TIMESKIP POST

[reticence]

FAOLAN COURT Shardless; Seelie-sworn TITLE Seelie Marshall's Hound OCCUPATION Bodyguard, Assassin, Spy ABLE TO FAST-TRAVEL Teleportation between the gardens of Caer Glaem & Caer Scima Teleportation in Dorchadas at night Teleportation to Lancelot's side Cleg RESIDENCE IN 2,701 Caer Glaem RESIDENCE IN 2,702 Caer Glaem MAJOR EVENTS HIGHLIGHT Description [ ✖ ] HIGHLIGHT Description [ ✖ ] HIGHLIGHT Description [ ✖ ]

PLANS - Keeping an eye on Lancelot both in Caer Glaem/the White Citadel and on his travels. - His mission for Lancelot to connect with all of the agents stationed in the cities closest to Caer Glaem. - Becoming Spymaster under the direction of the Seelie Marshall should said mission be fulfilled. - Watching over Bridei when Lancelot is not around and making sure that he is safe. - Possibly spreading more positive sentiments towards the Seelie court (or at least positive sentiments towards Lancelot) in the form of ballads. - Upholding his oaths to the best of his ability. SUMMARY OF KNOWN DETAILS TBA TIMELINE OF EVENTS SPRING IN 2,701 (Mar, Apr, May) MARCH - Gwen is happy to see Faolan alive again. Faolan spends most of the month hiding from the cold under Lancelot's charmed blankets with Bridei, and feeling guilty he won't let him light a fire. APRIL - Faolan starts to hear harp-playing everywhere, both in and out of his dreams, and his emotions go off of the charts. He resents harps, and he resents what they mean to him. He would never destroy an instrument in or out of his dreams however so he will be affected the whole month. There are significant interactions with Lancelot and Guinevere during this event. MAY - Faolan accompanies Lancelot on the first of his many Public Relations trips, this time to Parrais. SUMMER IN 2,701 (Jun, Jul, Aug) JUNE - As of the month before, the lockets and the fairy rings do not work, and as such, communication with agents stationed out in cities has become a challenge. Lancelot assigns Faolan the task of traveling to them and communicating in person, since it is easier for him to travel around than most others these days, being shardless. He starts out with Treun, where he participates in the Melee competition of the Tourney and is bested by Connor early in the running. Lancelot is there to soothe his bruised ego. Also at the Tourney he speaks to Aragorn, Lucrezia, and Natasha. He also meets with the agent in Treun before continuing on his mission south to Leathann, where there is no agent stationed, but he spends a while investigating in their stead. JULY - From Leathann Faolan does a massive traveling loop back up to Parrais on his mission for Lancelot to meet with the agent stationed there. And from there he goes on to Doanna for the final stop in his journey, where he discovers that there is some unrest after the hangings that take place there. He speaks to Diarmuid and they exchange information, before he returns to Caer Glaem to share his findings with Lancelot. (All throughout the mission he has been checking in here and there, to let him know that he's alive, and because Bridei misses him.) AUGUST -Faolan accompanies Lancelot to Leathann for more Public Relations on behalf of the Seelie court, and tries desperately not to be in the way during the Festival of Lights. While he's there, he takes some time to investigate this new Oracle (and possibly work on establishing a new agent in the city?). FALL IN 2,701 (Sept, Oct, Nov) SEPTEMBER - Faolan returns with Lancelot to Parrais for more Public Relations touring. OCTOBER - On the 25th of October, the Drabwurld celebrates Samhain once more. Faolan attends, and reminisces about last year with Lancelot. He spends less time brooding than he did last year, and even accepts a few dances, including one with Gwen. NOVEMBER - Faolan spends much of the month on regular duties. When word of the escaped convicts from the prison colony in Leathann reaches Caer Glaem, it makes him uneasy - are any of these people a threat to Caer Glaem itself? WINTER IN 2,701/2,702 (Dec, Jan, Feb) DECEMBER - Having won the Hunt last year, Lancelot will apparently get it into his mind that he doesn't need to take it seriously this year, thereby ending up getting himself cursed into becoming an animal this go around. An otter, to be exact. Faolan must then watch over him, Lady, and Bridei the three of them for the next few days until Lancelot is himself once more. Any gifts he receives for Yule he struggles to return in kind, even if his own gifts by comparison are likely not as fancy or expensive as those that are given to him. JANUARY - Faolan accompanies Lancelot back to Treun once more for more Public Relations touring on behalf of the Seelie court. He checks in with the agent stationed there, and puts out feelers as to what might be going on with the Fortuna family, after the Governor was forced to abdicate his position. (The 26th marks Faolan's return from death, an event that is possibly worth celebrating?) FEBRUARY - Faolan travels with Lancelot back to Leathann again for another Public Relations visit on behalf of the Seelie court. (If he has established an agent in Leathann at this point he will check in with them.) Also during this month, on the 14th, Bridei turns one year old. SPRING IN 2,702 (Mar, Apr) MARCH - Faolan joins Lancelot and all others defending Caer Glaem by decapitating the skeletons of the risen dead, and is largely unsettled by their appearance. APRIL - Fairies start to go missing from Caer Glaem, leaving everyday tasks unfinished. Faolan knows how to make do without them, although it is an inconvenience in certain aspects. This too is concerning, however, and he wonders what it could mean going forward...

( codes by whambam )

Comments

[fairyfoes]

"You can say whatever you need right here," she told him, not looking up from her work; which the tall counter hid. But the man beside her squinted at Faolan, lips thinning, clearly nonplussed, looking more like a guarding husband than a hired hand.

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't miss the man's lips thinning, although at least he's not being thrown out of the shop yet. So far so good, all things considered. He's not looking to start a fight, or cause a scene, especially not when there are children upstairs.

"You'll forgive me for asking," he says, glancing at the man warily, "but do you share all of your business so openly?" There. A double-edged question. For a man looking for a private consultation about a possibly controversial object, and for a man looking for a private audience with what he's beginning to believe might have been a mole planted in the city gods only know how long ago, it would make sense as something for either Faolan or his temporary cover to say.

[fairyfoes]

"I don't hide anything from my husband, understand. Not a thing." The woman looked up, agitated, lips thinned. She lifted a hand, delicately set a keen knife atop the counter.

"State your name, allegiance, and business,.. and state it fast, else show yourself out."

[reticence]

Well, Faolan thinks to himself, he supposes that answers that question. He flicks his eyes between the pair of them, holding his hands up in front of himself somewhat defensively, but also to show that he has no weapons. None drawn, at any rate. (How much damage can a pregnant woman do anyway? Scratch that, Faolan isn't really keen on finding out.)

"Faolan," he says. "Aly sent me." Indirectly, but that's irrelevant. "Seemed to think we should do business together, you and I." As for his allegiance. Well, that's a bit more complicated. He's hoping that mentioning Alyosha sending him will cover all that's needed. He isn't sure how well-received the Seelie Marshall's Hound might be, regardless as to how discrete he considers himself to be. "Was she right?" He'll purchase something, if that will help her make up her mind about him. He's been planning on it, anyway. Suspicious to spend this much time in here and not return with anything. They've got a lot of mouths to feed, besides.

[fairyfoes]

"This is not the appropriate situation to lie, stranger," she informed him, sharply, the warm demeanor dropped like rocks into a stream.

"If you'd been sent, you'd have a seal, she'd have informed you of procedure. She informed me to be expecting an outlander go-between for a friend who'd reached out in a pinch. Never, don't you dare ever claim to be sent by a person who didn't send you direct-like. If this were a hole of the Lark's, you'd be wearing a red smile on your throat and no one would find your body."

She moved a sand-and-hourglass timer up beside the knife. It wasn't large.

"This is all the time you have, to avoid suspicion. Three minutes or so. Talk fast."

[wolvering]

Pod smiles at seeing the Cleg and is that a wolf-pup in the satchel? She is eager to meet the animals, but that can wait a moment.

"Nor did I! I've been out gathering herbs and visiting shrined to the White Hart, where I can, but now I'm bound for Treun, and then possibly back north towards Caer Glaem to help with healing the land further. But it's a fine treat to meet you on the road."

Now that they've met, Pod changes her pace to match his, bouncing as she walks. "Introduce me to your companions?"

[reticence]

Faolan sighs. Talk fast. He supposes he can do that.

"She told a friend of hers to come and speak to you, and being unable to do so himself, I am here in his stead. I meant no disrespect. She gave him your name and your location and left the conversation at that. You will understand why I had no idea how to approach you," he explains.

"This friend I speak of serves her as well, and I hope that makes a difference to you when I say that he sent me to you with an inquiry about information." He glances at the hourglass, then back at her. "On the masks. And a fellow named Martin who seems to be connected with them. Anything you might have uncovered. Please. I will not take any more of your time than I must, I assure you." Although Faolan might have another request of his own up his sleeve, if he can finagle it. It would be useful, after all, to have more than one contact within the city....

[fairyfoes]

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Martin Maskmaker? You could've asked any child on the street who he is; the first shardbearer, an ancient hero. Not all believe he's truly serving the Cult, but rather that they use the masks to encourage the rumour to gain support. None but a fool would stand against Martin." She thinned her lips. "The masks themselves are Old Magic. Spelled to undo memory; can't look on them with your own eyes and remember aught about their wearers except the smallest details. Likely have other powers, as well, but I'm under orders not to send men in to make contact. Too dangerous. Formed of leather of some kind, I'd bet shardbearer."

"Anything else?" One minute left.

[reticence]

The part about the masks, he knows. The part about the maskmaker, however? That is most certainly new. Faolan takes it all in, thinking fast on his feet. "You're under orders not to send men in to make contact," he repeats. "But you have made contact yourself." He glances between her and her husband. He's talking fast, thinking fast - he knows he does not have much time before this conversation will be over. He cannot send a man in - but they already have a woman there, it would seem.

"The man I work for. Aly works for him. Check with her if you want. He has an agent in Daonna, that's why I'm here. That agent is doing their best to gather what intelligence they can for us, but they cannot maintain the same circles as you, I am sure." Not Kay, looking as large and frightening as he does, while Molly owns this shop and has her children, being in the condition that she is. The look he gives her is straightforward and serious. "What work do you do for her, and would you consider widening your contacts? I can speak to her about it. Work through her, if that would suit." He understands how dangerous the situation in this city is - how changing too much in her own routine could set off unwanted flags.

[fairyfoes]

"I report to the Commander, and the Commander shares my intel. A Boss-- like the Seelie Marshall -- a boss works with the Commander to arrange what they need. All per the contract." Like all members of the Red Hand, she was familiar with the company's contract with the Seelie war machine.

"I manage six agents in Daonna, three who travel upriver, another three to Redgate, another six in the western wildlands. Local gossip, topics of interest, the Commander's projects, Midnight Court ops, the works. I don't work with any agent I don't pick and groom myself."

As she was speaking, the last grain fell. She moved the timer back down behind the counter. "Take two candles, exit quietly, no fuss. Don't let me see your face in here for a season."

[reticence]

Faolan has left Leathann for the last stop on his journey, because for one, it is likely the furthest away from home, and for another, he has very little idea of who or what he will find once he gets there. He has heard news of the Seven Star Oracle of Leathann having been slain a few months back, after predicting the end of the drabwurld, (supposedly by the hands of a shardbearer of course, although whether this is actually true or whether they are using it as a convenient excuse to raise further anti-shardbearer sentiments Faolan has no way of knowing) but beyond that there has been very little news of the southern city. Other than the fact that there is a new oracle in town. Perhaps he should keep his ears open for news in regards to that as well.

After the tension in Treun and his own discomfort in Parrais, mixed with how stifling Daonna had been, Leathann is a surprising breath of fresh air, with its wide, open countryside, its farms, and its mansions. It is not without its tensions itself, of course, but for the most part, at least as far as Faolan can tell thus far, there are some benefits to being as far away from the rest of the land as it is. Even if there is a heavy presence of city guards, the historic section seems to be crumbling beyond disrepair, and the Medina - well. Faolan recognizes criminal activity when he sees it.

As Faolan winds his way along the wide open marketplace, he takes stock of the city itself. Observes where he can what is being said around him as he picks his way through produce and trade items alike. (It pays not to be a shardbearer anymore, that much is for certain.) Tarz had been the agent stationed here before, Lancelot had said, although Faolan is trying to imagine him fitting in within this city. What his cover might have been, in a place like this. Perhaps somewhere in the trading circle? Then again, given the nature of the contacts he had, perhaps not.

Faolan finds a nice inn to stay for the night, and a good stable to keep Ciar in, and the next morning after a simple breakfast, sets off for the city center, and the Records Office. Stepping inside the building and finding his way to the historic records department, Faolan wonders if this is perhaps too easy. He also wonders how in the hell Tarz developed a contact like this and why, of all the people in the city, this person would know the most about the goings-on.

Stepping into the historic records department, Faolan glances around at the shelves of books and scrolls lining the walls and the small, nervous-looking man seated behind the desk in the center of the room. The man glances up at him from where he's bent over a narrowly scrawled text, raising an eyebrow at him, before back down at the book, marking the page and the notes he's making before setting his ink aside. "Can I help you?"

Faolan nods, stepping forward. "As a matter of fact," he says, "you can. Are you Les?" Look in the historical records department, for Les. Tarz hadn't elaborated further on the point, but Faolan hadn't seen the necessity for it.

At the look on the other man's face, he's suddenly wishing that he had. "Les? Me?" he says. "Not likely. Look, she's not here at the moment. I can tell her you've stopped by, Mr...?"

Faolan shakes his head. "Please," he says. "I'll wait. I was told to meet her here."

"Were you now?" Is that a hint of jealousy in the man's tone? Gods be merciful, Faolan just wants to speak with the woman and be on his way. He sizes Faolan up for another long moment, before turning back to his work in front of him - whether he's decided that he's is no threat after all Faolan can't tell for certain, although it's fairly clear that whatever his opinion is, he's unimpressed. "If you must. She'll be by soon enough."

Faolan narrows his eyes at the other man's lowered head, but says nothing. He's not offered a seat or a way to preoccupy himself, and he doesn't ask for one, although it's awkward, to stand hovering as he is, so after a moment he turns and settles himself in a chair near the entrance of the office, arms crossed across his chest. Trying (and perhaps failing) not to look inconvenienced as he does.

Just as the man says, soon enough the door swings open again and a woman bustles in, looking harried. She doesn't take heed of Faolan, in fact doesn't even seem to notice him, as she makes her way forward towards the desk and sinks into the chair across from it. "Honestly, Melv, they don't pay me enough for this, really they don't. If I have to sit there and listen to that pig up on the third level make one more comment, I swear, I'm going to take it up with the head, you see if I don't, mark my words. And then, to top it all off, when I came in this morning, who do you think was waiting for me, first thing? Ena, that's right, and now I'm supposed to making all these copies for her for two days from now, two days - like I've got nothing else on, have I?" She takes in a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh of air, reaching out to take his hand across the desk, before continuing, "Sorry, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to go off like that. How are you, love?"

Melv, as it would appear his name is, glances up at her with a slight flush, although whether it's from embarrassment that he's intruding on what might otherwise have been a private moment, Faolan can't say for sure. "I'm fine. You've got a visitor," he says, indicating behind her to Faolan, who moves to stand, awkwardly, as Les turns to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Oh, you're a sour one, aren't you?" she says, and Faolan does his best not to frown further. "What d'you want with me then? And what're you looking for me down here for, anyway? I have an office. Not that I'm there all that much." She moves to stand and face him. "You're not from around here, are you? You can't be, not with all those leathers on. Oh, you must be sweating up a storm in all of that, you are. Here." She holds out her hand to him. "I'm Leslie. What can I do you for, sir? You're going to have to speak up now, I haven't got all day to muck about."

"Faolan," he says, shortly, shaking her hand in response as he does. "I was directed to speak to you by...a mutual friend of ours." He reaches into his bag, pulling out Lancelot's seal that he gave to be able to show to demonstrate who he is, although he's not sure how much of a difference it makes here, considering their 'mutual friend' isn't Lancelot this time. He glances towards the man sitting at the desk, then back at her. "Please, if we could speak somewhere? In private...?"

She glances back at Melv herself and then at Faolan. "Isn't going to get much more private than here, love," she says. "Don't worry about him, though. He can hold his tongue. I have my ways of making sure of that." She winks at Faolan and he raises his eyebrows slightly, but says nothing in response. He's spared making that decision anyway, as she continues, "I take it that by 'mutual friend' you're meaning Tarz then, aren't you? Lord almighty, you're almost as sour as he is. You make quite the pair you do." She puts her hands on her hips. "Come on then, let's have it. What's that old grump sent you here for this time?"

Faolan is momentarily taken aback trying to imagine just how Tarz ever acquired a contact like this. And how a woman with such a mouth on her ever manages to do anything secretly at all. If she's lasted this long however, there must be more to it than meets the eye, he supposes. "I. I'm here to check in. You'll know by now that, with the fairy rings failing as means of transport, and the lockets no longer communicating as they were, it's fallen to me to come in person instead." He glances back at the man, unsure whether he can really trust to be able to speak so freely in front of him, but he seems to be more involved in whatever it was he was doing before than their conversation at present. "You...understand what Tarz had been doing here in the city, I hope?"

"Oh, I understand alright," she counters, "and you can stop with the glances, really, it's fine. Look, I can tell you what I know, but only so much as that, which is probably as much as you're going to get in the end anyway. The thing you've got to understand is that, here in this city, the way it's run, everything passes through this central office. And when you're working as part of the administration," she motions to herself, "you hear just about everything there is to hear about everything. Know everybody who's anybody, hear everything that's worth hearing, you know how it goes. I'm not going to be sneaking about on the streets, ratting into any of this on my own, mind. But I can tell you what I've heard. You take it from here however you like, same as Tarz, alright?"

Faolan nods, and she carries on. "Right. So the Oracle - you'll have heard about her? Word going round says that she was killed by a shardbearer, yeah? Well, it's not just word. They've found evidence confirming shardbearer participation." She shivers. "A nasty way to go, from what I've heard." She shrugs. "I've yet to hear more, but I'll keep my ears peeled for you, Mr. Faolan. That's all the news new around these parts anyway." She sizes him up once more, before sighing again. "Ah, well, but I should really be seeing who else needs me. Lunch at noon, Melv?"

The man makes a noncommittal noise from over by his desk, which is good enough for her. She throws one more look at Faolan, before nodding, and bustling off. "See you around then!"

Faolan stands where he's been standing for the last while, rather dazed by the whirlwind of a personality that he's just spoken to. Tarz recommended her? He's just turning to leave and try and collect his thoughts, when Melv speaks up from his desk. "Mr. Faolan?" he asks, and Faolan turns, not bothering to correct him even if the formality makes him feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Yes?"

Melv glances up at him from the text in front of him, then back down at his notes, obviously debating something, before he finally does speak up again, his voice lower than before. "We haven't gotten very far with the investigation yet. A lot of funny business, around the Oracle. But we're working on it. Tarz. He's been good to us, for all of his faults." His eyes flick up to Faolan, then back down to his notes. "You'll be the first to know if we find something."

Faolan understands when he's being dismissed, so with a nod, he makes his exit of the Records Office, trying to sort through everything that's just occurred and the people he's just met. Les, with her quick tongue and unique way of gathering information through the gossip of the city. And Melv, it would seem as well, who takes the information she shares with him and acts on it for further intelligence. An interesting setup in an interesting city...

Of course, Faolan's work is not done, yet. Not quite. He's got a bard to seek out and a song to teach them. Finding the right musician and the right locale takes some doing, but after some effort, he manages. The city being so far removed from the battle, he wonders whether they'll have even heard word of it. If not, then at least he is spreading the right message this way.

By the time he's finished that, he's ready to be done with this mission of his, even if he knows that there's a long journey back ahead of him. He misses Lady and Bridei and Lancelot more than he can put into words. Tucking a little gift that he's bought for Bridei from the market into Ciar's saddlebags, he runs his hand through her mane and over the feathers of one glossy wing, before mounting her carefully. "Come on then," he murmurs to her, quietly. "Let's go home."

[reticence]

Lucrezia has requested that he meet her at the mansion, and so it is to the Fortuna mansion that Faolan travels. Even if he were not on his mission for Lancelot, he would still have been paying her a visit - it has been some time since they have last spoken. But now he has more than one reason to go looking for her. He seeks information on Treun, on the Fortunas themselves, any information that Lucrezia can give him. She is the best source of it besides the Fortunas themselves, he figures, although he does not rightly know how much they share with her. He suspects he will find out, however.

Arriving at the mansion, Faolan is announced at the door, and as he stands waiting for Lucrezia to receive him, he tries to be calm and natural as he does.

[reticence]

Faolan nods silently, taking in the information she's offered him, storing it away for safe-keeping for later. He turns to her wares, although he has to ask, as he does, "You'll forgive me, I do not know your practice, and I don't know what sort of items you might carry, but. If you have anything that might help with sleep. It's a good cover for why I might have been in here for so long, and..." Well. It's something that he would actually have come into the store for. For himself or for Lancelot both. "I have herbs, but if there are other remedies, I would welcome them."

Conversely, if that's not an option, he'll just take some of those time candles and be on his way. He has to ask about this first, though.

[reticence]

"They take good care of you," Faolan observes aloud. And yes, maybe baby him a bit too. Although this is good information. "See to it that they do not make your decisions for you as well," he continues on to advise.

He takes a sip of the tea that Dorian served him - he's honestly not certain why people are so obsessed with the drink, but it's not bad. "These elven artists, what do you make of them?" he asks, idly.

Yule

[knightscode]

The tradition of sending gifts at the end of the year is at least familiar this time around to Lancelot. So it is that, after a little consideration, he sets to work.

It takes a little time to have everything made up, but Lancelot slowly collects together what he needs and cautiously sets it out for Faolan in his room on one of the few moments the two are apart.

A neat box contains a new set of leathers, made in dark colours the same as Faolan's own have always been, but in amongst the leathers are a few other things. A thick riding cloak with a metal clasp to fasten it, and on closer inspection the clasp has a carving of sorts. A wolf sat by a harp. A pair of bracers hold the same design, and off to one side is a new set of riding tack. The side of the saddle has it carefully embossed too, and the reins equally on decorative studs.

A folded letter from Lancelot accompanies, neatly sealed with wax.

Faolan,

I hope you will not think this bold of me. The past should not shadow you so now. Embrace who you are, and equally who you wish to be.

This land gives us the chance to be more than we were, to change the shape of our fates.

You may never truly be the same man you were, but you can be something else. Faolan the bard and Faolan the assassin have the same heart.

[fairyfoes]

She smiled, delight in her craft brightening her immediately.

"Oh, you must not have had children, yet. The rune for sleep, it looks like this, with the point at the top, stamped and inked and spelled in," she sketched it out in the air with a forefinger, "Most young mothers learn it to help babes-in-arm. Most of those on the rack are scented, you may want to give a sniff before taking."

[reticence]

Faolan turns to search for the candles with the symbol on them that she's described to him. He doesn't correct her on the part about children, although Bridei arguably counts as one, dragon or no. He searches among the candles for something that won't be too, well, feminine. He is going to be taking these back to Lancelot after all. It's when he locates the sleep candles that smell vaguely of lavender that he knows he's found what he's looking for. Instantly brought back to memories of Lancelot tending to him after the pyrii, after the jabberwock, with warm-charmed blankets that smell of, well, lavender.

"No children," Faolan confirms. "Not exactly. But plenty of use for something like this." He straightens, a pair of candles in hand. "Thanks," he says, quietly. Motioning with the candles but indicating far more. He steps forward to the desk, she's sitting behind, placing some coin on it - knowing it's probably more than they're worth, but with a family the size of hers, he doubts that she's going to be turning the offer away. "Good fortune to you and yours."

fin~

[fairyfoes]

"Make your own luck!" She called after him, before turning back to her work, lightly batting the arm of her husband, "You're pouring too fast..."

[reticence]

Faolan listens quietly to the other man as he explains his thoughts. As he tells him that the only way to get over the connotations he has associated with playing the harp are to make new memories and associations and, well. To play. To play here, for Lady and Bridei. And for him. Faolan flicks his eyes down to the instrument, unable to look at Lancelot as he speaks up in response.

"You will not begrudge it. But would you welcome such a thing?" he asks, quietly. "They are two very different ideas, after all. A bard and a bodyguard are two very different people to keep around. The harp is..." He takes in a breath, letting it out. "Well. I do not want to be a nuisance. You have already done so much for me as it is."

[pontificus]

His presence was announced when he arrived, and she descended from the stairs in a gold trimmed dress. All smiles, it was hard not to quicken her step when she saw him. Indeed it had been too long, since he had perished some months ago. It was hard to get to see one another, but that did not mean she didn't cherish him any less.

When she got to the landing, her hand took his, squeezing it gently. "Faolan, it is good to see you well," she told him. It was not just a greeting for her. Indeed it did her heart well to see him standing there.

[knightscode]

"I hardly think music a nuisance, nor do I hardly think you so. I welcome anything that brings you happiness, Faolan, and besides which -- the music is quite soothing. It certainly had Bridei enchanted, I am not so sure I have seen him sit that still in some time."

Lancelot flickers a smile as he gently flips Bridei onto his back, tickles him a little as he squirms -- eyes flicking between the little creature in Faolan.

"You are not only a bard and a bodyguard, Faolan, above both you are my friend. I keep you around as much for the latter as the former two."

[reticence]

Faolan breathes deeply as they settle into stride together, as Lancelot smiles at him the way he does, as Lancelot's hand finally moves from where it had been before. "Ah," he says, intelligently. "Well. I have no doubt that they will give in to you as well, should you follow Lady's example. And with the right encouragement, they should be able to spare as much for them as well. And myself, I suppose, if I am lucky."

At least a trip to the kitchens would give him something more to preoccupy himself with, other than the sudden stuttering of his heart each time the other man smiled at him or reached out a gentle hand in support. It's alarming, his own reaction to such things, and the way the swell of the music is now coinciding with the swelling of his emotions in entirely different ways than it had done, not so long ago.

[reticence]

Faolan glances at the animals, forgetting for a moment that she is keen on such things, before reaching a hand forward to run over his cleg's neck, underneath the dark fall of her mane. "Ah, well. This is Ciar," he says, indicating the cleg herself. Ciar, hearing her name, shifts her wings slightly, but otherwise behaves herself. She's a good creature, Faolan has found, over these last two months spent on the road with her. "I was giving her a rest for this last leg of our journey. It's been a long trip, and I don't want to overwork her."

Companions, she had said, so Faolan moves on to the pup, poking his head out of the saddlebag, looking rather rough around the edges, but Faolan's been doing his best, all things considered. "I've just found him a few days back," Faolan confesses. "I don't know where his pack went, but I've an idea that they abandoned him. I couldn't just leave him once I found him so..." He shrugs slightly, as if to say, here we are. "Thinking of calling him Conall." You'll have to excuse Faolan's manner, Pod. He's been too long on his own, this last while.

[reticence]

[Faolan takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, but he doesn't let go of her, nor does he attempt to break her grip from him as she steps forward, taking him with her as she does.]

You... Would consider me that? A friend?

[graciousness]

Of course I would. Of course I do.

[ said with an easy kindness, a sweet charm that belongs to guinevere and makes her stand out so easily despite being naught more than a servant. she nudges him a little with a bright smile. ]

You've been such a good friend to me, after all.