Outside the Oak Grove (6 Spaces): Plot Thread

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Inkling

Inkling

Hopeful Romantic
Knight of the Noble Order
The edge of this glade is formed by a ring of oaks, towering and ancient. Even the birds fall silent here, leaving the solitude undisturbed. Other trees, maple, aspen, and even hemlock, have grown under the shadow of their sturdy protectors. Even in the heat of summer, the heart of the forest is always in shade, making it cool. The sun does not penetrate, and in the half light the pathways stretch ahead into a network of spiderweb trails, radiating out from the grove.

Occasionally, creatures from deer to chipmunks (none of them /talking/ beasts) make their way into the clearing of trees, attracted by the grass or perhaps the sweet honeysuckle twining around their trunks. When springtime comes, the woods are vibrant with the blue of morning glories and the bright gold of daffodils, waving their stalks in the slight breeze. The morning mist never quite seems to dissipate, enshrouding the view in faint haze.

Something not quite tame lingers here, and it would not be wise to remain after darkness falls. Not that there would be anything other than the lack of light to prevent movement, of course.

Feel free to use this thread for a discussion taking place outdoors, re-describing it based on your needs.

Only 6 characters at at time, please, and keep in mind the time limit for staying here.
 
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] Torin [

(OOC: Continuation of the party's journey carried over from the Cair Paravel thread, for the sake of clarity and de-clogging.)

Torin sits high in the saddle as he leads the way, his dark eyes ever on the alert as he surveys the landscape. He too is quiet, for the most part, keeping his focus on the two ladies he serves as escort for and, more accurately, anything on the road that might prove to threaten their safety.

His horse seems to have different ideas about pacing, as he regularly pulls on the bit, almost as if he's trying to urge his rider to go faster. After once too often of this, Torin glances toward his horse and speaks. "Patience, Vento. This is duty, not a joyride."

Vento snorts but relents, and Torin rolls his eyes a bit, though a faint smile is on his face. He glances behind him again, to make sure the ladies are not too far away from him.
 
Aella

Feuergemut tosses his head, pulling at the bridle-bit as Aella rides silently with the group. She often glances at her sister-to-be, her eyes the only indicator that her former petulance and irritability smolder behind her new ladylike facade.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss reins Miele up short just as the party reaches their first sight of the imposing edifice, seemingly carved from the surrounding stone, that holds so many of her childhood memories. Caryss's ancestral home rises against the skyline, visible even from a distance, and it dominates the surrounding landscape. It is grand, true, but it can also only be described as austere, as cold as the granite that forms it. Caryss strokes the mare's nose, calming them both. Though they have some time to go before they arrive at their destination, she dismounts in the center of a small grove.

Miele's ear twitches, and her mistress rests her forehead against the horse's neck for a brief moment. "This could all have been so different...I do not know what reception either of us can count on, Miele..." She speaks quietly, very conscious of Aella's presence.
 
] Torin [

Torin raises a brow as Caryss stops short, reining Vento in himself. As Caryss dismounts, he remains close, still mounted on his stallion and ever on the alert.

Though he does not hear all of Caryss' softly spoken words to her mare, what he does hear is enough to make him lift a brow again. After a brief glance to make sure Aella is still close as well he looks back to Caryss.

"Is everything all right, milady?"
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss hesitates at the question, then offers Torin a slightly wry smile. "Would you believe that I am hoping they will be?" With this rather cryptic comment, she gracefully mounts Miele again, holding the reins tightly in one hand. Mare and mistress begin to plunge ahead towards the trees and the path toward her mother's holding.

Though she seemed hesitant before, Caryss now appears to be moving ahead with single-minded purpose.
 
] Torin [

The archer raises a brow again, perhaps not fully convinced by Caryss's reply, but he has no chance to answer before Caryss directs her mare off again. Nor, in truth, does he feel it is quite his place to respond just yet.

Instead he urges Vento forward as well, letting Caryss set the pace this time while glancing back to make sure Aella remains close. He brings Vento aside Miele and her rider, keeping just a pace or two behind.
 
Aella

Aella, for the most part, follows quietly and doesn't deliberately cause any trouble. (Shocker!) Her ride consists of Feuergemut randomly trotting ahead, then turning back to the small group. She lets him have his head and do what he pleases, too bored to make him mind.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}' and o_O.o Gwynllian o_O.o

The door to the Manor house swings open and an elderly servant ushers the arrivals into an antechamber. Caryss remains standing, her posture rigid, as they are forced to wait for quite some time.

Gwynllian, finally sparing a moment to greet the recently arrived party, sweeps down the central staircase. She does not even bother to look at Torin, apparently finding him beneath her notice. In fact, it is likely that she mistakes him for a servant. Her garments, of course, are of the latest cut, though there is something definitely lacking, her recently strained circumstances telling. With the mincing steps necessitated by her stiff lacings and her heavily brocaded skirts, she makes her way over to her eldest daughter.

Her rings bite into the girl's hand as she grasps it, tucking Caryss's arm firmly into hers. To the outside observer, this might look like a show of maternal affection, but Gwynllian is determined that Caryss hear her out. To this end, she gives her daughter little room to respond as she propels her along, her shoes echoing in the corridor.

"I was expecting you hours ago, child. Still, I am not surprised that even in this you fall short. Why did the Emperor curse me with such a fool for a daughter?" She stops, giving Caryss a long look of appraisal. "This will never suit. You are far too pale, and you have lost weight." She pinches the girl's cheeks to bring color back to them. "I will not allow you to disgrace yourself further. You will do your duty, girl, if I have to force you to it. You nearly threw yourself away on a nobody, and I have not forgotten that. We may only be thankful that he died before your reputation was in tatters."

She frowns. "None of that moping, girl. He certainly isn't worth it, and be grateful you have a mother who thinks only of your best interest. You know nothing of love, and the more fool you were for allowing him to deceive you into thinking that he cared for you. As if you were one to inspire /that/ sort of feeling. You were formed to be useful, and that is all."

Gwynllian sniffs dismissively through her nose. "There should have been more time than this, but you probably have not gathered that I summoned you home for a purpose. Goodness knows it was not as if I could not have spared you, ungrateful daughter that you are. You have, however, a chance to redeem yourself. You are to be wed, and it was your father's choice as well as mine. Nothing to say to that? I thought not. Lord Raoulin, though Emperor knows why, wishes your hand. He will bring wealth and a title to this family, and I have already agreed on your behalf. Since you are incapable of seeing to your own advancement, I will do so for you; he asked me to prepare you, and never say that I have not done my duty. It is to be within the week, since you hardly need time to make arrangements. Caryss, I will not hear of your arguing. This is for the best, and if you refuse, you will betray both all my efforts and your father's memory."

Her words are spoken coldly and she continues, "In fact, you may as well know that if you are not wed, you need never trouble me further. You will be utterly alone, since you will not longer be fit to be called my daughter. Do not think to return to court either. They will not shelter you if I have cast you out."

Gwynllian sighs with exasperation. "You are the most truculent child, Caryss. Not even a word of gratitude for the woman who has sacrificed so much." She makes no allowance for the fact that her own rapid speech has made it virtually impossible /for/ Caryss to respond. "Go and meet with the seamstress at once. I am sure some of my dresses can be altered for you. You needn't, after all, put on airs." She tsks as she catches Caryss gaping at her in shock. "My own wedding is tomorrow, and there is much to be done. I cannot spend all day here with you."


Caryss summons all the dignity she can muster, her face pinched and white. Her softly spoken words defending her love have gone unheeded, so she makes one further attempt. She sinks down to her knees before Gwynllian.

"Mother, it is too soon. Sir Tor saw something of worth in me, and I could not help that he held my heart in return. I would never have dishonored you; how could I not be conscious of the debt I owe this family when it is kept ever before me? He was a man of honor, and there cannot be shame in what was between us. I cannot do this...please try and understand...I will return to the castle at once, if that is what you wish. Perhaps even take vows. I will do anything else fitting. Lord Raoulin is a dangerous man. He cannot love me..."

Gwynllian reaches out her hand, clearly intending to slap her daughter. Instead, she holds herself back with a visible effort. Her next words, however are even sharper. "Never speak that name in my presence again. Out of my sight, Caryss, until you have learned humility and obedience. You will do as you are ordered."

Caryss rises and, shaking, rushes from the chamber without a word.

Gwynllian, with a satisfied nod that she has said what she set herself to say, watches her depart. There is not a trace of affection in the gaze that follows her daughter.
 
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] Torin [

Torin is ushered in with the others, and despite the wait he holds himself as a knight should - calm and dignified.

Torin has not yet met Caryss' mother, the Lady Gwynllian before, and his brow quirks faintly as she makes her entrance. She sweeps past him, paying little regard, though if Torin is miffed by this he gives no outward indication. In truth, he does not mind in the least - as an archer and a second son he finds himself used to being left in the background, and is quite content to remain so.

Gwynllian starts to sweep her daughter out, though considering the minced steps, the rapid pace of her speech, and the fact she is none too concerned about keeping her voice down, Torin hears much of the ensuing conversation - or more accurately, oration, considering how one-sided it is.

It is a few moments before Torin realizes Gwynllian is speaking of his brother, and in none-too-flattering terms. He bristles, and rather noticeably, before he is able to quite control it.

'Nobody?' 'Isn't worth it?' 'THANKFUL that he died?' Nothing could be further from the truth. Tor was worth far more than anyone might have given him credit for, and he truly was somebody, even if it was only in his family's eyes, and I rather doubt that was the case. And on that note... have you no thought for /them/, those that he left behind?

The archer's loyalty to his elder brother has not faded any regardless of his death, and it is only through drawing a long breath that he manages to compose himself.

There is enough distance once Gwynllian starts to speak of a marriage to Raoulin that Torin does not hear every word, but he hears enough, and he reflects on his own impressions of the man - which are far from stellar. He thinks back to the spar he had with the Lord, and what he saw of the man there, and frowns slightly.

He is not given much time to ponder too deeply, however, as Caryss soon rushes out, and her demeanor speaks of her trouble - leaving the knight questioning what to do with himself.

My duty was to serve as an escort, and that has been done, at least for the journey here. Yet... is not the duty of providing an escort to see to the welfare of the charge? Even so, I doubt it is my place to step in on such a matter. There is no reason for me to get involved.

Right on the heels of this thought is another, and this thought makes up Torin's mind. He gives a hurried bow and a quiet, "My apologies. Pardon me," excusing himself from the room as well.

There is reason indeed. Tor's first thought would have been for her and to see to her welfare - he would have thought it his duty. As he is no longer here to do his duty, so should I see that his is done in addition to my own.
 
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`{@} Caryss {@}' and o_O.o Gwynllian o_O.o

Gwynllian sniffs dismissively at the young man's abrupt departure, determining that she will speak to her steward before much time has passed.

Let us see who that rude personage was. He will understand his place. She sweeps off in search of her new stepdaughter.

Perhaps she will not disappoint me.

Caryss has sought out her father's garden. The roses are all overgrown, and weeds possess it utterly. It is not that far from the main courtyard, and several servants see her pass by. Though they cannot be oblvious to their young lady's distress, they hold themselves back, apparently too afraid of facing Gwynllian to follow.

Caryss's forehead is pressed against the trunk of a slender tree, just in the middle of the garden, and her body shakes with the sobs that she managed to hold back until she was able to find solitude to release them.

I cannot do this. There must be another way...I do not expect to be blessed with love again, but what I spoke to Mother is true. Lord Raoulin is dangerous. Tor mistrusted him, though he never explained why. He is a man who would do much to achieve what he desires...
 
] Torin [

Torin follows after, and though he loses sight of Caryss he asks of the servants nearby where she may be found. They are only too happy to point him in the proper direction - many seem worried over Caryss' state, but their fear for her mother overrides such.

Whether it is out of courage, duty, or flat-out ignorance of what Gwynllian is like is unknown, but Torin apparently has no such qualms.

He pauses as he steps out into the garden, and furrows his brow, demeanor visibly softening a vague degree as he sees Caryss - saying rather much, considering who it is coming from.

Doubt once again sets in.

We do not know each other well. Surely she would prefer someone she knows a little better when it comes to matters such as this. I am in no position to offer an ear, nor perhaps is it proper of me to...

And yet, he knows also that nobody else has apparently offered her an ear. So too is he confident Tor would have seen that she had support of some sort - and again, out of loyalty to his brother and the duties he took up, he feels he should as well.

Shoving his reservations aside, he clears his throat a bit so as to alert Caryss to his presence before speaking. "Pardon me, milady... is..."

He pauses.

'Is everything all right?' What kind of a question is /that/? Clearly it's not.

"Is there some way I might be of assistance?"
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss's face turns bright scarlet, not only that Torin has come upon her like this, but at what his arrival must imply about what he has overheard. Her head is bent, everything about her posture speaking to her deep mortification, and she does not directly answer him.

"I...I cannot offer any excuses for what you must have witnessed. My lord...I know that if my mother had been aware of who you were, she never would have spoken so callously. I...I am sorry. You know that I do not share her opinion of your brother. I will never regret what grew between us; he was a good man, possessed of nobility in every sense of the word. She does not understand..."

Caryss sighs. There is something of the trapped animal in her eyes, and as she stands there, they begin to reflect hopelessness. "There is nothing that can be done, my lord, nor should you concern yourself with me...she has set my course, and what can I do but follow? I face the loss of my mother if I do not..."
 
] Torin [

Torin is, in truth, still burning from Gwynllian's comments concerning his brother, but he hides such rather well, especially considering they did not come from Caryss herself, and therefore does not hold it against her.

"The offense was not at your hand, milady. Do not fret about it."

He is unsure what to say, though makes some attempt anyway. "My brother never let even the bleakest of circumstances weigh him down terribly... I wager half the time it was for the sake of those around him, but even so, it was difficult to find him in a situation where he was unable to find /some/ small beam of hope."

He pauses. "And if my brother found reason to be concerned over you I do not think I would do his memory the honor I wish to if I did not do the same."
 
Aella

The girl looks mildly offended at her aunt's rudeness towards her as she's ignored completely. She very nearly slips back to her normal ways to attempt attention, but soon the speech her stepmother-to-be delivers at Caryss captures the spitfire's attention. Ears keen, she keeps silent, listening intently as she follows.
At one point of Gwynllian's speech, Aella's eyes widen a fair bit, shock clear on her face for several moments before she remembers to mask it. The expression vanishes, replaced with another - a dark expression.
Her firetemper emerges briefly and without a word of greeting to Gwynllian, she whirls on a heel and vanishes from the group.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}' and o_O.o Gwynllian o_O.o

Gwynllian arrives in front of Aella with a rustle of stiff skirts. She peers down her nose at the girl for a long moment.

"Why my dear girl, you might do nicely. You are, I assume, my intended's daughter. Were I not occupied with certain unpleasantness, you should have received all the greeting you deserved..."

Her lips curve into a cold approximation of a smile.

Caryss's expression is flat, hollow, and devoid of even the smallest spark of anything but helplessness. When she answers him, her voice sounds as if she is already closing herself away.

"I am not a bird, my lord, that I can spread wings and end up far from here. If your brother were still alive, I would hazard all to hold firm against what my mother wishes. What hope I had was buried with him, and I must ask you not to tempt me to allow it to rise up again. That is a danger indeed. You have heard her. If I am not wed, I am without home, without kin. Even the court will be closed off to me. Have no doubt. She will see to it..."

She rubs at the bridge of her nose. "Please. Save your concern for one who can be helped."
 
] Torin [

Torin frowns at Caryss's words, the hopelessness contained within them almost unable to be countered.

If only Tor were still here. He was far better at this sort of thing than I, and he knew her better as well. Nor would he be content with leaving her this way.

He takes a breath, and speaks, in the manner he knows best.

"Milady, please pardon my frankness, but speaking as a knight I find such manner of speech... well, absurd. A battle can never be won if one does not go into it believing victory is possible and attainable. And is this not a battle over a heart?"

He sighs. "I am not my brother. Nor am I as good as he was with this sort of thing. Yet as he is not here to give what support he could, I must stand in his stead. There must be some way to compromise. Some solution. There /has/ to be."

Who knows what that is...
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss softens ever-so-slightly. "I would pardon you far more than that, Sir Torin, for seeking to stand beside me for his sake. Still, you are forgetting that the heart you speak of might not be worth the battle for, as it has not been my own to command for some time past. As I am no longer whole, what right have I to expect anything more than this?"

She sighs, faintly. "To think that the very man your brother warned me against is the one I am being given to..."
 
] Torin [

Torin lifts a brow a little. "Tor apparently thought it worth something. I should think that speaks volumes."

And it does, in the archer's mind.

He blinks at the latter parts, needing a few moments to let the effect of it sink in.

"Hold on a moment... Tor warned you against Raoulin?"
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss is too caught up in her own predicament to grasp the significance of his question in its entirety; however, she does lift up her eyes to him at this, and the beginnings of what might be puzzlement are reflected there.

She takes a deep breath, her brow furrowed. "He would not say much. I believe he wished to protect me. Torin..." And in the moment, it seems she has dispensed with the appropriate titles, "I know that your brother, who feared nothing, seemed almost to do so where this man is concerned. He told me enough to understand that, at least..."

She rubs at the bridge of her nose again.

"There is nothing...nothing I can prove."
 
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