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 Posted: Thu Jun 28, 2012 9:22 pm
She holds the mug in both hands, and daintily sips at the soup: it is rather unlike anything else she has ever tasted, but not bad, for all of that. She pauses to listen to him talk, her head tilted, and then glances to Iskierka; the fawn just looks at her and gives her a sort of shrug. "I would like to hunt, and fish, and travel." She smiles, looking around the woods. "I can tell you what's come through here. Beyond the deer." Her smile turns genuine and a bit pleased -- a girlish sort of expression, certainly.
It is clear how easily she has been charmed -- she would not flaunt these rather unseemly talents elsewhere. They are certainly not the type of womanly arts that are appropriate for young ladies of her stature. They would do no more than get her raised eyebrows and pitying looks in most circles. And then, out of nowhere, she asks, "Do you ever go to Oldcastle?"
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Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2012 7:58 am
There is a pause while he processes the change of conversation -- or perhaps while he thinks of something else, because he when he does reply, his nod is reluctant, his smile has faded down, and his expression is just a little bit guarded. It looks strange on his face. And his voice sounds strange, with an edge of caution behind it.
"Aye, I've been." His fingers shift around the cup and his eyes take her in for just a moment, nervous until Wren sets her head on his shoulder. Then his smile blossoms, smaller but back to himself, and he reaches up to pet her nose. "Not in a year or so, though. Wren ain't been since she was...well, still wood, if ye ken."
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Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2012 8:41 am
This sudden shift in Warwick's demeanor actually causes Jessica to stop wringing her hands -- her nervous tendencies cease, and she looks at him with wide hazel eyes. And then Wren, and wishes -- for a moment, truly wishes -- that Iskierka was friendlier, that she behaved more like a happy companion who would suffer a ball on her nose, rather than a standoffish and rather less than ladylike excuse for a deer.
A slow glance to her Chosen finds Iskierka staring at her, ears fanned out; the deer glances rather haughtily to Wren, and then steps delicately over to take Jessica's braid in her teeth and pull. It is a gesture of ownership. It makes Jessica wince. "--I've never been to Oldcastle, but I should like to go. I feel that I might like it better there, that," and here she fumbles for words as she reaches up with one hand to bat her deer away, "I would fit in better there."
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Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2012 8:52 am
"Why you think that?" He raises his eyebrows, slowly, hand resting on Wren -- and in this moment, she's not actually playing at puppy, as she is so wont to do. She is not just teasing him, or playing. This is reassurance, something about his demeanor or his posture or something in the bond between them making it clear that he needs it. His last jaunt through Old Castle hadn't exactly been a happy time.
Warwick licks his lips and brings the cup halfway up this mouth before he pauses again. "I didn't see much, before. We just, uh. Stopped in for th'night..."
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Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2012 9:19 pm
She pauses for a moment -- she is at a delicate sort of crossroads. How best to proceed? Even Wren seems to have picked up on the sudden change in the air. She has gone from puppy to protector. It makes Jessica look up for Iskierka; she is rewarded with the fawn's soft nose obligingly settling into her palm. This only happens when Jessica does something that the fawn deems worthy of praise.
Her heart is suddenly filled with the notion to hare off into Oldcastle, perhaps riding on the back of the man's cart with Iskierka loping behind and the wind pulling her hair out of its braid, perhaps while Warwick himself uses a long-handled whip to spur the donkey on -- she shakes her head, and then looks to Warwick, a light in her hazel eyes. She would have sat up straighter if she wasn't wearing a whalebone corset. But her shoulders roll back, and her chin lifts; for a moment she is a queen surveying an entire kingdom she has just won with one sudden decision.
"There is less -- there aren't so many people in Oldcastle; certainly not ones who would send me home for what shoes I did or didn't wear, or whether my hair is parted correctly." She snorts, a most undignified response, and seems much older than seventeen in that moment. "Nor will they know who I am -- not if I wear pants and a hat. The next time you go, perhaps Iskierka and I will follow. I won't bother, of course; I've my own horse."
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Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2012 9:46 pm
Blinking at her, Warwick weighs that, unsure exactly what to say. Obviously, Jessica has it in her mind that he follows some specific route, that he knows where he'll be in a month's time, and perhaps to a degree she's right. He moves in lazy circles around the country side, usually avoiding the big cities and setting up camp at their outskirts. There are two reasons for this; the first is the fear that large groups of people would chase him off, would disapprove, would case him trouble. The second is that big city folk seem less charmed by him in general.
He'd rather a small, enthusiastic audience, than a big one that gave him trouble.
So his answer comes slowly, hesitant. "If it's just a ride ye need, I reckon I could head in that direction..." And maybe, in part, it's that light in her eyes that makes him regret the offer almost before it's fully out of his mouth.
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Posted: Sat Jun 30, 2012 6:54 pm
Iskierka actually nuzzles the side of Jessica's head. Both of them will be able to count on one hand -- using a single digit -- the number of times this has happened. This is the very first time the fawn has done anything so outwardly affectionate.
It leaves Jessica a bit wide-eyed, but no less bright-eyed; none of the fire in her expression has gone out. It is all she can do to avoid just bounding up to her feet; instead, she finishes her stew, sets her cup down with a 'tink' of ceramic against stone, and then rises to her feet. Slow, and steady, and graceful. A ladylike sort of movement. "Good! I shall be here tomorrow, at dusk; will that do?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 30, 2012 7:01 pm
"...uh." His plan, of course, had been to leave with dawn, to keep moseying on to the next city. Now, though, he hesitates, shifts -- and eventually, somewhat uncertainly, raises one shoulder in a shrug. Perhaps instead he will put on a show for the nearby town; perhaps this is to make him eat that thought, and fully commit to small, enthusiastic audiences, even if it means a virtual loss.
"Uh. Not here. I ain't gunna stay here, nothin fer me here." He sets his mug down, slowly, and smooths the mess of his hair back out of his face. "Let's say near the post, instead? I c'n get supplies and collect a bit in the afternoon..."
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Posted: Tue Jul 03, 2012 9:09 pm
This makes things rather more difficult. Losing her chaperone in the forest at night is one thing, and easily accomplished. Venturing out to the post, unsure of its exact location and doing so in broad daylight, unchaperoned, with supplies filched from the manor house?
It almost weakens her resolve, and she looks nervously to Iskierka. The fawn remains unimpressed, watching her Chosen with a flat expression, ears laid back: not unlike the fat, surly cats that rule the kitchens at home. She pushes a hand through her hair, nervously, and then steels herself. When she does so, visibly pinkening through the ears and cheeks, Iskierka picks her way over to her Chosen and headbutts her companionably in the hip.
"I ... I may come nearer evening, if that's fine with you. It will be easier for me." She looks over her shoulder. "I should be going -- .. but I'll meet you tomorrow, at dusk."
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