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Post by Val Dindine on Jan 5, 2010 12:28:11 GMT -8
The ushering of the maid to quickly and almost a little too eagerly have him undressed and within the confines of a bathroom washed over him over the few seconds it took from entering the room, with her saying how she'd need the arm exposed, to her ripping the shirt off him. Tossed around like a small animal being ravaged by a large predator, he half wondered if this was what Hell was like, but concluded that Hell probably didn't smell of sweet cinnamon, and after the bossy phrases about the state of him, he finally found his body submerged beneath a warm layer of water, with his arm sticking out. The maiden was playing around with it, washing it in a separate basin and carefully extracting much of the dead skin from it. He didn't care too much for the pain that visited his hand every few seconds as another piece of burnt-on glove, or burnt-off skin came away from the hand, but that gradually got lesser and lesser. The soothing tones of the waters took that little bit of an edge off the pain, too, as he lazed around pleasantly. He could get used to this - if only he were King.
Not going to happen, though, he reminded himself, another shard of pain agreeing with him as she plucked more of his skin away, and he took it as someone telling him to stop dreaming of this livelihood. Besides, a crown would just look silly on his head. He let his eyes flutter shut once more, dropping his head a few inches further into the water. Her unending commentary about him was lessened under the waves of cleanliness, but there were a few things he most certainly did not miss, and responded to her politely concerning how he felt about them. "I'm afraid both beard and hair will be staying, madam, as they provide unparalleled protection against the elements when clothing for the face and head is in small supply. And that tends to be always." He turned to her with a small smile, but his tone had been firm - he was not getting a shave unless she killed him first. "Besides, I think it makes me look rather rugged and dashing, wouldn't you say?" The second smile was a little broader, flashing the teeth a little in jest at himself.
She seemed to understand, or rather she didn't press the issue much further than requesting that she could at least trim the ends a little into a neater assortment, which he warily signed up for, and after a few more minutes of relaxing soak without the worries of the previous day intruding upon him, he was told that they'd need to exit and prepare for the meal if he didn't want to be late. Handing him a few towels, the servant girl skipped off merrily to get her hair-maiming tools, and he cautiously sat in a chair near a desk of the large room he was in, almost dreading her return. His hands moved against his hair through the towel, drying the mass of mess atop his head thoroughly and roughly. The water was forced to retreat, and after a minute or so of strong rubbing his hair was significantly drier, and larger, than it had previously been. Intentionally catching sight of himself in the mirror, he smirked at his eccentric, almost porcupine style before gently flattening the follicles down and combing his fingers through them to style it a little.
By the time the servant had returned, he was much drier, and she set to work assaulting his head for a few minutes before showing him her creation - something which didn't look too bad as far as he was concerned, and most importantly it didn't pose a threat to him were he to go out into the cold. Fire, of course, would be a problem, but he was more likely to freeze from a bald head than burn from his beard catching fire. At least, he was, but after today he wasn't so sure. Still, it was 50/50 in his mind, and the beard certainly was a ladykiller. Not that he needed it for killing ladies, since he had a sword. And not that he'd want to kill ladies in the first place - heck no! He would save them, because that's what a noble man would do. Save them, or pay someone to do it for him. Both rather valid options as far as he was concerned. His clothes were arranged, and he was barely off sniffing them to detect any suspicious properties of them. They were clean, pressed, probably expensive, and fitted him rather well. By all rights they should be on some sort of Lord - not him, and he expected the trap of poison ivy or needles to be knitted into the insides.
He pulled the clothing on carefully so as not to tear the delicate fabric, and was pleasantly surprised at the lack of irritable itching and pierced skin. They felt rather nice against his rough skin, sort of like the touch of a woman except across his whole body. Not so much a touch of a woman as it were the touch of many women, and a rather mostly forgotten night in Cork came to mind, though that was long ago. And that wasn't of his own design. And it wasn't a soft feeling. And it wasn't with women. But that was in the past, as far as he was concerned, and finally it was time for them to have him depart for the dining room. She led the way, quietly now, and he followed, nervous. A hall opened up before him - wide, and long, and bright, fancy, expensive and beautiful, and he took a seat in a very comfortable chair. His hands rested carefully on the table as though he would break it, and he tried his best to look at least partly regal in his body language. He waited.
And waited.
And waited some more, checking around for any other people in the dark corners of the room.
And tapped the desks as he waited.
Finally the far door opened, and he was glad to see that he wasn't put into one of the wrong rooms as the woman - well, princess as it seemed, returned. She looked beautiful, like she had earlier, and was wearing a gorgeous dress. His eyes remained in their sockets, however, and that was a good thing as she approached and took a seat near to him. She spoke quite quickly, and he was a little surprised by her forwardness, but in a good way. He offered her a broad smile, feeling as happy as he looked after the shower, and being in warm surroundings, anticipating a good meal, and he responded kindly, in a quiet voice that he rarely used except when indoors. "It was a pleasure to help, your highness, though I do apoligise for my lingering doubts and such... It certainly is a beautiful palace."
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Post by Charlotte Anne Lynch on Jan 8, 2010 9:49:29 GMT -8
The moment she was seated the food was served. She was a bit sorry to have held up the dinner. It was obvious from the array of food set out that the girls were a bit enamored of their guest. Not that the king wasn't always treated to the finest of foods, but Christopher was rarely around for dinners and to an extent, Charlotte felt there was no small resentment of the fact that his advisors were so picky about what the boy ate for his evening meal. Having a guest that would likely indulge in and enjoy everything set before him...
And was handsome to boot...
Charlotte started, sitting straight upright in her chair in shock at the thought. A small blush crept into her cheeks, and she quickly lowered her face again, reaching daintily across the table for a chicken thigh. She refused to raise her eyes again till she was sure the ridiculous blush was gone.
"It seems you're quite the hit amongst the inhabitants of the castle Master Dindine. As I entered on my return from the river all I heard was talk of what a wonderful savior we had amongst us. I really cannot thank you enough for your quick thinking and..."
Charlotte's voice trailed off as a voice was heard at the castle door. Her face paled and her breathing sped up, even as she struggled to slow it down. Rising from her chair, she moved quickly towards the doors, desperate attempts to plaster a pleased smile on her face failing with each step of her feet. Soon she had passed out of sight of the dining room.
"LITTLE CHARLOTTE!"
"Hello Sir Edgar..." Her voice was weak though pleasant if strained.
"HEARD THERE WAS SOME TROUBLE UP AT THE CHURCH. COME TO FIND OUT ABOUT IT FROM YOUR BROTHER"
Charlotte felt as though she'd been struck and simply nodded at the man as he clapped her on the shoulder and passed through the room.
They knew... they knew and they were already moving against her.
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Post by Val Dindine on Jan 10, 2010 18:20:49 GMT -8
As soon as the princess arrived at the table it was as though the bels within the kitchen had all went off at once as servants moved quickly to and fro. Quickly the table filled itself with huge amounts of food that were of all dishes and varieties, ranging from a large cut of pork and potatoes surrounding it, to stew and vegetables and some strange mushy and soft things in a bowl that he made a mental note not to try. The fact that it looked like brains was not an appealing quality for him, and even if it were to allow him to grow more brains of his own and develop some sort of superhuman intelligence, he would not devour that monstrosity on a plate. He had enough brains and enough sense as it were to know that he should not eat something that looked as though it had come out of the rear end of something that had come out of the rear end of something else. With this in mind, he reached for something more decidedly normal, taking after the princess' lead as she began, and wrestled a leg from a cooked chicken for starters.
It was incredibly strange for him, to be here exchanging table manners with a member of the royal family. Had he been thinking straight he would probably have been a lot more anxious and concerned and worried and alarmed at what was happening than he was at that time. The fact was, though, that things were still moving through his mind at a lumbering pace that would make even Cilia look like the most hasty of horses. Were he truly thinking, he would find it funny that he was conducting dining arrangements with a member of Ireland's royalty before he'd even seen the English royal family at all. It was strange, and hilarious, and slightly sad in a way that the Irish were so much more sociable to someone like him. Then again he was foreign, and essentially he was a diplomat of the English right now, and really he should have expected nothing less than to be treated as such. These thoughts evaded his mind, though, as he reveled in the salty goodness of the chicken on his lips, looking every part the dignified diplomat with a chunk of meat hung from his mouth.
By the time his mouth was completely full of the precious and succulent meal, however, the princess seemed to start speaking, and he found himself in an incredible rush to speak and swallow and appear civil and polite throughout. A few murmurs, and one case of almost choking before he managed to gather enough space to answer her, with a hand covering a portion of his mouth somewhat as he spoke to her in response. "Madies? Mo mI mardmy momiced... mmm!" He swallowed forcefully, sending a full lump of chicken - and hopefully not some of the bone that may or may not have been inside - down his throat allowing him to speak in English rather than tongues. "Sorry... I've heard very little of this your majesty... It was..." His voice trailed off. Seemingly the princess had not came to a natural pause in her speech, but instead had intentions of leaving prematurely to attend to some commotion that had sprung up elsewhere.
Left at the table, he quietly finished the rest of his sentence as he worked through the remaining food alone. "It was no trouble..." He drew a little piece of meat from the piece in his hands with just his teeth, and chewed on it slowly, in solitude and silence. "No trouble..." He swallowed the small piece of food, feeling rather lonely already with the splendid feast still set before him, and with no one for him to dine with. Usually he'd eat with Cilia, but she was likely in the stables with the other horses being fed just as well as he was - by horse standards of course. The piece of meat suddenly lost its appeal to him and he stared off in the direction his dining partner had spurted off to, wondering when she'd be back and what the loud voices he had heard from the corridor had been. Problems? Hopefully not, but that's probably what it was. He lay the chicken carefully down onto his place, flopping back into the embrace of his chair, sighing a little. "Not at all..."
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Post by Charlotte Anne Lynch on Jan 14, 2010 5:37:03 GMT -8
For a moment she stood there in the entryway of the castle, an unmoving statue. She could hear the men moving around above her head. Hear the booming voice of Sir Edgar as he greeted each of them and her heart sank. She'd lost another round and this time she was sure the result would be devastating. A hand stretched out, fingers brushing along the rough stone till her palm rested against it, supporting her full weight. Not since the loss of her parents had she felt such hopelessness.
And much like then she could not grieve or worry in peace and solitude. She had to deal with her guest first. She stayed against the wall for just another moment before pushing away. Her body wavered for a moment and she stumbled to keep her balance before she took slow steps back towards the dining room to deal with her guest.
She paused just round the corner from the room out of site and straightened her skirts, drawing a calming breath before stepping in. The color was still drained from her face, but she managed a small smile as she moved back around and took her seat across from him once again.
"Please forgive my absence Master Dindine. Family matters called."
Without waiting for a reply, she moved to take another bite of her food only to have it slip from her fingers. A nervous giggle erupted from her and she made another dainty grab at the chicken leg only to have it slip from her plate to the floor. Another giggle, this one ended on a sob and she wiped her hands clean before folding them in her lap. Taking a breath, she calmed herself and decided against a sip of water, instead turning her attention back to Val.
"You will, of course, be staying the night Master Dindine?"
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Post by Val Dindine on Jan 14, 2010 14:55:13 GMT -8
The princess returned a few minutes later, and his uneasy stomach finally settled to give way to the fact that he was still rather hungry. On his travels, good meals were a scarce pleasure, and he could hardly recall a time he'd had something so bountiful spread out before him as was the case here. There was plenty to eat here, plenty to have, and it was a rather terrible shame that he was wasting the time that could be spent sending his stomach into heaven on waiting. Waiting as a gentleman should, though, and waiting in a respectable way as he could figure, but it was still waiting and his body was not appreciating the chivalry. He was no knight, just a soldier. A soldier that got lucky and stupid and whatever the hell else happened to him, and was here now. He wasn't complaining too much, but the thing about luck is you'd never know when it was going to change. Never know when it's going to run out. As things were right now, he was rather pleased with his current situation in life, no matter how temporary. With it all being little more than a fluke, it felt almost cheating to him.
The lady was seated once more, and reached for food. he followed her lead, starting his devouring of another part of the dinner and trading glances with her. She wasn't eating as fast as he was, but then she likely wasn't as ravenous as he tended to be. She dropped the piece of chicken she was holding, and he offered her a polite smile. It was a funny thing to have happened, but then she did it again. She giggled, but it was a tainted laugh and the smile vanished from his face. There was plenty of chicken still remaining on the table, so that certainly wasn't the source of her worry, unless that piece had been particularly nice. Maybe the floor of this room was rather expensive and was now ruined? He couldn't be certain, but as he lingered with his gaze on her, the thoughts turned to the small interlude during which she had disappeared. Perhaps something had happened, or something was wrong. He wasn't sure, and didn't want to guess at her personal affairs. Family matters indeed, but to what extent did she count her family? Who knew? Maybe she was easily willing to bring others to wield the crest of her house.
He wanted to ask if she was well, though, and he had an idea of what would happen. She would say she was, even if she wasn't, and he'd remain silent afterwards. Nothing he could do to help, and she was far too kind and innocent to be requesting help from the likes of him. Him, with a cracked bow and a dull sword. A patched up set of armour that was barely functional, and a horse that was simply dysfunctional. What could he do? Nothing, likely, but he didn't even get the chance to ask her whether she enjoyed the meal. She asked whether he was intending on staying, and it was a second before he realised what she was saying. Would he stay? He wouldn't want to impress on her house more than he clearly already had, but there was something lingering on him. It could have been that, secretly, he hoped he could live this lifestyle forever. Hardly a secret as much as it was common sense, but he'd never want to admit it, not even to himself. Instead he felt that he would offer her something that would lead her to be the deciding judge, and should she really not mind then he would enjoy another luxury of the castle.
"If your highness is willing to have me, I would be honoured to reside within your walls for the night, mi'lady." It wasn't the most fluid or simple of ways of accepting, but he had realised that his mouth was still not devouring the food lay out before him. Blasphemy, or it should have been, to have so much food out and so few people to eat it. Surely there were more than the pair of them in this entire castle? But it would seem that the other inhabitants were either of the deceased and ethereal variety, or were otherwise predisposed and unable to attend this meal. Maybe the royals did actually have things to do. The thought struck him as rather odd, as he often thought they did little other than sit, eat and drink. A lot of effort must go into whatever it is they do, if this is the state of a banquet fit fora king, yet no king is present to eat. His fingers prepared to go for more, but his eyes were still focused on her, and somehow he had lost the will to eat after seeing her in such a plight. Her food was hardly touched, but her hands remained crossed in her lap as though she were repenting for having dared touch the food. Casting a glance down at the food, he sighed inwardly and offered a mimic of her posture. He'd not keep her here if she didn't want to be.
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Post by Charlotte Anne Lynch on Jan 16, 2010 3:59:54 GMT -8
A sort of silence fell over the table as they sat there. It wore on Charlotte as she had been enjoying the light-heartedness of her guest and was ashamed to think that her concerns for herself would be transmitted to him and cause him not to enjoy the meal.
Lifting her head, she glanced at her dinner partner from across the table. A smile broke out across her face at the picture he painted. He looked like a little boy as he sat, head bowed and gaze wistfully staring at the food in front of him. Almost as though he was being kept from a favorite toy but didn't want to make a fuss.
"Master Dindine... you've hardly touched your dinner."
She slowly reached her hand out, making sure it was steady, and then took another sip of water. Sighing in relief when no accident occurred, she spoke again. "My brother does not often attend meals and the servants were so excited that the savior of their princess was staying for dinner. You simply must eat."
She paused for a few moments, dropping her eyes again as the voices above her head and moving of feet became noticeable again. Her hands shook slightly as she moved them back beneath the table and tried to reign in her panic once again.
"How were-" She stopped as her voice came out a strained squeak and cleared her throat. "Pardon me. How were the rooms that you were taken to earlier? Satisfactory? Or would you prefer more for your stay. The castle is relatively empty at the moment, if you need more please just say so. I cannot thank you enough for what you did today."
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Post by Val Dindine on Jan 17, 2010 14:59:06 GMT -8
She had noticed that there was a lot of untouched food around his plate, and around himself, and he shifted a little uncomfortably now that she seemed to mention it. Was she annoyed or upset? He couldn't tell and didn't want her to be, but at the same time he didn't want to be partaking in this wondrous feast without someone to dine with. It would make he feel as though he was being watched, but furthermore he didn't want the cooks to have gone through so much trouble for him, whether others were supposed to attend or not. He took a hand up, scratching behind his ear a little awkwardly as he fought to explain to the princess why he was not gorging on the delicious food before him. "It's delicious, better than I can remember in a long, long time, and certainly I'd love to continue, your highness. Forgive me for saying, though, but you look rather much not in the mood for a dinner and I'd not want to eat if you'd rather depart. It feels rather uncivil of me."
But then again I'm not one of those noble types. I don't have the upbringing. The thought crossed his mind quickly, but it wasn't a new thing to be present there. Since he'd gotten here he'd felt out of his depth, and certainly in no position to argue with anyone about things that came up, whether it was the princess or a maid. His hands began slowly reaching for foods again, stocking his plate little by little and knowing that arguing with royalty was likely to get him a death sentence if he didn't watch his step. She was nice, and kind, but then that's hardly a disqualification from being able to say "Guards, execute that man". He shuddered a little, deciding to quickly disguise it by taking something up to his mouth and biting heartily into it. It tasted good - potato as it were - and he took another. At least with his mouth full he was less likely to cause a commotion or make the lady ahead of him more upset than she likely already was. And at least with the food in his mouth she could be content that he wasn't sitting with no desire to eat the food from her household. Honestly, it was hardly a surprise that he'd like to stay here for a while.
"And I'm hardly a saviour of the princess, mi'lady. I was just in the right place at the right time, of sorts. I'm sure otherwise it would have been perfectly fine. As for the room.." He paused, considering. If he took the room, what did that mean? And just what rooms did they have if that was one of the less luxurious? He half imagined what one of these other rooms would be like, with its own stables and a ramp leading from the window down to the courtyards outside. He cleared his throat, feeling the bits of food inside shaking a little as he corrected his state of affairs. He needed to answer her, and he'd be honest so she knew what she was dealing with. "I find the rooms to be more than appropriate for someone of my caliber, your highness. I should be perfectly happy in this place. It seems completely well looked after, and is probably the more glamorous building I've ever had the privilege of residing in, if only for a night. Your servants do you a great service." He offered a smile, and took another small potato, hoping he'd not have to make another speech like that. It felt embarrassing and not nearly as painless as the hot food in his mouth.
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