(1866-08-28) Awful Serious
Awful Serious
Summary: Lorelei comes looking for Esyld and gets more than she bargained for.
Date: Aout 28th
Related: Mummery and Scandal
Players:
Esyld  Lorelei  

Esyld's House, Lonnaire
In scene
Aout 28th, 1866

Evenings aren't good anymore. Well, they very well may be for one Lorelei Asheflour, but she's not one to presume how her friends spend their time, especially now that everything she's known to be 'normal' has been turned on its head. So, instead of traipsing down the familiar path from the Black Fox Training Grounds toward the cottage of one Captain Esyld Draven while watching the sun set, she chooses the next best thing. Sunrise in Lonnaire, especially in late summer, can be a gorgeous time of day.

The sky is still pale pink with dark blue in it when the Foxes' quartermaster makes her way from her own modest chambers, dressed in her usual getup of boots, breeches, and an ill-fitted tunic. She's taken the time to braid her hair and tie it at the end, and without her hair billowing around her neck, she looks even more slender and sharp than usual. Knowing that she may just wake the Captain, she knocks lightly at the door first, then a bit harder, and if she is indeed asleep, she'll let herself in.

Au contraire! The door is opened in the midst of that second, more insistent bout of knocking, revealing a fully-dressed and fresh-faced Esyld. Her dark locks are a little tousled but frankly that's normal at any time of day. The point is, she's here and not at the castle.. that has to count for something, right? "Mornin'." The greeting is pleasant and she steps back, casting the door wide by way of invitation as she returns to the kitchen.

She's not exactly the domesticated sort, our Fox Captain. But her breakfast seems staunch enough fare - and there's enough to share. Padding barefoot across the flagstones, to the threadbare rug and sturdy table, she eases back into the chair she had presumably been occupying until so abruptly roused. Some still fairly soft bread rolls are left amidst crumbs and pastry flakes on a wooden platter, alongside a dish with ham, eggs and tomatoes. There's even some butter and honey! Someone's hungry… "Help yourself." She waves a vague gesture toward the dishes, returning to a buttered slab of doughy bread with gusto. "Where did you run off to the other day, hm?"

Like she lives there, Lorelei nods, following easily to the table and reaching for one of those rolls. Chomp. She's chewing her probably-too-large bite with cheeks like a chipmunk's when the question comes at her and, like every conversation over a meal ever in the history of any world, she needs to pardon herself until she's finished chewing. Holding up an index finger to signal she'll just be a moment, the archer makes a scene of chewing rather elaborately before swallowing loudly. She grins at the end, clearly comfortable in her surroundings.

"Well," she begins reaching up to run hands through her hair and stopping with just smoothing over the braid when she remembers she's bothered to do anything with it today, "Frankly." Sigh. Pause. Another bite. Another gulp. "I was rude." And thus, it would seem, she was embarrassed because of it. That's what her eyes say as she looks across the table and massive doughy bread, both.

"That's never bothered you before." points out the Captain, quirking a brow as she reaches for a half-finished cup of milk. "..and if you mean to Corvin.. well, he can take it, I imagine." Alright, there's a hint of a smile tugging at her lips, following that. Absently following the path of Lorelei's hands and thus noting that braid, she tilts her head a little askance after a sip of her drink. She doesn't pry, though. If the quartermaster decides to pretty herself up on a summer's morn, that's her business. "Did Jon find you? He was hot on your heels after you left."

The question might be considered perfectly innocent.. were it not for the mischievous expression on Esyld's features, strained slightly by the mouthful of bread she's just bitten off. Appetite of a lumberjack.

"Yes, him." She's still not the peak of manners, but maybe there is some genuine remorse there? Considering how she felt about Corvin until just about thirty seconds ago, this is something of an improvement. It's worth noting that she's at least trying, and trying so many different things, at the urging of the Captain. Look. I caaaaare.

There's nothing especially polite about the snort that comes next, though, when full-mouthed Esyld mentions her noble brother. "He did." Another sigh. Another pause. "Something about Pacitta." Waving a hand, she clearly dismisses it. "You know no beds will be made if I stay here too long." The other hand emphasizes where they are then with a firm tap on the table…before reaching for that bread again.

The effort has been noted, no doubt. The very fact that Lorelei thought of her manners is an enormous step forward in itself. Worrying about them around Corvin? That's.. that's stop-chewing surprising. Esyld blinks across at her friend and there's a moment of silence before her jaw starts working again and she swallows. "It takes a lot more than that to upset him.." she begins, only to relent to a rueful smile. "..like punching him in the gut repeatedly, for example."

On to the more interesting matter, of late: her brother and his infatuation. "You do seem to have acquired an extremely tall, formidable puppy." The Captain licks a tiny spill of melted butter from her thumb, before settling to a contemplative regard of the woman opposite, folding her arms comfortably on the tabletop. "Have you decided how you feel about that, yet?" God, is this the theme for the week, people having to 'decide' their feelings? She ignores the irony of her asking. "If not.. Pacitta might be the ideal opportunity to examine your thoughts more closely. I want you to go, along with the few others accompanying the Duchess, Lady Alina and Lord Gabriel. And, I expect, my brother."

Well, that wasn't the response she was expecting, or hoping for for that matter. It's Lorelei's turn to stop chewing this time, eyes darkening further (if that's even possible) and glaring across the table just before finally remembering to swallow. The chair creaks beneath her as she leans forward. "You actually want me to go?" And here she thought…well, Jon knows what she thought. And here she thought it might be popular opinion. Looking rather bewildered, she sighs and breathes in a shallow, unhappy breath that only raises her shoulders in a half shrug. "Don't say we're growing apart," she nearly pleads, quietly looking down at the hands now folded in her lap. "I can't predict your actions these past few weeks." Which used to be a thing. A very easy and always-right thing.

Taking a moment to think about said puppy and what she's precisely supposed to do with the situation, Lorelei finally finds words and, actually, they may shock Esyld. They sure shock her. "He's patient," she offers up in slight praise, expression changing to a bit more neutral from pained. That, clearly, is enough to endear him for now.

"I don't want you to go, insofar as it leaves me without a right hand for the duration. I want you to go because I'm not, and I trust your judgement as well as I would my own, should anything be amiss. That and I bloody hate Faegates." No surprise there, as she flits those unnatural eyes upward at her companion, following a brief gaze into her cup. "Why, what did my brother say about it all? Did he already state a similar desire?" She smiles faintly. Shaking aside a wayward raven lock that tumbles against her cheek, Esyld sighs. "We're not growing apart, Lore. How can you be expected to anticipate what I'll do, when I don't even know myself? I'm.. blindly stumbling from one moment to the next and the footing is treacherous." There. A rare insight to the mind of the Captain, bringing her confidante firmly back into the fold. Pressing her lips in a firm, bloodless line, she averts her eyes again, plainly biting back on whatever further things she might have let loose.

There's the ghost of approval, though, at the description of her sibling. "One thing Jon has always had over me is his patience." she agrees. "It makes up for the occasional woeful lack of humor." She pauses, before adding more softly, "..I am glad to hear it, though." One help him if he had been the cause of any upset to her friend, brother or not.

Good. A lost sheep is a terrible thing to have, and the look of relief on her face is likely felt across the table. "I'll protect you," Lorelei reiterates, devotion not so much rekindled as stoked in that moment, professing a guarantee her Captain likely already knows to be true twice over. Smiling softly, she reaches across the table first for what looks like another roll, but what actually becomes a gesture of friendship as she moves to squeeze Esyld's hand. When finished, though, she'll definitely find a fork and stab a ham steak to drag onto a plate and pull toward her. Sometimes you can take the girl out of the woods…

"He is awful serious," she concedes, her expression taking on a glare of its own to match in illustration. "I'll go if you need me to," she ultimately concedes, but she doesn't seem unhappy about it. More neutral, again. Fork in hand, she lifts the entire ham steak up and takes a bite out of the side rather than cut off a piece. Hopefully there are no formal dinners she's invited to in Pacitta…

"I know you will." Though her smile is still rather wan, Esyld's sentiment is plainly genuine in return and she even chuckles softly, low in her throat, at the squeeze to her hand. Some things, of course, you simply can't guard against.. no matter how ferocious the persons surrounding you, with your best interests at heart. When Lorelei's attention shifts once more to food, the Captain props an elbow, resting her jaw lightly on the knuckles of her hand.

"He can be.." she agrees, with regard to her oh-so-stoic brother, nodding a little. "But so can you. You both just take time to trust and there's no fault in that." Smirking a little now as she watches the archer take a hearty, maw-shaped chunk from the side of the ham steak, the mercenary continues after a subtle hesitation. "It's not so much that you need go, Lore. But, aside from my firm belief that you will acquit yourself admirably.." It's odd, how she can drift into sounding so like a lady of her half-family, at times. "..I also think it will be good for you. A tourney, in Pacitta! How often will you have the chance to see such a thing, hm? Go. Enjoy it. I can hold the fort here until you return."

Thank goodness she'd finished that bite of the ham steak; if she'd still been chewing, she likely would have spit it out. "Enjoy." Right, because her in an unknown place with people she only knows of instead of just plain knowing is going to put her at ease enough for a good time. "But if you'd like," she amends, grinning, "I'll go."

What did she just sign up for?

There's definite concern still lacing her fingers as she watches Esyld across the table, but she knows that, unless she's ready (or has ale spilled on her), she's not about to just say things just to say things. "Oh," she adds, clearly looking to pry, "the camp's abuzz, you know." Beat. "Something about him kissing you again." And then she takes another hefty bite.

Snorting softly, Esyld shakes her head. The hand upon which her chin had been resting rises, palming over her features in a weary mannerism before raking fingertips back through her dark hair. "Hmm. Except there's no 'again', for most. I think the sight of me kissing a Wraith.. especially him.. quite openly in the middle of a tavern, is bound to set tongues wagging." She glances back up toward the archer opposite and finally allows herself a languid smile, shrugging a shoulder. "Why bother hiding it anymore? People were always going to whisper, we've only given them a scrap with which to kindle their gossiping. It's charitable, really."

She neither elaborates further on that, nor pushes Lore further on the notion of a trip. She'll come around to the idea.. and there's no doubt Jon will be pleased. Gruffly so. But still. And she? Well, she can remain behind in Lonnaire and face the consequences, should any arise.

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