Carmella smiles at Ryssa as the other girl takes the cage. “You have such a kind spirit, Ryssa, I am sure it will thrive in your care,” Carmella tells the Waters girl, no small amount of relief in her face. Ser Giles watches the entire scene and looks hard pressed to keep from rolling his eyes at the rabbit rescue.
Alyce turns a silent gaze up at Andry, her eyes a touch wide at his retort to the departing Endros. Her cobalt eyes flick to him for a moment while he speaks to Rosalind then she looks back to Carmella, smiling and nodding in agreement before she turns her attention back to Ryssa for a moment, “One day soon we much have a long chat wherein you fit all these pieces together for me.”
Ryssa strains a bit to lift the bulky wooden cage, but she offers a hesitant smile to Carmella as she does. “Thank you, my lady. I should be getting this little thing to somewhere safer.” The rabbit is still rustling agitatedly around the edges of its cage, and Ryssa pats the top of the box as if she were soothing the animal itself as she adds, “And quieter. Fare you well. And cousin - please come visit when you can! I promise, I will explain all that I can.” And with that, Ryssa turns to take her rescued rabbit - new pet? - into the tower.
Carmella sighs heavily and looks up at Ser Giles, only to get a dark chuckle in return. “I hope the tourney is soon or else I fear we’ll see real bloodshed in one of these yards,” she tells her knight as she briefly watches the Buckler man stride off. But there are happier farewells to deliver and those are given to Ryssa before she can get too far away. There’s even a smile on the Dondarrion’s lips before too long.
The day’s fresh breeze off the sea seems to make the outdoors tolerable, as the various knights and ladies in the yards reveal. It should be no surprise that there are Dornishmen who might think it a good time to take their ease, as Ser Aidan Dayne does when he leaves his tower. A pair of the king’s sworn knights watch the man exit the tower from their place guarding the entryway, but of course they do not hinder him. Indeed, they speak with him briefly, as he pauses to squint a little at the sudden brightness out of doors and apparently greets them.
The breeze catches at a hem of his robe, making it sway slightly, before he takes his leave of the guards and moves along into the yard. Notably, a bow is in his hand, and a quiver with its compliment of fletched arrows is at his belt.
Try as he might, the smile that makes its way to Ser Andry’s face is clearly forced, though his composure has returned otherwise. His eyes flicker to the archer, squinting in the sunlight, then move back to Rosalind. “The day finds you well, I hope,” he offers in cheery greeting, “It seems as though the tension has settled just in time for your arrival.”
Rosa’s confusion has not diminished by the time she makes the trek across the yard to join the small gathering of nobles. She is in time to catch Ryssa’s depart, the sight of the maid carrying a hare in a cage is enough to cause a double-take. Likewise, the passage of Ser Aidan is noted and the girl dips her chin respectfully. Upon reaching the group, she curtseys politely. “Good afternoon, Ser Andry, ladies, Ser Giles.” Another bewildered glance at in the direction of Ryssa’s retreat. “Was that a rabbit she carries?” Seems like a good place to start.
Alyce nods to her departing cousin then she clasps her hands before her, watching the group disperse like errand clouds on a dark sky, leaving a glimmer of light through what’s left, the tension easing. She nods softly to Rosalind then her eyes catch Aiden and she takes note of him before looking back to her present company, thoughtfully quiet.
“Ser Endros sought to have his dogs kill it here in the yard, for sport and to earn a few coins in a bet,” Carmella says with some bitterness come back into her tone. She blinks and then remembers herself. “Good day, Rosalind,” she says in greeting, nodding to the Lannister bastard. “Lady Jyana sought to save it from such a death and ...” Carmella looks around as if uncertain herself what happened. “It is in Ryssa’s care for now, I know not how long that will last. All depends on if Lady Jyana will grant Ser Endros the payment he asked of her.”
Perhaps the Dornishman is not so intent on shooting at targets in the outer yard, for the Dayne knight, seeing such a small but handsome company gathered together, slows and then changes his course to come towards them. “Good day, my lords, my ladies,” he states pleasantly, Dorne plain in his accent, and he even offers a brief bow. “A fine day, and a company to suit it, I see. I hope I find you all well?” He asks everyone, but his glance lingers on those he does not quite recognize.
Rosalind bobs another curtsey, “Good afternoon, Ser.” She replies politely. “I think me that the excitement was just missed.” She cants her head, looking at Carmella, “Was he training his dogs? Seems like an odd place to do that. So I hope Ryssa will release the animal, if it was not injured. Wild creatures do not fare well in cages.”
It -is- a sweet day, and there are so many ways to enjoy it. But Reyna Saltcliffe is rather limited in her choices as she wanders into the eastern yard shaking a rather noisy falcon lure and shadowed by a stumpy sort of man in scarred leather. “How long has it been since you’ve flown him?” she asks the man crossly, ceasing to shake the lure and putting her hands on her hips—rather an impressive feat, obscured as they are by her rather alarmingly round belly. On one hand she wears a glove as scarred as her man’s jerkin, and she keeps her eye on the sky.
Leaving the silence and shade offered by the Godwoods, Lady Aisling makes her way out into the eastern yard. At first, her path seems set towards the Guest Tower, though upon noticing the small gathering near the centre of the yard, she alters her course to draw nearer. A curious decision, perhaps, considering the lady’s reputation, but a glance over at the Tower would offer a plausible explanation; entering it just then is a slender, pale-haired woman accompanied by a guardsman in Ryger colours. And so it is that she approaches those gathered in the yard instead. “Good day, my lords and ladies,” she offers by way of greeting, and inclines her head politely.
Andry clearly feels the young man’s eyes upon him, for he is spurred to speech. “As fine as the day is bright, I would say.” He lifts a hand to his chest and bows lightly. “Ser Andry Chester,” he confesses, “late of Highgarden.” He straightens his back and smiles broadly, the look of a man used to being well-met. “Might I ask you the favor of putting us on equal footing?” As the new Lady draws near his attention is once again drawn in a new direction. Offering a nodding bow once more he greets her as well.
Alyce
Like gold streaked flames trapped in a web her fiery red hair is caught into a chignon at the nape of her neck. A few wavy, rebellious tendrils have escaped the gathered strands to frame her face, the whole of it reaching near her waist when left unbound. A fair, smooth complexion is the canvas for her blue eyes which are set in a frame of dark auburn lashes and topped with elegantly arched brows. Her nose is straight and proportional to the rest of her fine-boned features, balanced nicely by plump, pale pink lips and a declicately curved jaw and chin. Her height supports her feminine curves with toned limbs and an overall leanness that is puncutated by the outward swell of bosom and hips offsetting her narrow waist.
A day gown of deep green silk swathes her form in airy elegance. Careful stitches have put a lettuce-edge on the scooped neckline and capped sleeves, the ruffle like edging also applied to the skirts hem. A curling design of crystal-dotted embroidery extends from the neckline to the band of the gown’s empire waist, covering the bodice and sleeves in random sparkles. As if afloat, layers of sheer emerald chiffon overlay skirt, lightly brushing against the tops of her slippered feet. A deep green choker circles her slender neck, a green oval gem hanging at the hollow of her throat matching similarly cut drops that dangle from her ears.
Aidan’s gaze gives her pause to smile politely and she offers a gracious bowing nod, the steady influx of new faces sending her eyes over each in a like manner. Alyce follow’s Andry’s lead and smiles, “Alyce Bar Emmon,” she says in a smooth tone in the man’s direction. She pauses briefly and then looks to Andry and smiles, “Do tell Ryssa about your Lady of Cabbage, hmm?” and her eyes sparkle with merriment as she steps to the fringe of the group, “lady Carmella, Rosalind, good to see you both, but I’ve an appointment I shan’t keep waiting.”
Carmella shakes her head at Rosalind. “No, there was no training involved. It was all for sport, to make some coin off of betting,” she says, not at all impressed with what was almost witnessed. “As for the rabbit’s fate, that is in Lady Jyana’s hands at the moment.” She does not seem to like that either. It is a Dornish voice that draws her from the talk of dogs and rabbits as she looks up to find Ser Aidan approaching.
“A fine day, Ser Aidan,” she greets with her usual warmth. It *just* overshadows the tension lingering in her eyes. More voices require more greetings and she in turn nods to the approaching northernwoman. “Greetings, Lady Aisling,” she says with another dip of her head. The tension begins to override the smile as Reyna approaches, though it is not to the lady that Carmella looks, but to the lure and then the skies above.
The Dornishman’s dark blue eyes, having passed over Ser Andry, come back to him when he introduces himself. His smile loses some of its ease, but it remains firmly in place. “I am Ser Aidan Dayne,” he says briefly, and nods his head politely to the man. His gaze does not linger on him, however; instead it’s Aisling, greeting everyone, who draws his attention. “Good day, my lady,” he tells her, again offering a half bow, all grace and courtesy. “I wonder if I might convince some of you to join me for shooting at the butts? Just an amusement, to pass the time.”
“Rosalind Hill, as it please you, Ser. I am the natural daughter of Ser Landyll Lannister.” The bastard girl speaks quietly, “Alas, I must be off as well. Fare you well, Sers and ladies.” She seems to consider Carmella’s words carefully, but it is an expression difficult to read. “Thank you, lady.” she says to Carmella, then departs.
Reyna and her bird garners some interest, with an appreciative look at the animal in question, before her dark eyes settle for a moment on Carmella, as Aisling overhears her exchange with Ryssa regarding the rabbit. “Was there an accident of some kind, Lady Carmella?” she queries of the other woman, then finds herself distracted as Aidan, too, speaks up. Her eyes now go to the bow he carries, and she gives him a considering look. A glance is then cast over her shoulder, back at the Guest Tower, before she inclines her head. “I think I would like to give that a try, Ser Aidan.”
“I should be amused if my wretched bird would return,” Reyna remarks, acting on Aidan’s invitation but speaking to no one in particular as she draws near to Carmella. “-Someone—” and here she casts a steely eye on the falconer “—has neglected to fly him as often as he should be, and he’s out larking about somewhere. Hallo, Carmella. And Lady Aisling and Ser Aidan, as well. Ser Andry.” She blinks owlishly as she looks down from the brilliant sky to properly greet the people there, bobbing a curtsy before stepping back and rattling the lure again.
“A pleasure to meet all of you, so many fine reputations being among us,” Andry says, “I’m afraid I can’t join you; its been an eternity since I’ve had the time to shoot, and I fear I’d waste our day chasing my stray shots.” He smooths his tabard absent-mindedly, a minute sign of some agitation in his posture. “Even worse, I fear its been nearly two days since my charger has had the chance to run, and she’ll be stiff by the tournament if I don’t attend to her.” He bows, more formally now that he’s made measure of present company, and backs from the gathering before turning with a gentle rush of his hunter green cloak and making his way for the gate.
“No accident, my lady,” Carmella says, shaking her head at Aisling. “Simply a brutish knight hoping to make a few coins by betting on which of his dogs would rip a poor rabbit apart,” she tells her, nervously bringing her gaze back down to earth. “It seems that for now there shall be no bloodshed in the yards.”
She takes a couple od steps away from Reyna but again her eyes go to the lure. “Please,” she asks of her friend as she casts another wary look towards the skies. “Not .... not so close,” she says as she steps closer to Ser Giles for his oh so necessary protection in this matter. She looks back to Ser Aidan. “I could try…” which sends a groan from Ser Giles, “but I’ve never shot a bow before.”
“You look very well, Lady Reyna,” the Knight of the Twilight remarks, after only a momentary silence. “You’ll join us, then? I’m sure you’ll put me to shame, lady, so long as you do not think overmuch of your bird. They come and they go as they please, but in the end the easy meals in the mew bring them back.” To Ser Andry and others who take their leave, he gives appropriate farewells; the ladies in whose company he remains get rather more attention, however. Lady Carmella’s words cause him to shake his head. “Never? Truly? It’s common sport in Dorne, and I thought it’d be the same in the Marches, Lady Carmella.”
Reyna looks at the bow in Aidan’s hand and tilts her head thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose the wretch will come back on his own,” she says musingly as she raises her arms and mimes pulling a bow. “I could certainly -try- to join you,” she says then, smiling at last. “And you are very kind to say so, Ser Aidan. Most everyone else has taken to following me round as if afraid I’m going to burst.”
She steps further away from Carmella, giving the girl an assuring smile, and hands both lure and glove to the falconer. “Send word the moment he returns, and see he’s flown at least twice a sevenday,” she tells him, glowering.
“One can only hope his dogs will sink their teeth into him instead. I would be happy to lay a wager on how much he’d squeal then,” comes Aisling’s response as Carmella explains the matter, though before she goes any further, she takes notice of the Dondarrion lady’s apparent unease. One slender brow arches curiously, but before she can speak Aidan has already turned the subject back to the archery. “If I was so minded, I would say this is a more appropriate thing to lay a wager on. Though I would have been more pleased to see the knight just spoken of as a target than simply the common kind.”
Once Reyna has removed her equiptment Carmella looks more at ease, stepping up to the woman and brushing a kiss to her cheek in a more familiar greeting. “You are looking so well,” she beams with a glance to Reyna’s midsection, though does appear surprised that Reyna would try her hand at the bow as well. She steps back and looks to Aisling. “I am sure the Seven will see to him and his treatment of their lesser creatures,” she says, though she cannot help the bit of a smirk that blossoms on her lips as the lady lays out her idea of punishment.
With an arm to Reyna’s she turns towards the Dornish knight. “We ladies were not always so encouraged as the ladies south of the Red Mountains are, good ser. And to be honest, I had not the enthusiasm for such things as I’ve acquired here in King’s Landing.”
Aidan seems to take Aisling’s sharp remarks in stride concerning this feckless knight who’s earned such dislike from the ladies, and he says, “Sometimes knights, however good and true, are as thoughtless as fools. No doubt the man will repent of his error, when he knows of how they have been taken.” Hefting the bow a little, he then says to the half-Dornish Carmella, “As you say, lady. I suppose it is enough that you keep the princess entertained by joining her at riding at the quintain.” He is gracious in his manner, as usual, but it could very well seem ... patronizing, referring to it as entertainment. He’s quite pleasant as he goes on to the group, “Should we go along then? You are welcome to watch, at least, and keep us company, Lady Carmella.”” to Reyna.
“I am afraid that I do not quite have enough faith in the gods—of whatever variety they may be—to trust in them to handle such matters in a satisfactory manner,” replies Aisling to Carmella. A hand is raised to push back a few errants wisps of black-and-silver hair, then the Northern lady turns again to the Southron knight. “And I have even less faith, Ser Aidan, in the goodness and truth of man’s nature. To think that he will repent simply because he has earned the disapproval of a few ladies is to be almost foolishly idealistic.” She doesn’t quite come out and say that she thinks this of the Dornish knight. Not quite. And then she inclines her head, politely but perhaps a little curtly, to indicate her readiness.
Not knowing to what Aisling refers, Reyna holds her tongue, instead allowing Carmella to take her arm. “My father loved to hunt,” she says to Carmella. “So Garvys saw to it I knew the rudiments, at least. But perhaps he’s thinking of me now, and that’s why that ungrateful merlin has flown away; he gave it to me, and we make each other peevish.”
Her chatter is proof of her good mood, but she does raise a brow in Aisling’s direction. “Now I must know what’s happened to earn such ire. Is it this matter of dogs and hares? A cruel pastime, it’s true, but there are men abroad who are crueller still, and you are right. The disapproval of a few ladies is nothing to such men. Do lead on, Ser Aidan.”
The ladies that join the princess are often mocked for their play at the quintain, enough so that Carmella receives Ser Aidan’s comment with a close-lipped smile. “It is nothing compared to what a skilled knight could do,” she tells him kindly enough as they walk towards the target. She keeps an eye on Reyna, worrying over the lady’s condition. Her gaze trails briefly to Aisling and nods, wearing less of a smile now. “Then perhaps some others will find him not so agreeable and will seek to teach him,” she says with a shrug. “Or perhaps he might have a change of heart all on his own,” she adds, sounding not at all hopeful of that prospect.
Gregarious, Ser Aidan seems to enjoy the company of the ladies, however dour they are regarding the virtues of certain knights, and indeed rather prickly about it in one case. He does indeed lead the way towards the practice yard, where a pair of straw-stuffed targets are out but quite ignored; mostly a few knights practice at arms, sparring with one another or tilting at the quintain. Aidan excuses himself, to seek out more bows and arrows from the Master at Arms, and it takes a few minutes before he returns.
Having gone silent for a time—no doubt brooding over the matter previously discussed—Aisling watches idly as Ser Aidan heads off to find the necessary equipment. The occasional glance is spared for the other ladies who decided to accompany the Dornish knight, but for the time being she does not appear to have much more to say. Instead, she busies herself with picking at real and imagined lint along the sleeves of her gown, a distinctly pensive, narrow-lipped expression on her face.
They were arguing again. The sight of it was almost ridiculous, with Noel Standfast, tall, broad-shouldered and grumpy-looking, glowering at the young lady in front of him with his scarred arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes narrowed. The golden-haired young lady has her hands up, palms facing the sky, an earnest look on her face. It was the typical scene between them whenever another knight is concerned - this time, a certain large one accompanied by snarling hunting dogs. However, the words die down when Carmella’s company becomes visible, entering the yard with very little fanfare, but with some sense of purpose.
“.....we’ll discuss this later,” Ser Noel growls under his breath. He gives her a pointed look. “No. Dogs.”
“Yes, Noel,” Jyana sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “Will you let me approach Carmella at least?”
The curt nod from her erstwhile and grumpy protector causes her to smile despite the heated words bandied about. She whirls around, and starts trotting lightly to where Carmella is. There is a curious look on her face - after all, she hadn’t been there when the hare met its final fate.
“I’ll use a bow with a very light pull,” Reyna assures Carmella, nudging her as they walk. “And if there’s the least trouble with it, I’ll stop at once. I promise.” Her smile is that of a wheedling child promising to take the greatest of care, as if she seeks permission from the younger woman. “Dagur would say it is high time the lad was exposed to something other than women’s things alone, you know.”
Carmella laughs at Reyna and pats her arm. “Then I’m sure he’ll appreciate your sacrifice,” she teases and slips her arm from Reyna’s as they come to a stop and wait for the knight to return with the bows. Ser Giles lingers back a little, finding a tree to brood under while yet another Dornishman is left to teach his charge. “If he offers a sword I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you out of here,” Ser Giles says to Carmella, not at all joking. “But daggers are fine, yes?” Carmella responds quickly, sounding like a common conversation between the two of them. The sound of Ser Noel has them both looking up and the discussion of what is and isn’t allowed ends.
Jyana’s look is met with a troubled smile. “The hare is in Ryssa’s hands at the moment,” she tells the Jewel as she approaches. “But it seems that Ser Endros believes that you’ve already agreed to whatever he asked,” she says with a bit of a scowl.
Returning with several bows—all rather light, in truth—and matching belt-quivers, Ser Aidan delivers the archery equipment to the ladies who showed some interest in the matter. “It took only a little convincing to get these from the master-at-arms,” he remarks, as he collects his own bow from where he left it leaning against a post. “Although he noted that Prince Aemon and some of his sworn brothers were planning to have a turn at the butts in the hour, so I fear we’ll not have much time.” He bends his bow as he speaks, the ease of it showing he keeps himself in practice, and seems eager enough to get started.
When she gets closer to Reyna and Carmella, Jyana slows down, looking over her shoulder at her guard, and then back to her friends. “Lady Reyna, it’s so good to see you out of the manse, I feel as if I’ve not seen you in years - save for that day in passing at the marketplace.” And to Carmella’s words, she lifts her brows. “Oh did he? ....how could I agree to anything if I didn’t say ‘Yes, I agree’?” she wonders. “Ser Noel dragged me away before I could say anything. In fact I spent the last several moments thinking Ser Endros and Ser Vayne continued on with their wager with the hare and the dogs. Did you mean he actually gave it up?”
She looks around the two other ladies, noting a few more individuals that she doesn’t know well, but she knows by name, and dips a curtsey towards Lady Aisling and Ser Aidan. “Please orgive my intrusion,” she says with a small smile. “I only mean to speak with Carmella for a moment.”
Reyna chooses a bow from the small array, frowning as she does. “I would think that Prince Aemon could do better than these,” she mutters, shaking her head and taking a quiver. She turns with a laugh to kiss Jyana’s cheek before the girl can turn away. “I feel the same, dear Jewel,” she replies, smiling. “And it won’t be long before I’ll be trapped in the manse for good. And miss the tournament!” This last is said to both Jyana and Carmella, and with no little petulance. But she seems in good humor enough as she raises the bow and draws the string. “Oh, it -will- work,” she says happily when she sees that the string will clear her abdomen.
Carmella takes an offered bow but steps aside to speak with Jyana. “I had some words with the man,” Carmella explains to her friend, “but it did little good, I think,” she sighs. She looks back towards the others. “I shall tell you more later, but for now Ryssa keeps the hare, but I know Ser Endros will ask for it back if you do not agree to whatever he asked of you.” She starts to fiddle with the bow in her hands and there’s a snort of laughter from under the tree. “What *did* he ask you for, anyway?”
As Aidan returns with the bows and distributes them, Aisling takes up the offered weapon. She hefts it in a not entirely unfamiliar fashion, testing its weight first and then its pull. “Fairly light, but for target practice it should do well enough,” she comments, though she sounds vaguely distracted as she speaks. “And I suppose an hour should do,” she adds then. To the new arrival, she inclines her head. “Good day, Lady Jyana.” She then moves to take up a position in front of the target, with a glance for Reyna as the other woman speaks. “Yes, no doubt the Dragonknight could,” she notes.
“Oh, good day to you, Lady Jyana,” the Dornish knight offers, a little absentmindedly. “Your presence is never an intrusion, I am sure.” A pleasantry, no more, as his dark blue eyes are rather more focused on his bow and the quiver at his belt, from which he carefully selects the first arrow he’ll put to the string. But he does not hurry beyond that, however eager he might be to get what practice he can in. “Archery can be very relaxing I’ve often thought, Lady Reyna, as I’m sure you’ll agree. Will you shoot first?”
“And you, Lady Aisling, Ser Aidan.” The Jewel manages to return the peck on the cheek, but she furrows her brows at Reyna afterwards. “But you told me before you’ve not seen a tournament in quite some time,” she says. “It’d be a shame if you missed it. I’ve never seen one myself, but I hear it’s something to behold.” But what Carmella says captures her attention, and her head inclines slightly. “Words? Yes, we’ll have to speak later, but he….it was the oddest request.” She purses her lips. “Granted my proposal for a trade was done mostly in jest but I didn’t actually think he would take me so seriously as to say what he did. But it was strange….he asked me if I could pass on word to Her Highness to beg leave of her dispatching one of her messenger on his behalf. I was a little confused, and still am now after I was dragged away. He didn’t tell me why he wanted one either, but it seemed rather out of protocol to me even if they are cousins. If the message is from him personally why can’t he just send his own messenger? Surely he has men he trusts to deliver something important.”
“No doubt one of those men who would prefer women not touch weapons at all,” says Reyna in a low voice to Aisling before selecting an arrow and smiling politely. “Thank you, Ser Aidan. Though I must beg forgiveness of all of you; it has been quite some time, and I am… a bit misshapen just now.” She nocks the arrow to the string and raises the bow again, placing herself at a right angle to the butt and drawing slowly. “I doubt it will be the last,” she says absently to Jyana before letting fly. And indeed, it is a wobbly flight, but she manages to strike the very edge of the target.
Carmella frowns as the message is relayed. It makes as much sense to Carmella as it did to Jyana. “He has none of his own he could trust? That seems ...” She pauses to watch Reyna shoot and holds the bow to mirror Reyna. There’s more snickering from beneath the tree, but Carmella ignores. After the arrow has flown Carmella turns back to Jyana. “That sounds quite presumptious of him, then then again he has done little already that would cause me to be impressed by him.” She gives a bit of a shrug. “I think you need get more information from him before you agree to it,” she adds before excusing herself to watch the others before she takes her own turn.
Having hung the quiver from her belt, Aisling takes a little time to select an arrow for herself, checking the straightness of each and testing the fletching with a thumb. A thoughtful glance is cast in Reyna’s direction, and it is not clear if its over what the other woman said or because she’s watching her shoot. As the arrow strikes the target, she nods in approval, then steps forward herself to take the next shot. She nocks the arrow to the bow and smoothly pulls back. Holding it steady, she takes aim, and moments later lets the arrow fly. It flies in a good arch towards the target, but fails to dip down in time and just notches the top of it. “Well, that is what I get for failing to practice with Henly more often.”
“My first shot often goes awry. Muscle and sinew need to loosen for best results,” Ser Aidan notes, encouraging enough. With half an ear to the conversations going on around him, he takes his turn, draws back the bow ... and gets lucky. Maybe. The Dornishmen _are_ said to use their bows rather well… The arrow flies in a good curve, and lands not very far off the center indeed. He seems pleased, and steps back as he says, “A fair start for all of us. The breeze is steady enough to not create any challenges, don’t you think, Lady Aisling?”
“But you mentioned that he already thinks I agreed?” Jyana points out, lifting a hand to rub her nosebridge with mild irritation. “....this is getting ridiculous. How could he just assume that when I didn’t have the time to say anything?” She watches the others shoot for a moment, her eyes following the wake of the arrows to the target, and then turns her attention to Carmella once more. “I suppose this afternoon’s encounter will not be the last time I’ll be speaking with him then. I’d hate to bother Her Highness with it if it turns out to be inconsequential.”
Having stepped aside after taking her first shot to watch as Aidan attempts his, Aisling nods in—slightly grudging—approval as the arrow finds its mark. “Not for yourself at least, Ser Aidan. That was not a lucky shot, that much I can tell.” Briefly, her attention then strays from the task at hand, as she keeps overhearing snippets of the exchange between Jyana and Carmella. It brings a faintly curious look to her face, though soon enough she turns back to the archery, again thoughtfully hefting the bow in her hand. “Who goes next?”
“I should have liked a -steadier- flight,” grumbles Reyna, taking another arrow from the quiver that is just sort of leaned against her leg—since she has no waist to put a belt round. She clears her throat, tucks an errant lock behind her ear, and nocks the arrow to the string. “Let’s see if this one isn’t better.” And it -is- better, but low—it leaves a poof of dust in its wake as it drives into the ground behind the butt, having sailed right under it. “Clearly I’m far more out of practice than I thought. You do, Carmella!”
“I think,” Carmella says as she pulls an arrow from her qucker, “that he assumed you would do as he asks to save that hare’s life.” While she talked she had kept a gaze on the others, watching how they draw and shoot and she attempts to copy them. “But I agree, I think you need speak with him before you bother the princess with this,” Carmella says over her shoulder as she tries to set the arrow. It is a tricky thing and it slips a couple of times, causing her to mutter at it. Finally she is able to draw back the bowstring, waits and then releases. The arrow quivers and then falls, three feet from where Carmella stands. She stares at it for a moment and them laughs at herself.
The Dayne knight, unfailingly polite, does not join in Carmella’s laughter. He smiles, though, and suggests, “You should watch Lady Aisling and Lady Reyna a little more carefully, my lady. And the grip on the string should be like so.” And he demonstrates, holding up his bow in his left hand, and placing three fingers against the string with a space for where the arrow would be placed. “Although,” he adds, “there is another grip, better for shooting from horseback. But this will do well enough.”
“Then it is his own folly for assuming such a thing automatically. I could just as easily pay him for it,” Jyana remarks, folding her arms across her chest and still looking mildly irriated. “Still…” The irritation melts away to a thoughtful cast. She lets the word hang, casting her gaze off a far point. It is a look that Carmella knows well, but she sighs and takes several steps back to give Carmella enough room to take her shot. When Carmella laughs, she grins. “I’ll look away if it helps,” she teases her friend. But she does take several further steps away so she won’t get in the way.
That, unsurprisingly, draws Aisling’s attention. Arching a brow, she looks to Aidan, asking, “For this kind of bow, or a different one? I have only tried it once or twice myself, and not very successfully, I might add.” She steps forward again, now changing the grip on the bow in her hand, considering how else it might be held.
“I saw Garvys try it once, but he wasn’t at all successful,” Reyna remarks, also looking toward Aidan. “None of the rest of us would try, because we didn’t want to look so foolish at it.” She flexes her fingers, then raises the bow. “Look, Carmella. Hold it thus, straight out, and grasp the string as Ser Aidan showed you. Don’t try to turn your body, just turn your head.”
“Using the thumb, lady,” Ser Aidan says, moving nearer to where Aisling stands to show her. Instead of the three fingers on the string, only his thumb touches it, while his first and second fingers come around from the other side to brace the thumb. “The bows we use from horse back are double-curved—I’m not sure if you’ve had a chance to see one before—and shorter than the longbows favored here. Drawing with the thumb prevents the shorter string from pinching as you pull. Although, usually there is a thumb ring—leather, or ivory, or even polished stone—to help protect the thumb.”
He switches back to the other grip, though, when he bends his bow again and lets fly at the target. This shot is even better, very nearly at the center. It’s clear he knows his way about a bow.
Ser Giles is quite enjoying himself, but should Carmella get it in her head to learn more of this he won’t be laughing anymore. But for now he can enjoy her ineptitude. The Dondarrion’s turned her dark eyes on the Dornish knight, watching his form and nodding, her own fingers copying his on her own bowstring. She takes a couple of steps back to let the others shoot again while she practices drawing without an arrow. She looks over to Jyana and catches that look and she grins a little before stepping back up, now following Reyna’s lead. “This *and* riding at the same time?” she asks and just shakes her head. This is bad enough for her at the moment.
Her second attempt is a bit better, but she’ll certainly need more practice. The arrow flies this time, but not well enoug to reach the target. It angles a bit to the left and falls a good distance from the target.
“You’re being rather mean, Ser Giles,” Jyana says with a look of mock-reproach, complete with crossing her arms over her chest and sniffing just a tad. But she smiles faintly. “See? She’s getting better already.” As for the bows and arrows, she keeps away from them, preferring to wait and watch under the shadow of the three where Ser Giles waits.
Errand completed, Rosalind once again crosses the yard, her basket with plant shoots replaced with a large bound book. Activity at the archery field attracts the bastard girl’s attention and presently, she approaches with care to avoid being in the line of fire.
Copying the grip—albeit rather awkwardly—shown to her by Aidan, Aisling nods to the Dornish knight. “I see… yes, that makes sense. I think I should like to attempt that some day.” To Carmella, a brief smile. “You ride well enough, no? Then it should just be the archery that is the problem.” She sounds rather confident about the matter—over-confident, even—but that is always her way when it comes to anything involving a horse it seems. “As for the archery, let us see if I can do a little better now ...” She walks up to the spot and once again nocks an arrow to the bow. This time, though, she takes a little more time when aiming, and the arch achieved when the arrow takes flight is better. Still, though it strikes the target, it is nowhere near to the center.
Settling in to watch, Jyana’s eyes fix onto the impromptu lesson, watching curiously as grips are demonstrated and shown. Otherwise she says very little, content to observe.
“You should try and take your time, Lady Carmella,” Aidan adds, as he considers her efforts. “It will take getting used to, but it’s not difficult to learn. A good, straight back, a good, straight arm, and a smooth draw and release are the key to hitting the mark with confidence.” As if to illustrate, he takes more time than usual to get off his next shot, exaggerating his straight-backed stance a little, then taking his time with raising the bow ahead of him and holding out with a straight arm. A long pause, and then a slow but steady draw, a beat as he holds it, and again he looses it at the target. It’s not as good as the previous, but good enough, striking the target somewhat high but towards the central line.
“Interesting,” Reyna says, watching closely. But she does not try the technique herself. When Aisling’s arrow has flown, she readies her own. When the way is clear she lets fly, and this one comes very near the heart of the target. “There,” she says with satisfaction, nodding once.
Carmella returns the smile to Aisling. “Yes, it is the archery that is the problem. But time enough and I might become not terrible at it.” Ser Giles groans again from his place in the shade and Carmella laughs at Jyana. “I am a trial,” she admits to her friend. “I am sure he never imagined he’d have to include teaching into his duties when set to guard a noblewoman.” She gives Ser Giles a big smile and then turns back to take another shot. Again she tries, after watching Ser Aidan’s instruction, and again she misses the target, but it is flying further, and a little straighter.
Rosalind lingers in the background for a few moments, watching the archery practice. “Interesting way to pass an afternoon.” The bastard lioness comments, with a bemused smile. “Well shot, Lady Reyna. One would suspect you’d done this before.” she teases gently, in a good-natured fashion.
She gives an encouraging clap for Carmella when she manages to improve her grip and release. “Then he shouldn’t be so lazy,” Jyana says, flashing a teasing grin towards Ser Giles. But she leans against the tree trunk afterwards, her arms folded behind her back. There is a small, absent smile, content to watch the other ladies and Ser Aidan take potshots at the target. When Rosalind heads in closer to them, she gives her a faint smile of greeting, but says nothing, preoccupied at watching the target and the many lovely holes it was accumulating.
And so it’d go, merrily enough, if not for Ser Aidan’s squire making an appearance. “Ser,” he announces without preamble—and then pauses, as an arch look from Aidan leads him to remember himself and bow to all the ladies. “Ser,” Danyll goes on, a little hurriedly, “Ser Athis and Tamlyn were looking for you. About the trip to the Street of Steel they’re planning, they want you along.” He pauses, and then he adds with the outrage of a younger brother, “Tam said he’d dunk my head into a bucket, too.”
As she readies herself for her next shot, Aisling finds her preparations interrupted by a young page. “Lady Aisling? Lady Sylvina asks me to remind you of your engagement this afternoon.” The boy keeps his distance as she speaks to the Northern lady, looking as if it is not the first time he has been the bearer of unwanted news. And, indeed, a rather black scowl crosses the lady’s pale mien, bringing a blush of colour to her cheeks. “I do not take half the day to dress myself,” she replies, though with a sigh she does turn back to the small group. “It seems I shall have to beg off further archery for another day. Good luck to you, ladies. And thank you for the instruction, Ser Aidan,” she says, sounding distinctly displeased with the interruption. “I hope you will have a more pleasant afternoon, ser.”
“My father was a great lover of the hunt,” Reyna says, carefully placing both bow and quiver with the spares and smiling at Rosalind. “One of the few kind things Garvys ever did for me after father died was let me learn to shoot, though I’ve not really done well today.” She pats her stomach with a rueful roll of her eyes.
With that, Aidan’s archery practice comes to an end, and he seems disappointed—though perhaps as much for the pleasant company as the chance to practice his skills. “I’m sorry to go so early. My thanks for the company, ladies,” the knight says, offering them all a pleasant bow. He then turns to Danyll and says, “Well, lead the way, and we’ll see what _Ser_ Tamlyn wants to discuss.” With that, the two Dornishmen depart.
“That sounds exciting,” Rosalind comments to Reyna, “But I couldn’t hope to even fire the arrow, let alone get it to go in the direction I wish.” She returns the Jewel’s smile of greeting with one of her own, as well as a polite curtsey.