An unexpected visit

[Halethala]

He’d ignored her . . not returned the dagger, not written back, barely acknowledged her in the kitchens . . she knew he’d gotten her apology, he held the rosemary, asked what it had meant with an edge of suspicion, almost. Then left. Ah well, it was obvious she had gone too far, beyond his forgiveness . .

So then, she would behave the best she could . . "The Windstorm Way" . . she would grit her teeth and reach out to the “guest” lying wounded upstairs . . a sacrificial gesture would be best. Something she did not enjoy for a task she forced herself to accomplish with distaste. She sought out the maid Millie, asking her help in attempting to bake a seedcake with a bit of yarrow laced in it, which the maid gladly oversaw. Setting it upon a pretty plate with a mound of fresh butter that had been whipped with honey, she set out to seek the woman’s room, nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs . . .

She hummed a little song about birds soaring in the springtime meadows to calm her steps, and soon she was before the door. Lifting her hand to knock softly, she stayed it when she heard faint weeping behind it . . her heart went out then, remembering the soul-less prisoner and his obscene words. A kinship spirit almost took over, a feeling of understanding . . a universal fear of those who’s harm not be conquered. She lifted her hand again to rap . . but dropped it limply at the familiar voice that murmured comfort to the weeping . . for some reason she was not surprised . .

So . . she had driven him back into her arms . . she felt nothing. Setting down the plate with exaggerated care beyond the hinges of the door, where any that exited would not see it, she hoped a passing maid might spy it and bring it in to the beaten woman . .

Forcing all her will towards her feet, she ordered them, “Lift, my foot, move forward, now down . . good, now the other ~ lift, move, down . . there, yes ~ another . . carry me from here, good feet, carry me elsewhere, wherever ye lead . .

[Lady Alexandreania (Andrea)]

~As Andrea came out of her chambers she saw the retreating back of Lady Haletha disappearing down the corridor. Quickly her eyes moved to the Closed door of the guest room she herself had stopped at earlier and were stopped at by the plate on the floor with a cake upon it. She walked over to it and knelt to pick it up when she too heard the sound of a deep voice come thru to her ears. With a groan her fingers grasp the plate and rose up. ~

~Knocking on the door, she waits a few moments then pushes the door open. With a smile on her lips she speaks to the lady but makes eye contact with Sinold.~ "Lady Halethala brought this up for ye, Good Woman, as a gift. But she did nae like to disturb ye and set outside ye door. I saw it nae wishing for the mice to have at it, decided to bring it in. Nasty things mice, Da? I will leave ye to ye rest. Have a peaceful eve." ~Placing the plate upon a small table near the bed and left the room closing the door behind her. She dashed down the corridor and the stairs in search of Letha~

[SinolD bRAGASON]

It surprised Sinold to no end when the door opened and in stepped Lady Andrea. he had so far known her as a discrete woman, always polite and never intruding. At first, now, he looked at her a bit taken back, then slight irritation welled up in him – there was no need for her to see how he comforted Bethy, was there? But then, when he saw the cake and heard by whom it was made, yet not brought in personally, he blushed deeply, wishing himself at the other end of this world.

Letha had backed the cake! He simply nodded to Andrea, but inwardly he groaned and then rubbed his face. After quickly making sure Bethy was doing alright and would be indeed enjoying the cake, he left the woman and quietly closed the door behind him. Then he leaned against the wall, trying to imagine what Letha must have thought when she had brought this little offering to the room. Him inside the room, with the harlot. Dang it, couldn’t he do anything right with Letha? He knew exactly what she must be thinking now… knew exactly the kinds of reprimands he would receive from her. but – he needed to see her, make things right between them. This was ridiculous!

Quickly he went to his room, replaced the dagger he was normally wearing – the one gifted to him by Lord Phelan – with the one Letha had send him, and then made his way to Letha’s room, hoping his shield maiden would be there.

Arriving he lifted his hand to knock and for a short moment hesitated. No, he needed to do this and so, finally, knocked on the door.

[Sinold Bragasson]

(Damn capslock, LOL. Was on another compu and needed to post quick)

[Lady Alexandreania (Andrea)]

~After having left the "Lady" and Sinold together in the woman's chambers, Andrea had flown down the corridor and the stairs, she had first stopped at Letha's chambers and checked there for her and hadn't found her. she had continued down the stairs to the Great hall and the kitchens and she hadn't found a trace of her there either. Having asked the Cook and his assistants if she had passed thru that way, Andrea had received a negative answer.~

~Andrea searched high and low, inside and outside until finally finding her in the one place where peace and quiet reigns, and that solitude can be found with out disturbance. She hesitated to approach Lady Halethala at first just standing there, but something must have given her away for Letha's head came up and she saw Andrea standing there. Her face was set sternly as if a deep strength was a war against the emotions she fought within her but the pain in her eyes, showed how much it was costing her as Letha gestured to her to come in and sit beside her. ~

~Andrea walked over to where Letha was sitting, embraces her in a sisterly hug, laying Letha's head upon her shoulder, patting her on the back and rocking her gently. In a quiet whisper she says~ Sshhhhhhh, go ahead moy druk let it out.... let it out..

[Sinold Bragasson]

Letha wasn't in her room. For a moment Sinold considered using the key he had to her chambers to make sure she wasn't in there, but refrained from using it. After all, he had promised her to not use it unless she had invited him to.

Turning, he walked down the hallway, then ran down the stairs, to the great hall, the kitchen, even the broom closets. She wasn't there either. Where in the world had she gone? He checked outside, in the stables, the garden, even venturing to the hot springs, maybe she would take a bath, women must sweat after baking, right? But no success there either. On his way back to the castle, he passed the one place he could think of where she might have hidden from him - the Chapel. Sinold hesitated to enter, stood in front of the entrance for a long time. He would never set a foot into these houses where this strange God reigned. Oh, he had been in churches and chapels but only to look for treasures in them, and after all the treasure looking he had done in these houses, Sinold had the strange feeling that this angry God might be a bit peeved with him now. Instead, he quickly peeked inside - no Letha there.

Frustrated, Sinold kicked the still frozen ground with his boot, cussing. What was he DOING here? Chasing after an unreasonable woman, like a young buck.

No! This would end here. If she wanted quiet then she should have it, he would not let her lead him along his nose like a silly old ox, Sinold scoffed. He's had enough of chasing, of delicate womanly feelings… he needed some relieve and the companionship of men who understood his plight.

The decision was quickly made, he saddled Ligea and rode out to the village, to seek consolation in one of the many taverns of the settlement.

[Halethala]

Warm goat’s milk was her usual fare after watching someone who’d overindulged as liberally as he must have last night. It always puzzled her, why some men seemed to need to drown their woes in drink, yet she had done so on occasion as well, and would not judge too harshly those that did, unless it got out of hand. Sinold had very nearly done so last night. She wondered how much of his ranting had come from his heart . . . would he even remember saying what he had? Doing what he had? His embarrassing display of buttocks before all in the Great Hall?

She brewed a concoction of Thorn-apple tea, hoping it’s properties would dull the crashing pain he was sure to experience when he tried opening his eyes upon waking. She hoped it would also put him back to sleep, thus giving his body more time to right itself . . Uneasy that she was for the very first time thinking of stepping into his chambers, she kept looking to see that none were about to witness it. He had done so much for her, she wanted to try to return the favor.

Almost surprised not to see his door standing wide open, inviting any to enter, she gently pushed it open after listening for his strong, steady snoring. He was out, that was for certain. Dead to the world. She set the tea down and began a methodical search, along the door frame, under things, in drawers, around the mantle, in his pockets . . there! They were both there. She took them to the door, trying each, then pocketing the one that fit, putting hers back where she found it. He would hate her for meddling, she knew. But she didn’t want him encountering Captain Remard . . not in his condition, not by accident, not until he was fit again. She disliked the Captain intensely, and cared far too much for Sinold to see him go up against such naked evil without a fighting chance.

She woke him then, if you could consider it waking, and pressed the tea to his lips. He bobbed and nodded, most of the drink hitting it’s mark, and sank back down to slumber more hours away before he would awaken again. She smiled at his tanned and chiseled face, brushing the clean blonde hair back from it, while he ineffectually batted her hand away. Good thing he’d decided to dunk himself in the hot springs, even if he’d neglected to dress again afterwards! The silly man . .

She then slipped out, locking the door behind her, thus ensuring he’d not wander out unconsciously. She’d have to make sure to return in time, or he’d be roaring away furiously to find himself a prisoner in his own room!

[Halethala]

Four hours . . that should do it. She stood listening, no sound within, a small panic fluttering through her that he’d slipped out somehow. But the soft click of the key set a stirring within . . he was still there. She’d not go in, it would be unseemly to be alone with him while he was awake. She’d speak to him later, return his key and admit her actions, explaining her concern.

For now, she’d bought him some time, given him a wee edge in the matter. She’d seen the guard no longer at the Captain’s door, they were elsewhere, hopefully. Perhaps the King had granted and audience . . she trusted the judgement of the men of Windstorm to assess Remard’s character without being fooled.

As she turned and headed away, she remembered the sweetness of Andrea’s comforting when she had been so numb . . Like a sister, she was, dear and wise and yet not coddling when hard words needed saying. She’d hugged her so warmly, nurturing as a mother, yet flat told her how silly and blind she was being. She listened to Letha as she tried to say why trust was so hard, seemed to truly understand . . what a treasure lay within Andrea’s royal heart! Letha was glad her station in life had not corrupted her, that she had sense as deep and rich as the wisdom and beauty that ruled her being. Someday, she hoped, she could be there for the Lady . . someday . .

But she was right, Andrea was right . . Letha needed to stop running from ghosts . .

[Sinold Bragasson]

(OOC: Sinny's awakening can be found HERE)