Post by rainstormamaya on Sept 11, 2009 8:37:27 GMT 10
Title: Encounter
Summary: Maura of Dunlath sees her visitors before they see her.
Rating: PG
Series: Immortals
Warnings: none?
Note: Set in my Immortals AU: Daine has a twin, Dren, Tristran Staghorn becomes Trisha (Patrisha) Staghorn, and Numair is Giacinta Salmalín (once Mara Draper.) Apart from that, everything is pretty much the same.
**
There was a group of unfamiliar silhouettes on the hill. This was sufficiently peculiar in Dunlath that Maura felt she ought to take a closer look, and thanked the Goddess that she had that morning deliberately put on her plainest, nastiest, brownest and by far most comfortable dress, which ought to camouflage her nicely, especially in the sort of evilly bramble-laden thicket she intended to use as cover.
She took two very cautious steps to the left, out of the shadow of the encroaching holly bush that almost shielded the entire path, and slipped behind the thicket, crouching in the spot that provided the best view, and the best concealment, and the fewest thorns... Which did not, in fact, exist. Maura stifled a yelp, quietly removed the long and thorny briar she had just knelt on, and carefully, carefully, picking her steps with immense caution, began to sidle closer to the small group.
They weren’t that far away, as it happened; they were just standing on the grassy curve topping the largest hill of those that ringed Dunlath, a ring twenty or thirty metres wide and flat as the griddle-cakes Maura had eaten for breakfast, but covered in lush grass. Legend said that one of the few lords of fief Dunlath ever to have a significant Gift had blasted most of the top off the hill in either a fit of pique or an alcohol-related accident, and that not a tree would grow there now. Either way, there was a lot of open ground between the figures and her, and even though Maura had crept right up to the edge of the thicket and was becoming seriously worried about the amount of cover it provided, she could still only hear a few whispers.
She bit her bottom lip and examined the group. Now that she was closer, and didn’t have the sun in her eyes, she could see that the silhouettes were in fact three horses, a very tall woman wearing a dark blue tunic and breeches that had seen heavy wear, and two teenagers; one a boy, and one a girl, and both very alike, with the same brown hair and build; relatively light, but strong, with the lanky look of the steadily growing. They both carried bows, and they both wore tunics, thick leggings and sturdy boots. She didn’t recognise them.
Maura hesitated, and then muttered a few words under her breath, holding one hand cupped to her ear. This spell had been taught to her by a sympathetic Rider only a few weeks ago; one of the Ninth Rider Group. They’d visited only briefly, a space of a few hours, and then they had ridden out with grim, set faces, but they had stayed long enough for a bored Rider to amuse himself by teaching little Lady Maura a simple cantrip.
Maura shuddered as she remembered the almighty bang, puff of smoke and smell of death on the wind after they had left, just as dark was falling. Belden had started, but Yolane had not, simply saying indifferently that one of the mages must have had an accident, and she did hope nobody was hurt. And Maura, sit up straight- and have you seen Mistress Staghorn?
She had not seen Mistress Staghorn, and she did not want to, and the next day she had tried to walk out in the direction of the bang, and Rikash had stopped her, and distracted her by taking her flying.
The noise of someone speaking as the spell took effect almost made Maura leap out of her skin and give herself away as it dragged her into the present. It was the tall woman, who had her hands propped on her hips.
“-Dren, this absolutely cannot go on. I can’t have it. You have got to stop giving me the slip every time an animal is hurt and you feel they need your attention!”
“I did not give you the slip,” the boy- Dren? –said angrily. He had a northern accent, overlaid by Corus tones, and the combination was very odd to Maura’s ears. “I was gone two moments, and all it was was rescuing a squirrel! All you had to do was ask Daine if you were really worried. She could have told you I was fine!”
“You appal me. I would leave you behind when we visit Lord Belden and Lady Yolane, except that I’m sure you would get into some kind of misch- what’s that?” the tall woman demanded, swinging abruptly round. Maura had shifted her weight, and a twig had cracked; she made herself as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe. Don’t come here. Don’t come here.
The girl Daine’s eyes wandered slowly over the thicket, and caught and held Maura’s. She had blue-grey eyes with a solemn look to them, and her fingers were tangled in her grey pony’s mane.
“Can you see something, Daine?” the woman demanded, and Daine broke Maura’s panicked gaze, turning back to the woman.
She shook her head and spoke, her voice softer than the boy’s and the rounded corners of her accent less sharpened by city speech, insofar as Maura could tell from just one word. “No.”
The tall woman stared at her, looking a little puzzled. “I could have sworn...”
“I did think...” the boy Dren chimed in slowly.
“No,” Daine repeated, a simple statement of truth- except it wasn’t, as Maura knew very well. This Daine was clearly a prize liar, but why was she helping Maura?
There was no more talking, and the small group mounted up, and left. When Maura was sure they were gone, she stood up and extricated herself from the thicket, heading back down the hill on a different path to the one they’d used, her mind reeling. Strangers. Who were they?
She found out later, of course, when she’d washed and put on another dress that didn’t fit and didn’t suit her, and gone down to join her disgustingly beautiful sister and her husband- and of course, the mages.
Mistress Giacinta Salmalín. Veldren Sarrasri, Veralidaine Sarrasri- Dren and Daine. So they were sister and brother- twins, by the look of them, although they had very different expressions on now- Dren’s face stormy, curly brown hair defiantly flying this way and that, apparently uncomfortable in his maroon velvet tunic and dark hose, Daine solemn in pink muslin, giving away little of what she thought except when Maura saw her grimace and surreptitiously scratch at the itchy lace on her sleeve. Yolane turned up her nose at the siblings’ last name, and that got a reaction from them- a lowering scowl from Dren, and a sudden clear look from Daine that seemed to frighten Yolane more. Mistress Giacinta looked uncomfortable.
At dinner, Daine sat next to Maura, and Dren opposite.
“Giacinta said your name was Maura,” Daine said suddenly, studying Maura, making her twin look up sharply.
“Yes. Maura of Dunlath.” Maura bowed her head awkwardly. She saw Dren looking at the adults conversing on the dais, and sighed shortly. “If you’re waiting for them to talk to us, you have a long wait.”
Summary: Maura of Dunlath sees her visitors before they see her.
Rating: PG
Series: Immortals
Warnings: none?
Note: Set in my Immortals AU: Daine has a twin, Dren, Tristran Staghorn becomes Trisha (Patrisha) Staghorn, and Numair is Giacinta Salmalín (once Mara Draper.) Apart from that, everything is pretty much the same.
**
There was a group of unfamiliar silhouettes on the hill. This was sufficiently peculiar in Dunlath that Maura felt she ought to take a closer look, and thanked the Goddess that she had that morning deliberately put on her plainest, nastiest, brownest and by far most comfortable dress, which ought to camouflage her nicely, especially in the sort of evilly bramble-laden thicket she intended to use as cover.
She took two very cautious steps to the left, out of the shadow of the encroaching holly bush that almost shielded the entire path, and slipped behind the thicket, crouching in the spot that provided the best view, and the best concealment, and the fewest thorns... Which did not, in fact, exist. Maura stifled a yelp, quietly removed the long and thorny briar she had just knelt on, and carefully, carefully, picking her steps with immense caution, began to sidle closer to the small group.
They weren’t that far away, as it happened; they were just standing on the grassy curve topping the largest hill of those that ringed Dunlath, a ring twenty or thirty metres wide and flat as the griddle-cakes Maura had eaten for breakfast, but covered in lush grass. Legend said that one of the few lords of fief Dunlath ever to have a significant Gift had blasted most of the top off the hill in either a fit of pique or an alcohol-related accident, and that not a tree would grow there now. Either way, there was a lot of open ground between the figures and her, and even though Maura had crept right up to the edge of the thicket and was becoming seriously worried about the amount of cover it provided, she could still only hear a few whispers.
She bit her bottom lip and examined the group. Now that she was closer, and didn’t have the sun in her eyes, she could see that the silhouettes were in fact three horses, a very tall woman wearing a dark blue tunic and breeches that had seen heavy wear, and two teenagers; one a boy, and one a girl, and both very alike, with the same brown hair and build; relatively light, but strong, with the lanky look of the steadily growing. They both carried bows, and they both wore tunics, thick leggings and sturdy boots. She didn’t recognise them.
Maura hesitated, and then muttered a few words under her breath, holding one hand cupped to her ear. This spell had been taught to her by a sympathetic Rider only a few weeks ago; one of the Ninth Rider Group. They’d visited only briefly, a space of a few hours, and then they had ridden out with grim, set faces, but they had stayed long enough for a bored Rider to amuse himself by teaching little Lady Maura a simple cantrip.
Maura shuddered as she remembered the almighty bang, puff of smoke and smell of death on the wind after they had left, just as dark was falling. Belden had started, but Yolane had not, simply saying indifferently that one of the mages must have had an accident, and she did hope nobody was hurt. And Maura, sit up straight- and have you seen Mistress Staghorn?
She had not seen Mistress Staghorn, and she did not want to, and the next day she had tried to walk out in the direction of the bang, and Rikash had stopped her, and distracted her by taking her flying.
The noise of someone speaking as the spell took effect almost made Maura leap out of her skin and give herself away as it dragged her into the present. It was the tall woman, who had her hands propped on her hips.
“-Dren, this absolutely cannot go on. I can’t have it. You have got to stop giving me the slip every time an animal is hurt and you feel they need your attention!”
“I did not give you the slip,” the boy- Dren? –said angrily. He had a northern accent, overlaid by Corus tones, and the combination was very odd to Maura’s ears. “I was gone two moments, and all it was was rescuing a squirrel! All you had to do was ask Daine if you were really worried. She could have told you I was fine!”
“You appal me. I would leave you behind when we visit Lord Belden and Lady Yolane, except that I’m sure you would get into some kind of misch- what’s that?” the tall woman demanded, swinging abruptly round. Maura had shifted her weight, and a twig had cracked; she made herself as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe. Don’t come here. Don’t come here.
The girl Daine’s eyes wandered slowly over the thicket, and caught and held Maura’s. She had blue-grey eyes with a solemn look to them, and her fingers were tangled in her grey pony’s mane.
“Can you see something, Daine?” the woman demanded, and Daine broke Maura’s panicked gaze, turning back to the woman.
She shook her head and spoke, her voice softer than the boy’s and the rounded corners of her accent less sharpened by city speech, insofar as Maura could tell from just one word. “No.”
The tall woman stared at her, looking a little puzzled. “I could have sworn...”
“I did think...” the boy Dren chimed in slowly.
“No,” Daine repeated, a simple statement of truth- except it wasn’t, as Maura knew very well. This Daine was clearly a prize liar, but why was she helping Maura?
There was no more talking, and the small group mounted up, and left. When Maura was sure they were gone, she stood up and extricated herself from the thicket, heading back down the hill on a different path to the one they’d used, her mind reeling. Strangers. Who were they?
She found out later, of course, when she’d washed and put on another dress that didn’t fit and didn’t suit her, and gone down to join her disgustingly beautiful sister and her husband- and of course, the mages.
Mistress Giacinta Salmalín. Veldren Sarrasri, Veralidaine Sarrasri- Dren and Daine. So they were sister and brother- twins, by the look of them, although they had very different expressions on now- Dren’s face stormy, curly brown hair defiantly flying this way and that, apparently uncomfortable in his maroon velvet tunic and dark hose, Daine solemn in pink muslin, giving away little of what she thought except when Maura saw her grimace and surreptitiously scratch at the itchy lace on her sleeve. Yolane turned up her nose at the siblings’ last name, and that got a reaction from them- a lowering scowl from Dren, and a sudden clear look from Daine that seemed to frighten Yolane more. Mistress Giacinta looked uncomfortable.
At dinner, Daine sat next to Maura, and Dren opposite.
“Giacinta said your name was Maura,” Daine said suddenly, studying Maura, making her twin look up sharply.
“Yes. Maura of Dunlath.” Maura bowed her head awkwardly. She saw Dren looking at the adults conversing on the dais, and sighed shortly. “If you’re waiting for them to talk to us, you have a long wait.”