her head, tips her nose, and ignores the mention summarily. Guilt can eat her later. "Come along then. Who better to show you her home than peach most likely to be leaving it. You've seen the stables," she gestures to the modest structure, "And here, the courtyard." She sets a pace that forces the guards to dismount hurriedly to follow them. "Come, I'll show you the manor. Perhaps my cousin Bryn will be around. You might like her." She doesn't even deign to give her name in return.

Talfryn winces visibly as he moves, giving a nod. "Ah! So you're the Lady Vesper, hrm?" he says, "Well- I did bring a gift. For your house, that is. Should be along shortly." he says, "They were right behind me…" A man in a horse and cart ride up at that time, two large barrels in his cart- along with fruit. Pears and apples. "Direct from the private stores. Do hope you enjoy apple cider and pear mead…. er… you do drink, yes?" he asks- suddenly unsure if Roman Christians even do that. "I mean, of course you drink- who doesn't drink?" he says, suddenly somewhat nervous. "Anyways, my men will unload them wherever you folks need- and I'll play the good nephew and follow you for the tour."

"No, I would never drink," Vesper intones in a wry voice that completely belies the creeping smirk across her lips and the blue-eyed wink she tosses Talfryn's way, her back turned to her guard. "Such a thing would be a terrible offense against God and most assuredly no self-respecting, God-fearing Roman Christian woman would dare. Please, feel free to tell them to put it in the store room just off the stable. Mind the medical supplies, though. This way, Sir Talfryn. The main manor boasts two stories and the Newton's are quite proud of their balcony on the second floor, though of course they would never say so outright. Which do you prefer, pears or apples?"

"Err.. Well, in that case, you should stick to the apples and pears. They're from the family's private orchard." Talfryn says, as he pulls a bit as his collar. "I've honestly never spent any time with any Roman Christians." he admits, "I'm a touch nervous about all this." he says, as he follows along a few steps behind Vesper. When she's not looking he does take a moment to give her another once-over. Not any disappointment there. "Still, no drinking sounds rather… dull." he notes, "I mean- why were we given the ability to ferment something, if not to enjoy it?"

"Goodness, that sounds like a conversation you should have with my older brother, Joachim," Vesper tells Talfryn, tapping the side of her pretty dark head with a single, dextrous finger. "As a woman, surely I can form no opinion of merit on such matters. If you are to be my husband," the lady continues, blithely, leading the decent looking knight into the main hall, "perhaps you ought to tell me what you think?"

"Why would I tell you what to think? Wait just a minute.." Talfryn says, as he stops in place- looking to Vesper. "Lady Vesper, with all due respect, if you'd rather not get to know me and scuttle this whole thing, just let me know now. I'll enjoy a friendly few days visit, and go on having left a gift and hopefully made a few friends." he shrugs, "Honestly- its not like its a sure thing to begin with. Your family is rather famously untrusting of Pagans such as myself." he notes simply as he then continues walking. "So then, that was a rather nice balcony I saw back there. Must be quite lovely on summer nights." As if he'd never said a thing.

Success
Vesper checked her honest of 10, she rolled 9.

"My brother would give me away to any man who would take me off of his hands, pagan or not," Vesper bites back, quietly so as not let the guards overhear. In that reply, in her expressive, melodic voice, there is the unmistakeable ring of melancholic truth. She continues walking along side Talfryn, not looking at the knight. "I simply," she murmurs, not sounding apologetic, but more concilatory, "do not wish to encourage his notion that I am a sinning harlot who must be disposed of lest she tarnish the family's good name. It is nothing against you, Sir Talfryn. I am trying to spare you, really. I am not wife material."

"Well, that makes two of us." Talfryn replies to her last statement, giving a bit of a smile. ".. And really? A sinning harlot? No, nevermind." he lifts his hands, his voice low for the sake of the Lady. "How about you and I start over, Lady Vesper. There's no reason why whatever private matter is happening in the Newton house should sully my visit. Honestly, I was hoping to see how Roman Christians had fun- that is the point of inviting guests over, isn't it?"

Failed.
Vesper checked her trusting of 10, she rolled 16.
Success
Vesper checked her suspicious of 10, she rolled 7.

Finally Vesper turns her glacial-blue eyes to Talfryn, assessing the knight of Idmiston once more. "… If you are trying to make me like you, in order to lull me into accepting this match, it won't work," the lady informs him primly, dsitrustfully. "Though, being the only one who ever /has/ fun around here, I suppose it would be prudent of me to show you what it looks like. But first," she muses, glance turning back to her 'nannies', "you might beg of my brother a private audience with me. Any fun worth having, is worth not having a disapproving audience for."

"That's all up to you, Lady Vesper." Talfryn answers- his own eyes, azure and piercing in return. "I've done nothing to deserve this… attitude. I'm a guest, who's visiting because my family expects it of me." he states simply, "So then- you were going to show me to my room?" he asks, just shaking his head as he gives a quiet sigh.

Failed.
Vesper checked her flirting of 13, she rolled 17.

"You see?" Vesper replies, chin tilted, as she continues down through the spacious main room and into one of the wings. "I would make a terrible wife. I am a /terrible/ person." She pulls up in front of a crude door and opens it into a room that is cruder, but at least is sectioned off, and private. "Your room, sir." She essays a curtsey that is the epitome of grace. "Dinner is in the main hall. Joachim will be thrilled to have you."

Failed.
Talfryn checked his flirting of 10, he rolled 13.

"Thank you, Lady Vesper." Talfryn says, turning as he enters the room to look towards Vesper quietly. "I somehow doubt that, Lady Vesper. Perhaps a bit upset at being carted around to be shown to a complete stranger." he says simply, before he turns to fully face the woman. "Just a terrible host."

Success
Vesper checked her flirting of 13, she rolled 2.

Vesper actually smirks, to that. It's a half of a smile, too, and it almost touches her cobalt eyes. "You are most certainly correct," she informs Talfryn, without specifying which point she agrees to, leaving it a mystery. "I bid you good evening, Sir Talfryn. Perhaps tomorrow will seem a brighter day, though if you get lonely during the night, my room is not so far." And she turns on a waft of roses and myrrh, leaving that blatant innuendo to hang in the doorway, and stalks off down the hall.

Critical Success!
Talfryn checked his flirting of 10, he rolled 10.

"To the left or to the right?" Talfryn calls back, "With only the light of your eyes, hidden behind closed doors- I might just find my way."

The only thing forthcoming further from the Lady Vesper is light laughter, and a silent challenge, a quiet flirtation, entreating him to figure it out himself. Games, within games.

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