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 Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2017 5:19 am
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With her business at Western Weyr concluded, Lady Ink traveled to the meeting place. As Morth could not accompany her on these journeys, she made her way by foot, dressed to blend into the general populace. Her ornate gown had gone home with those returning to High Reaches, replaced by something simple and serviceable. They had not discussed what roles they would be playing for this investigation, as it was almost too easy to fall into whatever best suited. But sometimes planning was the greater part of success.
Upon arriving at the appointed place, the lady gave a whistle, settling upon a nearby rock. She could not yet see the dark shape that she expected; perhaps they were waiting at a slight distance, or perhaps... no, it was unlikely indeed that he might have forgotten her. With her pack firmly strapped to her back, she let her eyes skirt over the surrounding area. Somewhere out there. Ink shifted her seat to a cross-legged one, and prepared to wait however long was necessary.
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2017 4:00 pm
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The lady would not have to wait long. Mimicking her whistle, a draconic trill rang out from the darkness. It was in the opposite direction, however, that the dragon’s bright green eyes flashed open, revealing his position. There was the soft thump of booted feet landing in the grass, and a man came into view. It was the harper Lucayr, his gaudy gather finery replaced by a simple tunic, slacks and a brown scally cap. As ever, he was chipper and wore a rakish smile as he doffed his hat and bowed before Lady Ink.
“Good evening, Mistress. Our transport awaits your leisure. Shall we away this instant, or shall we formulate an itinerary first?”
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2017 4:44 pm
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And thus the bird arrived, bowing down before her. Where before there had been a lady fair, now there was a peasant woman, fair of face, but humble enough. She curtsied, and all of that fell away, the grand dame of the hour twinkling beneath a drab shell.
"We shall away, good lark. We are two lovers honeymooning in Ruatha. How fortunate that you know the place well." She set her hand upon the crook of his arm, falling easily into that role, as though it had been made for her. "And what is your craft, dear sir?"
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2017 6:35 pm
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“I am but a simple tackmaker, my darling bride, after my father.” As they spoke, he led the lady towards his dragon. “A lowly craft to some, but how well those Ruathans should speak of me once they see your radiant face!”
They were right beside Tikth now, the brown dragon so dark that he was still barely visible in the dim of the night. His riding gear, however, could be fairly well made out if one looked closely enough. True to word, Lucayr had made the tack by hand, a simple but elegant design in wherhide several shades lighter than the dragon. He was in reality a harper, as the lady well knew, but much of his youth was spent with his father—a tanner. The same delicate strokes of fingers across gitar strings, or a page of music, were well-suited for the detailing of leather.
Tikth crooned to his bonded and their mistress, lowering his front end so that the lady might have an easier time of mounting.
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Posted: Sun Dec 24, 2017 6:46 am
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A faint, fond smile curved the lady's lips as her so-called husband spoke. "Surely such a craft would be quite welcome in Ruatha, for Ruathans need wherhide jackets, and riding saddles." He helped her aboard Tikth, and she went willingly, settling in place as though she belonged there. "And I, for my part, shall be a weaver. My patrons at Nabol, Bitra, and Western are the courtesans who dot the holds like bright gems. But perhaps a few less colorful creatures, as well." Lady Ink was, after all, quite capable of crafting beautiful garments. That had been a part of her training, as well, and she had made a number of the lovely gowns that she'd worn over the Turns.
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2017 12:14 pm
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Lucayr smiled, rechecking Tikth’s straps and saddlebags while the lady settled. Then he mounted up, and they were off. They transferred in over Ruatha, and the brown bugled a greeting to the watchdragon. There were other dragons on the ground, several of which were white. Tikth recognized one or two of the whites from previous visits, but the others were strangers. He relayed this information to his rider, who in turn relayed it to Ink. Then they wheeled down and landed a short ways outside the hold proper.
The “tanner” dismounted first, stepping onto Tikth’s offered forearm. The brown repeated his gesture for their passenger, and Lucayr turned and held up a hand for his lady. “Carefully, my dear. We wouldn’t want you to turn an ankle in the first few moments of our honeymoon.”
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2017 1:24 pm
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When they landed, the lady's eyes scanned the crowd for familiar faces. There were those among Ruatha's holdings that knew of the woman made of ice. Friendly sorts who had helped her in the past, and also those who were known to Lucayr. "I shall entrust my safety to you, dear husband. You are undoubtedly more familiar with these matters than I," she said softly, taking the outstretched hand.
Of course, where there were friends, there were also enemies. Lord Gansley had his hooks in certain quarters, even in Ruatha, and if it were known that Lady Zheria's handmaiden had arrived... well, she had better hope that her acting abilities were impressive indeed. "And where are we staying for our honeymoon, dear heart? You left that little detail out," the lady remarked, a faint smile curving her lips, even as she let her "husband" help her down from his dragon's back.
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2017 4:12 pm
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Her “husband” was just about to answer when he was interrupted by a black-haired man coming through the gates with a shout and a wave. “Ah, here’s your answer, my sweet—Wollis, my friend!”
“Congratulations, Lorkan! It’s about time you tied the knot!” When Wollis reached the pair, he clasped Lucayr’s hand in greeting and then gave a grinning nod to Ink. “Pleased to meet you, Miss…?”
“Inara,” Lucayr supplied. “The loveliest creature ever to walk the planet.” To that, Wollis just smiled indulgently, likely thinking of his own wife, about whom he certainly felt the same. “As it happens, Wollis, my wife was hoping to unpack right away…”
“Of course, of course! But unfortunately, the cottage you requested isn’t quite ready. Would you be averse to staying a night or two in one of the Lord’s guestrooms?”
With a shrug, Lorkan the tanner deferred to his wife. Lucayr the harper had, of course, arranged for this rarer opportunity to impose upon the hold’s Lord, if Ink wanted to make use of it.
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2018 12:29 pm
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Wollis led the couple into the main hold, where they barely had the chance to take in the great hall before quickly turning aside into the kitchen. Lorkan took a deep breath of the air as they passed through; bread baking, meat turning on the spit, a garlicky soup boiling away in the cauldron. Then into a hallway, lined with snug little rooms used by the hold’s drudges. Wollis showed them into one of the rooms, this one cleaned up and decorated with a few vases filled with fresh flowers. There was just enough floor space in there for the three to stand in a loose circle, which they did after Wollis casually closed the door behind them.
The two men stood in mirror image of each other, arms crossed and heads tilted just so. Lorkan glanced around the tiny room, then smirked at Wollis. “It’s… cozy, if nothing else. And I suppose it will be interesting to listen to the kitchen gossip. I assume there are no vermin to frighten my lovely wife?”
Their host returned his smirk, then turned a softer version of the look upon Inara. “Not to worry. All of the vermin holes into this room have been sealed.”
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Posted: Tue Jan 09, 2018 4:00 pm
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Wollis nodded emphatically. “Yes, the air has been mighty blustery of late. A draft could prove quite dangerous to one’s health.”
As the man spoke, Lorkan was casually circling the cozy little room, hands clasped behind his back. A painting on the wall caught his eye, and he took it down to admire it more closely. A flick of his hazel eyes toward the bare wall confirmed his suspicion. There was a patched spot on the wall over what appeared to be a small crack. The sound, upon placing the painting back on its nail, told him that the original hole had been deeper, perhaps going completely through to the other side of the wall. Wollis had been thorough with these “vermin holes.”
“Ah, Wollis, there’s no need for dramatics,” he said. “We know how to bundle up against drafts, don’t we, my sweet?” He turned a knowing grin upon his bride.
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