Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

A hot bath on a cold day was a beautiful thing. The woman had luxuriated in the wash of water over her skin. Lying back in the water and tilting her head until she could see her fanning out behind her. Dust and travel had been scrubbed from every inch of her skin and she’d even managed to wash her hair, running rose oil through the long tresses as it dried. The skyrider had been reluctant to emerge from the water but having left the main encampment before dinner, her stomach had summoned her from the tub.

Elyna had indulged in a soft cream rubbed into glowing skin. She’d dried her hair as thoroughly as the cold weather would allow and left it lose around her shoulders. Dressed in fresh breaches of dark brown and a fawn coloured shirt she’d made her way downstairs, following the scent of cooked meat and gravy. Stomach rumbling as her boots echoed on the wooden stairs.

The skyrider had booked her own room and ensured that a room fit for a Warden was reserved and paid for, for Malcolm. If they’d had any discussion about the correct protocol for travelling together under these circumstances, her mind was a little foggy on the details and outcome of the discussion. She’d slid into the cosy booth beside the fire and ordered herself dinner and a large pot of ginger tea. Dark eyes fixed on the door, she’d found herself wondering if the Warden had left the encampment and managed to clean himself up. If he was warm enough and if her instructions to ensure he had water for a hot bath had been followed.

No matter what had taken place on the beach in Ymiden, they were not married. They were tracking leaders of a rebellion who, with the wrong breath could reveal and undo the bonds of their vows. One wrong word from Marcus, or Yoreth and everyone would know that their marriage was false and invalid. So why tell anyone at all? Why leave their vulnerability out in the open for all the world to pick at? Unmarried, the situation between them was…complicated as they travelled with the army. Malcolm was her commander and she doubted that either one of them was keen to provide his other captains with anything they could claim as favoritism.

The woman devoured the hot steak soup she’d been provided, spearing the beans with her fork and savouring the rich gravy. She needed to speak to Malcolm really to know his mind, but she’d taken the precaution of separate rooms for the time being. Besides, hopefully it meant they’d both been able to bathe.

Food removed and a platter of bread remaining, Elyna poured herself a cup of steeped tea. She curled cold hands around the baked clay to warm them and looked up. The familiar footsteps of her lover, enough to draw her attention. Malcolm was greeted with a warm, if somewhat shy smile as she tried to discern his reaction to the room and their current sleeping situation. He barely had time to take a seat before Faith appeared.

The former slave advanced towards the table with all the force of a tiny hurricane and left the skyrider with her mouth open. Lips parted in a greeting that held, suspended in air before her gaze lifted to the man who had appeared behind her friend. A grin spread across her features and the skyrider stood, pulling more cups closer and lifting the tea pot.

She looked down to try and take control of her smirk as she poured drinks for the small party. Confident that she’d regained possession of her features, Elyna pressed a drink into the man’s hands; Padraig. She committed the name to memory with a smile. Mine, Faith had made the claim and Elyna felt her own heart flutter. Such a simple claim and a determined one.

“A pleasure to meet you, I’m sure,” she sank back into her seat and returned her hands to the comfort of her drink. She studied his features, the unruly hair blown wayward by the elements. The serviceable clothes. Not a fighter, thought nor was Faith…not a soldier anyway. Not a Skyrider either. Curious the woman glanced at Malcolm to try and gauge his thoughts once more before she settled back and took a slow sip, “I prefer to be known as Elyna usually,” she encouraged informality before letting out a sigh, “although in these circumstances, beyond this…brief reprieve tonight, it’s Ser or Captain. I prefer Ser really, it saves me the trouble of remembering the correct term for everyone’s rank, noble or otherwise,” the young woman’s gaze drifted to the former slave and her smile returned, “you seem to have tamed yourself a wild Faith, Master Padraig?” She teased gently.

Her friend seemed smitten. That was obvious. Elyna took another gulp of warm liquid. She could only hope that the romance was less disastrous then her own forays of the heart. Faith was here as the campaign chef, what though…was Padraig’s skill and contribution to the army? Surely not to warm Faith’s bed alone…the thought returned the smirk to the corner of her mouth and the colour to her cheeks.

Malcolm had been here before, wrestling with the reins of an untrained horse, or one that had been put to saddle long enough to make it seem rideable, but would lash out suddenly, turn to try and bite his knee, and walk under low tree branches in an attempt to remove the lump of a man from its back. The warden knew how to deal with wayward horses though, if only the skill was transferable to women. He shortened the reins, moved his legs forward away from the soft belly of the gelding, and kept his arms locked but flexible to the sudden jerks and movements of the horse. Stabling was cheap enough, and the horse was fed and watered before Malcolm ventured into the inn.
It was difficult not to smile as soon as he laid eyes on Elyna. He embraced her, holding the woman a few inches from him with his hands around the tops of her arms, and pressed a kiss to her temple. She smelt a lot better than he did, still harbouring the strong scents of horsehair, travel, and sweat from his match with some of the younger recruits. When she set a key in his hand, he was disappointed to find that they would not be sharing a room, but had little time to protest her decision as Faith arrived and swept them both up in a hug. Malcolm wrapped his left arm around Faith and pressed a kiss to her cheek, apologising for the smell. He moved to sit down before realising Faith had been followed in by a stranger, and waited as she introduced the man as Padraig. Malcolm shook the man’s hand after removing a black, leather glove, and sat down to pour himself a cup of tea.
The tea was too hot to drink, but a pleasure to hold cupped in his hands against the table. “You're a student at the university?” Malcolm echoed. “Tell me, Padraig, what do you study? I know it isn't history or languages,” he fixed his gaze on the man, curious, “as I teach both of those classes.”

Malcolm had seemed surprised about her choice of accommodation but there was little time to discuss the matter. Elyna watched Faith reaching for Padraig’s hand and felt a knot forming in the centre of her chest. Her own gaze drifting to the man beside her. She took almost a guilty pleasure in watching him in the half-light and yet, in many ways she didn’t dare reach out and touch him. The knot was formed with envy. Whatever was between Padraig and Faith it was…pure, untarnished so far with pain and simple. What lay between herself and the mortalborn was a knotted mess of tangled string. Where did they end or begin?

The replies to her teasing comments were jovial enough and she smiled at the gathered party. Moving her leg a little to press against Malcolm’s. Wondering, with her heart in her throat if the simple action would be received, or returned? She waited, curious for the answers the young man would provide, before realising that he was probably her own age. Was she starting to feel older than her arcs because of her new station and responsibilities in life, or because her lover was nearly four centuries older than anyone else around the table? Another glance in his direction beneath her lashes before she lifted her gaze to the pair before them. She took a careful sip of tea. Viden, she wet her lips but held back the dozen questions. What was it like? How cold did it truly get? What was his favourite place, why had he chosen to come to Rynmere…

Ranged weapons? The cautious smile returned, “what kind of blast do they have? Have you tested them?” Usually a woman of fewer words than even the Warden, it was easy to tell when she was intrigued or excited by an idea. “I’ve had to moderate shots from a long bow to compensate for the drift that fire adds to flaming arrows. I’d be interested to see what adjustments you’re making to explosives if they’re ranged – oh!” She sat up suddenly before remembering to drop her voice, “do you carry the antidotes to your poison. We’ve had some trouble this year with poison,” she glanced at Malcolm again, “it’s an effective attack but I prefer to use it than be on the receiving end.”

Malcolm let Elyna do the talking. He was tired and distracted, but took the opportunity to enjoy the tea that had been set down in front of him. Indeed they had run into their fair share of poisons this year. Malcolm had lost a good knight to a poison attack, and almost lost Elyna. Theirs was a noble cause, which had always led the Iron Hand to steer clear of sinking to the level of their enemies in regards to the use of poisons, but he would hear the man out, especially in the case of these ‘explosives’.
There had been too many mixed messages, and not about to entertain anymore, Malcolm positioned his feet closer together so that his knee no longer touched Elyna’s. She couldn't give him a key to his own room and then expect him to want to get cosy before bed. He lifted the mug of tea to his lips, blew on the water closest to the edge, and took a sip.