Moonlight gleams palely down over the courtyard, giving only the barest of illumination to the outlines of the deep shadows of night. All is quiet, save for the soft chirp of insects, and the melodic call of a bird -
- and the pounding of small feet, running at breakneck pace over the flagstone paths. Her cheeks flushed and breath gaspingly fast, Ryssa Waters dashes through the maze of courtyards towards, wide eyes darting frightened glances behind her with every step.
Coming from the east, a figure garbed in dark hues of red and bronze makes her way from the dark interiors of the Godswood. As she moves across the courtyard, and turns to the sound of running feet, the pale light of the moon catches upon the streaks of silver that cut through the blackness of her hair. She pauses for a moment, then raises her voice and calls out to running woman. “Is something the matter?”
Others seem to take the night air with pleasure, strolling in the balmy summer evening with some purpose or another, or perhaps no purpose at all. The last seems to be the case for Ser Aidan Dayne, hands clasped behind his back and his expression distant. Perhaps he considers on some weighty matter of chivalry or perhaps on the Seven; regardless, he is initially oblivious to the sound of racing feet. It’s only after passing beneath the somewhat withered branches of a small tree growing stubbornly from a crack in the base of the walls that a call in the darkness brings him out of his revery. He breaks from his reverie, stopping where he stands. It is dark, and it takes time for him to search out the source of the call by the night’s faint illumination.
The voice in the darkness draws a sharp, startled cry from Ryssa, and the girl stops, spinning on her toes towards the sound. Her head whips around, eyes wide and frightened. “What? No! I - I - ” A moment’s stammering gives way to a long, ragged breath, as Ryssa desperately struggles to push her expression back towards composure. “I - I’ve stayed out too late, my lady,” she finally manages to gasp out. “Too long at prayers. I - I must return - forgive me!”
A faint tilt of her head expresses some curiosity at Ryssa’s current state of mind, and against her usual inclinations Aisling moves in the girl’s direction. “I do admit to thinking that too much prayer cannot be a good thing, but I have never before seen anyone react in quite such a fashion,” she replies, a little dryly. Coming closer, she looks the other woman over with a hint of appraisal in her gaze. “Where are you on your way, then? The Guest Tower? I suppose that is my destination, too. It is rather late to be off to the stables now, I think.”
The murmur of words from the darkness and the two figures limned oh so faintly by the waxing moon’s light draws the Dornish knight after a moment’s hesitation. His silken robes rustle slightly as he comes nearer, but his slippered feet are otherwise quiet on the stones. “Hello?” he calls, a question in the greeting even as he can begin to make out some details of the two young women. “My apologies, my ladies, but…” He doesn’t finish the thought, trailing into a moment’s awkwardness.
“May I be of some assistance?” he asks finally.
“Yes!” The word rushes out of Ryssa with too much enthusiasm, and she hastily pulls back, continuing more softly, “Yes, my lady, I-I am going to the Guest Tower. A-and I would be most grateful for the company along the way.” Ryssa speaks quickly, her tone rising and falling in a pattern of courtesy so well-practiced that it comes instinctively, even in her agitation, and even though a few ragged gasps still break up the flow of her words.
Ryssa steps closer to the taller girl, her agitated breathing calming a bit - but then another voice breaks in, and her eyes go wide again as she looks swiftly up at the tall knight in his exotic silken robes. “My lord,” she stammers, then swallows, and tries again. “Thank you - I - everything is fine, thank you.”
“Very well, then. Let us be on our way—” begins Aisling, then finds herself cut short by Aidan’s approach. “Good evening, Ser Aidan. Have you been too long at prayer as well?” she asks of him, a wry smile quirking her lips for a moment.
Aidan’s brow lowers briefly at the stammered words, and his dark eyes turn to the darkness behind the ladies, perhaps to see if there are any others watching. “You are quite right, Lady Aisling,” he says with a brief but shadowed smile. “The hours run away with me at times, when I am at my devotions.” He turns his gaze to the younger woman then, perhaps curious. But what he says is gallant enough, “If you do not think me forward, I should be glad to join Lady Aisling and yourself on your way to the Guest Tower. It is good to have company when the night is still.”
Ryssa’s eyes flutter in a startled blink as she hears the knight’s name, recognition dawning. She tilts her head up to look at him more closely, her gaze curious and admiring despite the anxious agitation that still lingers around the edges of her expression. And at his last words, her mouth tightens in a faint, wry attempt at a smile, as she agrees, “It is, indeed.” Ryssa pauses, taking one last shaky breath before saying, “I - I do not think it forward at all, Ser Aidan. And again, I would be grateful for the company. If one companion in the still and dark is good, two are even better. I thank you, my lord.” Her smile edges a little wider, and she turns towards the Guest Tower, a little more at ease than she was before.
A thoughtful glance passed from Aidan to Ryssa, and then back again, before Aisling offers another wry smile in response. She remains silent, though, and stays like that for the brief walk back to the Guest Tower. Only as Ryssa takes her leave, rather eagerly disappearing inside of the tower, does she speak up again. “How fortunate that you were here to play the gallant knight for the damsel in distress. Your presence seemed rather more reassuring than mine own,” she notes, sounding dryly amused yet again.