Outside the Oak Grove (6 Spaces): Plot Thread

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] Torin [

If Torin is irate at Caryss's lack of a title in reference to him, it does not show - for it does not exist. It is perhaps questionable if he has even noticed the omission, his mind whirling furiously again.

She is right, Tor was not one to fear much, nor did he do so lightly. There is more to this story than perhaps meets the eye. And as my brother seems to have played a part in it somehow...

Determination and loyalty having been what has brought the archer thus far in his life, he sees no reason to dispense of either just yet.

"Milady. I know that we do not know each other near as well. Yet, know that there was little that Tor and I kept from each other. He trusted me with much, some that he trusted to few others, and I did the same with him."

He pauses, starting to pace slightly just for something to do. "I know it may be asking much to trust me simply because of my brother's judgment. But please. Tell me what he told you. He..."

His stoic countenance flickers slightly. "He sought to protect his younger brother as well. If there is something I should know... please, milady. For his sake, if not for mine."
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss almost seems to wilt at this. "I do trust you, Sir Torin. For yourself, as well as for the one we both loved." She sinks down onto the bench. "...Sir Tor hinted that Lord Raoulin had developed an interest in me...that he had certain intentions...but I knew nothing certain until this evening. That was some months before his death, you understand, and it was when he began observing the Ambassador from Telmar more closely. He was not one to be often found pouring over a parchment. You know that...however, he became so. He never had the chance to tell me, though I believe he intended to, what conclusions he came to."

She dabs at her eyes again. "There was little, as it was with you, that he did not share fully with me. Except for this. All he mentioned were certain...irregularities in the Ambassador's public dealings which had come to light..."
 
] Torin [

Torin hehs faintly as Caryss starts speaking. "No, he preferred to leave the parchment to me. He was never content to sit and watch and wait... perhaps that is why I became the archer, out of the two of us."

He frowns a little, trying to make use of what he knew of his brother and what his actions may have spoken of. His brow lifts a little at the mention of irregularities, and though he does not push for further details it is clear from his face that he does desire them.

The lady's demeanor at his first pressing, however, has warned him against doing so further.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss gazes at the horizon, her eyes not seeming to take in anything at all. She answers Torin's unspoken wish by continuing, her tone flat and deceptively even. Her tightly clenched hands are the only indication of the renewed pain these inquiries are causing.

"As I have told you, the chance for him to open his mind fully to me on the matter never came. Still, you might find something more definite in his papers, which I saw returned to your family as best I could. He was examining certain shipments into Telmar, many of which the Ambassador had his hand in. I could not say specifically what exports they were..."

She shakes her head. "I am not certain he even discovered anything concrete, since surely if he had proof of malfeasance he would have taken it to His Majesty; such was your brother's mistrust of Lord Raoulin that he was capable of believing ill of the man without such foundation."

Her voice falls off and she lapses into silence again.

Tor, will it ever cease to be like reopening a wound to speak of you or to remember you? Even to your own brother?
 
] Torin [

Torin frowns as his brow creases, the veneer of his expressionless countenance cracking again - this time betraying confusion.

"I suppose this bears further examination... if my brother thought it worth the effort, then I am sure there was something there to find. Falls to me to pick up where he left off, I suppose."

He shakes his head, mask once again falling into place.

Easy, Torin. You're not here for yourself. Answers you may need, but they can wait.

"In any case, milady, I am sorry that you find yourself in the situation you do with such a man. If there is anything I can do, do ask. Something tells me you can use an ally right about now."
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss straightens and, when she looks back at him, her normal mask of placidness is firmly in place as well. Gone is the hint of vulnerability as her true feelings are surpressed once more.

"Sir Torin, I am grateful, but as I have said, I am beyond anyone's power to aid. If this course which I have been set upon is not altered, what I have feared will swiftly come to pass. Remove yourself before you are caught up in it as well. Lord Raoulin does not seem to be a man who takes kindly to having his desires thwarted. And in this case, he seems to have fixed upon me. I do not matter any longer, but you do, and I could not bear to see you suffer harm; I saw too much when your brother died."

She rises and turns away from him.
 
] Torin [

Torin watches Caryss turn, and before he even thinks the words, a brief reply slips from his mouth, his tone not sharp or unpleasant, but firm just the same.

"Milady, wait. Please."

He pauses, taking his time to word things carefully, though hoping he doesn't lose Caryss's attention in the ensuing pause.

When he speaks again, his tone is calm and even.

"I am a knight, milady, as was my brother. We saw much, and were called upon constantly to put ourselves on the line for the sake of the country we served - and more to the point, the sake of those who live there. Tor saw worth in you, and I know personally the depth of his loyalty to those he loved. Were he standing here rather than I, as should have been the case, I am certain he would contest your claim that you no longer matter.

As for harm potentially befalling me... your concern for my sake is admirable, but again, it is a part of my duty. The possibility of injury and even death is a way of life for me, as it was for Tor. Yet that is what we were called to do - to put our hearts, our minds and our bodies at risk for the sake of that which we love. I have said before that we are called to serve /people/ - not just when they are a faceless mass behind us, but when those individuals have a name, a face, a heart, and hopes."

He pauses, quite aware that this is likely the most Caryss has ever heard him speak at once. Still, he is not finished, and presses on.

"You and I both are no stranger to death. I have seen men fall on the battlefield, you have likely seen your own share in the infirmary. Yet I know well that death manifests itself in many ways, and physical death is perhaps the least of them all. Death of the heart, of the soul, of the mind, of hope... these exist too, and they are far worse."

The archer shifts a little, and one /might/ take the impression that he is stretching his comfort zone a little, or at least about to.

"I will not stand idly by and watch the heart and hopes of one my brother loved die. It would fly in the face of my duty and all that I have striven to be."
 
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`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss is still through this speech, a living figure carved of ivory. At first, it is as if she truly is a statue: frozen mind, heart, and everything within her core chiseled slowly away by each word uttered by the archer. Over the distance she has herself created, she begins to hear, the first sign of this being a fractional widening of her dark eyes.
His intent not to lose her attention more than succeeds--it has the effect of regaining it.

Does he not know that he is speaking to one who can no longer feel? Who can no longer care? How can any words minister to one who is no longer whole?

There is a sudden stab of renewed pain which reminds her that maybe she has some capacity for feeling left. Her tone, in response, cannot completely conceal a trace of this.

"I do not question your loyalty to your brother, Sir Torin, and I do not doubt you mean it well, but good intentions and kind words are not physics which will serve as a cure for this. Please...I cannot listen. I cannot allow myself to cling to the smallest scrap of hope."

Her eyes close briefly. "You speak correctly when you say that I am no stranger to death, in all of its forms. There is a part of me which Sir Tor took with him, and perhaps...perhaps it is easier so."

She falls silent, beginning to close herself off again.
 
] Torin [

Torin draws a slow breath, and his stoic expression does more than crack - it falls away entirely.

Ah, Tor... the wound your death has left on us all is never content to stay closed. Perhaps it is hard on us as it bleeds anew, yes... but at least it is a sign you meant something to us all.

He takes another deep breath, his own pain clearly evident on his face, as is the fact he knows well the feeling that Caryss speaks of. "Milady... a part of myself was ripped out of me as well when my brother died. He was more than just a man who shared a family with me... he was a friend, a confidant, a brother by /choice/ and not just by blood.

"And yet... Tor never took without giving in return. It was not his way... even in death."

He brings a hand to the hilt of his sword... Tor's sword. "We trained often together, preparing to stand side by side and back to back when times were rough. And even when distance separated us on the battlefield, we both knew we could rely on the other's strength - that the other was there, thinking of us. No longer do I have him to remind me of that... but I have this. He had such hopes for me, things he wanted to see his little brother do, heights he wanted him to attain... and those have not dissipated. That is what he gave me in return."

Next, he removes the ring from his finger, the ring returned to him. He holds it up as he says, "This was what he gave you. By right it was mine, but he chose to let you hold on to it. I cannot pretend to know all that went into the action on his part, but you know well what it represented. He would not have wanted to see you in this state...

"He may have taken a part of ourselves and all else who loved him, milady. But he did not do so without giving in return - he has given us his life, his actions, his love, and they last far beyond his all-too-short time in our lives. And that is what sustains me when the pain escalates. He may be dead, but he has not fully departed those he loved, either."

He sighs a little, clearly spent. He clasps his hands behind his back, lowering his head a little. "I know mere words can never be enough. I know that well. But they are all I have, and even those, I believe I am running out of."

Lifting his head again, he says simply, "So please, milady. Tell me what I can do."
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Caryss draws back slightly, startled by the vulnerability Torin is reflecting, and not indifferent to it either.

She buries her face in her hands. "I did not mean to...I am sorry, Sir Torin. You grieve too, I know that. You have lost a brother..." She draws in a long, shuddering breath and watches him as his hand gravitates towards the hilt of his sword.

"Yes...there is much to remember, though I have tried not to. He wanted so much for you...for both of us. The day he gave me that ring and we made our promises to one another is graven in my memory, and I also do not need the object itself to serve as marker of that. However, it must be that everything that ring stood for is gone as well..."

She also looks thoroughly drained, and the edge of her grief makes her next words slightly more harsh.

"Sir Torin, you ask what you can do...you, at least, can fulfill what he asked of you. I would ask that you do that, and leave me to what has been assigned to me to bear."

With this, she turns away again.
 
] Torin [

Torin clears his throat, for the archer too is surprised at the degree of vulnerability he's just shown. His walls have crumbled without his realizing, and though he takes a few moments to rebuild them, mask once again firmly in place, the effect of such an unusual occurrence remains between them both.

He is silent for some time, not sure he is yet finished, but also not sure there is anything more he can do at the moment.

Finally, he decides to speak again, in a quiet voice.

"Failing to remember does not do the man we both knew justice... he is a man who deserves to be remembered. Even if only among those he loved."

He takes a quick breath. "There is little more I have left to say... and even then it is up to you as to what to do with it. Perhaps it is best for now to leave you to your thoughts."

At this, he bows. "I said earlier that I gather you can use an ally. Should you come to the same conclusion, I hope you know that I shall be around. Do take care of yourself, Lady Caryss."

He turns to depart, leaving the fact he's used her name rather than simply 'milady' in his wake.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}'

Why does it matter so much to him? Why do /I/ matter so much to him? My own mother would give me in marriage to this man gladly, and yet Sir Torin would stand as my ally.

Her softly spoken reply takes the last bit of her fragile control. "I do not believe he will ever be forgotten...by either of us. And I thank you; your kindness shames me deeply, as it is more than my deserving. I will come to you, if there is anything which might be done, and I know you stand as my friend, whatever comes to pass..."

She manages a curtsy, which she holds until he is out of sight. Her knees give out and she sinks to the ground as hot tears prick the back of her eyes. She remains in the garden some time, though there is little solace to be found there.
 
OOC Sorry, Inky :/ I don't have net and as wonky as the computer I'm on is, I don't dare risk a pose. I'll try to get a pose for Aella as soon as possible. Sorry to make you wait :/
 
] Torin [

Torin departs, finding himself needing a breath of fresh air. Uncertain as to where he can find such in the Manor, and indeed uncertain as to whether it is proper of him to make free use of the manor at this point, he exits.

A little ways outside of the front entrance, he takes a deep breath of the outside air, and though it doesn't show in his demeanor the archer relaxes a little. Weary from the talk he's just come from he leans against a nearby tree, trying to slow the flood of thoughts.

What do I say, what do I do, where do I go from here... this is far beyond my league. I'm not suited to be in the middle of all this, by all means this should be Tor's place, he would have known what to do... and what am I? Merely the replacement, the standby... and I have no idea how to do the job before me.

He shakes his head.

Still, do it I must. Tor's job it may be, but he is not here to do it and it must be done.

Never one to dwell too long on his own problems, except in rare cases, he sets his mind toward what more he can now do. If his words cannot aid the woman his brother loved, perhaps his actions can. The question is how.
 
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`{@} Caryss {@}'

OOC: No worries, Squeakie. I knew about this, and don't stress. You'll post when you're back. I just hope we're not leaving you feeling behind...so far, I think, so good. :)

Caryss's thoughts, once Torin leaves her, are a jumble, and this struggle is clearly reflected on the girl's face. She remains prostrate on the ground beneath the branches of a willow tree for some time; as a chil wind rises and plays with her dark tresses, she is not mindful of it.

Where do I go from here? This is not what I intended, but I am no child to rail against what is because the good which I desired is no longer mine.

A deep, heartfelt sigh escapes her and she bows her head, the image of defeat.

As I see no escape, then let me accept this...there was a time, true, but we can never return to before. I do myself, I do him, injury by seeking that. Let the images of his face rise up again; I have them still, and how can seeing even the echos of him that reside yet in my memory do me harm? There will be a time when I can recollect without the pain.

She gets to her feet, pale, solemn, and composed. Her eyes are shuttered, and the mask of placid obedience has once more fallen into place, revealing little of the grief, for Tor, for herself, and for his brother, that lies underneath the unruffled surface. Slowly, she turns her steps back towards the Manor.
 
] Torin [

Torin slips the quiver off his back, and produces from it his small wooden recorder. He lets out a slow breath before bringing it to his mouth and blowing a random, wandering melody, not really heading anywhere with his notes, but merely allowing himself the chance to clear his head somewhat.

Perhaps unusual is the fact he is doing so out in the open, rather than in the seclusion of a closed room. The archer's thoughts are muddled enough, however, that he little cares who hears, too intent on drawing the ease he gets from playing.

Where to go from here... I suppose I shall figure something out sooner or later.
 
Aella

Posted by Inkling - 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.

Aella does not like being peered at very much. Drawing herself up to her full height of five-foot-nothing, she defiantly stares back and arches a brow at her soon to be stepmother. Considering the black mood that has descended upon the little spitfire, this might not have been a good time for Gwynllian to approach her, but such is life.
"I am she." she states stiffly.
 
o.O.o Gwynllian o.O.o

Gwynllian's manner is aloof, haughty even, and she gives no sign of reaction to the girl's words.

"Your father has told me much about you...and unlike my own daughter, I am pleased to see that you are at least able to dress with some attention to style. That bodes well. Come. You must sit beside me at table and we can know one another better. There is much I could do on your behalf, if I am so inclined."

She appraises the girl, her face never changing as she continues her careful scrutiny.
 
Aella

The girl's mood is too black to even take the comment (if it can be called such) to heart and preen as she would have not hours before. The mention of her father probably makes it even worse.
"If you wish me to sit by you, then I shall." she says, her tone still stiff and wooden. She gathers her skirts in both hands and deliberately bows low in what could be construed as a respectful curtsy. She returns to her former stiff, standing position, clasping her hands in front of herself in what /could/ be a demure posture.
 
] Torin [

Torin pauses his playing long enough to shift a little, finding a more comfortable position against the tree he's chosen to lean against. When he resumes, his recorder's notes more closely resemble something than can be called a tune - slow, smooth and perhaps somewhat somber as well, though the archer's mind is far from focusing on what he is playing.

Words are not enough in this situation, and I do not know what to do, or whether there even is anything I can do. I suppose, then, that it is time to come at the situation as the archer I am. Watch. Wait. Observe. Look at it from every possible vantage point and discern the perfect time and angle to let loose the shot. Even when it is painful to do so.

For a brief moment, the question of why he does indeed find the situation painful flits through Torin's mind. Focus elsewhere, however, he leaves it unanswered.
 
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