Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Jul 9, 2008 22:32:12 GMT -6
Set In Her Way: The Duchy no longer entertained simple petitioners beyond the first hour of sunset or until the morning had fully matured past the last dark flushes of the previous night. Imagine the huff sweeping in the air when the Steward told the first group of gathered persons that the Duchess would take no audience today unless it was an imperative matter! Swirls of skirts, cloaks, flippant brushes of hands in the air to wave the man away as many said, "But we have come so far! Really, the carriage ride from the manor, in thiiiiis weather!" or "Who will pass judgement to expand m'holdings or conduct the signing of the arranged marriage treatise. The nerve..." The great flock of offended brids spilled out of the courtyard on velvet wings, far too hot for the day but for the sake of fashion pain was inevitable. Oh, it wasn't that the rumors of what went on in the valley hadn't reached ears for the tongues of Scotts clicked at mind-numbing speeds. Sir Kendrew haulted them to make his stance perfectly clear, "Unless you wish your holdings burned or your women taken," blunt, precise, "You will take the escorts home, seal your doors, and worry over your damned tea parties another day. My men have more important things to worry over than your spoiled heirs or the stench you produce in velvet. Good day." Thus the gates were shut against them. Looking to the man on the wall he said, " Court members, family, relations or appointed agents of those two. The military. No more than that today. If the messangers who were sent out to the four corners of Skye return with news they have informed each holding then, by all means..let them in as well." His duty became more complex each day he stood beside Beathag and Adam, the lines of many crossing to form one rope he had to pull upon to keep them from falling off the brink (d)
Emeritus Memoria: Truly, his job was never over. If there was not disturbance in his land or stranger, then it was some criminal act in Turas Lan. Most of the cases were heard and taken care of by the local law enforcement. However, this matter of chained events could not go by without his interference, and with the messenger coming with news that his sister required his presence, Eamonn said farewell to his wife and daughter and saddled up the horses. Eamonn knew better to travel alone these days, for Eamonn already knew that he was not in favour with all of Skye, especially any that might still harbour distaste for the Duchess and Duke. Eamonn and a small host of riders flanking him departed Eohmark and made pilgrimage to the capital city of Turas Lan. It took nearly half the day to reach the fanciful city, and once the dirt path turned to stone, it was apparent that they had reached their destination. The gates opened as word of the Lord Marshal's arrival spread like wildfire throughout the city. The pale horse tail crest streamed in the breeze like the banners of Eohmark and Turas Lan waved on the tips of a few spears within his company, visual reference from afar who the company served. Flying down the streets, Finbar snorted, hooves sounding upon the stone path before the horse came to a sudden stop before the steps that led to the doors of the Griffin castle. Handing the tall spear to one of the guards, Eamonn dismounted quickly from the back of his horse and one of his riders took the reins to lead the horse to the stables with the others. In the meantime, Eamonn had business to attend. Gloved fingers unbuckled the horse helm form his head, revealing the blonde tousled strands of hair from riding and the helmet. Eamonn scaled the steps quickly, two or three at a time before the door were opened and hazel eyes glanced about. Turning to a page, he told the boy to inform the Duchess that he had arrived
Set In Her Way: The cobble stone of the city was slowly stretching out, out, to the wilds but it was natural for places to have the same beaten paths they had for generations. Restoration to the old Roman-influenced plans of the old conquerors would take time to see the main network of roads completed. Structures only a dream months before were given birth to. Aquaducts were passed. Outposts had men watching the roads to provide direction for the traveler, news for the merchant, and security against thieves. Each mile promised the good things of the ones ahead to stretch further out. A land of wealth could easily become a place picked for trouble if the wealth didn't go to those who thought themselves worthy. Whenever the Lord Marshall came towards the castle on a summons, people often peered around their work to see the armor he wore, or the contingents that traveled with him as if by observing the unintentional pagentry never tired. By the time the gates of Griffin Castle opened, the market place began to speculate just what the blonde haired siblings would discuss. Valets came forward at once to usher the horses of all to the stables forwater, rest, and whatever instruction masters would provide. Sir Kendrew stood to the corner of the courtyard listening to the reports of a yeoman who served in the militia, come down from Struan. He asked of Sir Caden Robertson, told of what Clan Robertson would offer before Kendrew clapped a hand to his back with friendship and the men shook hands. " Rest, let fresh eyes and hands take your place for now." Auburn hair was pulled back, yet still pieces fell forward into the sweat creased lines in his forehead. His skin was the color of freshly tanned leather from his time in the unusual stretch of heat burning all mists or signs of cover. For a man of 29 years, he wore more years that day for want of rest (d)
Emeritus Memoria: While Turas Lan was a beautiful city of stone and structure, it was not the sort of home that Eamonn had been use to. Such was why he had been glad to have his own land, his own home, and people who had the same ideology as him. In Eohmark, there were no paved roads. They were a more simpler people and truly showed the Scandinavian culure as well as the Celtic in architecture and customs. Eamonn could never live too long in a place like Turas Lan and have comfort in it. He came from a different world than Bess, and while they might be siblings, they certainly had their differences. The heels of his boots stuck the cold floor and clicked softly as he followed the hallways after the page. As they walked, keen eyes spotted Kendrew, one of Bess most trusted guardians. A curt nod was given to the man as the helm tucked under arm while the other gloved hand curled around the grip of his sword casually. ``Sir Kendrew. Good day. Where is the Duchess at this time?`` He inquired.
Set In Her Way: He lived as his family had for generations while Beathag differed from the long house that held a plethora of faces, names, and blended culture of Norway and the Scottish Highlands. Stone was not so different from the wood, woad, and thatch. As years went by one material blended seamless with the other until Amhlaidh had made a house that could stand the test of time instead of the ancient relic of the old tribes from the mouth of the two rivers. Beathag had sailed to cities, lived in cottages, inns, on the decks of ships. So long as the sea was at her feet and the mountain to her back the Highlander proved she would be fine. True, the castle was far grander a home than the womanof Aberdeen could devise, but it seemed some part of her had always been here as it was. Aye, so long as there was heather, the sea, and a cup of ale the woman would be fine. The page differed to Sir Kendrew, bowing quick so as to now go to his other lessons of the day lest his tutor scold him. " Lord Marshall, good day. Her Grace is in the Solarium o' the East Wing, if ye follow, I'll take ye hence." Talk within the ranks was that Sir Kendrew would assuredly become a military advisor one day, or some such rank befitting his loyalty. To be able to stand at the left or right side of the Lord and Lady of the Isles was enough for him, in given that only an elect few were allowed to do so. He wasn't afraid to dirty his hands, do what was necessary, nor would cease. Where once the Duchess had two guards in the brothers from Dumfrieshire, he stood as the only personal, trusted one now. No replacement had ever been found, nor would he suffer a " replacement" in Roric's place who was not as able, thus he stood alone. (d)
Emeritus Memoria: Bess had been born into a life of royalty, a life of purpose and high integrity. Eamonn was a simpleton, nothing more than the son of a horseman and in a country that was certainly far more simple than the Celts, though not lacking in its own riches. Kendrew was one of the few men that gave his life and duty unconditionally to the Duchess. Eamonn was glad to see someone of such quality around Bess and guarding her. He knew that Kendrew would do his best to guarantee the safety of the Duchess. Eamonn nodded to the page in silence thanks, before turning his attention back to Kendrew. ``Lead the way then, Sir Kendrew.`` Eamonn replied, before following the man to the room in which Bess was currently occupying. Since that day of...discovery, Eamonn had his moment to think and cool down, yet still the aversion to the awkward situation made him tense now and then, and find more secrets that were unknown to him...even his mother. The door was opened, and he followed Kendrew inside. His hand left the grip of his sword and rooted throught he small leather pocket attached to the belt around his waist. Pulling out something wrapped and tied in cloth, he moved toward his sister and bowed firstly, greetingher formally as always. ``Duchess. I have something for you, as well as having come by call of your messengers.`` He stated, before taking her wrist and turning her hand up to expose her palm. Releasing her wrist, the cloth bound object was placed in her hand, and he curled her fingers over it. Within the cloth was the ring of their father thathad once been welded to his sword. He had it removed and fixed once more to add to the collection of things that belonged to her mother and father before he ever came to Sevenwaters. It was then that he took a step back, away from her, and fingers flexed as one hand still held the helm under his armoured arm.
Set In Her Way: So he would lead the way as he was asked. Some said he did what he was told without fail; nobility of the old peerage called him 'puppet' or 'lapdog' to which even he had spent a night or two in the baliff's elected cell when his fist caused the bone of a nose or jaw to break in twain. No. Once, on a ship in the dead of winter, a woman talked with two brothers from Dumfrieshire. One thought her mad for being anywhere near a battle, or weapon, while the other found it amazing she was so unabashed. Both admired the diligence and moving on a narrow-thin whim of the pair and thus found themselves behind the woman despite a disagreeance on the place of the female in life. Roric died in the last battle of the war so that such people could live, for he had seen how the Lowlands were becoming more corrupt by the day. His beliefs had rewarded him and beaten him down, but they were his to uphold. He now had enough money to send for his own mother, father, and youngest sister, give them a place in the neighboring country. He opened the door for the Lord Marshall before bidding the pair farewell with the cant of his head to leave their to theirprivacy. On the Solarium walls were old paintings restored of the sun that streamed through the windows and the wide arched window drinking in the sunlight. At one time, all of the women would have resigned in this quarter of the castle to do chores, to talk, to be at peace. It had been restored when the Duke took his long sixty day journey and his wife couldn't stand the sound of their shared room's silence, so fashioned a niche for herself. Anotherdoor of the room was shut when Beathag walked toward the center, finding her brother took the first words. With an open hand she looked up to him as eyes asked the question for her, and the closing of fingers over it was almost tender. Beathag knew better than to inquire the reason for the offering in the cloth.Holding it close, the opposite arm covered the length of space to touch his armored arm. Catching his gaze for an instant, she saw in him two men of his blood. Even though he, himself, was lost and her own past secrets were still being unearthed, she was more thankful for him than all else. That free arm would gently go around him, tentative at first, but then relaxing as she embraced him. After a few moment's she stepped back, leaving the hand on his shoulder, " When we are alone, or with close family, call me Beathag or Bess. Tis then you are kin first." (d)
Emeritus Memoria: Eamonn glanced only briefly to the woman that left the room systematically. This was not their affair and they knew the routine: when the siblings were in a room together, it was best to excuse onself before even asked, knowing both could not fiery tempers in a flash. Eamonn was still growing accustomed to touches other than his wife. So, when Bess wrapped her arm around him and pulled herself into an embrace, for a moment he was still, tensing quickly, before eventually he relaxed and his free arm wrapped around her shoulders in return. Still getting use to others touching him....and the fact that he had a sister through a shared father. He sighed softly, staring off over her shoulder until the hug finally ended and Bess pulled back, causing his arm to slid off of her shoulders and resume it's perch upon the grip of his sword. ``Now we are alone...but it would look poorly upon you if I did not show respect even as your kin.``
Set In Her Way: "Thank ye for having care with the way the world would look on me." She pulled away and all was as it stood before; his hand on the grip of his sword, her own collected together with one finger curling between the next. Speaking in the open was as good as an established tradition. Would it follow as an example by others in later reigns when all of them were dust in the earth? It was best for the servants to be ready to serve each generation with the same quickness and respect as they did the present. A few poor folk had been on the receiving end of the infamous " Gold Tempers," as they were called in the servant's quarters, and those who hadn't were cautioned against incuring it. "I wanted to tell ye o' things n' then give ye a first hand account when Eirian wakes up. She came just after the sunset, sharin' a carriage with the wounded Avarian Falconer. Maahes brought them up 'ere from the mountan n' hill valley. From what was learned so far, there was a fire set tae a central barn in one of the villages, n' this was done by a vandal party o' five mounted men. Tis the second such fire, one happened a month before. It seems tha' someone has somethin' against young Master Caden n' has marked Eirian, too, for death. A night ago they caught someone n' are holding them underguard at the estate tae be questioned, but they were headin' for Eirian. On the road, tha' was where the Falconer was assaulted. Each enemy is different, but the roads have crossed in these cases. " She would speak more, but first wanted this to be absorbed. Messangers had already been sent to say trave only if utterly necessary for the whole of the day, and if one was to travel, under guard. If Aislin didn't have to travel, in earnest, she hoped her brother would keep her home. She hoped that those she trusted were enough to tend the Falconer and her own eyes could look after Eirian. This danger seemed to be different entirely, rooted in old grudges and family vendettas (d)
-
Emeritus Memoria: Truly, his job was never over. If there was not disturbance in his land or stranger, then it was some criminal act in Turas Lan. Most of the cases were heard and taken care of by the local law enforcement. However, this matter of chained events could not go by without his interference, and with the messenger coming with news that his sister required his presence, Eamonn said farewell to his wife and daughter and saddled up the horses. Eamonn knew better to travel alone these days, for Eamonn already knew that he was not in favour with all of Skye, especially any that might still harbour distaste for the Duchess and Duke. Eamonn and a small host of riders flanking him departed Eohmark and made pilgrimage to the capital city of Turas Lan. It took nearly half the day to reach the fanciful city, and once the dirt path turned to stone, it was apparent that they had reached their destination. The gates opened as word of the Lord Marshal's arrival spread like wildfire throughout the city. The pale horse tail crest streamed in the breeze like the banners of Eohmark and Turas Lan waved on the tips of a few spears within his company, visual reference from afar who the company served. Flying down the streets, Finbar snorted, hooves sounding upon the stone path before the horse came to a sudden stop before the steps that led to the doors of the Griffin castle. Handing the tall spear to one of the guards, Eamonn dismounted quickly from the back of his horse and one of his riders took the reins to lead the horse to the stables with the others. In the meantime, Eamonn had business to attend. Gloved fingers unbuckled the horse helm form his head, revealing the blonde tousled strands of hair from riding and the helmet. Eamonn scaled the steps quickly, two or three at a time before the door were opened and hazel eyes glanced about. Turning to a page, he told the boy to inform the Duchess that he had arrived
Set In Her Way: The cobble stone of the city was slowly stretching out, out, to the wilds but it was natural for places to have the same beaten paths they had for generations. Restoration to the old Roman-influenced plans of the old conquerors would take time to see the main network of roads completed. Structures only a dream months before were given birth to. Aquaducts were passed. Outposts had men watching the roads to provide direction for the traveler, news for the merchant, and security against thieves. Each mile promised the good things of the ones ahead to stretch further out. A land of wealth could easily become a place picked for trouble if the wealth didn't go to those who thought themselves worthy. Whenever the Lord Marshall came towards the castle on a summons, people often peered around their work to see the armor he wore, or the contingents that traveled with him as if by observing the unintentional pagentry never tired. By the time the gates of Griffin Castle opened, the market place began to speculate just what the blonde haired siblings would discuss. Valets came forward at once to usher the horses of all to the stables forwater, rest, and whatever instruction masters would provide. Sir Kendrew stood to the corner of the courtyard listening to the reports of a yeoman who served in the militia, come down from Struan. He asked of Sir Caden Robertson, told of what Clan Robertson would offer before Kendrew clapped a hand to his back with friendship and the men shook hands. " Rest, let fresh eyes and hands take your place for now." Auburn hair was pulled back, yet still pieces fell forward into the sweat creased lines in his forehead. His skin was the color of freshly tanned leather from his time in the unusual stretch of heat burning all mists or signs of cover. For a man of 29 years, he wore more years that day for want of rest (d)
Emeritus Memoria: While Turas Lan was a beautiful city of stone and structure, it was not the sort of home that Eamonn had been use to. Such was why he had been glad to have his own land, his own home, and people who had the same ideology as him. In Eohmark, there were no paved roads. They were a more simpler people and truly showed the Scandinavian culure as well as the Celtic in architecture and customs. Eamonn could never live too long in a place like Turas Lan and have comfort in it. He came from a different world than Bess, and while they might be siblings, they certainly had their differences. The heels of his boots stuck the cold floor and clicked softly as he followed the hallways after the page. As they walked, keen eyes spotted Kendrew, one of Bess most trusted guardians. A curt nod was given to the man as the helm tucked under arm while the other gloved hand curled around the grip of his sword casually. ``Sir Kendrew. Good day. Where is the Duchess at this time?`` He inquired.
Set In Her Way: He lived as his family had for generations while Beathag differed from the long house that held a plethora of faces, names, and blended culture of Norway and the Scottish Highlands. Stone was not so different from the wood, woad, and thatch. As years went by one material blended seamless with the other until Amhlaidh had made a house that could stand the test of time instead of the ancient relic of the old tribes from the mouth of the two rivers. Beathag had sailed to cities, lived in cottages, inns, on the decks of ships. So long as the sea was at her feet and the mountain to her back the Highlander proved she would be fine. True, the castle was far grander a home than the womanof Aberdeen could devise, but it seemed some part of her had always been here as it was. Aye, so long as there was heather, the sea, and a cup of ale the woman would be fine. The page differed to Sir Kendrew, bowing quick so as to now go to his other lessons of the day lest his tutor scold him. " Lord Marshall, good day. Her Grace is in the Solarium o' the East Wing, if ye follow, I'll take ye hence." Talk within the ranks was that Sir Kendrew would assuredly become a military advisor one day, or some such rank befitting his loyalty. To be able to stand at the left or right side of the Lord and Lady of the Isles was enough for him, in given that only an elect few were allowed to do so. He wasn't afraid to dirty his hands, do what was necessary, nor would cease. Where once the Duchess had two guards in the brothers from Dumfrieshire, he stood as the only personal, trusted one now. No replacement had ever been found, nor would he suffer a " replacement" in Roric's place who was not as able, thus he stood alone. (d)
Emeritus Memoria: Bess had been born into a life of royalty, a life of purpose and high integrity. Eamonn was a simpleton, nothing more than the son of a horseman and in a country that was certainly far more simple than the Celts, though not lacking in its own riches. Kendrew was one of the few men that gave his life and duty unconditionally to the Duchess. Eamonn was glad to see someone of such quality around Bess and guarding her. He knew that Kendrew would do his best to guarantee the safety of the Duchess. Eamonn nodded to the page in silence thanks, before turning his attention back to Kendrew. ``Lead the way then, Sir Kendrew.`` Eamonn replied, before following the man to the room in which Bess was currently occupying. Since that day of...discovery, Eamonn had his moment to think and cool down, yet still the aversion to the awkward situation made him tense now and then, and find more secrets that were unknown to him...even his mother. The door was opened, and he followed Kendrew inside. His hand left the grip of his sword and rooted throught he small leather pocket attached to the belt around his waist. Pulling out something wrapped and tied in cloth, he moved toward his sister and bowed firstly, greetingher formally as always. ``Duchess. I have something for you, as well as having come by call of your messengers.`` He stated, before taking her wrist and turning her hand up to expose her palm. Releasing her wrist, the cloth bound object was placed in her hand, and he curled her fingers over it. Within the cloth was the ring of their father thathad once been welded to his sword. He had it removed and fixed once more to add to the collection of things that belonged to her mother and father before he ever came to Sevenwaters. It was then that he took a step back, away from her, and fingers flexed as one hand still held the helm under his armoured arm.
Set In Her Way: So he would lead the way as he was asked. Some said he did what he was told without fail; nobility of the old peerage called him 'puppet' or 'lapdog' to which even he had spent a night or two in the baliff's elected cell when his fist caused the bone of a nose or jaw to break in twain. No. Once, on a ship in the dead of winter, a woman talked with two brothers from Dumfrieshire. One thought her mad for being anywhere near a battle, or weapon, while the other found it amazing she was so unabashed. Both admired the diligence and moving on a narrow-thin whim of the pair and thus found themselves behind the woman despite a disagreeance on the place of the female in life. Roric died in the last battle of the war so that such people could live, for he had seen how the Lowlands were becoming more corrupt by the day. His beliefs had rewarded him and beaten him down, but they were his to uphold. He now had enough money to send for his own mother, father, and youngest sister, give them a place in the neighboring country. He opened the door for the Lord Marshall before bidding the pair farewell with the cant of his head to leave their to theirprivacy. On the Solarium walls were old paintings restored of the sun that streamed through the windows and the wide arched window drinking in the sunlight. At one time, all of the women would have resigned in this quarter of the castle to do chores, to talk, to be at peace. It had been restored when the Duke took his long sixty day journey and his wife couldn't stand the sound of their shared room's silence, so fashioned a niche for herself. Anotherdoor of the room was shut when Beathag walked toward the center, finding her brother took the first words. With an open hand she looked up to him as eyes asked the question for her, and the closing of fingers over it was almost tender. Beathag knew better than to inquire the reason for the offering in the cloth.Holding it close, the opposite arm covered the length of space to touch his armored arm. Catching his gaze for an instant, she saw in him two men of his blood. Even though he, himself, was lost and her own past secrets were still being unearthed, she was more thankful for him than all else. That free arm would gently go around him, tentative at first, but then relaxing as she embraced him. After a few moment's she stepped back, leaving the hand on his shoulder, " When we are alone, or with close family, call me Beathag or Bess. Tis then you are kin first." (d)
Emeritus Memoria: Eamonn glanced only briefly to the woman that left the room systematically. This was not their affair and they knew the routine: when the siblings were in a room together, it was best to excuse onself before even asked, knowing both could not fiery tempers in a flash. Eamonn was still growing accustomed to touches other than his wife. So, when Bess wrapped her arm around him and pulled herself into an embrace, for a moment he was still, tensing quickly, before eventually he relaxed and his free arm wrapped around her shoulders in return. Still getting use to others touching him....and the fact that he had a sister through a shared father. He sighed softly, staring off over her shoulder until the hug finally ended and Bess pulled back, causing his arm to slid off of her shoulders and resume it's perch upon the grip of his sword. ``Now we are alone...but it would look poorly upon you if I did not show respect even as your kin.``
Set In Her Way: "Thank ye for having care with the way the world would look on me." She pulled away and all was as it stood before; his hand on the grip of his sword, her own collected together with one finger curling between the next. Speaking in the open was as good as an established tradition. Would it follow as an example by others in later reigns when all of them were dust in the earth? It was best for the servants to be ready to serve each generation with the same quickness and respect as they did the present. A few poor folk had been on the receiving end of the infamous " Gold Tempers," as they were called in the servant's quarters, and those who hadn't were cautioned against incuring it. "I wanted to tell ye o' things n' then give ye a first hand account when Eirian wakes up. She came just after the sunset, sharin' a carriage with the wounded Avarian Falconer. Maahes brought them up 'ere from the mountan n' hill valley. From what was learned so far, there was a fire set tae a central barn in one of the villages, n' this was done by a vandal party o' five mounted men. Tis the second such fire, one happened a month before. It seems tha' someone has somethin' against young Master Caden n' has marked Eirian, too, for death. A night ago they caught someone n' are holding them underguard at the estate tae be questioned, but they were headin' for Eirian. On the road, tha' was where the Falconer was assaulted. Each enemy is different, but the roads have crossed in these cases. " She would speak more, but first wanted this to be absorbed. Messangers had already been sent to say trave only if utterly necessary for the whole of the day, and if one was to travel, under guard. If Aislin didn't have to travel, in earnest, she hoped her brother would keep her home. She hoped that those she trusted were enough to tend the Falconer and her own eyes could look after Eirian. This danger seemed to be different entirely, rooted in old grudges and family vendettas (d)
-
