(122-11-23) Leaves and Hand-Spans
Leaves and Hand-Spans
Summary: A bit of rest; a bit of contemplation.
Date: 21/11/2015
Related: None

Marsei is in the sitting room area of her chambers, sitting snug against one side of the elegant couch. A few candelabra light the room with the colour of fire, the colour of her hair, currently braided to one side. The room has been made cozy, yet the lady in it does not seem to be doing much except inhabiting it; perhaps that's been peace enough, amidst all the wedding preparations. A nearby stand holds a half-full glass of light wine and some manner of missive featuring the wax seal of the High Septon, of all people, although it seems to have been already read and no longer holds her focus; her attention is on the flickering of the flames, at least until the knock at her door. Siva answers, greets Camillo with the silent exchange of one type of servant to another, leads him to Marsei, and vanishes to another task for the present time. "Camillo," Marsei greets more warmly.

Camillo's knock is soft like most servants', designed not to startle the people within. He has a tray with a teapot and two cups (an extra just in case). He hefts the tray slightly. "My lady, I thought…wedding planning might be…trying. I brought some tea if you would care to take it."

The offer surprises Marsei genuinely, her face so plainly animating. "It sounds like just the thing!" She immediately turns where she sits to clear her wine glass and the letter from the table to make a spot for the tray. "I hope I have not seemed too muddled by the wedding plans, that you think I should need it," she says, but her voice is gentle with amusement; humour only, confirmed all the more with one of her bright smiles.

"Of course not, my lady," Camillo answers, though he seems like he understands the humor in her voice and isn't afraid of having offended. "But it must be a trying time for anyone. I brought some cakes to His Grace." He sets the tray down and pours a cup of tea. The light-colored liquid gives off the fresh scene of local herbs thought to have a quite mild sedative effect.

Marsei laughs softly, quiet, upon hearing that Camillo brought Dhraegon cakes. "I am glad," she says. "And he too was glad, I'm rather sure. Although I do hope he doesn't have too many before the wedding; it would be a small tragedy if he had to be refitted for his wedding attire on the day…" On the other hand, no one is likely to be the one to tell Dhraegon to stop eating cakes. Anyway, although she does sound slightly reflective, she only seems half serious — if that — on the matter, smiling throughout. She's more interested in lifting the cup Camillo has filled for her and lifting it to gently inhale the steam.

Camillo smiles slightly. "I portioned them out, my lady," he says. "Although I think he intends to have a cake party before the wedding. In lieu of…stag festivities." He nods to the cup. "I put some relaxing herbs in," he explains softly. "But I believe not so much as to bring sleep where it isn't wanted."

While her gaze is lowered toward the cup, Marsei smiles fondly over 'cake party'; of course Dhraegon is having a cake party. It's only fitting. "Hmm," she voices, intrigued over the tea, continuing to pause at the cup's edge as if trying to determine one scent from the other, or perhaps simply taking it all in. She takes a sip, looking up to offer Camillo a grateful look. "You are good with herbs," she says trustingly. "Where does one pick up such things?"

"I was born at a country stable, my lady," Camillo says, inclining his head a little. "Small folk in the country do not see maesters and even healers are few. We try to learn the plants that grow nearby to help when we have ailments."

"Oh," Marsei replies with straightforward wonder; the thought of Camillo being born at a country stable should come as no surprise, yet a touch of it marks her features alongside interest. "It is admirable to me that such can be learned without the use of books and maesters," she says, a thoughtfulness to her typical quiet earnesty.

Camillo tilts his head slightly. "Well. Sometimes country mothers are wrong," he acknowledges. "We do not know the…noble names for plants, and ordinary people only measure by leaves and hand-spans, not by balances."

"I don't know much about plants and herbs, but I understand more in leaves and hand-spans than balances," Marsei says smiling, taking another sip. "Anyway, any tea brewed by a maester would not taste half as gentle," she only half-jokes; perhaps less than that. Even so, her tone isn't disparaging toward the nameless maesters.

Camillo smiles a little, maybe pleased that his tea is not harsh to the lady. "Are you looking forward to the wedding, my lady?" he ventures.

"Very much so," Marsei answers straight away, eyes bright. There must be a thousand thoughts behind those eyes, wonders and worries alike, but it's simple joy at the very front here and now, innocent and optimistic. She lowers her cup, tipping her head ever-so-slightly toward Camillo; her joy mellows, and she watches him. Studies him. "Are you?"

Camillo looks a little curious about her expression, but mostly satisfied by her bright eyes. But the question to him causes his own cascade of thoughts and tiny shifts in expression to match. He's surprised to be asked at all, first of all, then pleased for and worried for the nobles, and of course deeply dreading his task of keeping his lord on his best behavior. "I…am so pleased for you and His Grace, my lady. It is…not often such a match of mutual care and regard is made."

Pleased, Marsei beams for an instant, but Camillo's answer comes as no surprise. "You have always been such a supporter, Camillo." She looks upon him further, her kind gaze going still. "After the month turns, the guests… they will start arriving ahead of the wedding. There is more to think about than wedding plans and cakes… and I have not stopped praying that it will go smooth."

"Is there anything else I can attend to to help you, my lady?" Camillo asks. "Any small details to be sure that the guests will be…in good cheer?"

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