On the wind...

As he wanders quietly about the great keep and grounds of the family estate, the young man happens to be drifting through the stables, admiring all the fine mounts, when he spies a figure riding into the yard. The figure on the dark colored mount stops and looks back toward the road for a moment. On a whim, the fellow approaches and asks "Welcome to Castle de Stryke, stranger. What might be yer name, an' how might one be of assistance?"

She starts and turns swiftly back toward the voice announcing itself to her. Supposing it is too late now, slowly she dismounts and steps forward, pulling the hood of her cloak from her head to reveal her visage as that of the Lady Trisalene of Somerset. Now bearing the title of Earl Marshal of England, she is Squire to the Knight Commander Gregarious of the Knights of the Realms of England and therein has grown to know further the Lady Knight, Caitilin, ...Head of this House.

"I apologize, my lord... I come uninvited to your gates on a whim and think better now than to disturb the Lady and Lord... and the family of this noble house."

Were it not for the pale moonlight, one might see the slight flush on her cheeks. "I am Trisalene, friend to the Lady Caitilin Stryke de Lusignon, and I... " she pauses and moves closer, narrowing her gaze as she studies him before a smile forms on her lips. "Lord Seamus? ...Is that you?"

As the visitor lowers the hood, his eyes take light and a huge grin forms on his face, as he steps further into what light there is. Trisa! Err...ahhh...I..I mean, Lady Earl M..marshall. It is I, indeed, though I be nae lairrd. A m..most w..welcome visitor are you, an' a fine sight come a-knockin' at th' g..gates. Me cousin, Caiti, werre at hunt last I ken. However, mayhaps I might make some poor attempt at carin' for yer m..mount, an' makin' yerself comfortable til she be finished.

With a deep flush, which is thankfully hidden by the dimness,and mortified that he stutters so badly in the presence of this particular person, he summons what nerve he possesses and steps forward the last few steps, coming even with the Lady's stirrup where he offers an elbow in escort if she should wish it.

Leading the way to the stables, the young fellow walks carefully so as to avoid any unfortunate encounters with any byproducts left by other mounts. As they walk, he tries to recall where he had seen a lantern, murmuring "Twill be a wee moment, Lady, until I can find us a light. I cannae recall where the lamps be hung.

Falcon saddling up his horse for a night ride around the grounds see's Tris and Seamus entering. Hello to you both, he say's. Lady Trisalene it is a pleasure to have you grace our humble castle. It is late and I hope my cousin offers you a room and a seat at the dinning table. Noticing her arm wrapped around Seamus's he mounts up and gives him a wink. I hope to see you later milady. Slapping his mount across the rear Falcon rides out.

Trisalene smiles, amused at his demeanor, and has to fight not to roll her eyes at his formal address, "Please... call me Trisalene, or some shorter form if you so desire Lord Seamus. I would take your offer with thanks and hope the Lady Caitilin does not find ill a guest unannounced."

Trisa lets him lead the way, walking as she looks around and then waits quietly while he reaches for the lamp. Just then another figure in the shadows of the dimly lit stables speaks and Trisalene looks up to see the familiar face of Lord Falcon.

"Good eve Lord Falcon. Tis my pleasure to be welcomed in such unexpected arrival." She notes his glance to her hand on Seamus' arm and flushes again slightly, clearing her throat and smiling to him as she moves to help Seamus stable Aeolus. Going to speak further as he finishes addressing them, she finds her words cut short as Falcon hurries off away on his mount. Pausing thoughtfully, she finishes then with Aeolus and looks back up to Seamus. Taking her hands away to lay in rest before her, she awaits his further lead with a slight tug at the corner of her lips, darkened by the night's chill.

The Lady's mount now cared for, and a lantern in hand and lit, young Seamus sees that their guest seems a shade discomfited, and shrugs helplessly. Shall we gae i..into the main hall, then? B..beg pardon if you are not used to such ebullient behaviour amongst kinsmen. We can be a rowdy lot at times, M..mistress Trisalene. Perhaps I can find sommat for a m..meal, and a bit of drink to wash the dust out of the throat. Surely cousin Caiti, or one of the r..rest of the family should be round directly. Holding up the lantern, he makes to show the way along the path to the main house. As the two walk, he looks at the Lady guest and murmurs If you wish, we can gae right to the dining room, or if you prefer I can arrange refreshment in the sitting room. Please let me know which you prefer, so that I m..might arrange things accordingly. A..an' please, a simple Seamus is more than sufficient address for me. Me cousin, the Lady of the House has all the titles. As for m..myself, I am no noble. At least not one that the crown of England would recognize.

Smiling as they turn to walk, Trisa moves to retake Seamus's arm as it seems her discomfort is reflecting in him. She answers quietly while they approach the castle.

"The sitting room sounds lovely Seamus, thank you. And please..." She tugs his arm and turns to look and smile at him in a friendly manner. "Call me Trisalene... or Trisa... or Tris even if you prefer. No need for this Mistress nonsense.

...And, how do you mean, not one that the crown of England would recognize?" She glances over his attire and back to his face. "Are you a noble of other lands?"

Nodding at her indication of preferring the sitting room, the young fellow purses his lips in thought as she speaks her last question. Ach. Nay, Trisa. You see, my family, the Roods, carry the ancient tradition of naming the head of house, or clan chief, if you will, by tanistry. That is to say the Heir does nae necessarily have to be the son of the current one, but rather is named by the current clan chief. Then that person is agreed to, or not, by the Elders and the rest. Gathering his thoughts as they walk up the path, he continues The inheritor of the chieftainship wears a silver torque round the neck. Similar to the small coronet worn by English barons, I think. Which lead the heralds and nobles here tae brand us as "border barons", and disregard us as being little more than usurpers. Warming to the task of answering the lady, he forgets his nerves, and is somewhat surprised to find that he has stopped walking as he spoke. Abashed at his lapse, he quickly continues toward the main house, and finishes his explanation by saying, I am the last of my family on that side, and thus inherit the torque. My cousin Sir Charles had it, but I know not where it was kept. Even so, as you can see, it is not a title bestowed by England, nor really any formal title at all. Thus, I be no noble at all.


((continued in the "Sitting Room"..))