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Social: In Which Dern Must Learn to Knit for Disa

Page history last edited by rgs 14 years, 8 months ago

Dern has been neglecting his fiance. ...he gets yelled at.

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* Myrrish Camp *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

    Soldiers. Ferriers. More soldiers. Cooks. Cavalrymen (and cavalrywomen). Healers. Officers. All these and more bustle through the neatly-pitched sea of tents that make up the Myrrish camp, no matter the time of day or night. At night, firelight flickers off the tents and lengthens peoples' shadows.

 

An herbal scent comes from a large group of tents off to the side, nearest the front lines--these tents an an appropriated farmhouse make up the field hospital, where the wounded are brought. A neat graveyard stands behind the field hospital--a few men are almost always on duty digging new graves. 

 

Nearby, an entire (albeit quite small) town has been appropriated for officer's quarters and Myrrish war business--the smithy in particular is certainly making money. The only tavern in the tiny town, the Blushing Rosalia, is something of a gathering place for officers and adventurers.

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

 Dern            A black haired mountain dwarf of regal bearing. For a 33s  55m

 

 Rowena          A simply dressed young dwarven woman                  0s   27m

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

Blushing Rosalia <BR>     The Front Lines <TFL>     

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

It's Variday, Aestry 20 23:07:26 1006. The full moon isn't up. The tide is high and rising.

 

The sky is grey-black, moonless and starless. It's hard for human eyes to see anything in the deep shadows round about, without a light. It's warm, still, and humid.

 

"Don't you fool with me, Dern!" Rowena's just outside Dern's tent, yelling into it. "There's too much to do!" Her hands may well be in her hips. Her feet are in a wide, fighting stance. She's tracking him down, apparently. Because he'd run away. For some reason.

 

At least the noisome woman has enough sense of decorum not to peer inside the tent. That would be...well. Undecorus.

 

"I"m very tired," calls Dern back. "I need to sleep! Can't we do this another time?!" He's given up on the idea that he's not in his tent and has revealed that he is. Despite the heat of the day, he was buried under blankets. Trying to pretend he wasn't there.

 

"You're going to be married before you know it, and you know what comes with that," Rowena says, firmly. Oh, the hands are on the hips, now. "Before you go burying some bugle in some baldric, you ought to at least pay the piper. There's things to do, things to see to! And I've got to teach you about children." The hands are definitely there.

 

"There's a war to fight, priestess! Marriage can wait!" Dern seems panicky about this. Somewhat. There's just that undercurrent to his tone of voice as he comes out of his tent. He's sweaty and tired looking.

 

"Have some faith in your wife!" she grabs hold of his ear and yanks. "Women have faced worse, and are you a dwarf, or aren't you! Well?" Another yank, before letting go, and Rowena glowers at him. Poor dwarves.

 

"My lady! Of course I am a Dwarf anmd we Dwarves are good to our words! But she is not yet my wife and while I trust the judgement of my father, as all good dwarves should, I do not yet," and then here is ear grabbing, "OWW!"

 

Rowena sniffs, to show what she thinks of /that/. Engagements are marriages, or very nearly so. And since he's being obstinate, she says, "Well, I've never known a dwarf to mistrust the judgment of his father." Oooh. Low blow.

 

"I trust hin," says Dern, hurriedly, to correct the impression that he does not properly honor his father. "I just was never informed! I need to learn some, OW!" Dern is being to glare at her.

 

"Well, that's all you need to know, isn't it? Really, Dern, you're making a scene!" says the dwarf making the scene. She gives his ear another tug, and frowns at him. "You have no idea how you're embarrassing the poor girl."

 

"Embaressing her?!" Dern is shocked, -shocked-. "I've done no such thing! Why, I've even tried to help arrange for her for a place to stay!" He sniffs, then pulls free from her for the moment. "..now.."

 

"Well, why should she?" Rowena asks, just this side of belligerent. "You're engaged--it's practically married," she sniffs. "Why, Dern, I'm beginning to think you're not a dwarf at all, acting like this! You wonder why your fiance's embarrassed, this is exactly why!"

 

"W-what?!" Dern is shocked by her words. SHOCKED. "My *lady*!" He protests immediately, puffing himself up and bristling all beardily.

 

"And what do you know?" Rowena asks, taking out her hand, which she begins to count upon, finger to finger. "You're going to have alot to worry about, soon! Finances and children are just the start of it! Have you even gotten her a gift?" she folds the hand back up, and both of them are on her hips, now. "Does she know where you'll live? She came out here to the warfront to find you, and all she hears you talk about is what a mistake it is! Don't you 'my lady' me, Dern! Do you respect your father and your family's wishes or do you /not/?"

 

"Yes! Yes! I know! That's why I'm..!!" He glares at her. Just glares. "I haven't even had a a chance! It's a -war zone-! Where am I going to get a proper dwarven present for her?!" He's shocked again. Shocked!" ANd I do! I do! Honest!" He's a young dwarf.

 

Rowena relents after that. She frowns at him a little more, just a little, and tugs at her braid. It seems to be in the way of things. "Babies are born all the time in a war zone," she says, firmly, but more moderately. "Unless you're going to change jobs, it's something you'll both have to get used to. And I think your father's aware of that, if he knows you at all. He's not going to--to send you some spring chicken!"

 

"That is so," says Dern, firmly, "but I am being cautious for *her* benefit. She's a cleric of Eluna, Rowena, not Vardama. Or Reos. or Kor. *Eluna*." This does not seem to entirely sit well with him! "She shouldn't be here on the front lines! It's dangeorus. I didn't get word from my father about this arrangement until days after she arrived! It's vitally important, it would appear, so I *am* taking it seriously! Do you realize how terrible it'd be if somethhing happened to her?!"

 

"Well, good. I'm glad you care after all, Dern. You know, I was beginning to doubt you," Rowena frowns at him a little more, then, and then, "But I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, you know. I think Disa's been put in a terrible spot. You should...a public show of affection," she decides, nodding then.

 

"..what?" says Dern. Giving Rowena this -look-. This traumitized look.

 

"I'm sure I'm not the only one," Rowena says, still firm. "But you've been talking about her like she was some /disease/," huff! "ever since she got here! The poor woman, Dern, and everyone knows how badly you've treated her! You should take her into the middle of camp and kiss her. And /make that wedding announcement/. Show the woman a little respect instead of treating her like dirt."

 

"You know, I think I saw her crying the other day," she adds. Needling. Horribly. Awfully.

 

"I didn't treat her like dirt!" protests Dern. "I was merely shocked by how sudden all of this is!" He's bristling again. "We're -engaged-. A wedding will occur when it occurs -- when the timing is rught. I have to contact my father! And the family! And her family! And everything -else-."

 

"Well if you're worried about her, you should treat her better," Rowena sniffs, tugging her braid. A little self-conscious, maybe. "A chaste kiss or two wouldn't do anyone harm, and then I'd not wake up to the tears every morning. Dern, you get your act together!" Again, the tug.

 

"Duly noted!" Dern says, quickly, telling Rownea this, "I will take this all into consideration! I should be seeing her again very soon. She's been staying in my tent!" He tried to get her to head out to Rawsone's. He really did. It failed.

 

"In his...well! Rowena's smile blossoms. It blossoms and grows and perks and smiles, and the daisies start to grow and sing, and the bluebirds fly over head. "Well! Well, I suppose she isn't neglected after all," she says. "But a public display of affection now and again...and ooooh! Now I need to teach you about children. I suppose you don't know a thing about knitting."

 

"I am *not* a knitter," says Dern, forcefully. He gives her this look. -This look-!

 

"Knitting," she nods.

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