Outside the Oak Grove (6 Spaces): Plot Thread

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Aella watches quietly as Torin snatches her one opportunity from her. Silently her gaze follows the pair as they go inside. Turning, she steps into the garden and walks to a secluded spot where there is a small bench to sit upon. She slowly sits down, and just stays there for the time being.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}' and x.x*Gwynllian*x.x

Caryss ducks her head when she catches sight of Aella out of the corner of her eye; she is uncomfortable with what the girl must have witnessed. No help for it now...

Torin's next words cause the heat to rush to her face. Though she believes what he told her, that not all is what it seems, the part of her that always sought and never received her mother's approval internalizes the words. She twists her hands together, speaking in a voice that is soft with the tinge of shame she feels.

"Of course, my lord...she would be appalled at me. I know..." She drops her gaze to the floor. "You deserve better than this." She turns on her heel and hurries away upstairs once he releases her...just not quickly enough.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gwynllian's arrival on the scene (and she has reached them just in time to see the end of the drama being played out), is heralded by the faintest swish of her heavy skirts against the stones of the floor. She is accompanied by her maidservant, who wears a supercilious smirk. It would not be difficult to gather where she was alerted to her daughter's condition and return to the manor proper.

Both of Gwynllian's eyebrows are raised, and though it gives her an expression bordering on comical, woe betide anyone who points this out to her. She approaches, and something in her tone shows a kinship with Caryss, though her daughter's voice is far less...brittle. "Sir? What is amiss? I trust that child of mine has not distressed you with her conduct. I assure you that I have tried to do what I could to rid her of the wicked streak she has inherited from her father, but I fear it avails little..."
 
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] Torin [

The archer furrows his brow as Caryss departs.

Maybe that was a little too far.

Though he desperately wishes to apologize for the evident strife he has inadvertently caused the lady, he resolves to keep up the mask and image he is striving to maintain.

All I can do is hope that she understands. Any chink in my armor can and will be used to bring about the downfall of my plans... and quite possibly myself as well. I cannot afford to let it crack...

With such thoughts coursing through his head, he turns to Gwynllian, unreadable facial mask still in place. "I am sure her behavior is not for lack of your trying to quell it, milady. The distress caused by it is minimal."

All true enough. Though not, perhaps, the full story.

He slips the quiver off of his shoulder in a very elegant sort of smooth movement, and dips a very formal and precise bow - the removal of the quiver, of course, done to remove any question of his clumsiness by having its contents spill out as a result. "But my manners appear to have deserted me. Forgive me, milady."

He straightens, and gives himself a proper introduction. "I am Sir Torin, son and heir to the Lord Kenric of Telmar and the Lady Orva of Archenland, and an archer and knight of His Majesty the King Rilian's army."

...which is far too much of a mouthful for my taste most of the time...

"The Lord Regent directed me to accompany your daughter here as an escort. I do hope that my presence here shall not be a burden to you, as I am certain you have far more things to attend to, capable noblewoman that you clearly are."

These words are all spoken in a cool, even, almost detached sort of way, the sort of manner one might expect from a slightly aloof lord of high status.
 
`{@} Caryss {@}' and x.x*Gwynllian*x.x

Gwynllian, of course, is unaware that what the archer presents is not the story in its entirety; it is likely she would not care even if she did realize there was something beneath the surface to examine. The recounting of his...impressive lineage has, perhaps, the effect that Torin intends, and she curtsies to him with a simper firmly planted on her face. Despite the years, this is a woman who knows how to use her looks to gain the power she wants, and it might not be hard to imagine why she was able to captivate Aella's father.

"Why...Sir Torin. You /must/ tell His Majesty how honored we are that he has accorded my daughter such an august escort as yourself. If I had only realized who you were. You simply must sit at the head of the table with me tonight. No, do not protest; as your hostess, I simply insist. I wish to hear all the news from court. Someone as perceptive as yourself must know all the important goings-on." It might be clear from her tone that what she really means by "goings-on" is, of course, anything scandalous.

Thinking of the riches to be found at court brings another thought to mind, and her smile indicates it to be a pleasant one. "You know, Sir Torin, as I am in the process of making a rather impressive match for my daughter, what accommodations you will find here on your next visit will be far improved..." Fortunately for Torin, her daughter makes her way downstairs, and Lady Gwynllian's focus is, shall we say, diverted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Caryss returns as swiftly as she can, as neatly attired as might be desired. Her garments are simple, without the elaborate adornment that her mother might prefer, however, and her hair is styled simply. She keeps her gaze downcast, refusing to meet Sir Torin's gaze. This might be taken for modesty, or it might reflect a fear of what she might see there.

She curtsies low. "Good Afternoon, my lady mother." She does her best to keep from flinching at the cold stare her appearance earns her from Gwynllian, who seems to disapprove of the girl's very presence.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gwynllian's reply is haughty. "Yes, well. I suppose that /is/ the best you have. You might have a care for your expression, Child. You look too somber. Your intended has not arrived yet, fortunately. Thus, you will understand why, after your conduct and the way I saw you working in the garden earlier like a common kitchen servant, I am placing you at the far end of the table. Sir Torin, we are about to dine. I hope you will escort this ungrateful girl to her place and then join me."

She beckons a servant. "Go and fetch my future stepdaughter. She will be seated with us, where she can set an example for Lady Caryss of what /well-bred/ deportment should be."
 
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ooc: ok kill me for wanting to be where somebody still posts in this RP but if I may....

ic: Sanga perched in a tree near the house. He watches the comings and goings with little intrest. He already knows whats going on, as he can go anywhere he wants. Not because he has permission but because nobody ever notices the stealthy spotted young cat.

'That pretty girl deserves better than what her mother is. Still what bussiness is it of mine what they do? I just watch and listen.' Since he has learned the schedule by heart Sanga knows that soon they will be having supper and, as usual, he moves to a spot on the window-ledge where he can see (and hear since the window is open a bit) what is going on inside. He blends in perfectly with the vegitation and is unlikely to be noticed.

ooc: I don't even rememeber if I'm aloud to be here anymore because its been too long but if I'm not supposed to be I'll make up a reason why Sanga is there or stick him someplace else. If I'm doing something wrong I'm sorry.:eek:
 
Aella

When the servant comes to retrieve Aella, she resists stubbornly. The servant has the gall to insist, causing a small row out in the garden.

"Never before have I been spoken to thus from a servant."

The servant's reply is cool. "You are not my mistress, miss. I am following my orders."

Aella's eyes narrow. "Yes, I'm sure you are."
With that she is on her feet and sweeps past the servant without a backwards glance. She walks with squared shoulders and a set jaw that would deceive onlookers into thinking she has it more together than she truthfully does.

She proceeds to where the servant directs her with a sullen silence.
 
] Torin [

Torin slips back into his quiver with an expert motion, the movement second nature to him by now. He flashes a rather debonair sort of smile, perhaps the sort that occurred far more frequently on his brother's face - though in neither case was it meant for the mere purpose of manipulation. He replies, "I would consider it an honor, milady. It is as you say, I am indeed aware of a good deal of the goings-on of court."

Though perhaps not of the sort you might prefer. And I'm probably aware of more than people think I am too... which is a rather awkward position at times.

He nods a bit. "I have heard of the coming match, and am certain you have much in store to plan yet. But we can speak of that further over a good meal."

He turns to Caryss, demeanor stiff. "Come, milady. Let us take you to your place."

Though he wishes greatly to soften his demeanor for her sake, he refrains, striving to keep up his charade - difficult as he finds it.

Forgive me. As soon as I figure things out, I promise I will not treat you so callously...
 
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`{@} Caryss {@}' and x.x*Gwynllian*x.x

Gwynllian brings a hand up to her mouth and lets out a brittle-sounding chuckle. She is evidently entirely charmed by the archer. "Well, then, it is settled, and I do look forward to whatever you may be able to pass along with me. In return, you shall find yourself well-recompensed; there is nothing lacking in this household, Sir Torin. Caryss, dear, try not to do anything to shame us further."

She curtsies, feigning deference, and then sweeps through the ornate double-doors to the Great Hall. These are kept open, so that all the guests assembled can observe those entering to dine. This room is finely furnished, though the style is slightly outdated. It is as if all of the good items from the rest of the Manor have been placed here to give the appearance of wealth. Gwynllian, of course, needs no escort to navigate the hall. She takes a seat at the head of the table, with places free for her future stepdaughter and Sir Torin.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Caryss flinches slightly at her mother's words, covering this as best she can by curtsying low. The humility of her expression is in stark contrast to the version her mother displays.

"As you wish, my lord." She straightens, holding herself carefully as if the eyes of those waiting in the Great Hall could do her harm. She falls silent and remains perfectly still until he chooses to lead her into dinner, and she still will not meet his eyes.
 
] Torin [

Torin swiftly moves to guide Caryss to her place, again using the same sort of manner that leaves Caryss little choice - although, again, the lady herself may notice he is doing so as gently as he can while maintaining a convincing cover.

He pulls out her chair, ever the proper gentleman, and sweeps her into it.

As he does so, in the brief moment, he speaks in a faint, near inaudible tone to her. All he says is a single word, as he feels that is all he can chance. "Apologies."

Hopefully she understands. I am not particularly enjoying this sort of ruse.

His duty done, he pivots on his heel and strides in a rather confident manner toward the head of the table, taking his own chair by Gwynllian as if he, of course, /deserves/ to be there by nature of his status.
 
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