(121-06-22) Wine and the Warrior
Wine and the Warrior
Summary: Leire presents an offering to Quillian; he presents one to the Seven in return.
Date: 22 June 2014
Related: Festival of Chivalry logs
Players:
Quill..Leire..

Starry Street
A small, relatively quiet residential street, leading to the prestigious Starry Sept of Oldtown. The manses of the pious (and rich) line the street, clustered in the Sept's shadow like children around an old, decrepit grandfather. The Sept rises skyward to the West, dominating the street. The famous Maidenday Gardens are spread out opposite the Sept's seven towers. To the East is the Starry Street Bridge with its seven arches and the multitude of seven-pointed stars decorating its stonework. It spans the Honeywine to connect with Hightower Street. To the North is the long stretch of Sphinx Street, and the towers of the Citadel at its end. The the South is the Guildhall Row with its somber, semi-fortified halls and guild-owned docks.

There are banner-poles along the street, with banners depicting the Seven-Pointed Star in gold, on a white field. The street is quite immaculate, in spite of the heavily worn cobbles, smoothened by the treading of the pious, on their way to the hallowed ground of the Starry Sept.

It's afternoon in Oldtown, when the sun is highest in the sky, and despite the occasional burst of rain, it is hot, and hotter still for how the sun steeps the cobblestone streets with its heat, so that it sizzles from below as well as above. Leire emerges from the Starry Sept with an acolyte in tow, the young boy carrying a pitcher and following dutifully after the septa he attends on. She leads him toward the pavillion occupied by the Blackrood, hovering at its entrance without presuming to enter, though very much intending to do just the same, once acknowledged by its occupant.

The Pavilion is surprisingly a place of solace from the heat. When it was cool, Ser Quillian was out in his armor challenging all manner of men, which made it quite difficult for some to worship, but made for some fine theatrics to witness. Having sent away a Lannister, broken and bloody, the Blackrood is enjoying that solace right now. His upper armor (save his chain mail) removed in order to not cook the knight in this hot and stormy weather. As one of Quillian's Squires notices the septa, he moves to open the flap before announcing that one of the faith is here.

Looking up from where he sits, Ser Quillian raises his brows before standing completely. Rising up Quillian offers a bit of a bow of his head. "Your Holiness." an extreme greeting, but there it is. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Leire steps inside the tent, but her acolyte lingers at the entrance to it, perhaps intimidated by the Blackrood and his immense physical presence, or else his reputation, both of which are formidable indeed. Dressed in a robe of scarlet, with a circlet around her forehead and a seven-pointed star worn at the hollow of her throat, the septa proves a touch braver than the boy does, shying not from meeting the knight's eye to speak to him in turn. "Ser. I am told the cacophony that served as musical accompaniment to this morning's services was your doing. Tribute to the warrior, I am also told."

Quillian bows his head. "Indeed it is, Septa-I have sworn to serve the Warrior here as his knight and only those worthy in the Warriors eyes have been allowed to pass." So far this has been a small number of lords, but many ladies and children. Knights he's managed to keep out. A slight grin is given before he moves to sit back down and there he looks to his eldest squire, Lewyn. "See that the Septa has a seat." He'd offer wine, but that could be viewed as improper. And with as devout as Quillian is, he will not be taking chances of offense. "The latest of this, would be lord Lory Lannister. A weak cub of a lion whom I hammered into the ground."

Once Leire has seated herself, she looks to the acolyte still lingering at the tent's entrance, a tilt of her head enough to bring him in, after all, and to her side. She motions to the pitcher he bears, and says, "Holy wine. Consecrated in the Warrior's name. An offering for his loyal servant, who would test the mettle of so many men who bear the Seven in their hearts the day the sword touches their shoulder, but forget to do the same on every day thereafter." But rather than have the boy pour it, she stands again, taking the wine from the acolyte and filling Quillian's cup herself. She delivers the following in a reverent tone, as the wine is poured. "In the name of the Warrior, may you strike true today and always, that you might ever separate the wheat from the chaff." That done, she sets down the pitcher and resumes her seat, dismissing the acolyte, who seems relieved to exit the tent and return to the sept.

Though he'd been prayed over by one of the lesser septons, and likely braver, Quillian was not expecting this. When the cup is offered he takes it reverently, and holds it out for a moment before drinking with a silent Let it Be. After the acolyte leaves, the knight takes another long pull before he is looking back towards Septa Leire. "I did not expect such an honor, but I shan't refuse it." the knight says with a toothy grin. "Thank you."

Leire raises a hand to finger the pendant she wears at her throat, twisting it in a slow circle while watching the knight drink from the cup, smiling for the way he honors and reveres it. "I remember you, ser. The day of the trial, you were among the first to bend the knee when I took the field to offer the prayer to the Seven. I knew then that you were a man who keeps them well, and so it was no surprise to me to see your banner hung on this tent. I will not divert you from the service you do here today, but wished bring you this token of appreciation."

"You blessed us well, Septa. Surely, the Warrior moved in me during the trial, as he does here." Quillian quips, his eyes drawn to the circling of the pendant at her throat. A slight swallow, before another sip of the holy wine is taken. "Thank you, for this token. I shall remember this festival fondly because of it. And I do hope the Warrior continues to show favor to me." And there he chuckles softly. "Would you do me a favor, Septa-though you owe me none?"

Perhaps the draw of Quillian's gaze makes Leire mindful of the absent way in which she toys with the pendant, for she lets it go and folds her hands in her lap instead, a serene gesture that matches the smile on her face. His thanks are met with a gracious inclination of her head, and when he asks for a favor, she doesn't hesitate to reply, "Very well. If you will grant me one, in turn."

"I am ever helpful to the sept, though I pray you do not ask me to move." meaning his pavilion. He's quite happy to challenge the men here, and it's such a prime thoroughfare. Still Quillian, clears his throat. "Prayers said for my family- is all I request. My brother has been wounded by men from the West-men I hung in justice." A pause there. "My brother is the heir and he is touch and go. Surely you know I want him to survive this attack. As we've none other than he and I to take Old Oak, should my father pass." thus the other crux of his prayer. That the line continues. "That is all."

Leire listens to these tidings of the Blackrood's familial ills with a creased brow and an expression that's duly empathetic toward his plight. "I will light a candle at the Mother's feet for your brother, and tend it all through the night, that he might feel Her by his bedside and draw comfort from it in his time of need." She speaks with conviction, her gaze intent and direct as she looks upon the knight opposite her, like she would any petitioner approaching the Seven, regardless of rank or stature or reputation. She goes on, "If it would bring you comfort, as well, I would invite you to return to the sept when your service here is done and join me in prayer." And then she is silent a moment, breaking it at length to say, "Fear not. The favor I ask is a familial one, as well."

"Thank you." this said to Leire with a bowing of his head. And then he looks back towards the Septa and raises up. And then he is moving, likely to summon his squire to bring over a small bag of coin. That he is handing over to the Septa once he comes back to his seat. "This is paltry, a tenth as is required, since I could not make the mass worship today." he says before sitting back down. Another sip of wine. "Then ask it, and I will seek to aid." says, Quillian.

Leire adds the contents of the bag to the pouch worn on a slender silver belt at her waist, designed for just such a purpose, making the transfer with a practiced discretion borne of years in service to the Seven. "The generosity of House Oakheart is appreciated by the Seven as well as its mortal servants," she tells Quillian, leaving the emptied bag on the table's edge. And then, as to the matter of her favor, she says, her voiced lowered, as if what she relates is a matter of confidence, "If you might remind my brother that his sister keeps him in her heart and mind, even if he has not found occasion to seek her out since the trial."

Quillian is quiet, before he nods. "I will send a missive to him, or when I am taking a break-will ride to see him and let him know. I am curious as to how his pass is going." he adds before looking back to her. "I am sure he has been busy. What with his own marriage-and having a new holdfast. But I shall remind him to seek you out. I swear." the Blackrood finishes with his hand over his heart.

Leire says, "Thank you," before rising from her seat, smoothing out the skirts of her robe as she stands. "I know you to be a good friend to him for the excuses you make on his behalf." Her smile is placid, and she says, "Know that your brother's vigil is kept tonight. May your afternoon prove as fruitful as the morning did. Good day to you, ser." All this while she moves to the pavillion's exit, leaving the wine behind for Quillian to enjoy.

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