(It's long. Very long. It is a copy of an rp Jer and I did. This happened 
about a week before that cold blizzard came through. Yay! Finally! Some of 
Jeremy's writing! ::grumbles something about some story he keeps saying 
he'll finish and how she's finally resorted to posting their log.:: Enjoy!)

~~~~~~~~

<Aurine> "Don't you dare say a thing," Aurine nudged an elbow into Bertram's 
side to punctuate her warning. Though it wasn't to be seen by the older man, 
she could hardly help but smile as she glanced towards the line of horses. 
"Oh! Grady, make sure that hasn't molded!" she nearly stalks off after the 
young fellow as he scoops grain into the horses feeding sacks. The boy gives 
a poor semblance of a reassuring smile as Bert's large hand claps onto her 
shoulder. "Give 'im a break, 'Rine, 'e ain't that that dumb-witted."

"There's just been so much damned rain, Bert," she attempts as an
excuse but overall ends up turning the man a helpless smile, "He's a Duke, 
you know." Without Bertram she would simply be lost, for as strong as she 
was, that man always had a good word of advice, or managed to keep her head 
on her shoulders. But for all appearences, she was the one who led. The pair 
walked on past the horses and back towards the wagons, that formed something 
of a semi-circle around the focus of a charred firepit.

"I know, I know.. an' he's 'andsome too, I bet," he chuckles and
winked a dark eye as his bulky arm closes over her shoulders, "Why.. if yer 
da' was 'ere t'.." He's cut off once more by Aurine's elbow in his side. 
"And he'll be good for business.. Not another word from you," she cuts in as 
sternly as possible as she ducks under his arm. The man still bellowed a 
laugh.

<Branton> ..The dried leaves in golds and reds and browns fallen to the
forest floor would normally crackle under the shod hooves of the walking
chestnut charger, but because of the seasonal rains that have kept the fall 
weather gloomy they muffle his footfalls. Because of the weather, as cool 
and overcast as it is today when it was not outright downpours, Duke Darell 
Branton had to continue to set off the date he would take Aurine to see the 
Falls. The need to get the harvest in and sheltered, to oversee the sheep 
sheared, that the thatch on roofs be
replaced before the summer's crop molded.

The Duke shakes his head beneath the hood of his gold-trimmed leather riding 
cloak. Far too much to have to worry about sometimes, but leaving strict 
instructions with servents who have overseen these matters for years 
already, he felt confident enough to take this fortnight and lead her off on 
a tour of the isle. The pull of lead reigns under the hand resting on the 
saddlehorn makes him turn to check on the pack pony laden with two tents and 
cots, blankets, and the rest of the gear needed once they leave civilization 
in two days begin exploring the wilderness. A soft chuckle emits a few cloud 
puffs of crystaline breath from his mouth as he twists back around. 'I hope 
she won't be too suprised to discover the extent of this tour,' he muses to 
himself as his breeches warm against the side of his charger for the 
friction.

<Aurine> Well, the man wasn't without his faults. Rolling her eyes, she
paused to stand where she was with hands on hips as Bert wheeled about to 
make certain that Grady wasn't feeding the horses molded grain. She gives a 
bemused shake of her head for the touch of color that had managed to heat 
within her cheeks.. a good business prospect, that's all this was.. despite 
what Bert had to say. Just what did he expect to happen in a little 
afternoon ride, afterall? She smiled wryly for that thought. The man was 
handsome.. there was to be no debating that. Perhaps a little fun wasn't 
going to harm anything.. and before any rumors can start about the man, 
she'll have headed back to the mainland. Provided this damned plague had 
subsided.

* Branton checks the ties to heavy looking bow of recurved bone riding
beneath his right leg's stirrup straps then those holding the sheath of his 
sword and forest hatchet on the left of his saddle within easy reach. 
'Shouldn't be too far now,' he thinks, glancing around the forest unfamiliar 
to him. Though he has ridden through this wood before, they do not reside as 
part of his lands and so rarely works this far off the main roads. She did 
pick a good place to set up an extended camp though; close enough to town 
yet deep enough to deter casual observance. Obviously she is a woman who has 
much experiance on the road if not surviving off the land. "Well, we'll see 
soon enough," he mumbles with a smile. His boots tick their heels against 
the flanks of his chestnut, urging him into a faster trot.

<Aurine> She mumbles under her breath as her lavender gaze fell upon the
campfire. That shouldn't have gone out. She strode towards the center of the 
clearing, and bent to retrieve a few of the branches and logs that they had 
piled a small distance from it. Tossing them into the pile, she knelt while 
a hand fished inside the pocket of her soft woolen, marroon cloak that was 
trimmed in a bit of looping embroidered gold thread. She's dressed 
accordingly, at least she hopes so. Foregoing her gowns and skirts for a 
pair of form fitting, doe-skin breeches. They would make movement much more 
easy depending on where he was planning to take her.

* Branton sniffs the air again as he gets the sharp tang of strengthening 
woodsmoke. He reigns up the horses and listens into the relative stillness 
of the forest. Yes, certainly there is the whickering of beasts other than 
his own and human voices muffled by forest distance. Smiling that he 
remembered the directions taken to her camp from when he walked her back, 
Darell again kicks his charger into motion and canters up the path to the 
glen ahead. He is just so glad she still wanted to meet with him after 
having to postpone so many days. He did not even have the time to deliver 
the messages himself and had to send an errand boy to deliver his written 
missives. Oh, but he has made promises to himself to definately make it up 
to this most lovely of merchants.

<Aurine> A small box of matches is found when she first hears the
approaching sound of a horse, and a tiny whicker just beyond the line of
trees. Let's just hope now that it wasn't another of his message boys, but 
he had promised this time. Flipping open the small box, she plucks out a 
match to strike against it's side. Sheilding the small flame from the light 
stirring breeze, she moves it to catch upon some dried twigs and leaves 
stuffed beneath the large pieces of wood.

* Branton sees the the shedding trees the painted wood of wagons and
brighter canvas covering them. There doesn't seem to be anyone moving, but 
they could all be seated on the other side which is hidden by the turn of 
the path. He follows it around, slowing the horses a little for it wouldn't 
due to have them slip a shoe in the muck churged by the passing through the 
wet forest floor. "Hallo!" he calls out slowly and just loud enough to let 
it echo through the forest without really disturbing it. He guides his 
charger more by knees as he passes around the last of the trees blocking the 
entrance to the glade. Before him is the firepit with the wagons horseshoing 
around behind it. Yet all of that seems to melt away as the rest of the 
world always does when his eyes snap to upon Aurine. His sight washes out a 
little as though he were struck full in the face with winter sunlight. How 
is it this woman has the power to steal away his breath with him knowing 
almostnothing about her? Though he enjoys the power that suddenly beats from 
his heart through his limbs that would strengthen him enough to move the 
world for her, he feels guilty that his reactions might be nothing more than 
physical lusts. His cheeks heat brightly without him knowing, ashamed by 
such a thought, as he tosses back his hood to reveal himself.

<Aurine> She had been further bent at the waist to blow lightly upon the
fire, insuring that it would catch when the greeting is shouted. Twisting 
about to look back in her vistor's direction, a smile might be seen beneath 
her hood before she smoothly rises from her crouch. "Good morning, my Lord," 
she calls back to him as she slides the box of matches back into her pocket. 
Both free hands lift as she steps away from the smoking wood, drawing back 
the cowl to her own hood that he might better be able to see her. Honeyed 
brown ringlets frame her smiling heart-shaped face, and almond shaped eyes 
of smokey lavender.

* Branton urges his mount and packpony further into the encampment with a 
touch of the leed reigns and press of his knees. He rides the deep chested 
charger up to within a few long paces of the fire before making sure the 
pony's reigns are tied tightly to his saddle and then stepping off. "Ahh, my 
Lady Tonnerre! You are looking as lovely as ever! I feel a warmth now in 
your presence that I have missed with the passing of the sun into this 
dreary season," he chuckles desperately the last as he passes his reigns 
behind his back to his gloved left hand and walks closer to her. He is 
freshly shaved and standing tall with heavy tunic of russet under a quilted 
sleeveless jerkin of wet bark worked with gold scroll in an autumn vine 
design. His smile holds true and warm as he scrubs a hand through his short 
hair to dislodge any fallen leaves or static from his hood. "I hope I 
haven't kept you waiting long?"

<Aurine> She cannot help but laugh with his flowery compliment, even as a 
bit of color manages to find it's heated way to her cheeks. Easily mistaken 
to have been caused by this crisp wind. "You are far.. far too kind, my 
Lord," she shakes her head in a bemused manner as he strides towards her, a 
smile lifted at one corner of her rose hued lips. "And no," she graciously 
tilts her head with her nod, "There are always things found that need 
doing." Her woolen marroon cloak shifts open to her sides with the couple of 
steps she takes towards him. Beneath is the chestnut brown, fitted pair of 
soft, doeskin breeches and a loose fitting, but comfortable soft woolen 
sweater of a charcoal grey. Simple dress, but warm and fitting for a trek 
through the woods. The only adornment being that thread of gold scroll 
worked along the trim of her cloak.


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