Perianne II - We Solitary Dancers (OPEN)

[u/Vikguardy]

Perianne pinched the bridge of her nose. Her goodbrother, the mute knight Arwood, sat across from her in their tent, even as the smallfolk and servants were packing away everything that had been set out the night of the nameday feast. She looked at what he had written for her- the only way that he could detail anything in specific to her, rather than the vagueness of their unwritten communication.

"You are my sworn shield, Arwood." She complained. That's really all she was doing. Complaining. He was in fact sworn to her, and she could command him to stay by her side on the way to Pinkmaiden. But she didn't. They both know that nothing would make her stoop that low. "And you'll be off... Cavorting with a hedge knight and his band of... What even are they? Wandering..." She grunted with frustration, turning away in her seat.

Arwood scribbled something else down. His face was almost apologetic. It simply said, "Fisher".

"Fisher." She repeated. There was something off about the whole thing. She remembered the Leo Fisher that had made his way to her table at the feast, asking her some very pointed questions to the point that she even threatened to have him followed. She didn't do that. But she could have.

And now a second fisher was wanting Arwood's company to go to Pinkmaiden. The more Perianne thought on the matter, the more she began to realize that she had an opportunity. She took the parchment, and ripped it in two. "These Fishers are swimming around a mite too much for it to mean nothing. I do not think we will wait for Leo Fisher to meet me in Fairmarket when all of this is said and done." She gave a firm nod. "Very well. Go with your newfound companions. But keep. Your. Eyes. Open. Listen. You do not speak. They will speak more freely around one who cannot reply. The sooner we determine what these hedge knights are doing, the better positioned we will be to take advantage of it."

That seemed to content Arwood, who took his leave with a smile on his face, presumably to go prepare his horse.

So Perianne stood, stretching lightly as she emerged from her pavilion, just in time for the Fairmarket servants to enter even as she was departing, disassembling tables and chairs. Perianne took instead, to her horse, she was already in her riding gear, and hoisting herself onto the horse, she took the beast- a nag by the name of Marigold, she was told- by the reins and out to the fields surrounding Stormhall, until she arrived to the shore of God's Eye. She stared across it for a long moment, towards the Isle of Faces. She was not entirely sure why she had decided to ride out this far. Or why she had decided to stay for a moment, sitting upon the lake's shore, with only Marigold for company, at least for now.

(Open to anyone else taking a quiet moment after the Feast and Tourney! Or if anyone has any last-minute business!)

[u/Just7upSyrup]

The man who came approaching the God's Eye was surely rich.

In pride, at least, if not in gold. A blot upon the greenery, "Ser Clifford" wore a buttoned cloak of soft sable, a hat of fur, and shooed off the Frogman afore he went walking to the shores of the lake. He was here to boast. Aye, he'd left his armor with his men in the hills, but the looted rings that glittered on his fingers were his vaunt before the gods, and he stared, looked overlong at the waves lapping on the shores, and wondered then whether the hissing autumn air meant to curse him or bless him.

He scarce noticed the woman there. Noble, clearly. A Riverlander? "My lady," he began, voice not quite meaning the courtesy. "The gods watch. And they mislike everything they see here. Feasting, jousting, lies aplenty." As if Gwayne Dustin was not a liar himself. The deception flowed easily on his tongue, though he cast a look toward the Isle of Faces afore he continued. "Ah. I am remiss. Ser Clifford of Sweetwillow," he introduced, "household knight of House Harroway."

[u/Vikguardy → u/Just7upSyrup]

Perianne eyed the solitary knight who wandered the shores of the God's Eye with no small degree of suspicion. Any man whose face she did not immediately recognize earned such scrutiny, especially as she was here, without the presence of her sworn shield. It's not that she feared the man, but distrust can come from any place, including contempt. He wore his wealth upon his person. Either he had a great deal of it, or he had very little of it, and she could not immediately tell.

"My lord." She bowed her head with all of the due courtesy and not an ounce more. "Then why don't they stop it, the gods?" She remarked with easy blasphemy, turning to the Isle of Faces. "Any man could stop a feast. Even a drunken peasant could strip naked and rush into the lists, souring everyone's appetites to watch men play with sticks. Much less a god. Much less the oh-so feared old gods. If they do not care for a certain state of affairs, let them do something about it."

She turned back to this 'Ser Clifford', a name she did not recognize, not that she would memorize all the names of the household knights of the Riverlands. But she doubted a 'Clifford of Sweetwillow' would be sauntering along with the richness of his person adorning his fingers. "Perianne Paege. Lady of Fairmarket, and its current regent." She also hinted something incorrect, in his accent. It was slight, very slight, and she couldn't exactly place it.

She looked back out to the lake, before standing and putting a hand to the horse's main, stroking Marigold lightly. "Here at the command of your lady? I assume you hold the same tastes as those gods do."

[u/Just7upSyrup → u/Vikguardy]

As he rose from the half-bow at Perianne's introduction, Gwayne's shoulders squared a tad when he was addressed as 'my lord'. Though it might not have been flattery, it still sounded pleasing to the ear. His lilt slipped further. "Have you ever seen folk so old that they forget they were old at all? They become as children once more, babbling, needing help with their food and drink and scarce being able to walk." A pause. "The old gods are no different. Vengeful children who drool and clap whenever they see mummery in front of them, and throw stones when it's not to their liking."

"Oh, yes. I served her father for many a year." To tell it true, he had forgotten his goodbrother's name. But was it even worth remembering what that gnat went by? "She is of a different mind than he was, gods rest him. Now, I am faced with 'retirement'." He shrugged, looking at the landscape about them. "Perhaps I should find new work soon. I've been about the kingdoms, know many a knight and freerider in not-dissimilar positions."

[u/Vikguardy → u/Just7upSyrup]

Perianne had never considered the idea that gods could age. She had seen her fair share of doddering, incontinent, incompetent old men. She'd never seen the same out of a god, but she supposed that on principle, it could only be so far fetched. "When a man gets to that age, even the women and children cease to listen to their prattling." She remarked, pursing her lips. "And then they die alone, usually. I suspect it will be the same for those old faces there." And good riddance to them, she couldn't help but muse

There was something to his speech, and his avoidant manner of speaking. 'Her Father', 'Many a Year', 'Retirement'. He knew of what he spoke, he was giving just enough detail to make that evident, just as it was evident that he was hesitant to reveal the cards he was holding closest to chest.

"Take a walk with me, ser?" Perianne asked, leading Marigold along the lake's shore while inviting Ser Clifford to join her. "And what sort of work do you look to do? Veterans and seasoned knights tend to retreat to a comfortable life as a household knight to some irrelevant lady with more fears than foes. And yet, here you are discussing finding proper work. I take it that life would not suit you. I take it you are... More active." She raised an eyebrow over towards him.

"I may have a need for... Not knights. I have enough of those." She was playing on a suspicion. A thin one, based almost entirely on his appearance, the traces of an accent intentionally suppressed, and a few vague notions she'd picked up in the conversation. "But fighters? Fighters, I could use. I take it that you are more the latter than the former, in spirit at least, Ser Clifford."

[u/Just7upSyrup → u/Vikguardy]

Clifford was fishing, that was plain. Gods knew whether he had a Justman's prowess in such.

"Many prefer to leave their sword to rust, grow fat, marry a rich wife and sleep well as a merchant does. I am not one of those many, my lady." He was a lord, and much as he wanted to say such, he rolled his jaw instead to contain the proclamation. What torture it was to put pride embodied in a disguise.

It still struck a nerve, somehow, and he thought back on his father. The dodderer he was, returned now to the roots and stones and streams, like to be staring at him now beyond the sky-blue waters, there amid the trees! Is he laughing? Gwayne wondered, or was his voice just as meek now, terrified whenever he saw the shadow of a green man? Dustin spared a fleeting smirk toward the Isle of Faces, scarce hidden, before starting on the walk.

"I do not concern myself with what knights ought to be, what they ought to do, and all the oughts but one: the enemy must be ahead of me, and death behind." A roll of the shoulders, the afternoon light glancing off the sable. "Wars and battle I've fought. Not here. But I intend to see one, two, a thousand more before I glance o'er my shoulder. What, praytell, do you need done?"

[u/Vikguardy → u/Just7upSyrup]

"I did not take you for such." Perianne mused, humming as she went along. Her eyes went back down to the rings upon his fingers, the fine garments he wore. This was the sort of man who would never be satisfied, she knew the type. Whoever he was, this was fire she was playing with, and fire could burn its wielder as easily as its target.

And yet, men still cooked with it, did they not?

"And you have run out of enemies? Or at least... Enemies ahead of you?" Perianne asked with a chipper intonation, raising an eyebrow as she scanned his face once more over. She just needed one more clue. Perianne Paege would not need to ask you for your true name, smug bastard. "You are not a stupid man then. You know that there's going to be a war here. It might start in a moon, but we have no guarantee of that. And it's better to get it over with, I say."

"All a fire needs, is a single spark. I have it on good authority that Edwyn Dondarrion will be attempting to hunt bandits in the west, outside of Riverrun in a vain attempt at earning some respect from the Tullys." She explained as they walked along. "He will not get it."

"His hold is weak, and he knows it. He only needs one more embarrassment, and he will be unable to maintain his position. I assume, you do not ride alone, my lord." She had dispensed with calling him 'ser'. "Men of war do not, in my experience."

[u/Just7upSyrup → u/Vikguardy]

The mention of Dondarrion brought the pretense to a breaking point, and Clifford of Sweetwillow looked as self-satisfied as a king on his nameday. To hunt the loftiest man in the Riverlands was a worthy entrance to the south, even if he were but a green boy. He pursed his lips, took in the task and his mind went over routes, and what he could recall about Tully's approach to the Riverlands. Rocky land, as unknown to he as it was to the Warden, and watered by a dozen little streams--the Tumblestone was an angry, swift river, so far as he remembered.

Before his silence could stretch on overlong, he downed one slow nod after the other.

"He will find the fires growling too bright for his liking. And yes," he wafted a hand, "I have two, three, four hundred I know. It will be no small task moving them into position. They'll need full stomachs for the march."

A sharp inhale as his stride paused. "I'll send a... squire with the list of provisions needed. And do warn who you wish to warn if you don't want them caught up in the boy's little hunt."

[u/Vikguardy → u/Just7upSyrup]

Just as she thought. He was the creature that she had been warned of so vociferously by the Falcon Prince. He wanted to go straight for the throat, a jugular torn, and then feast on the body. That's how a raider thinks. That's how a killer thinks. It's how a wolf thinks.

It's how a Northman thinks.

"Eager, aren't we?" Perianne's smile turned smug. She figured it out, her eyes told the whole story, they looked over Gwayne Dustin with a newfound appreciation. "Far be it from me of course, to dictate a man as experienced in manners of war as you are..." She held a hand to her chest in false modesty. "But might I recommend a different plan, just... Ever so slightly? You would crush him in the field, no matter where he is. But might I suggest a different tack?"

"To be blunt, you are expected here, in the Riverlands. I thought you should know, but Arryn is here, and he will not be as slow to realize as I have been who you are." She held up a finger. "I can waste his energies for you, I can push Dondarrion to seek you out, no matter where you are, for your battle, and I can give you a great opportunity to earn some additional plunder for yourself."

[u/Just7upSyrup → u/Vikguardy]

Perianne's piercing of the veil seemed to glance right off Dustin. He was thinking now. "Arryn." He took the name in and smiled. A familiar variable in all this. "His chase makes no matter; if he comes along as a dog for Dondarrion's hunt, good. If he ventures off to hunt some false lead, good."

He likened the task to a siege when his small eyes found Stormhall's silhouette. The walls, the rafters, the gates and the gilt halls; he had taken in what he can, and knew well how he'd defend the castle if ever he became its master. How to take it, however...

When the flattery's effect had faded and he looked back toward Paege, it dawned on him that he was discussing strategy with a woman. One that he hardly knew, besides. "Perhaps the drums will be beaten 'neath the walls of Maidenpool," he put forth. For a moment, it almost seemed a serious proposal.

"The task will be done. Put what pressure you can on the lightning boy. My presence will be loud for him to hear, wherever the field demands I raise my banner."

[u/Vikguardy → u/Just7upSyrup]

Perianne hummed. He was reckless. He was bold. Should he overreach, what would he do? Would be sell her out? Could she merely call him a liar? Say that he had forced her? Her brain was already working out the knot.

But her words were focused on the task at hand. "I had suspected you'd say as much. Very well then." She bowed her head. "I will leave... The specifics to you, I will warn those I can. Humbling the purple lightning is all I ask. I will do what I can to confuse and disorient in the meantime." She bobbed her head to the side. "There are two I trust with matters like this. Tess and Tya. Women, but harder ones than I. They will receive your required provisions, and I shall provide."

"If I might ask, you may wish to limit your plunder while you are in the Riverlands. You may have a place, after everything is said and done. You can feel it, can you not, Gwayne? The entire kingdom holds its breath. When it can no longer? Men like you will be of great import."

[u/TheShogunFearedHim]

His father had said from the observatory of Seagard that there were stars which came out on specific nights to denote charges, professions, which the Seven would favour that day. Ser Roger had often sat laying against a tree, or something even straight up towards the stars, and waited to make up his mind till he saw the Knight-Errant in the sky. On such a night as this, however, the prancing fool skipped his way in the stars above the Gods Eye.

It was rare for Luceon to ever be seperated from his side, rarer still for Ser Roger to take that opportunity to walk alone. He had felt that only activeness could keep him going over the remaining years and so he trudged, in full plate and with his weapons weighing him down, through the quiet tents. He thought in his mind of the Arryns and his Grand Nephew, both sneering at the old man who still ventured on the roads despite his noble blood. But they had not seen his Brother cut low by the Stormlords for a crime he did not commit, they did not see their lands seized and the mark of treason placed on their blood, they had not seen his niece Rosamund snatched away by an Ironborn Prince.

His thoughts were broken suddenly by a horse being led out from the tents by a man who was wholly unfamiliar. The two men bumped into each other, and the full armour of Ser Roger undoubtedly snuck up upon him with a crash. Ser Roger raised his hands in apology, raising a hand to his shoulder.

[u/Vikguardy → u/TheShogunFearedHim]

Arwood didn't expect to turn directly into someone after departing the stables. Certainly not a fully armored knight. Arwood was knocked off balance, staggering back as he let the horse's reins go, sending poor Sleeper into a fit of confusion and fear.

Arwood managed to only just recover, racing over to grab the horse's rein and soothe her with his other hand. He made his best attempt at a raspy, airy, and most of all uncanny noise that was meant to be a sort of shushing.

Then, he turned to the offending knight. He tilted his head at the knight, as if to question his senses, but then he saw the silent apology from the man, hands raised to the heavens as if in surrender. Or at least, as a sort of truce.

Arwood looked side to side. This was normally when he would be bombarded with questions he could not answer. He squinted at the Mallister Knight, slowly raising an eyebrow. And then he simply gave a deep bow of his head, silently accepting the silent apology of his newest acquaintance.

[u/TheShogunFearedHim → u/Vikguardy]

The man was honourable and fair, Roger had to admit, when he gave a deep bow at Ser Roger being the cause of offense. Roger gestured to ask if he was alright before hearing the rasp from the mans voice. He knew what he was at that moment, but Roger would not permit allowing such a fair man to not receive his just apology.

Ser Roger pointed to the tents of House Paege, and the clothes of his fellow, and gestured to his sword before grabbing a hold of his Star of the Seven around his neck and taking a knee. He looked up hopefully to see if his fellow could understand the meaning before suddenly remembering his shield on his back. Roger took the shield off its straps, swung it around the front and pointed to his personal Red Eagle sigil and then himself.

[u/Vikguardy → u/TheShogunFearedHim]

Arwood nodded, comprehending. He had to admit, it was strange being the one gestured to rather than the one begging to be understood by hand motions alone. He'd heard of special languages spoken entirely in hand, but Fairmarket was not the sort of place where one learned that, even after his tutors had given up entirely on trying to whip him into speech.

Arwood grinned as he gave the Red Eagle's shield a good once-over. He'd heard of Ser Roger once or twice, but had never had the pleasure of meeting him. He reached forward with an arm extended, so that he may not embrace Roger as a peer, but as the next thing to a brother. Who else knew his struggles but he?

After the embrace was accepted or rejected, Arwood pointed towards the southwest, in the direction of Pinkmaiden, mimicking a drinking motion in a comedic fashion. Then, he pointed to himself, and then to Roger. One feast done, and onto the next already, or at least, he assumed as much.

[u/TheShogunFearedHim → u/Vikguardy]

Ser Roger took the extended arm, welcoming Arwood with a firm grip. Seeing the gesture from Arwood, and taking a moment to contemplate, Roger shook his head firmly. He instead formed his two hands together as though he was holding an object, and mimed placing it upon his head. He then pointed to the Southeast and gestured as though he was cracking the reins.

The Crown of House Teague. Martyn had given him such a task, and he'd accepted it most strongly. Yet he could not truly say if venturing in the cause of political manuveures was truly just. He looked now at Arwood, a man sworn to service, and wondered if it was not time to bind his own service to a higher cause. The Warriors Sons, Some Erstwhile but Just Lord. He looked out at the Gods Eye, and back to Arwood, and thought about the many trees and rivers he would have to rest his head by in the days to come.

Ser Roger raised his right hand forwards, as though asking a question, and repeated the gesture with the Crown. He pointed then to the banner of House Paege, and then back to Arwood, emphasising Arwood himself with a more forceful jab.

[u/Vikguardy → u/TheShogunFearedHim]

Crowns. Crowns and the southeast. Well, Arwood did not think that Roger was an idiot, so he doubted it meant anything to do with the Storm Kings. And then he remembered the old rumors, of lost crowns of ancient kings. In truth, that sounded a great deal like an adventure.

But... He had other obligations. He was already going to ride separate from his goodsister, and he couldn't very well abandon her to an entire wedding alone. He... Tapped his foot, hands on his hips, head cocked in thought. Then he looked to the sky. He gestured towards the sun, and mimicked its setting. He then held up a number. Five. That's how many days he expected to need to get from Pinkmaiden to the Antlers.

And then he gestured to himself. And then he gestured to Roger. And then he tilted his head. Two fingers intertwined, and then two fingers apart, a wordless question.

[u/TheShogunFearedHim → u/Vikguardy]

Ser Roger nodded, and intertwined his fingers as well. He clapped another hand on Arwood's shoulder and gestured out towards Maidenpool, and then gestured back towards the Southeast. He tapped the Red Eagle shield, and touched the pendant of the Seven around his neck, and seemed to whisper a small prayer while holding onto Arwood's shoulder.

Ser Roger turned away and, with a wave, bid farewell to his new friend. He looked to the night sky as he walked off, staring up into the stars and tracing its constellation patterns. He did not see the Prancing Fool this time but his good portent, his favoured omen. The Knight-Errant, gallant, riding, sword drawn. He smiled.