504-12-16 Wind and Air Ceremony At Guardians
From Crossroads Wiki
| | |
|---|---|
| Players: | Princess Eleanor & Tarrant |
| Location: | Guardians Isle |
| Date | |
| IC Date: | December 16, 504 A.G. |
| Season: | Winter |
The carriage and escorts arrive at the first hamlet of Iron Fields in good time. The dark, starless night with its whipping winds is punctuated by the light of lanterns and torches as the procession is welcomed. The noble estates of the Brescia Family are still a short distance ahead, but time for the changing of horses allows a respite for the travelers. The steep road makes for difficult travel, even in the comfort of a well-appointed coach.
Tarrant had dismounted without sparing time to stretch before guiding his purposeful steps toward the carriage, to lend the Princess a hand in disembarking. "Eleanor," he re-greets evenly.
El has been a pretty good companion in the traveling. Quieting when the conversation dimmed looking outwards into the dark starless night and thinking over the words shared thus far. Mulling over the lesson given. There's been no complaint from her even when the travel turned difficult. Once the carriage comes to a stop El attempts to get her bearings only to realize a certain Baron is coming her way. She pushes open the door of the carriage in an attempt to take the hand offered in disembarking. But it seems that her legs have fallen asleep and she finds she kind of falls into Tarrant, before she can stop herself. Her other hand coming out as if to brace herself and finding that hand going towards his chest. Trying to not make a fool out of herself though she shows a little bit of embarrassment in her features at the stumble. Muttering, "Oh excuse me and my clumsiness."
The Princess' stumble is supported well enough. The hand which had taken Eleanor's shifts to better bear her weight, while the second hand is brought up to close strong fingers on the lady's other shoulder. The chain mail which armors Tarrant's torso is rather cold under the Eleanor's hand at his chest. Very quickly, a moment's amusement thins his solemnity, before the Baron answers, "Rather than grant excuse, I should offer thanks. Now, if you have your feet properly beneath you?" he asks, one brown brow raised.
There's a breath drawn in and out once she can gain her composure. Feeling the coolness of the maile upon Tarran't torso there's a nod seen as if she expected to feel that beneath her fingers. There's a grateful look even if its fleeting for the hand that is brought to her shoulder as she regains her balance. Looking downwards to see if her legs will betray her once again before she takes a gingerly first step. When all is well her smile brightens some. Looking upwards to his features, "Thanks?" She gives a quick nod, "Yes, I do believe I can walk not like a newborn babe just a moment ago. Thank you for your help." Words sincere as she gives them.
Tarrant inclines his head and shoulders in a short, curt bow to Eleanor, once she sets foot to the solid ground of Guardian. "Thanks are as unneeded as are apologies, my Lady." A drawn breath before he asks quietly, "Do you wish a moment for refreshment, before beginning the walk?"
It is dark out there. El is actively listening to the words given as she makes slow steps away from the Guardian warrior as if to test her steps a bit more. "If it means we can remain standing in the refreshment I will take it. If not I do not mind the walk. Its been some time in the riding after all."
"Indeed, it has," Tarrant returns with a nod. A moment taken, as he looks aside and calls one of his warriors by name. "Erminaz! Bring a horn and torches." His own eyes well adjusted tot he darkness, the baron looks back to Eleanor and points to the nearest of the hills which rise all about them. "It will be a walk of several minutes to reach the top. A shrine exists there." Subtly his expression shifts to reflect a faint, tight smile. "Is her Highness ready for a trek into centuries past?"
Princess Eleanor remains where she is at when he first speaks. Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, going by sound of the Baron's familiar voice so her features turn in that direction. Shifting a little in her stance when her eyes adjust and she takes notice of the pointing he is doing towards the hills, her gaze going in that direction. She takes in another breath of the Guardian air. Or perhaps she's just enjoying the fact that she's not in the carriage anymore, regardless she seems to be relaxing a bit more as she listens to him. "Yes, very much so. I look forward to it." Even in dim light it may be noticed that El does wear a look of anticipation. The walk being several minutes does not detain that look either.
Tarrant nods once, looking past the Lady for a moment to acknowledge the knights who are ever-present near Eleanor. Not presuming to tell the Imperial Guardians their work, he leaves matters of escorting the Keeper's sister along the trek in their quite capable hands. His own attention is drawn back by the approach of Erminaz, who supplies the Baron with a spear, a capped drinking horn, and torches. Three of the brands are lit, and two are handed to knights. The third Tarrant keeps himself. Mail and eyes glittering in the torchlight, he returns his regard to Eleanor. "Then let us begin," he voices, tone deep and even as he accompanies Eleanor into the ancient woods which cover the hills of Smithfield. Fallen leaves crunch under booted feet with the passage.
The knights are ever present. Rourke probably doesn't trust anyone else's guardianship over his sister save for these knights after all even on Guardian soil. The men for their part seem to know what is expected of them and even in their quietness they flank the princess. She for her part well she ignores them. Not in a rude fashion but just something she's used to. She watches as Erminaz makes his approach. Two of the knights step forward and take claim to the brands that are offered. One of the men gives a nod towards Tarrant for the light. Small smile is seen when Tarrant turns his regard in her direction. No words come forth, just a nod as if to confirm the trek that is to occur. Her own steps are light as she steps onto the same leaves as the Baron. Even in the darkness and only light given by torches she's still looking here and there, trying to be aware of her surroundings.
The uphill trek is taken slow and steady- with the shadows and blackness that shrouds fallen leaves, roots and hollows alike, there is certainly no need for haste. More than once, the passing of torches and boots disturbs some nocturnal denizen of the woods, drawing the low hoot of an owl, or the short dash of a roused raccoon. After the promised several minutes, the crest of the hill is reached. A small clearing is revealed by torchlight, with a small, simple circle of stones forming a firepit in the center. After a polite smile and dip of his head to Eleanor, Tarrant sticks the spear into the ground, and begins gathering fallen leaves in the pit. Timber is stored in cords nearby, so preparing the pyre is simple. Looking back toward the Princess he invites, "Eleanor.. I think you should light this fire by your own hand."
El does take her time in the walk. Especially because she remembers if she could stumble in getting out of the carriage what's to say what she could do in a darkened forest. She makes no attempt to keep up with Tarrant's long strides. Walking as if she is roaming in the castle walls instead of out here in the forest of nightfall. Not to startled when she hears the disturbance they cause for those that live here. Its an expected thing, perhaps. Stopping short only when they make the crest. Eyes roaming when he stops and sticks a speak in the ground and begins to gather the items needed to start a fire. Surprise registers when the offer is given. A knight comes forward and hands the torch off to her. Looking a bit pleased at the honor of lighting. Unlike her sister in law there's been no stories of El liking to start fires or playing in them. Her graceful steps begin to head towards the Baron, waiting until he's fully satisfied with the way and the leaves and timber are laid out before she kneels to light the pit.
Tarrant rises to his feet and stands with the torch raised, drawing a short pace back from Eleanor as the lady sets the fire to the fuel, setting the blaze to burning with a small, but swiftly growing smolder. A slow, deeply drawn breath, before the baron speaks: "I am Tarrant Conway, son of Trahearn, born of Guardian. I bring offering before the Gods of my forefathers, to honor the favor granted me by Wind and Air. Let my deeds please the spirits, always." With the words, he draws the spear from earth, placing the steel head in the center of the fire, and drives it into the earth, to let the flames begin to lick at the shaft. He turns eyes which reflect the fire upon Eleanor.
El is intent on watching the fire burn, watching to make sure its doing what it is suppose to. Glancing up and standing when she takes notice of what Tarrant is doing. Backing away to give him space and to show him respect to what he is doing and to the Gods he is showing his offering to. Listening quietly to the words given. Emerald gaze staying on his as the Baron speaks. Keeping his gaze when he turns to look at her. When it seems it is her turn she attempts to straighten as she now moves her gaze to the fire. The torch she had used to start the fire is handed off to a knight. "I am Eleanor Caprios, daughter of Maximillian, born of Gateway. I bring offering before the Gods of Guardians, to honor and show respect given. I pray that whatever actions I show may be done in favor." Slipping her hands out of her gloves she kisses them as she squats down and throws them into the fire. A bow of her head seen as she murmurs, "This is but just a humble offer to Wind and Air." Watching as the fires take ahold of the gloves, once she raises her head from the bow.
Tarrant's shoulders and chest rise with a slow, deeply drawn breath as the wind carries smoke and drifting sparks up into the air, where they blink out. Long hair and cloaks are tugged by the moving air now, as they have been since climbing the hill. A slow nod greets Eleanor's efforts, as the Baron then looks to the first of the Princess' knights. If any of the men wish, a moment is spared for them to offer devotions.
Its weaponry that is offered by the trio that follow El like shadows. Each man giving quiet words and reverence as they offer items that were close to their bodies, such as small daggers. They do not kneel such as she had. They simply bend at the waist when they offered their items. One man in particular takes the time to stare at the fire, watching as his item burns. El's quiet as she watches this happening. Rising from her position and wiping away any dirt or ash that may have fallen in being by the fire. Gaze on the knights as they show their devotions. These men are from Guardians after all. Its only right that they would do this, given the opportunity. She doesn't seem to mind the wind that tugs at her locks or her cloak. Burying her hands in pockets since she readily gave up the gloves that held her hands in warmness. Once that is done, its El that looks over at Tarrant. She wears a serious expression as she looks his way.
Gradually, the fire eats through the hardwood haft of Tarrant's spear and the burning length topples sideways across the firepit. The smell of wood smoke drifts about on the air, as a fresh gust chills the bare skin of those standing atop the hill. The low howling rush of wind through tree branches and the leaves still clinging to them, as the fire flares up. Tarrant's own regard goes to each of the knights in turn as they offer their tokens, before lingering on the fire a long moment. Fire curls at the leather of hilts, and causes pops as wood is consumed. Gradually, with the firelight flicking on his stern face, the baron's regard returns to Eleanor. "Not long after the Keeper raised Guardian from the waters, the offerings began. The rocky earth of this isle has swallowed the irons and ashes of its children for hundreds of years. In keeping these traditions, all the years, from those to this, resound and bear witness. The honored dead, and the Gods themselves watch us."
It takes El a few moments but her gaze falls back to the fire as she watches what is happening now and how the flames take a hold of the spear that use to be Tarrant's. As well as the weapons given by her knights and her mediocre offering of her gloves. Her eyes darken some as she takes this in. Taking in a breath at the smell that is emitted from the burning. Subconsciously showing off a shiver when a certain gust finds her. The knights give a bow of their head to Tarrant as the Baron glances their way. Otherwise they continue doing what they do best and that is standing guard for Eleanor. El's been intently looking at the fire and the way the flames dance, turning some when she hears the Baron's rough voice. Familiar to her ears even if the words are not. Her brows come forward as she takes account of his words. Not exactly sure how to respond her voice is not loud or projected. More of a mumble if anything. If one were to take a guess perhaps the princess said, 'blessed be'. The baron's words sounding close to a blessing to her, after all.
A further moment is taken as Tarrant regards Eleanor, before a tight smile tugs at his lips. "You must speak loudly on Guardian, my Lady. Else your fine words will be lost under the boom and bluster of bold fools." Breath drawn through his nose, to note the smell of smoke himself, he adds, "We will wait for the fire to burn down. When the Gods of Air have taken their ash, we will depart. As well, starting a fire in the woods would be.. rather frowned upon." While the words are given deadpan, once the dry jest is spoken, he affects a short smile, and draws the cap off of the drinking horn. "Would you offer the first toast, Eleanor?" he asks, offering the horn to the Lady.
El just stares at Tarrant when he says that. Than she straightens her shoulders and gives him a nod. Her voice is a bit louder than before as she answers that. "I will remember that, Tarrant." Her voice had been lowered because she was unsure of herself after all. There's a quick hint of humor though for his words especially the fools part. Giving a nod to confirm Tarrant's words and as if she agrees about staying with the fire. She voices, "It would do no good to let the fine forests of Guardians burn down after all." Now her eyes widen when she sees what the Baron is doing and what he is asking. But she's not one to back from a challenge. Taking the horn when it is extended her way. Her tiny hand wraps around the 'cup'. Pausing and giving thought in what she wants to say. "Look down, dear gods, and please extend your blessings of wind and air onto those that humbly come before you and in devotion." She's hoping those are favorable words as she lifts up the horn upwards as if to offer the toast to the air first. She than pulls out her free hand dropping some of the drink in her bare palm, than she extends her hand outwards, allowing the drops to be taken from the wind, not seeming to mind the residue that may occur from that action. Once that is done she finally puts her lips to the opening of the horn and takes a sip. Than she finally passes it back to the baron.
Tarrant accepts the horn back, he rumbles a word of quiet approval of Eleanor's toast, before holding the horn aloft, and looking up into the cloudless night sky. "To the memory of those friends and foes who gave their blood and their lives, for the cause of forging a greater Guardian. Hail the courageous dead!" he calls that last in the strong, resounding voice of one accustomed to being heard. He draws a drink from the horn, before offering it in turn to the next of Eleanor's knights.
El's dark head is bowed as she listens to Tarrant's words. Taking in a breath of the night air and the smoke that comes from the fire. Giving a nod of approval for the Baron's words now. Adam takes the horn from Tarrant. Eyes looking at him and says in confirmation, "Hail the courageous dead!" Raising the horn up and than taking down a swallow. The other two follow suit, and take on the mantra that Tarrant has given. El for her part remains standing and head lowered as the men around her, express their memory.
The circle of remembrance passes again to Eleanor, and the custom continues, until the horn is drained, and the fire has died. From the solemn first toasts, the custom unfolds into a good humored recollection of past friends and family. The smile which had been glimpsed only in brief flashes and tight measures in the world beyond is prominent upon Tarrant's face as the ceremony goes on. Here, beside the fire, with the winds and trees of Guardian about him, with the palpable presence of tradition thick in the smoky air, the warrior is in his element.
As the horn continues to be passed about and as El helps herself each time it is passed her way, it seems to loosen her some. The drink and the night air more than likely having that affect on her after all. Sure this is not something she's done before but there is no complaint. She simply just takes it all in. Her eyes sparkle some in the dieing firelight, as she looks around at the men and the stories they give of past comrades. El does take notice of the smile that is seen in Tarrant's features often this night and tucks in that memory. She finds herself just looking at him every now and than when she thinks he's not looking. Since this is a first in seeing him in such an element as this, of his own after all.
