Of Whiskey, Rome, & Friends

[Rhiannon MacBride]

Following an entertaining card game between Janice, Ada, and Rhiannon is to be found entertaining conversation with faces old...and new!

Arman: It was cool outside, but that was the way of the highlands. The sun had begun to set, and there was a bite in the air, a cold breeze nipping at the man standing outside Bannockburn Tavern. He felt none of the chill that crept through his clothes to his bones, but stomped his shoes and rubbed his hands against his shoulders all the same. A dark green velvet cloak kept out only a little of the cold, and none of the wind; even the decorative use of the fox had met its match in the dirt and dust of travel. Black silk hose did nothing to warm his calves, and unbalanced whatever warmth scarlet velvet breeches might have given. The black silk shirt covering his forearms likewise stole from a scarlet velvet doublet. Only his hat was practical, a bonnet worn in the fashion of the highlands, though it was made from rabbit fur instead of wool. A silver and gold brocade belt hung loosely and low about his waist; a dagger was tucked into it on the right, and an arming sword was belted on the left. Both matched with darkly tanned leather sheathes, black lacquered grips, and silver pommels. Only where they pressed against him, cold and un-giving against him, did he feel any semblance of what might have been warmth - a sort of warmth to be found in familiarity. It was a familiarity that seemed lost so long ago, a solid ghost of memory to be worn, or not. He shook his head at his musings, and entered the tavern. His entrance was quick, the door opening and shutting quickly to keep out the cold, but it was a silent thing. A keen gaze swept the room, noting and memorizing the minutia of the room and those within. They were black eyes that swept the room, but surely they were only a very dark brown, or perhaps a very dark green. Upon a close inspection, they were either; maybe they were both. "A cup of mead; a cup of ale," he said in the general direction of the bar as he moved to take a seat by the hearth. His voice was pleasant and smooth, his tone polished and precise, and there was the slightest whisper of a hiss that swept along twined with each word. To the women seated at a table he turned when he had made himself comfortable, and with a pointed look at the cards and the ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth, he gave a polite and not unfriendly nod. "Slainte," he said with a longer, more fluid nod - a toast in advance of the drinks that were coming.

Rhiannon: "I shall!" With a friendly farewell wave as Ada left to go see to her little one, Rhiannon looked over at Janice. "Perhaps you could give me an idea of a good charity then? I am afraid I do not know many." Yet her blue eyes were drawn to another that entered. Quiet perusal from beneath lashes as she sipped wine. Not in a sexual nor unfriendly manner, but just in the way of one who'd learn to keep an eye on her surroundings and those who step into them. Clearly the man had come for a good drink to chase away the chill. Lifting her wine glass in return of his toast and giving a friendly smile.

Arman: Blue eyes were met with black, and then the gaze broken by still more black. Sheen black hair fell across his eyes as he took off his cap to rest on his left knee, and a deft shake brushed the locks aside. A slightly raised hand arrested the tender; he downed the mead at once, and returned the cup. The ale he took, and then he lowered his hand in dismissal. The smile given him was returned and his tankard lifted; it was a perfectly sculpted smile of deep red lips and white teeth against an olive bronzed complexion. It was an easy, natural smile, and still it spoke of a practiced ease and polish of one who could afford such leisure. "For the summer is a-coming in and winter is a-gone," he spoke softly, lilting in the way of song - more to himself than truly loud enough to be wholly heard. Louder and clearly, after, "To the blue skies of Springtime, and what warmth there is to be had of a brew." The drink met with his lips, and he drank. Then he tilted the cup as though to pour it out upon the floor, and stopped short of doing it - a libation to the local spirits, and the town. Far be it from him to miss tradition or propriety, however outdated. "Charity, is it? I know of none that is, though there is plenty." His smile was warm, but the warmth of his words were cold at their center. "Few indeed know of any at all."

Rhiannon: Rhiannon turned in her chair, right leg crossed over left as hand adjusted the tan skirts of her simple gown. "Winter gone? Oh, do not tease me so by getting my hopes up!" Friendly laughter and warmth exuded as she sipped her wine. The promise of better weather was temptation indeed. Though Rhiannon had grown up here and so was used to such weather more than others. "Aye, charity. Specifically that to help with education." The man had a friendly face in Rhiannon's opinion. "No, good sir, many do not. Though some do and it is those people who give hope that others may some day give it too."

Arman: "Here among the crags of the highlands, such a telling shame for Cailleach Bheur to be put aside so quickly. But that raven's beak is two-edged, and has no sheath." He smiled to himself, distant for it, then took another drink. "I would never tease. And winter will pass in its time. What of education is charitable, if ignorance is bliss? A better thing to improve the state of a man's sustenance, I daresay, than increase his knowledge of the world and have him more the fool for it." It was dry, his tone, and whether he meant it straight or otherwise was not easily discerned. "Tell me, if it is you and yours who wish to be charitable; what pieces would you move in this game of education? If there is a teacher to be had, is it his pay that you seek to make certain, or would you buy books to educate those unfortunate enough to be literate?" The smile that followed was lost behind the rim of the tankard with the next drink.

Rhiannon: "Is ignorance truly bliss? Perhaps to most it can seem that way, but to my way of thinking it is not." Here be another odd conversation to be having over ale and wine! Here they held an interesting discussion about matters of importance. "Would you fault the teacher for taking payment? They still render their services in aid of educating those who are less fortunate. Though my thought was to give to a charity for those who would like to learn, and perhaps through learning, better their lot in life. Is not knowledge power? For with it they can learn to think more of themselves and see that much is possible if one puts their mind to it." Perhaps it was ridiculous to some, but that was how Rhiannon felt. She hadn't liked to just live on her patron's money and so had done what she could besides her usual duties, and he'd in turn given her an education that saw her believe she could be far more than she was then. It saw her a Physician now.

Arman: "Ignorance is bliss in the effect it has on one who is not himself ignorant. An educated man may look on ignorance and think, 'what bliss!' while the ignorant man, in his ignorance, looks upon the educated man and thinks, 'what bliss!'" Excusing himself briefly, after a fashion, he smiled and turned his eyes to the bar. An expectant look called over the tender, who would soon after leave with glass in hand. One mead for taste, and one ale for the same was enough for one who was warmed by neither. "Should I fault a cloud for the rain, a bell for its chimes? I would sooner fault a priest for his sermon, and not the messenger for his message." The look with which he held her, measured her, and released her with a soft smile. "Knowledge may be power, but is it not the city air that makes one free? Still. So few a number, such as the case is, may be a fair thing. A chance for certain. A question for you; the double-edged sword you create - would you sheath it, blunt one for the sake of the other, or craft so fine an edge that it must shatter? A tricky thing, creation." The words that dripped perfectly articulated, polished, and bittersweet from his tongue were sharp themselves for all their pleasantry, and pointed.

Adam: Adam and some of his Gold Talons halted outside the tavern and dismounted; entering the tavern, all were a bit noisy, being two days hard riding surveying the Griffin holdings. The Mo'r Triath swaggered in beside the Talons, loud, lewd jokes about skinny pigs, and some Englishmen... then as they looked around the tavern, they toned down their voices.

Rhiannon: "Indeed it is tricky though, I suppose, the bigger question is- are any of us truly ignorant and without knowledge? We all learn by various means. The street urchin may learn something on the street that the son of a noble man acquired from a book. I just think it would not hurt to further ones knowledge through education. I would rather see the child of a poor man believe he deserves more in life and has the right to reach for it." There was a bit of passion to her voice there. Rhiannon had seen others believe they could not be more due to their station. It was all nonsense. "One should not be told they can't be something due to who they were born to. Or where." Realizing she'd finished her wine, she waved to a bar wench,"Whiskey, if you would, miss." Eyes shifted at the sound of the door opening to spot none other than the Mo'r Triath of Skye walking in. "Good day to you, Your Grace."

Arman: "A man may do as a man can." It was clear that he was pleased by her answer, judging by the ease of his repose and the satisfied smile on his lips, the glint in his eye that came only after finding something sought after. "Well said, and well understood. I wish you well in your endeavor." To the other he gave a nod, an appropriate courtly gesture. That he remained seated spoke enough on its own; a peer did not rise for another. "Hail, Your Grace, well met."

Adam: Adam nodded, with a bow of his head in greeting the woman... familiar but distant... To the bar the men gathered, their jokes and agitating each other now down to a slight hum... "Now Duncan, all English are not skinny swines..." poking Duncan in the side... Besides, some of our best friends are English... and they are fat..." laughing...

Rhiannon: "Do you hail from Skye, good sir?" Rhiannon had not laid eyes on him before, but it was not a small place. Then there was the fact that many visited here. Gladly accepting the whiskey from the bar wench, Rhiannon caught the jesting between the M'or Triath and his comrades. It brought a light of amusement to her blue eyes and slight uprising to one side of her lips.

Beathag: "Whom hails from Skye? By account n' years n' spades, it seems the world comes hence from 'ere. Or is the world nay Scotland? Mayhap Ah forgot." Brogue coursed through the room specific to the table she had happened upon. The High Lady could roost all day in the Bannockburn, within her private tables, if only to watch the world as she'd once known it continue on devoid of herself. Wry smile pulled at pale face. A strand of off-metered flaxen wandered away from the knot arrangement at the nape of her neck. Were it not for the men whom accompanied her, one would have given her for a woman well to do, but not the High Lady herself. Anonymity was impossible now, but even she craved a chance to be a little lesser than. "Fair eve to ye, gentlemen, m'lady."

Maahes: He heard the call of High Lady, who came to call. Walking beside her guardian Brom they laughed of the rainy day. "No..you lost that." He kept edging the man round who lost at cards, one of the Muslim's new favorite past times. Who would have ever known he to be able to count let alone add? Ha! A massive undertone of the rich heritage laced his voice, but with it made him stand out. He did not keep such a brogue, but a deep rumble of a thousand suns cursed along the riverbed of the Nile. "Bess.." Finally without a child, "You want drink?" Work would forever be needed on his English, but at this point..he survived. His hand would go up to the rest, High Lord would be the only to get a bow of his head, and he wondered if Adam could play cards..

Arman: Unsure of the station of those who had just then entered, he gave one nod for all of them. "I hail from Palatium," a district of Rome, if any of them knew it, and left purposefully unclarified. "A fair evening to all." To the 'sir' by which he was addressed, he made no concession, and took it for its intent. "I have not been thence for some time now. I take it, then, that you hail from Skye ... yes? It is a pleasant place, from what of it I have seen."

Adam: Adam would be like a child caught in a cookie jar... he did not figure his beloved Bess would be here this time of eve... though he and the "boys" were... He just turned and held up his mug of ale... "Allo M'Lady... tis a time tae drink Aye? Gotta wash the dirt down..." then he;d wink at his beloved wife. Had she heard the jokes and lewd comments from the men? He was sure he'd never hear the end of it... especially if Claramae heard about it... which he was sure she would... she was all ears.

Rhiannon: Head tilting back to look upward toward where the woman's voice drifted, Rhiannon thought about that for a moment,"Aye that is a good point you make, Your Grace." Ah, both of them in one place! Rhiannon offered a deep nod out of respect then turned her attention back to the man. "Palatium? I can say that while it rings familiar I cannot place it at this moment. I do, in fact, hail from here. Born and raised. I'm Rhiannon MacBride, not a lady nor anything fancy. What is your name, sir?" Eyes caught sight of another who came with the others, the Lord General if she recognized right. Mostly cause she recalled seeing him around Aislin at times. Being they knew each other.

Beathag: "Skye, by way o' the Highlands at Aberdeenshire. Once yer born on Scotland all o' Scotland is yers depend upon where ye rest yer feet at the time, say I." Palatium rung no bells within the mind of Beathag of Aberdeenshire. She was more than most, less than the Gods. Green eyes slid over into the direction of the Lord General while mouth parted to articulate her desired poison, "Cider m'friend. Strong as they can make it. Tell Charlie nay tae skimp me 'pon the brew now. Good eve tae ye husband." She canted her head, looking twixt two lads and Rhiannon, "Out findin' another fer ye collection. Wot a woman must dae tae appease a man. Ah well, at least the drink is plentiful n' Ah can drink m'husbands pale ass under the table." She winked back to him, for twas all in jest. Some things never changed. Her tall stature was settled next to him while Brom walked with Maahes for a time, "I didn't lose that hand, I was distracted. Her Grace beat us both badly earlier.."

Maahes: Someone said Rome and amber eyes rose to hear such a tale. He had heard of such place, on the ship that brought him here as it left in the seas of the Mediterranean. Years had gone since then, and the very thought brought a smile of thought to the Beast's face. Where had the time gone? Drinks were ordered, served and such as the Lord General found himself a seat close by. "Yeah you would have lost anyway."

Arman: So she was the duchess. He gave another nod to her for her own. "Your Grace," he offered, greeting her as she deserved. His eyes, listless and black, or perhaps a very dark brown or green, surely, shifted to take in the Moor; if anyone might know Palatium, he had cause. "You may call me Arman; it would be a pleasure. Of course, who noble born and fancy could speak so of elevation and horizon, of power and impoverishment in the same breath?" There was chiding in his tone, but levity as well. "It must be the city whence you were born, I daresay." The ghost of a smile tugged one corner of his lips. He reclined back in his chair, still holding her in his sight, but taking in all around him. Skye was hardly ordinary in some regards, and Arman was amused by the pleasure he found in its intrigue.

Adam: Canting his head at what Bess said caught him off guard... then looks to Duncan..."She's gotta talking about yu... Not me for sure..." then he looks at Bess oddly. Uh oh, gambling with Maahes again... knowing full well, Beathag will take their money... maybe she could fund another campaign?!

Rhiannon: A compliment? Perhaps. To Rhiannon it'd be taken as one! "A pleasure to meet and converse with you Arman. It is not every day one as such entertaining conversation in a tavern." Smiling wider, looking around her at how lively the place had become compared to earlier!, she murmured,"Oh it is definitely the place. I think I would have turned out far different if born anywhere else. No other place could I be more proud to call home." Blue eyes returning to him thoughtfully. "Will you be staying for a visit long?"

Arman: He brought his hands together, fingers steepled, their points just brushing his chin. A shadow passed over his face as his eyes closed, and he thought for a moment. It was a fair question, and one which he had not yet thought to answer. Time enough still had yet to pass; he would give it that long. It was the only thing for it. "Long - I am not yet certain. I will be here for a time longer, though, yes; I will stay for a few days at least." There - a decision made as it should have been. Perhaps he would stay for much longer than a while. There was promise, and any gain would require time. "Yes," he said, opening his eyes with a quiet smile. "I believe I might do just that."

Ealora: Ealora had brought the kids into town early within the morning. The trip from Red Wall was always long and with six kids all under the age of ten, it was difficult to get them ready and get them into town, especially on a one day trip so when the decision was made, it was more then just a day visit. Thanks be to God for the townhouse they owned in town else Ealora would of pulled her hair out long ago. Having six kids meant that Ealora was always busy, always on her feet, always in shape with a sharp eye. That didn't mean however she stopped her now daily routine, the kids went to bed and Ealora went out jogging. At Red wall, there was more then enough room to do her daily routine to keep her shape in check, in the city, she huffed and puffed her way through the streets and alleyways, around the late bloomers who took to the night until her lungs burned from the need of oxygen more then shallow buffs. It was this very thing that brought her to the Bannockburn Tavern door, huffing as she pushed the door open, russet curls done up in a pony tail, swinging against a perspired covered white tunic top. "Water" She huffed at the bartender as her boots thudded hard against the floor in her attempt to reach it

Maahes: The burning embers of Egypt's eyes watched the man speak again, and steady he would indeed keep listening. Seated they all were together, and Maahes gave his way in; the chair crying out from the weight. His was a tall frame-- stone that was carved by the very deserts he was born. It mattered very little at the structure of the chair..they were all made the same. "What brings you to our land?" English that sounded so broken against his lips, could very well be mistaken of ignorance, but best never point that out. "You are here looking for work? Life? Coin? Women?" A nod of his head in the direction of the pirate wench, (not the one that called him husband of course) Too many strangers passed before the Beast that made him feel anything less but at ease. "Tell me a tale, Roman." He did like a good story with his drink..though he did rarely drink.

Adam: Adam turns propping his elbows on the bar, looking around, he acknowledges the big general and now his wife... "Maahes... Ealora..." Nudges Duncan... "Now I am in trouble for sure... drinkin' and English jokes..."

Rhiannon: "Grand news that. It will give you time to get to know Skye better. It has much to explore, I promise you." Taking another drink of her whiskey, she looked over in the direction of the Lord General. Always curious that one. Not a bad thing, of course. It was good to know the purposes that brought strangers to Skye. One had to watch out for their home. Blue eyes noticed the arrival of a lady demanding water as she waited to hear how Arman answered the questions.

Beathag: "Ainglish jokes won't be a bother tae me now, nor will drinkin. Sae now a story the General asked for? Ah too should like to here o' yer Rome, m'lord. Tell us wot travels ye have..what worlds ye seek." While she did spoke of wishing to know, her brogue purred. She leaned into her husband, savoring the feeling of closeness as all of them became the fire to fend away a wet, wintry Scottish knight. The room bustled with activity but seemed to miss something. "Master McSween, a wee bit o' music. Nothin loud, just somethin tae soothe the eventide by.." Arman was the subject of fascination; all gathered for a foreigner's tale. Two arms lay on the table now as the Lady lay over them. On night's like this, the lines against her throat were all the more obvious by way of the rope scars.

Ealora: She gulped down about half the glass of water that was slid against the countertop to her. It was several seconds of heavy breathing after till she finally settled enough for some deep and even breaths as her muscles strained and shook with her excursions of the night. Celadon eyes peered about the room. Hearing her name, her eyes landed on the Duke and she smirked as she carried her cup with her towards the gatherings table. "Yes watch those English jabs, my father was English and a right side good man to boot. I was the bad apple of the family. Still am." She winked to Adam to let him know no jokes would be taken wrongly. Rome. Conversations were just now making note in her mind. Her eyes turned to the newcomer. The poor man, under the scrutiny of her husband all ready. Good going Maahes and she grinned silently till her eyes fell on the woman she didn't know. A night full of strangers it seemed.

Maahes: That's right he was! But more so he was intrigued.

Adam: "Noted Ealora..." Adam winked back... He then nuzzled his way beside Bess at the table, a soft kiss upon her head of golden hair before sitting down. Looking at the two strangers, the female seemed familiar... "I am Adam, Mo'r Triath of this fine land..." he introduced himself... "Husband to this hellion beside me..." indicating Beathag.

Arman: Roman. Something passed over his face, a brief flicker to rob his visage of its composure. The shadow held a chill the likes of which the highland could never know, and it lasted for only an instant. "A story of Rome," he echoed, the hiss stronger, intertwined with each melodious baritone syllable that slipped perfectly articulated from his lips. "If I told you a story of Rome, I could tell you of beauty. Ah, but ignorance, Rhiannon - it is bliss. It is better never to know it, than to see it and be subjected. Order, harmony, grand expression in stone, in thought - it is an awful beauty. It gives a life that robs you of your soul." Bitter tones tainted his voice, drenching the hiss that spit out soul. And still his next words were bathed in what was as close as he could bring himself to love, pregnant with the pangs of loss, and perhaps longing. "The brilliance that made Rome was the same that burned it to the ground; the fire that forged her was her rapist - she created her Romans, and they her. Be glad if you never see her, for she gives and takes with the same hand. You," he said pointedly, his gaze swiveling pointedly to the general, "I think, may know of what I speak. Here, now, I seek a tale of silence, the blind vision of bliss." His story, if such it could be called, was ended with the turning of his gaze to the flames in the hearth.

Marius de Brabant: Marius enters the Bannockburn, expecting to meet Janice learning to play or more likely being fleeced at poker. He also wanted to inform Lady Janice of his interview with the Lord General this afternoon. He walked in and saw the High Lady, but the man beside her could only be Adam Aberdeen, The High Lord. It takes his breath away. He is rather astounded; also seeing the Lord General and his wife. He is in very distinguished company. Barely does he manage to keep his usual, brisk, military stride, but he does. He comes to proper halt before the Duke and Duchess, as he bows from the waist. "Good evening Your Excellencies. Sir Marius de Brabant at your services." He does look the High Lord straight in the eye as his head comes back up. The pride in himself and his acceptance into the service of Skye is obvious. This is his home.

Rhiannon: The story that fell from Arman's lips in response to the questions was enough to hold Rhiannon's attention. Glass in hand, she shook her head, noting the bitterness. Looking in the direction of the others to see how they were reacting.

Beathag: Beathag leaned forward as the essence of the old country swept from the bottoms of her feet. Upward, like a creeping mist cat t pounce in her nostrils. From his story she felt the decadence of a crumbling empire cascade into the false beauty of the Church's home. As he spoke, for a moment she closed her eyes to envision cloud castles that were destroyed by the swipe of one hand. A changed shape, a loss of meaning. Substance material could fade away for that was Rome. What of spirit? "Tales o' spirits are many, e'en those stripped have tales. We can refashion ourselves tha' it seems the image is lost. A mold..we did nay make." The High Lady had been touched; Sir deBrabant found the ethereal chords pulled in her throat as she spoke. She was not the voice of Rome, no, but the voice of a history re-written. "Sir deBrabant. Will ye embrace the informal o' Sir Marius, n' come sit at our table tae join in as we speak of things gained n' lost? Ye have things to tell, surely. Ah've nay forgotten the other day...."

Janice: As for the day in reference to the small woman in the room's back, she'd vacated the game with six pieces to spare. Six pieces to spare, tales of strong hands, and cider on the Sabbath day. It would be the voices turned to new topic that pulled her back from the idle talk of alms giving on the next feast. Amidst them, she felt small. Years of learning to stand did not measure to standing in so much company, but she would try "Fair eve to the company. Fair eve your Graces, Lord General, Lady Asad Aziem...and you once again Mistress Rhiannon." It would be hard to not notice Marius as she too adopted a postulate stance to defer to her betters.

Ealora: Her head tilted to hear the stranger speak of Rome. A single slender brow rose with a 'you're kidding me right?' kind of look and she snorted into her cup of water. She was going to need stronger liquor then this! Lowering the glass away without taking a drink, she licked at her lips to keep the comment burning on her lips from escaping. Aha! the new soldier of Skye and his bow to the Duke and Duchess. Ealora had been in Skye so long now formalities seemed a thing of the past and she found his display hilarious, enough that she gulped down water and coughed as it nearly went down the wrong pipe. Want me to cut those strings and remove the puppet stick from your arse? Oh the question was burning on the tip of her tongue, just itching to get out, not that she had anything against Marius but such shows really made her skin crawl and made her wonder what a person hid that they had to be so...well there just wasn't a word for it. Ealora was blunt, she liked it that way though she remained pleasant company for the most part. Running her hand against her lower lip to collect the water that had escaped in her cough, she inclined her head to Janice in greeting.

Adam: Adam listened to the man of Rome... a smile upon his face. In the wake of politics, he had ventured to the Holy City and the surrounding area many times...A man approaches the royal couple and bows... Sea green eyes meet the man as he looks directly at him. Bold he thought, but proper... giving the man a nod of his head... "M'Lord... I have heard of yer exploits... and welcome them to Skye... I expect excellent service from my knights and soldiers... and remember, respect is earned, save the respect of rank and title..." he wanted to see the man's reaction... a small smile offered to Beathag... and a glance to Maahes. "A man must lead... not just throw orders to the wind and expect the men to obey... armies as such do not last..." he chuckles... "Ask my Father if yu can find him..." Then he looks around to his brother and sisters of Skye, those that have endured Maubrey's wrath. Seeing Janice enter, he motioned his hand. "Lady Janice, come hither, I need yer attention but for a few..." he paused... "Tis good I see yu now, rather than blindside you... Upon the morrow, a messenger shall bring yu a scroll...I need a translation into the Berber language of Morocco... " he winks at the library mouse... "Tis a trade matter not a military secret.... I must have it within the tides turning, 4 days hence..." He knew if anyone in Turas Lan could, she could. Then he sat back in his chair and drank his ale.

Marius de Brabant: Marius graciously accepted the invitation of the High Lady; he was smiling as he sat down. Turning to the High Lady, "With your kind permission" he extended his hand toward Lady Janice; there was an vacant chair beside him. And the smile on his face enlarged considerably. Turning again to the High Lady. "Yes Excellency, and I do have knowledge of Rome and the Empire. As far as I know the Empire has no designs upon Skye or the Celtic Alliance. Rome, on the other hand is crumbling relic, devoid of power or even potential." He waited most impatiently for Janice to be seated beside him.

Rhiannon: The return of Janice had a pleasant smile curving Rhiannon's lips, but the light of mischief that appeared in those blue eyes showed when the man introduced himself. Looking in Janice's direction, she murmured,"Sir de Brabant is it?" A wink to the girl as she added on with a warm smile, only loud enough for Janice to hear,"Oh, his hands are nice." Clearing her throat, noting Arman's silence, she rose from her seat at a table to plop down on a stool beside him. "Want some of my whiskey?"

Janice: The Lord Duke for a moment pulled the girl aside to bestow upon her a personal matter of import. "Can you do it?" He'd ask her, putting fingers to chin in a momentary study of the small one they referred to as the 'Lady of Letters' for her intense residency in the libraries of Turas Lan. Brown eyes opened wide as she lowered "Aye, my lord, it will be my honor to translate what you require..." He lifted up her face, then her form. Before Adam took his absence he canted his head to her once more. On that leaving, she offered a trembling hand to Marius as she entered to the table discussion. No words uttered upon the remark of his hands. Turned down, shy eye took note of those hands and recalled each sensation.."Thank ye Marius.....I..am speechless. His lordship gave me a great privelege."

Beathag: "On but one point I digress Sir Marius. Rome may be crumblin in appearence but the papacy has the continent a lap dog waitin for the treat 'o' a bullion. We have seen Rome move mountains in these few years o' our reign, Adam n' I. His Holiness once made long journey here, tae confer us his blessin on the formed states and the inception o' us as the Mo'r Triath and M'or Oukselo, sae designed by the Bruce before he died. She only sleeps now, I believe. Tis amazin wot one man with a cross can command." She drank deep of the cider, looking then to the bookseller with curling smile over the rim. To Ealora she chuckled softly, "Thy eye is honed fer the enemy e'en now. The roses o' my courts are thorned n' beautiful. They too make a good wall for which we are protected."

Ealora: While others a conversed, Ealora moved to exchange water for Brandy before moving back to the conversation at hand. Still Rome. She had been there once, a long time ago when she had first entered the world of piracy, she had no comment for the land which tore itself apart only to reunite again in holiness. Her relationship with God was a rocky one but she was no less a believer of faith and religion. She took a stock and sound drink of the liquid and held it a moment in her mouth before swallowing to grin towards Bess. To refer to the court as a rose, thorned and beautiful seemed a right sentiment. A rose though was not poison, if you pricked your finger upon its thorns, you did not die, merely bleed. Perhaps that was the point of it, just a prick, not enough blood to kill, only a warning. Skye's people had bled enough through the years for its elevated status of a nation of its own. Three years of peace was nothing as the question always lingered on how long peace could last. Yet every one of Skye's members would gladly take up arms again, they were happily enjoying the spoils of blood spilled for their freedom. "Beautifully put your Grace" Ealora quipped with a grin. She was no pirate now, only a wife and a mother, that did not mean her ways were mended. She was still a pirate at heart, able to hold her own.*

Brennah: Brennah had managed to make her way to the Tavern after dealing with a very stubborn horse. For the last couple days, he had seriously made the dark haired Lady wonder if he was a equine.. or an ass... As she made it inside, the dark heavy cloak was removed as well as the gloves. Both were properly put away and a order of hot cider was made before she made it over to the fire. Tonight, the chill ran much deeper than usual and her bones were feeling it. Bright blue eyes sparkled as always as she turned them upon a couple of familiar faces as well as the not so familiar. However, known or not, each patron was granted one of those infectious smiles. Brennah started out with her front toward the flaming heat, hands slightly outstretched so that long slender digits could move with ease once again before turning about in place with her back to the flames now. ``Evening to you all Lords and Ladies.`` she said as a soft nod followed.

Arman: "And to you," he replied to the woman standing at the hearth. She did not require a nod, as she faced the fire by the time she spoke, so he turned instead to Rhiannon. "Whiskey?" He frowned, barely noticeable, but his eyes closed for a moment. It was no worse than mead on its own, but it never seemed to agree with him. Still, what neither mead nor ale had done for inner warmth, and considering what the talk of Rome had done for his state of mind... "Yes, thank you. Whiskey would be most appreciated. It is the educated, and the elite among them who patronize the arts, the aesthetics - so then shall we seek bliss, indeed. If I may toast," he queried, a brow lifted in sardonic amusement. "To ignorance. And its remedy, double-edged though it may be. Slainte." He took only a sip from the cup she offered, since it was her own, and offered it back to her afterward. "If you would drink the rest, I would be honored."

Marius de Brabant: Marius smiled listening to the High Lady. She did indeed have a point, but still. "High Lady, I would politely remind you that in the matter of the Templar's, it was the French king and his minister responsible for the arrests. It was only later that the Pope issued his bull dissolving them. By this maneuver the French King rid himself of a massive debt to the Templar's. As we all know, no Templar was persecuted in Scotland or Skye. In Spain, they simply transferred to other orders. In the Empire, many simply disappeared. Most of their fighting men did. Most captured were old or administrative people. What concerns me more is France. England was the check upon her expansion, and now England is no longer such a power. The French king has proven to be acquisitive, and the only check upon them now is the Gaelic Alliance. And I do not think Papal disapproval will mean much to them. I believe we should prepare. An old maxim is, he who would have peace, should be prepared for war. Please forgive my bluntness High Lady. Skye is my home and I will defend my home with every fiber of my body."

Martin le Power: He walked a steady enough gait, assisted by a walking stick, these days. His dark blue Merchant's garb had a certain dignity to it, and the sparkle in his eyes and smile bespoke the fact he was here to meet up with one of the loves of his life - good whiskey of Scotland. The first sip near choked the old man, for he overheard the word "Templar" and in more control, swerved slowly to see and mark in memory who was speaking. And what was said. "Slante! The toast of my homeland." Martin gave approving looks to the females in the tavern, for he still did like to look.

Rhiannon: "Good day to you as well, miss." Head nodded toward the young lady who warmed herself near the fire. "Weather still unpleasant out there?" It almost seemed another world when one was sheltered with good company where drinks took away the chill or eased the mind. Smile widening, Rhiannon looked to Arman, and when taking the glass murmured,"To ignorance. Perhaps you are a little right in thinking it bliss." Slight lift of glass as she swallowed the rest. Though one ear was open to the young man's words to the Duchess. Interesting that one.

Beathag: "Aye, Sir, but it was the Pope fool enough tae listen wot gave him authority. A weak mind at times is as dangerous as enough power tae overthrow. The cross commands much, tae much. It amazes meh the man endured m'company o'ermuch. Yer boldness is fergiven ye, ye may keep your true contrition fer the service, n' sae long as ye are respectful ye may speak your mind with me. Last generation ran the Templars from France, now Valois sits on the throne. France is our ally but tis vera shakey. The Auld Alliance will crumble, given now Scotland is a power in her own right, the Griffin at her head,n' they will wonder if we seek wot used tae belong to those who opress us. Mark me, good Marius. Mark me when Ah say tha tis nay the faith tha' burdens me. Tis the iron fist o' those tha' claim it fer greed n' dalliance. Were tha' Skye could be adrift from the continent all tagether..were tha' I could make tha' so, my friends. To ignorance! To our bliss! To wot nay Pope, Valois, or any king can take." But how they would try! How they would try..."Brennah! Come ye tae the table m'girl. Come n' be warm n' have a drink tae warm thy bones." She extended, and bowed head to the engineer's father. "M'lord LePower. Evenin good sir. Come ye tae find a drink n' a warm smile tae alight ye, old goat?"

Janice: How quickly he used the voice he was given! Janice could barely find word in her throat to speak up in thanks of the honor to come to her, four days hence. So then she would sit among them, indulging in a lighter repast of tea for the cider of earlier would not mix with more if she did. With Marius' hand in one hand, the other she would use for tea. "The Land is peaceful...it is said no peace lasts forever, but there is much to learn in how you all preserve it so. The historical riches in your libraries..is riveting. Such a vast handwritten and oral tradition!"

Brennah: ``Ignorance is bliss at time my Lord... and here here...`` she said as she lifted her cider in the air a tad bit toward him and his lady friend. Neither he nor the woman next to him looked at all familiar but it never hurt to meet new people. And although the words and the toast mgith have been something that was suppose to remain between the two of them alone, Brennah could but help give her own opinion on the subject. ``Forgive me if I seem rude, but I find it very interesting in the ways people look at things. Whether the glass is half empty... or half full. And perhaps my Lord... Bliss can also be found in knowledge if it serves for a great and noble purpose.`` she would add. Her eyes shifted to Janice and the gentleman whom she briefly met at the book shop, a slight wave of a free hand was granted. A lifted of the hot cider was brought to full pursed lips and the hot liquid warmed her from the center once it reached its destination. There was the High Lady and so Brennah would most definitely greet her as she moved closer to the woman. ``Your Majesty, tis a pleasure to see you out and about your city this night. How do you and your family fare this eve?`` she asked. Obviously both Apollo and Eirian continued to make sure their niece acted as properly as she should, even if at times she wished to be nothing more than a simple young woman rather than a long lost princess of a forgotten land.

Arman: Such a smile that graced his lips, charming and sincere, and somehow patient. It was the sort of smile that a teacher might give a pupil, but more affectionate, as though the pupil was someone dear. The words Your Majesty arrested his mind, silenced his thoughts. The hesitation did not last even the moment it would have taken for it to show, but what words he might have spoken were not. He nodded. It was the duchess, of course, he told himself. Then he decided that he would speak after all, and immediately reproached himself and thought better of it; the woman had moved on to speak with the duchess, and he would not interrupt. He did, however, voice his thoughts - to Rhiannon, perhaps, or more likely to himself, under his breath such as the words were. "Knowing the purpose to be great and noble ... perhaps that is the most attractive ignorance - ignorance that can be learned. Knowledge..." His voice, barely audible to begin with, lessened to little more than a whisper. He tilted his head only slightly, but so precisely that it allowed him with no apparent effort to direct his voice clearly to the bar. "Whiskey." For all he knew, someone could have stood only a foot away to serve him, but the flames held him captive. Sometimes it was good to be lost, and Arman had been lost for a very long time.

Marius de Brabant: "With your permission High Lady I will escort Lady Lance home." Marius rises along with the lady and they both exit the tavern.

Jack Trades: -=The tavern door latched behind a burly figure clad in a black oilskin poncho and broad-brimmed hat, each faded and wrinkled with use. The weather-beaten brim swiveled slightly from side to side before the rhythmic thump of hob-nailed boots carried it towards the bar.=-

Martin le Power: Martin had to grin for he did that or scowl, for he resented the "old goat' word. But drink in hand, he let that go and went to sit where he was bid. Old age was a cover-up cloak, a disguise over experience and wisdom, lest youth be deprived of its chance to learn like he did, by trial and error of their mistakes. Martin downed his whiskey, for hearing talk of the Templar shook him with surprise. He was going to have to tell his friend Rob about that. Old man daydreaming of the past. Was Rob not dead and gone? Matin could not recall. " I must be away home; my daughter and son - law.." there was a exhale of resignation. "They will worry I am out so late. Good night to one and all. One more for the road." He downed a last shot of whiskey and strolled almost steady out the door.

Rhiannon: Blue eyes roamed to this Brennah. Her thoughts were most intriguing. "You could be right, miss. You and I should some day get together to discuss our views on things." Catching the sound of Arman's voice, low as it was, requesting whiskey- she grinned. Rhiannon held up two fingers to show the tender that she could use another. "Flame is most fascinating, is it not? I could stare into it for hours and lose myself to thoughts long ago. Yet sometimes it eases the mind great to live in present and leave the past in the past." Gentle advice offered for only his ears as she passed his glass of whiskey to him, and held onto her own.

Beathag: "Tha' was a quick departure made he. N' with the little scholar. Hmm. Wot a man may lay claim tae when he first arrives. Men 'pon the Isle waste nay time." She would have to pay heed to what was ensuing, since Adam had given a task unto Janice, and since Marius was new unto the service. She listened then to the idle talk of others before seeing Jack arrive. How long had it been? How many months, if not years? She lifted her cup to him

Brennah: Her eyes had drifted back to the gentleman at the bar who sat next to his Lady friend, her head canted with a curious notion but her attention would return to the High Lady. Had Brennah any idea what the man might have thought or perhaps said... she surely would have wanted to say more. Brennah might be a soft spoken woman, but she was not at all shy ...perhaps it was that Avarian charm. However, when the Lady friend of the man spoke up, Brennah looked back to her as it seemed her Grace was perhaps lost in thought. ``Of course my Lady... I'd love to talk. We could do so at your liesure, I'm not one to keep someone from anything unless its absolutely necessary.`` she would reply. Those blue hues then shifted to the door as two men and a lady left while another man entered. Brennah looked a little closer and she could have sworn she knew the man... where exactly, she wasn't sure. Perhaps if they spoke or he looked to her directly, she might could place him. The cider was lifted to her lips once more for another warm sip of the liquid.

Jack Trades: -=The wrinkled brim dipped in a prefunctory nod towards the lifted cup. The hob-nailed boot halted a pace's distance from the bar. A short and gruff exchange with the tender left a bottle of scotch in front of the hulking figure. Folds of oilskin cloth parted as a calloused and meaty hand extended to take hold of the bottle before the figure turned and thumped its way towards the small gathering.=-

Arman: "It is precisely the present that vexes me, if I give it thought enough. Ah, but there is whiskey for a remedy." He turned his head from the flames toward Rhiannon, but his gaze remained fixed. "The past is not to be lived in, and the present is fleeting at its best, and worst. But the future..." His train of thought was not unpleasant, but neither was it pleasant, and moreover he knew it to be unproductive. Given the circumstances, his thoughts were better not thought at all. It was not his concern. So why, then, did he care so much for the plight of those from whom he had so removed himself - everyone? He snorted quietly, and took a great burning gulp of his whiskey before settling into sipping the stiff drink.

Rhiannon: A soft smile toward the young woman with a bit of a laugh,"Ah, no no. Just Rhiannon please." Lady? Only in the sense that she was of the female persuasion. Catching Arman's words she murmured,"The present can be vexing at times indeed. Though, other times, it can be quite simple." A nod that set red curls to moving, fingers tucking them behind one ear, she grinned wider,"Exactly- whiskey to remedy it. That and good company, no?" Rhiannon would do her best to distract him from future thoughts to. Those would make a mind most...well she'd heard it rumored much that too many vexing thoughts could make a head explode. That'd be a mess she'd rather not clean up.

Beathag: "Ah'm sorry, fergive meh. M'mind drifts with the topic o' night...Brennah, repeat tae me yer thoughts good girl. Where 'ave ye been?" She sighed, the comfort of the fire soothing her back to the presence of the people whom made it worth leaving the sacred stones of the Griffin. "When ye are m'self..the mind wanders oft. There is much tae consider these days e'en in days of peace."

Brennah: ``Rhiannon it shall be then.`` she offered with a smile. ``Give me but a moment, and if you wish to talk now, I would be delighted. If not, then I shall give you the information you would need to find me at a better time.`` she added.When the Duchess spoke, Brennah turned her attention back to her. ``No apology necessary your Grace... and I was only asking how you and your family fares this eve. That it was nice to see you out and about among your people and your city.`` she restated. As Beathag spoke of how often one's mind did wonder... Brennah knew all to well of what she spoke on. The cider was lifted once more for a sip and she allowed her eyes to drift from face to face occasionally. From the Duchy, the new entry, the gentleman and of course his lady friend Rhiannon. She was willing to engage in any conversation that was offered, and if not, she was content to be an observer for the night.

Arman: His head was not in danger of exploding, but that was the way of things; heads simply did not explode - unless they were bludgeoned, and that was not at all the same thing. "The present is simple indeed; one is always in it. There is only the past upon which to reflect, the future upon which to act - the present in which to do it." It was that sort of philosophical pondering that had driven him to a city of some significant population. Yes, he would consider making a home here, or nearby. It was the right time, and the thought did not give him an unpleasant feeling. He could never belong to his birthplace again, and so he would be born again. It was certainly a widely accepted, and indeed urged practice. That thought, and the imagining of possible outcomes should he give voice to that thought, forced a short and barely controlled laugh from his throat. It was more than motivation enough for another drink. "Your Grace speaks well. Of course," he said, turning at last from the hearth to face the duchess. Her last words mirrored his own reflections - irony at its finest, and worst, as it could only be.

Jack Trades: -=With the bottle in tow, the brawny frame unhurriedly strode to the group, the brim dipping in a nod again as he neared the Dutchess. A hearty voice rumbled out from the shade under the wrinkled canvas.=- Beathag, Danae, long time nae see. Seems the lot o' ye be steeped in serious discussion this eve.

Beathag: Beathag considered the nature of the words drifting up to her ears. After a continual bit of silence she opened her plush lips to push thick accent over it. "M'kin are well, Brennah, thank ye for askin'. M'husband is well n' our family thrives. Thank the heavens for fer mare's milk tha' gives me a moment's peace tae seek m'own sustinance. M'daughter, Amhlai, Amy we call her is now two months o' age. The other children are well..Aodhan, be near 11, Davina 5. Murieall and Gabriel, 2, n' m'little Amy. The baren is nay sae. " Out of intellect's comment she turned to the man to reply to it. It was a compliment! "Thank ye sir. But it is merely age tha' makes it worth things. Just age n' observation. How now, Jack. Ye return after longtime away."

Brennah: Brennah gave a nod to the man... although he did look familiar, she didn't think they had ever been properly introduced. No time like the present. ``Good evening good Sir... tis a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lady Brennah Teagan, the niece of Lord Apollo of Avaria and the Lady Artisan, Eirian his wife.`` She offered her hand, and if he accepted it, she was use to both the proper and not so proper ways of returned greeting. Her attention then returned to the Duchess as she gave her reply. ``Tis good to here that you and your kin are doing so well. It does give one peace of mind at that.`` she gave pause a moment as she looked to the gentleman at the bar who complimented the Duchess's words of wisdom. ``Indeed... even though I am not but a young Lady... I do know that where as knowledge can be gained in a moment, a day, or even a fortnight.... wisdom is only gained in a lifetime.`` she stated with a small smile. ``But then that leads others to wonder... does the moment make the man, or does the man make the moment?`` her smile would gorw a bit more wider before another sip of her cider was taken while she allowed her eyes to once more to survey those gathered about.

Jack Trades: Aye, a very long time. Though I'm glad that ye've prospered in the time I've been away, Duchess. It would have been frustrating tae see the machinations of the past fall tae waste. -=The brim centered upon Brennah. His words were punctuated by a swig of the bottle.=- Neice, eh? Nice tae make yer acquaintance, and all that, especially since Apollo has nae found a way tae make Eirian a widow.

Rhiannon: Rhiannon could understand what they both meant. It was hard to not think on the past or future, but how else could one be happy if always plagued so? The one goal she had in life was not to lose herself to thoughts that could tear her mind apart. If one lived their whole life brooding when could they be happy? "A pleasure to meet you Lady Brennah. A lovely name you have and I have heard of the Lady Artisan." Indeed that would be an understatement. Rhiannon flashed a smile to Arman, eased that he made conversation with others instead of losing himself to the flickering flames. Blue eyes went to this Jack fellow as she gave a nod of greeting.

Brennah: Brennah chuckled a bit at the greeting from Jack. It wasn't odd to hear of how some fancied her aunt. ``A pleasure, I'm sure.`` she replied. Brennah then looked back to Rhiannon and smiled. ``There are few who have not heard of her, or my Uncle. Both are extraordinary people... and I look up to them a great deal. They are generous in many ways and I'm sure there are many other things tat I or others could compliment them on.`` she added with a bit of a chuckle. ``As for my name? I suppose its as beautiful as one wishes to see it so... and I thank you, for you make it sound as if it were a very lovely vision should it be something to behold by the eyes. ``

Jack Trades: -=The hulking frame stood stolidly as they talked. The neck of the bottle disappeared under the shade of the brim as the bottom tipped towards the ceiling to the tune of sloshing amber.=- Well, doesnae a proper lady and such have proper suitors?

Rhiannon: "I did nothing more than simply speak it, I assure you. You add much beauty to it on your own." Rhiannon lifted her glass slightly to take a sip and looked to Jack. The man had a point. A lass like Brennah here should have tons of suitors. Not just due to her name either.

Brennah: ``Suitors? Good Sir... if the name of my Uncle and Aunt do not put fear in the men here, then it will be by my own doing they will run. For I am told I am quite the handful.`` she replied with a bit of a laugh. Brennah had taken little intrest in suitors of any sorts since Arkanis... the man whom she was suppose to marry who had also been from Avaria. But it seemed even a man as fierce as he could not stand up to the woman who had been by his side for quite a time. ``Perhaps one day Sir, it will be so... but for now, it is not and I am one who takes things as they come. I believe things happen precisely when they should and for the reasons it should.`` she added after a moment and then took a sip of her cider. She then looked to Rhiannon and smiled. ``You are very generous with your kind words my Lady... but I do hope will will accept my gratitude none the less for such a gesture.``

Jack Trades: -=His bulk settled upon a convenient stool, eliciting a creak of protest from the fixture. Another swig preceded more rumbling.=- A handful, eh? Quite the claim since ye seem so well-mannered, and polished in yer stance on men. I dare say even entrenched in the guise of being open. -=cue swig=-

Brennah: `` Oh.. no Sir, please, do not be mistaken, tis not I that wishes to chase them away, but rumors... if I have chased any away, I'm at a loss as to why. `` Meaning that if she did things wrong or even right that had men tucking tails and running... she didn't know why. She canted her head slightly to the man with the brimmed hat, Jack was the name she had heard the Duchess say. ``Might I ask what your thoughts be then upon my first impression upon you?`` she was curious and obviously not afraid of any truths.

Jack Trades: Ye might. -=The scarred and meaty hand swirled the bottle slightly while the amber liquid inside followed suit.=- Though I wonder first how long ye have tae listen tae me prattle. Ye fit the description of a relative of nobility. Well dressed. Well mannered. Yer gregarious in receiving praise and very much like it when yer the topic of discussion. Perhaps ye have nae received enough of this from people who matter tae ye.

Brennah: Brennah nodded and took a step back to allow herself to settle upon the nearest seat. ``I have some time, but I should not be out to late of course.`` she answered, taking another sip of her cider.

Jack Trades: -=Broad shoulders rose sightly in a shrug before the bottle rose and fell again.=- I wonder how accurate yer view of the conditions surrounding yer interaction with men is. That's it fer first impressions. Despite yer willingness tae listen, I am nae interested in expounding all night upon what traits ye carry or do nae carry.

Brennah: Brennah listened as he gave his thoughts voice to first impressions. ``Likely not as accurate as they should be, I'm sure. I'm no mind reader despite what men think of us women.`` she said with a smirk. ``And since you spoke your piece, I must thank you for giving me something more to think upon during the time before sleep. But I would like to ask, is there anything else you wish to speak on or is there someplace you must be off to?`` she asked after downing the last of her cider.

Jack Trades: -=The weather-beaten brim canted sightly=- Aye, but nae if'n yer fixin' tae turn in. There always be some place tae be off tae if'n one still be a warm breathin' body.

Brennah: ``Then perhaps we could continue this talk some other time then? As it is getting a bit late. Should we met up again another time, I do look forward to it. In the meantime, goodnight good Sir, may you rest well and dreams sweetly. For I must now be on my way... it was a pleasure to meet you Jack. `` she said as she slipped off her seat and moved off to gather her cloak and gloves. Once all were in place, she moved out of the warm and toasty tavern and into the cold chilly night.

Jack Trades: -=The bottle was set down on the bar without ceremony before a slightly gnarled finger tugged at the brim towards the lady.=- Likewise.