(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. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Get more from the Web. 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