(121-03-15) Little Pup - Big Market
Little Pup - big Market
Summary: Teryin meets Hellan, Genevra’s mother and Hellan meets Lord Hightower
Date: 15/03/2014
Related: Nightmares, Witches, Little Girls

It's one of those days when you want to just sit inside by the hearth with your loved ones and forget about the drizzling rain coming down. The clouds cast a gray tone to everything and the market seems less busy with nobles and more busy with their servants.

Teryin hadn't slept much the previous night, the dark rings along the lower portion of his eyes attesting for that fact. He woke up late and was just returning from the construction of the Golden Maiden. Dressed for the weather, not combat, he wears a leather hooded jerkin over the red tunic. A warm, heavy cloak draped along his shoulders. The scabbard belt is kept hidden within the cloak, hilts resting at his hips.

"Them workers better get off their arses and do something. Don't care much for excuses because of the weather." Teryin speaks to his companion in the tongue of the Braavosi. "We didn't get to choose the conditions of the weather when we were out in the field fightin'" Yorik just chuckles at his friends' words, tossing a few silver towards a stall and picking up a couple apples. "Catch - For a knight, you seem awfully set on this business adventure between Lady Aleesi and Lady Isara." Teryin catches the apple and takes a bite almost immediately.

Amid the scarce crowds braving the cool, wet air to shop is a pale, strong-featured, dark-haired woman with a cloak trimmed in thick, brown and grey fur; utilitarian for the day and proudly from north of the Reach. Her simple gown and matching cloak are the dullest green, gradually becoming spotted by rain. Lady Hellan's skin has seemed to turn even paler through the cool day, appearing as hard ivory, a contrast to the tired, red line that skirts her eyes. As she glides slowly from vendor to vendor, she has the look of someone who does not particularly enjoy browsing the wares; it is a chore she would rather be done with. Today, she is accompanied by a smaller, soft-featured version of herself … in theory.
"Genevra," she says, stern but idle, her attention split, not in fact checking to see if her daughter is still near. A pair of man-at-arms trail behind them for their protection, after all.

The young Genevra is dressed in her normal attire meaning a boys shirt white, dark blue doublet, matching trousers and black boots. She wears a black tri-cornered hat over her long dark braid and at her belt is a dagger. She looks more like a boy than a girl and rather than following behind her mother she has just slipped off to admire the selection of a weapons merchant. After looking over the mans wares her head turns hearing a familer voice. She grins and makes her way over to where Teryin and his companion are standing. "Hello again…you know I never got your name. I still want another lesson too." She eyes Teryin expectantly waiting to see if he recognizes her. She glances breifly over in the general direction of her mother wondering if the woman will notice she is missing again. She looks back to Teryin eyeing both him and his companion with curiosity.

Teryin was mid bite when the youth approached him, jade eyes looking over the curve of the fruit for a moment before sinking his teeth into the juicy apple. The whole display brings Yorik to chuckle, his cuirass shaking as he too is as large are Teryin. "You know this whelp?" Asked in Braavosi to keep from the tomboy his words. Slowly Teryin chews, jaw line clenching each time. "Direwolf pup. Wants to learn the blade dance." The reply in the foreign tongue before turning to the pup, "I remember you Lady Wolf. Though I don't think I can teach you a lesson you wish to learn here in this crowd." His harden expression fades, thoughts of the construction turning towards the youthful girl. "This is Ser Teryin Lefford of Golden Tooth." Yorik introduces the knight at his side with a slap on the shoulder, his Braavosi accent deep and vocal. "And this broad stump is Ser Yorik of Golden Tooth." Teryin tosses back the introduction before noticing /that/ glance. "Slipped away from mother wolf again I see?"

Hellan drifts to a stop in front of display of fine, fragrant herbs all bundles into fresh bunches. The vendor begins to ramble about their culinary and medicinal properties while Hellan seems to ignore him, examining them with her own opinions. "Gen— " she begins to say, only to realize that she is speaking to the nothing but empty space … a common occurence between her and her daughter in both directions. She casts a look over her shoulder, reaching to lightly push away the fur trim that first barricades her view. After a scan of Hightower Square, she zeros in on the cap and trousers that denote that she's found her daughter.

Leaving the herbs — she did not want them anyhow — Hellan moves toward the errant little Stark, head held high, eyeing the towering men with her with a cold, narrowed gaze. It is dangerous to stir a wolf mother with a pup, even when that wolf wasn't minding her pup in the first place. "Genevra, what are you doing with these men,' her warning look for Teryin and Yorik is barely different from the one she gives Genevra. "I am sure they do not care to be bothered."

Genevra listens curiously as the two men speak in Braavosi. She doesn't understand the words but she can tell they are speaking of her. When teryin speaks to her she nods. "I see…well I still want to learn more when you have the time to teach." Her eyes shine with excitement and she inclines her head to the other man Yorik. "Its is nice to meet you Ser Teryin and you as well Ser Yorik." She looks between the two of them nodding to Teryin with a mischievious smile. It is then that her mother comes over. She looks between Hellan and Teryin and smiles sweetly at the former. "But mother he didn't mind my presence at all last time. I least I don't think so…" She smirks quite wickedly and winks playfully at Teryin.

Yorik's chuckle stops at the look given by mother wolf, a light pat on the shoulder, words whispered in Braavosi, "Sorry my friend, but you dug your own grave on this." A courteous bow is offered before the Lady Stark before the Braavosi man is easing his way into the crowd. "Coward." Teryin mutters under his breath in the same foreign tongue before speaking in common, jade eyes looking past Hellan towards the escorts before returning to the danger at hand.

"Lady Stark." The knight bows his head slightly, "Tis not a bother. Your pup is quite good at what she does. She started with one hand, then worked her way to two. Very graceful and determined to impress me." Teryin is /so/ digging a hole, but he does enjoy tugging at certain strings. "She's young, but shows potential."

"Last time?" Hellan queries sharply. Forgive her if Genevra's expression toward the full-grown, armed man is not taken well. She lays a strong hand on her daughter's shoulder, white-knuckled in the chill. Though she does not move the girl, the possibility seeps through her palm, her fingertips, threatening to turn Genevra right about and away from her new acquaintances. Rather, it's Hellan who moves to step slightly in front of Genevra to stare down the knight, regardless of the fact that he is leagues taller. She may wear a gown and the title of a lady herself, but she has the bearing of the warrior her daughter seeks to be. "You will do well to speak plain and keep away from young ladies, I do not care who you are."

Genevra scowls as she is pushed back out of sight. Hellan moving in front of her where the young girl was speaking to Teryin. She moves to the side trying to get where she can see better. Her mothers words have her glaring at the woman her eyes ablaze with fury. Still her voice remains light and playful despite the fact that its clear she hates her mother telling the man to stay away. "Mother…he was teaching me how to handle a sword. Nothing happened that I did not ask for. You can forbid me to speak with him but we both I know I'll do it anyway….and you aren't his mother so you can't tell him what to do." There is a smug look on the girls face as she backs up a bit moving around out of Hellan's reach in case her mother gets the idea to discipline her. The three of them are standing out in the gloom of the square as a light rain falls and servants go about their business. Hellan is apparently angry about something and is glaring at Teryin trying to intimidate him. Genevra is staying true to her nature and not helping matters in the slightest.

The apple wielding hand comes to rest at his side, the reaction of the mother bringing a coy smirk to his lips. "My lady, I assure you she quite good in the art of sword play and dance. She wished me to guide her, that is all." A brow lifts almost mockingly, "Did you suspect your daughter of such foul acts?" The rain continues to soak into the cloak, droplets falling from the brim of the hood which covers his face. His jade gaze matches that of the mother's, he can see the coldness and that hardened hint of a northern born.

Teryin's lips freeze at the words of the young pup, knowing full well that with all these innuendos the mother will surely think they were together sexually. A slight dip of his head, breath trying to fill his lungs after a deep sigh. "Uh pup, I don't think you are helping the situation."

With a walk that is deserving of fanfare, the acting lord of Oldtown makes himself present in the square. Murmurs of treason arise as the man passes each member of the common class, but his face remains rigid and stoic, as is customary. A brief scanning from those blue-gray eyes and he approaches the three who have gathered in argument, remarking, "Perhaps there is something that I can do to help bring an end to this conflict?"

"I know she favours the art of swordplay," Hellan states, voice even, strong, factual. "Without permission," she reminds both the child and the adult involved, her distinctive brows raising high and sharp. She glances sidelong at her daughter when her touch is skirted, and finds herself glancing sidelong once again as murmurs precede the approach of another man. The Stark woman does not recognize the face, but recognizes someone of importance when she sees one: the walk, the whispers. "Nothing but a," she eyes back and forth pointedly between Genevra and Teryin before her cold mein relaxes ever-so-slightly for appearances, "minor misunderstanding, m'lord."

Genevra scowls. Her tone is low but the anger is evident she doesn't scream or yell but its obvious she is furious with her mother. "You would have me be weak and helpless! I don't want to be like that….I have no desire to live up to the expectations placed upon ladies. You don't care what I think though you never even bother to listen. You just assume I'm like other girls my age…I'm not, I don't want to be and I never will be. The sooner you and father understand that the better things will be." With that she turns on her heel and stalks off twoard a stack of crate. Vaulting up onto them she climbs to the top of the stack giving Hellan one last glare and Teryin a faint smile before she starts climbing up the wall onto the roof and then disappears from thier sight.

Lord Hightower is known to Teryin, though he himself is not in the same attire he graced the Lord with. His eyes remain on the Stark woman, his current threat. The attention of the knight is stolen as Genevra defies her mother and climbs the crates, disappearing from view. He turns back to the mother wolf, "She is gifted, why waste a gift. She found me on the beach and spoke of learning the art better. Why keep it hidden and not worn as a badge of…" The voice trails off as the Lord Hightower entire their presense. "Very minor misunderstanding and a brief intrduction, my lord. Lady Stark and I were just conversating about her offspring, sword play, and raising child." A reassuring smile crosses his lips, the respectful bowing of his head.

Ser Gwayne's eyes move to the girl before they return to rest on her mother, "They can be a handful, can't they?" He smiles and offers a nod to Teryin, "I trust everything is well with your new property?" Upon hearing of the woman's House, his eyebrows raise, "Stark, is it? Are you familiar with Bastion, then?"

Hellan's stare at her daughter is rather dull, all things considered. She listens without a spark in her eye until the girl scurries away like a wild thing. Her jaw tenses, lets go. On a nod, she gains the attention of the two man-at-arms lurking in the background. "Track her. See she gets home, if not back here." She seems to rightly determine that the effort will take two men.

Her regard of Teryin, for his words, is full of many unspoken by her; she clearly has no desire to speak of child-raising with this stranger. "I suppose she is of … an age," she says to the other man with a tired manner of apology. "Yes," a vague smile manages to uplift the corners of her boldly defined lips, "Ser Bastion is a relation of my husband," she answers politely. "We seem to be on uneven ground; Lady Hellan," she introduces herself properly to the men. And you are?, in other words.

He's on uneven ground with the Stark woman, but doesn't press it. "The vineyards are in good shape, the construction of the Golden Maiden is progressing slowly, though the property has changed a bit. I'm sure it's in one of your scrolls stacked like a tower about your desk." After speaking he steps back slowly, the thin line of honor in the man remains to guard the Stark as her escorts leave to find the girl. The apple is eaten, each bite a slow motion as eyes remain on the two.

"Lord Gwayne Hightower. I am a friend of Ser Bastion's," remarks the man with a subtle bow of the head before his hand moves to slip a thumb through his sword belt. He smiles softly to Teryin and says, "I am glad to hear it. I fully expect a bottle of your finest wine upon completion."

"Lord Gwayne," Hellan greets anew with realization in her voice, bowing her head appropriately now that she knows she speaks to the acting lord of the city, short of a curtsey. "Apologies." For not knowing his identity, for her daughter's behavior — take your pick. She turns her attention on the other man who seems friendly with the lord. "I should also like to know your name," she says to Teryin in a smooth mimicry of polite inquiry.

The guards still have not returned but Genevra has. The young girl comes out of an alley opposite of the direction she left in. She has a ripe red apple in one hand and seems much calmer as she managed to evade the guards her mother sent after her completely. She didn't go very far though just far enough to throw the gaurds off her trail. She slips up behind Teryin through the crowd and stands quietly behind him, watching her mother inquire about his name. She takes a bite of her apple trying to stay out of the woman’s sight for now as she observes.

"I'm sure my wife while fill the first flagon personally for you my lord." A smile through the bite of an apple, he finishes chewing and looks to Hellan, "Ser Teryin Lefford, knight of Golden Tooth and husband to Lady Isara, owner of the new winery and eating establishment being erected in town." A brief nod of his head to show her respect. He doesn't notice Genevra right away, though the cloak draped about his broad shoulders seem to hide her from the view of Hellan.

Gwayne nods his head to Hellan again and says, "No worries, Lady Stark." He straightens his belt a bit and says, "I trust you are finding the weather in Oldtown to be preferable to your homeland, yes?" He grins a bit and looks over to Teryin, remarking, "I look forward to it."

Hellan nods to Teryin; it is with slightly more legitimate interest, though a healthy breadth of criticism lurks in her grey eyes. She hasn't spotted her daughter's return, going on to offer Gwayne a taut smile. She lifts a hand to adjust her fur-trimmed hood protecting her in Northern style from the damp weather. "In truth, I prefer a pure chill to lingering rain."

Taking another bite of her apple Genevra peeks out from behind Teryin cautiously. She glances up at the knight with a faint smile. But her mothers words have her unable to resist commenting. "I don't mind the rain and I like the south so far…the swimming holes are warmer and the trees are fun to climb." Nevermind that she would climb every tree she saw back home and find those fun to climb as well. She eyes her mother cautiously but keeps Teryin between her and her mother. She looks up at the knight hopefully. "Will you teach me to fight then? I really want to learn. I can always sneak away for lessons but it would be easier if mother agreed." Easier but not exactly necessary but she doesn't say that part aloud. She glances between him and her mother carefully trying to gauge the reaction of them both.

Gwayne grins at the woman as his eyes move skywards, "I can see your point." Upon Genevra's return, the Lord's steely eyes find rest upon her, his eyebrow raising slightly. He'll wait her mother's reaction before commenting.

Just as Teryin and Hellan were finding /some/ sort of common ground or in the very least, a smidgen of respect - Genevra shows up and puts him back on the spot. The steel look in the Lady Stark's eyes is noted, but the received nod is welcomed. Words spoke behind him, recognized immediately, head swiveling over a shoulder to the sight of the young Stark. "I…uh" Teryin really doesn't know how to answer this, caught between Lord Hightower and the young pup's mother.

Hellan is not exactly surprised to see her daughter sneak back up again; her reappearance does, however, cause another tightening of her jaw. "… A matter we will discuss back at the manse," she tells Genevra; although she is firm on this, she speaks in a tone of voice that has warmed moderately in the past few minutes. She gives the girl a quick 'step forward' gesture. "Genevra, this is Lord Gwayne Hightower," she looks pointedly at her daughter, "The acting lord of Oldtown. Lord Gwayne, Lady," another pointed look to behave, in the presence of the Hightower, "Genevra."

Genevra nods to her mother and offers a faint semi-apologetic smile to Teryin. When the Lord Hightower is introduced she offers a polite bow, not a curtsey but a bow like a man or boy would give. She isn't in a dress after all and the long braid is really the only dead giveaway she is a girl. "A pleasure to meet you my Lord." Her tone is polite but it is obvious she is at least slightly uncomfortable and fidgets a bit glancing to her mother and then back to Teryin who seems to have most of her attention. She stays silent for now glancing between the three adults curiously.

"The pleasure is mine, little Lady," says Gwayne as bows his head to Genevra. A hand reaches up to lightly stroke at the stubble that has accumulated on his chin, "Not often one meets a girl with such an affinity for swordplay."

Teryin's body side steps, giving the Lord Hightower a better view of the youth. The tighting of her jaw is noticed quite a bit, furthering a silence about the matter for now. Would be so much easier for this without parental supervision. It's in silence the knight stands, the apple core tossed to a gutter after his last bite.

Silent on the matter of swordplay and her daughter's affinity for it, the Stark lady stands with squared shoulders, her hand tightening now and again into the fur trim near her throat. "A pleasure," she agrees with her daughter to Ser Gwayne with a small smile. "I heard some talk of recent happenings with the Dornish. I offer my support. I would not like to see bloodshed in Oldtown so soon."

The Maiden's Knight. Ser Daevon Targaryen rides through the streets atop a golden sandsteed mare. He's dressed in light armour, sword sheathed.

Genevra bites her lip at the mention of the Dornish but though she looks like she wants to say something she turns and tries to slip back into the crowd moving away from the adults for now and climbing up to sit onto a stack of barrels to watch the crowd of people go about their business. She gets settled just as the figure atop the golden horse rides by and she looks at the figure with awe. She grins clearly pleased about something watching eagerly with excited eyes to see what she thinks is a female knight will stop the horse.

"I am glad that there are sects of the nobility who agree with my sentiments. It is best to avoid the use of a sword where kind words will suffice," responds Gwayne to Hellan. He watches the tiny girl wander off again with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head.

Not knowing much of the Dornish, only what he had heard at court, Teryin remains calm and quiet. He reaches for a skin of wine at his belt, removing the lid and draining some from it. Half lids spy the rider in the rain before the drink is finished. A wipe of his lips along the sleeve just over the bandaged forearm - one caused by the previous night's training with Genevra.

Knight and horse are a matched pair, from the silvered-gold hair, to those strange purple eyes. Both slighter, built for speed. Daevon's strikingly beautiful, easily mistaken for a woman of course. He's the Maiden Knight for many reasons after all. When he spots Gwayne, he directs his horse over in that direction.

Looking at Genevra, this time Hellan notices when she slips away, marking her whereabouts but not bothering to scold her climbing. She follows the girl's excited gaze to the approaching Targaryen knight upon his steed and she half-supresses a small sigh, anticipating another swordsman for Genevra to go mad over. There is an extra notch etched between her eyes by the time she responds to Gwayne, slightly distracted. " — yes…" A heavy blink brings her back 'round. "I've only arrived in the city recently … I would like to see it kept a safe place to stay for the length of my stay. I was glad to see Ser Bastion on the guard."

Gwayne looks up to spy the Targaryen atop the horse with a half-grin, saying, "Well met, Ser Daevon. I trust all is well with you?" A look back to Hellan and he says, "And I will do all that is in my power to keep this city a safe place for you and your family."

With the guards still off searching for Genevra, Teryin remains steadfast off behind Hellan. Taking it upon himself to escort her to the Stark Manse when she is finished in the market. Until then he leans against a stall, dreadfully wishing for another apple. Jade eyes switch between the approaching Targaryen with Lord Hightower and the Lady Stark - and with the perched tomboy, just fawning over the rider. Fingers seem to find the hilts of the blades within his cloak as they lay to rest patiently.

"Ser Gwayne," Daevon replies. "I am well, better for my sister's safe return, and her bravery in working towards neutralizing the dragon threat. Although it troubles me somewhat that few have realized the importance of her actions, although it is understandable with other dangers close at hand." He frowns slightly. "It is troubling times that are upon us. I was hoping that I could have an audience with you."

Genevra can't take her eyes off the beautiful knight and the matching horse. She doesn't really want to go back over there with the adults but her curiosity has her leaping gracefully off the barrels landing at a crouch and then making her way over careful not to spook the golden horse. She tilts her head as Gwayne speaks to the knight. "Ser Daevon? But that’s a mans name…" She looks slightly disappointed. "Its wrong that women have to hide their identity if they wish to fight or become knights….I could beat any man I fought with the proper training. I know I could!" Such determination, her eyes practically shine with it and her jaw is set in a firm line as she studies the knight curiously the admiration is still there.

"Of course, m'lord," Hellan says with fine gratitude. She gives Genevra a restrained half a glance, on that note. She nods her head to the Targaryen in respect and again to Gwayne. "We should… " And then Genevra has reappeared, again, giving the mother's jaw that increasingly familiar twitch. "…be on our way…" she mutters beneath the girl's many words. "Now is not the time, Genevra, these men have important things to discuss. Perhaps you will have another chance to speak with Ser Daevon. I believe he is even an acquaintance of your lady cousin. Hm?" Tucking her hood further over her dark head, the Northerner reaches for Genevra's hand, determined to leave.

Gwayne nods to Daevon, "Well, I'm about to head back to the Hightower to catch up on a few things. Perhaps you could find me there later?" He looks to Hellan and says, "It was lovely talking to you." He bows his head to all in attendance and begins his walk back down the street.

Daevon's horse snorts, tossing her head. Daevon's eyes do flick to the girl but for now he's speaking with Gwayne. "My Ladies," he says to them. He then nods at Gwayne. "As you wish."

Genevra takes a step back from Hellan out of her reach. "I can find my own way back..I know the way. I'll be along in a little while and I won't bother anybody who doesn't want to be bothered." She tries to reason with her mother but the determined look she has likely means no matter what she will resist anyone who tries to make her return home before she is ready. She glances to Teryin and then to Daevon and finally to the lord as he turns to leave.

With the group dispersing, Teryin pushes himself from the stall with a shoulder. "Pup, it would be wise to listen to your mother." A hand gesture towards Genevra towards the hand of Hellan. "Besides, it's not yet night and your guards have left you." The jade gaze looks to the Stark woman, "I'll take you back safely or until the guards find you." It's spoken reassuringly to the woman, fingers thrumming along the hilts extending from the scabbards at his waist. "And pup, if your mother allows it, you can show her what you've learned." He's almost bribing the youth to return with her mother, to ease the old crone as well as get in better graces with her.

Genevra seems to consider Teryin's words for a moment then she nods in agreement. "Okay I'll come and thank you for offering to escort us home Ser Teryin." She smiles happily at the knight and moves to follow behind her mother. Apparently Teryin is better at getting her to behave than her own mother…who would have guessed?

Anger for her daughter's initial stubbornness finds a home only in Hellan's hands, which clench and release stiffly at her sides. Her agreement with Teryin is not exactly overflowing with enthusiasm; she simply gives a vague shrugging gesture with her eyebrows to Teryin. She seems tired, eager only to leave this place. "Thank you Ser Teryin," she repeats in a duller, more wry tone, carrying on out of the Square with slow, long strides.

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