In Ashe Fork (This is the for-est primeval...): Free RP

Inkling

Inkling

Hopeful Romantic
Knight of the Noble Order
The town of Ashe Fork is full of life. Small cottages, homes to entire families, seem to have sprung up almost haphazardly, with a well holding pride of place in the very center of the community. The residents appear friendly enough, calling out greetings and waving as they pass one another going about their business. Each home has a tidy little garden behind it, providing the basic necessities of life. Ashe Fork has a dry goods store, a tailor, and even a blacksmith within convenient walking distance.

A forest, dark and brooding, stretches to the west, just beyond the town limits. On the other side of Ashe Fork, a path winds down to the quayside, where at nearly all hours ships arrive and depart, indicating a thriving merchant class. Another road leads to the beach and the dunes above, and the air, pungent with the scent of the salt spray, is punctuated with the calls of seabirds, ducking and wheeling above in their dance. Past the bluffs, the castle of Cair Paravel blocks the skyline.
 
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] Torin [

Standing at the archery range of Ashe Fork is a young man, expression calm and serious as he takes an arrow from his quiver and sets it to the string. Face calculating as he draws it back, he aims towards a target, takes a breath, and lets it loose.

The arrow whizzes through the air, and pierces the target a little shy of the bullseye, settling in the ring outside it with a clean *thock* noise.

Torin's reaction to such a shot is unclear, as his face remains unchanged. His thoughts remain fully on his practice as he readies another arrow.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

OOC: For the sake of demonstrating a 'traveling' type post. Be aware that Ashe Forke is below Cair Paravel, so it's reasonable to reach there fairly quickly...

Caryss, feeling a air of restlessness take hold of her, determines that she will find some productive ways to spend her time before she is due to return to the infirmary. Something about the town below calls to her, and, donning a cloak, she gathers a small pouch together. Passing through the inner ward of the castle, she asks a servant to accompany her, since it would be unthinkable to wander on her own.

Outside the gates, she quickens her pace as she moves along the road leading into the village of Ashe Fork. The servant is huffing to keep up with her young mistress, and, noticing such, Caryss shortens her strides to accommodate her. "My apologies, Angharad..." she says, "I should have been more mindful." She turns toward the path leading to the marketplace, where she knows from experience that she'll find the muslin she needs to make up poultices from the store of dried herbs in the castle.

This road leads her by the archery range, where a solitary figure is practicing his skills. She dips into a low curtsy in greeting when she realizes just who the young man is.

"Well met, Sir Torin," she begins, her eyes modestly downcast toward the ground. "How are you faring, and how is your practicing progressing?" As ever, her manner is polite.
 
] Torin [

Caryss addresses Torin just before he lets an arrow loose, and furrows his brow somewhat as the arrow lands farther from his mark as he had hoped as a result. Regardless, he wipes the hint of expression off his face and turns to give a small bow. "Afternoon, milady. Well enough to both."
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss looks up discretely, and, having apparently caught something in the knight's countenance, her cheeks color slightly before she looks away again. Years of practice in hiding her feelings allow her to rapidly school her own expression, though her tone conveys a hint of apology.

"I seem to have chosen my moment poorly," she responds, turning away slightly. "and apologize for disrupting your concentration. I am pleased to see that you are returned and to find you well. I confess I was not surprised to find you here, but I should leave you to your exercises."

Caryss reaches down, retrieving an arrow which has loosed itself from the knight's quiver to roll to the ground a short distance away. She touches the arrow's shaft with a delicate finger, then wordlessly offers it to him.
 
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] Torin [

Torin shakes his head slightly, face still as blank and unreadable as if it were carved from stone - though not in an unfriendly manner. "Nothing to apologize for, milady. I should be less affected by a sudden disruption in concentration."

He glances to the arrow, and accepts it with a small nod of his head, both the nod and the replacement of the arrow to his quiver smooth and fluid. "Thought I was one short. Thank you."
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss's lips curve into an approximation of a smile, though it is faint and does not reach her dark eyes.

"Sir Torin, it is noble of you to excuse me. I certainly have no claim on your time; it has been some weeks since I have seen you, and my desire to reassure myself about your continued welfare quite overcame my better judgment about disturbing you."

Still, though she desires to turn and leave him, she makes no movement to depart as the servant silently bears witness to their exchange. It is almost as if Caryss stands rooted in her place, and between the knight and the lady rises the figure of the man they both knew and regarded highly: Torin's brother, the Lord Tor. In her mind, the image of their last meeting visits once more, clear and vivid:

Tor, ebullient as ever, was half carried into the infirmary by three strong knights after a spar when he called out a greeting. "Milady Caryss, are you ready to patch me together once more?"

She turned from rolling long strips of linen bandages, not even flinching at the deep lacerations and the dark purple bruises on his skin. Caryss dipped a low curtsy, and before she had even reached his side, his brother, Torin, quiet as was his wont, had already arrived, somehow informed of the mishap.

Tor, of course, made light of his injuries, and soon had all those present at their ease; some were even laughing as he told of his latest exploit. He didn't even wince as she treated his injuries with salve and wound his arm with bandages.

"You will not be able to compete in the tournament now, my lord," she informed him, and, for an instant, Caryss noticed something akin to relief in Tor's younger brother's eyes.

This same Torin stands before her now, and he is like his brother, though if anything he has withdrawn even further from the man she knew.

We both feel his loss, though your pain is far the greater, and I will help you if it is within my power. She thinks these words, but they are not spoken aloud. Clasping her hands together, Caryss looks back to the ground beneath her feet.
 
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] Torin [

OOC: Let it be known that Inky and I did discuss whether such a relation between these two characters would be plausible beforehand. As it should be, in such a case. ;)

IC: Torin merely nods again. "As I have said, I do not believe there is really anything needing excusing. And reassurance is a luxury in your line of work, I would think. If I can provide such, then good and well for the both of us. And as I have said, I am well enough."

As he speaks this last sentence, Torin's hand drifts towards the hilt of the sword at his waist, the same sword his brother once wielded.

Well enough to press on, yes. Still dealing otherwise, though.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss nods meekly, and her expression does not alter. The breeze plays with a few loose tresses of hair, but she does not appear to feel it other than reaching up a slim hand to brush the long strands back behind her ears.

Angharad, however, purses her lips slightly at the words Torin speaks. She knows better, though, than to offer comment to those above her station, and remains silent.

After a pause Caryss speaks, her voice low, "Is it not my role to care for the well being of all those connected with the castle? And we both know that not all marks are physical..." For Tor's sake, she reminds herself, not entirely convinced by Torin's claims that he is fine.

Her glance is drawn by his motion to the sword, which she has seen borne by his elder brother a hundred times, and the breath catches in her throat. However, she remains completely still.
 
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] Torin [

Torin's reply is simple, as they usually tend to be. "A remnant scar does not always mean the wound that caused it is still paining."

He is quiet a moment, still fingering his sword. "I should get some practice of a different sort in."

He glances towards the target, and in one swift motion, takes the one remaining arrow in his quiver, sets it to the string, and fires it off. Again it lands just outside the bullseye, and again the archer gives no indication as to whether he is satisfied by this or not.

Turning back towards Caryss, he bows slightly again. "I should see to things. A good day to you, milady. Take care."

And with that, he turns to retrieve his arrows.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss inclines her head into another small nod. "Indeed. It is good to hear you say so. You are right; they will heal given time..."

She does not trust herself to speak further, suddenly feeling very young and more than a bit foolish.

How often do you blunder in where even the wisest should not, Caryss? If he has managed to find some degree of normalcy again, why dredge through what can only bring fresh pain? 'Tis selfish and unbecoming of you, and no wonder he wishes to be free of your company and this conversation...

This inner chastisement passes through her mind as the knight strings another arrow and lets it fly. Her eyes widen a fraction at his steadiness and his skill.

She curtsies again. "And I also have matters which I should attend to. Good day to you, Sir Torin."

Caryss waits, ramrod straight, while he collects his arrows and watches while he turns to leave without calling him back.
 
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] Torin [

Torin surveys his work as he approaches the target.

Perhaps no better than usual... but no worse, either. That's something.

He gives a small, satisfied nod, and sets to work easing his arrows out of the target. Despite his hardened appearance, he manages to do so delicately enough to prevent damaging the arrows in any way. He replaces them in his quiver, and begins to make his way back towards the castle, thinking to get a little practice with his sword in before calling it a day. He allows himself a faint grin for a brief moment as he unstrings his bow.

Tor wouldn't have wanted me brooding for too long anyway. Still... I suppose taking up his sword where he left off makes me feel better to some extent.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

When the knight has left the archery range, Caryss sinks down onto a flat stone at the edge of the field, staring out into the distance without appearing to actually see much of anything. Her countenance is stoic, and not a hint of her thoughts is refected in the deep pools of her eyes.

Her fingers hold tightly to the small pouch of coins she's brought to complete her transactions, so much so that her knuckles are white. Angharad watches for a few moments and then breaks in upon Caryss's reveries. "Are you quite well, my lady? We should be about our way..."

Caryss starts, and with a very small sigh, she rises to her feet. "I am, Angharad, and thank you. Just lost in thought."

Together, the two women make their way to the marketplace, and though Caryss gets a good price for the cloth she needs, her mind seems elsewhere. "Thank you," she says to the merchant. "As always, your wares are of good quality. If you could see that these are sent to the castle's infirmary later this afternoon, I would be most grateful."

She measures out the price and the merchant bows deferentially. "Of course, Lady Caryss. After what you have done for my daughter, I would not charge you anything. You know that."

Caryss smiles a bit. "Ah, but I insist, Master Arden. Your family needs food as well, and I am glad to pay. Pray give my best to your good wife." She nods her head politely, concludes the business and is again on her way, taking the long road back to the castle...it will lead her through the edges of the forested land. Angharad is by her mistress's side, grumbling with good humor about the extra steps.
 
Korkoa the leopard lived in the forest just outside of towm, and he generaly knew when someone was in his wood. However, he was surprised when he heard voices while chasing a cricket. Ah! Miss Caryss, the healer at Cair Paravel! Well, he had no business with her, so he kept chasing his cricket. Once again, he was surprised when the cricket jumped out onto the trail in from of Caryss, and he followed. "Um... Hello there." He said, thinking about what a foolish sight he must seem, chasing after a cricket in the woods. "I was just... playing."
 
] Torin [

Torin makes a bit of a detour at the fletcher's, purchasing a few more arrows, before making his way back towards the castle. His stride is even, his stance confident, and his face as emotionless as ever.

Hope I can find someone to do a little sparring with when I get back. I could use it.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

The woods beckon Caryss with the call of an old friend. She has walked these paths since she was first summoned to the castle, and she knows the heart of the forest. The near solitude, with only Angharad's companionship, appeals to her. She gathers fragrant herbs, understanding their uses well, and fills her hands with chamomile, yarrow, sagewort, and comfrey.

Only when Caryss has completed her task does Angharad break her silence. "My lady--I hope you can forgive an old woman for speaking plainly, for it is the only way I know. You hid your heart, as you had to; your father had plans for your future, and you were dutiful. Still, I have eyes to see, and I could tell what ways your affections settled. Perhaps not even the knight in question was aware of it. Now he is gone, and you will only make yourself ill with continuing to grieve for what could surely never have been. You must learn to see the past without the pain, as his brother is beginning to do, and begin to give thought to what is to come."

Caryss is stunned into silence by Angharad's frankness, but the servant is not finished yet. "I also remind you that, though he has certain similar mannerisms and bears a resemblance to the Lord Tor, as brothers do, Sir Torin is /not/ his brother. Your heart is compassionate, Lady Caryss, but you do him no kindness by seeking him out; it can only remind him of the past, when he is just now able to move forward."

Caryss's cheeks are two bright spots of color, and she physically starts as if Angharad has slapped her. "I...know, Angharad. You needn't concern yourself with a repetition. I will not do so again..."

She is about to say more when the leopard wanders across their path. She evidences visible relief at the interruption and nods politely in greeting. "Good afternoon," she says, her smile reasserting itself and her tone gentle. "That sounds like an enjoyable occupation, and you needn't explain yourself to me; after all, the forest is your home, is it not?"
 
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Korkoa nodded in relief. "Yes it is, m'lady. If I may ask, why are you taking this route to the castle? I don't get many visitors out here."
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss places the plants into a satchel. "I came seeking these. I suppose there are those who believe that the woods are not exactly...tame, but Angharad and I have always felt at ease here."

The servant nods her agreement. "Indeed, milady. Otherwise, I would not dream of accompanying you." She smiles a bit, knowing that her young mistress would likely as not have gone on her own.

Caryss smiles fondly at the older woman, then turns back to the leopard and says lightly, "The benefit to the infirmary and the castle as a whole is worth a few extra steps, I believe."
 
"Well, the forest is fairly dangerous. If you don't mind, perhaps I could walk you back to the castle?" Korkoa asked hopefuly...
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss's expression quickly shifts to one of gratitude, though her manner maintains a hint of formality. She nods in acquiescence.

"It is most kind of you to offer, and Angharad and I would be grateful for the escort. I believe we gathered the herbs we needed, and we should be on our way back. I'll be expected at the infirmary before long," she adds, with a glance at the position of the sun.

The forest is still in shadow as she allows him to lead the way back; he must know the forest much better than she herself does, after all. She will make sure that Angharad is able to keep pace easily.

Their own shadows lengthen, and their forms are dappled by the shade cast by the trees. It is time to return.
 
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