nexus_sages | Sweets for the Sweet (LOL alert!)

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Sweets for the Sweet (LOL alert!)

The May Queen is back in the forum. It's safe to assume she left at some point; Frea's wearing a new (but still floral) dress and today's flower crown is made of evening primroses and bleeding hearts. She's also got a bright smile and a plate of cookies, both of which are offered to any interested passers-by from her perch atop a low stone wall. If she ever had shoes, she either hasn't found them or isn't on speaking terms with them; her bare feet swing and tap a rhythm against the stones while she waits for someone to talk to.

"Anyone want a cookie?"

((Beware! The cookies are LOLed. Different cookies will give your character a day or two of various motherly instincts and/or symptoms.
--Peanut butter cup-stuffed chocolate cookies mean your character experiences a phantom pregnancy. Give them any or all of the worst and most cliched symptoms. Bloating, aches and pains, hormonal shifts, morning sickness, cravings, whatever you want to inflict on your poor characters who probably totally deserve it.
--Chocolate chip cookies will turn your character into a Mother hen. Which may be useful, given what's going on around them; it may at the same time be incredibly annoying.
--Sugar cookies with the super sparkly sugar tops make your character a Fairy Godmother. Whether or not they can do minor magic to help fulfill the wishes of the worthy is up to you, but either way, they're going to feel compelled to help make happy endings come true.
--Oatmeal raisin cookies will help your characters remember their connections to the earth and make them total Earth Mothers. Be one with nature! Talk to the animals! Just remember, mostly they talk about food and sex; it's not as fun as Disney makes it seem.))

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To stay, to breathe and live in a spring while she can easily step back to the road, the quest and Podrick Payne perpetually testing her patience... staying in Nexus just a little longer isn't a weakness. Not if it lets her gather herself again. Better that than to run back all the way to King's Landing, return the Oathkeeper and admit to Jaime Lannister she never had it in her to succeed.

Frea's easy smiles, they make her look away every now and again for fear she is looking too long. It's like she's looking too long at the sun. Brienne licks her dry lips. "Thank you. I do my best."

Sunshine is better than clouds or rain. "Summer makes better people. Those that remember winter always have a bit of cold, they say. It won't happen. Not with me." Southern and highborn, of course she'd say such a thing. "I have no thing to give you in return for your kindness, but..." something feels as though that's not true.

No weakness in preparing herself for the ordeal ahead. And none in seeking a safe and comfortable place to renew herself when she needs it again. There's no failure in the proper maintenance of her armor and sword, nor any in maintaining herself.

Brienne can enjoy Frea's smiles as much as she wants. They're freely given. "I can tell." She's utterly sincere in that. Brienne's efforts are clear to see.

But clouds and rain are necessary if the plants are to grow. Brienne's easy oath, to keep to the softness of spring and warmth of summer, chase this little storm away again. "Oh! Not at all. I got to meet you. That's more than enough."

There are two Stark girls to find in a battle torn land on the verge of winter. Brienne is going to need all the help she can get. Staying would do no harm at all. Especially if she could gain an ally.

Freely given like sweets. What manner of place is Nexus really? A dream? Now, now Brienne smiles because she can't think of what to say in return.

"...None at all?" That's so hard to fathom. "I am only myself."

'Help me save two girls lost in a war-torn land on the verge of a decade-long winter' would be an effective, if long, rallying cry. Be careful asking for help, Brienne, because there's no promises what form that will take.

A dream made real, a paradise with a dark side, a prison of delights. The Nexus is a marvel.

"And that is a precious thing. Being yourself is something many people never learn, and you do it so beautifully."

House Tarth actually does not have words. At least not any that she is aware of. Brienne's extraordinarily short career as a member of Renly's rainbow guard had her using "Ours is the Fury" as a war-cry. It didn't directly speak to her or her cause. It was so simple then. To think she could gain help here of all places! She had no idea, no idea at all so long as it is going to lend itself to the quest.

A marvelous land that the stories never had begun to touch on. Maybe this where all the magic had gone after the Age of Heroes and the death of dragons.

Her face burns and it's like all of her freckles will fall off and she'll melt beneath the armor. "Me-? I..." Her tongue feels thick in her mouth and she blinks several times because it does not make sense to her.

Brienne will bring honor and glory and very poetic words to her house, no doubt. Sometimes a little editing is required along the way; rarely is the first draft a perfect thing. That's the kind of help she can get here, if she asks.

Everything needs a safe haven. Brienne was brought here for a reason.

Frea's eyes light up when Brienne starts to blush, a little amused and a little concerned, but mostly, she's admiring all those lovely freckles. "Yes, you." Her insistence is as gentle as a mother's hand nudging a child toward the schoolroom door their first morning of 'big kid' lessons. The plate of cookies is set aside so she can take Brienne's hands in her own. "You are wonderful. I can tell."

Perhaps the reason why there have not been any words is because there has not yet been a chance or moment to speak the right ones? The Seven Gods of Westeros do have ways that are ever mysterious.

Stammering and lit up like a beacon does make one lose sight that she is a grown maid. She feels like a child. Her straw colored hair musses as she shakes her head because the wonder can be from her size or brutishness. "You're very, very kind." Ah, true words at last they come.

Brienne steels herself with all that's in her as though this is another bear pit.

The words will come in their own good time.

"No, I'm not." It's a serious statement in a serious tone, but such things don't suit the May Queen and soon there's laughter in her voice again. "But you're awfully sweet for saying so."

Brienne can steel herself all she wants. How much good is that going to do her while Frea's holding her hands?

"You are," stubbornness is at least one thing she can rely on to be true in this moment. Brienne's eyes are fixed on their hands. Frea's and her own, they're so, so different. Large, dirty and calloused from riding and fighting for days. And there she goes again trying to say that she's sweet too. The redness won't go!

She fought against a bear. She can fight against... whatever is going on. Brienne clears her throat. "My lady, I'm sure in your heart you have no intention to be false. I shall not be at all to you."

"I'm glad you think so," she'll relent. Frea knows what she's capable of, and what she's done, but she's gratified to be seen as good by such a good person. She'd like to maintain that image Brienne's forming of her for as long as possible.

Their hands are so very different in their ways. Frea's are small, smooth, and pale. There are no blemishes or scars, only a smattering of freckles from her time in the sun. But their hands are more alike than different: they're formed the same, and have the same functions. They're both stronger than people would like. Their hands are put to the hard tasks of doing what they believe is the good and right thing to do.

Whatever's going on, Frea's not so troubled by it. She smiles up at Brienne again, another glimpse of the sun. "Thank you. That is a generous gift. You see, I knew you were a proper knight."

"My lady, you misunderstand." Though it hasn't struck her yet that she is also misunderstanding. Finally she lifts her gaze to meet another of Frea's simply unbeatable smiles. Just when Brienne thought she was going to be far more collected. She's just a girl again. And this isn't a dance in her father's hall.

Oh dear.

"I am...as much as I can be as to my word, my efforts. I have not yet done anything of mark. And--" Gods please don't let her say what is obvious.

"Do I?" She doesn't think so, but it's possible they're having two very different conversations. Still, the fact Brienne's looking at her again is encouraging. She's not unaware of the effect her smiles can have on people, but she hadn't been expecting them to disconcert Brienne so thoroughly.

Not that she'd necessarily stop if she knew that.

"And?" Sorry, Brienne, but whatever it is you mean to say, Frea's just not seeing it. Her look of confusion is utterly innocent. "And what? Are you not strong and true to your word? Are you not a protector of the innocent? I find that hard to believe."

How can she not look at her? It's awkwardness that bids she look away and politeness, and the desire to see her that drives her back again. It's a very inconsistent motion. Frea's smiles do have a potency to them. Someone should tell her that.

"And I am true to my word, and have done what I could to protect those that need it. None of which I confess to doing with any beauty. That is not what I am, my lady." The maid of Tarth, Brienne the beauty.

Someone should tell Frea all sorts of things. Starting with her name, and continuing through every hope and dream that's filled her lonely hours. Whenever she dares to look at Frea she'll find her friend watching her with a fondness brightening her eyes.

"You're beautiful to me. Your beauty is more difficult to see because it is so precious, but I see it." Frea's expression is one of a woman who will entertain arguments but will not be swayed by them.

Fortunately, Frea isn't hard to distract. "Are you hungry? I'm getting hungry. Want to join me for lunch?"

Ah they speak so frankly and so very familiarly. It is as though they have met before. Her Septas, father and title asks better of her. All the friendliness is... overwhelming to put lightly. Like her smile, it's bright and burning. The Dornish sun would compare.

"My lady, my lady please." She shallows the lump in her throat. Her blue eyes water. "I have never been beautiful. I take-I take no pains knowing the truth." Even though she is fighting back tears. Brienne has killed, fought and maimed. Words still can have their sting.

She sniffs and rubs her nose. "Wh-what?"

Oh. Oh, no. No, Brienne in tears will not do. Frea doesn't understand what's wrong, not entirely; she gets the sense that Brienne hasn't been valued properly, and so she decides the sensible course of action is to double down. Brienne's hands are released only so Frea can wrap her arms around the gentle knight. It's the best hug she can give someone in armor.

"Shh, shh. It's okay. If people haven't seen how good you are, that's their loss." The words are delivered gently, kindly, and with a handkerchief. Decidedly without any judgments against Brienne.

"I asked if you want to join me for a meal. Cookies are nice, but I'm wanting something more substantial."

As usual she must make any small thing something larger. Except is this truly something so small? Meeting a person that has decided to say all the things she had so longed to hear and know to be true but learned to stop hoping. She stands a moment too long, missing her chance to flee when their hands part. Now she cannot run. Her hands come to rest on Frea's shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she'll take that handkerchief. "This..." Oh hells she gives up and dabs at her face and tries to be discrete about her nose. "Thank you." The words are true, woefully, solidly true.

"Allow me to escort you then," a kindness repaid by a kindness though could she ever give back in the same way?

Brienne can leave any time she wants. Frea won't stop her. But she would be sad if the gentle knight felt the need to flee. Conversely, she'd be sad knowing Brienne only stayed out of some sense of obligation. Frea wants nothing that is not given freely.

The brief touch of hands on her shoulders makes her blush and she does not know why. She's rather sorry to see it end. "There's nothing to be sorry about. And you're welcome."

If Brienne thought the smiles were bright before, she's going to be woefully unprepared for this one. "Thank you! That would be lovely, my dear... um. Oh. I'm Frea."

It's a predicament she had never expected to be in. If it was she would have readied for it as she would a battle with strategy, training and multiple outcomes thought up. Right now her mind is only filled with dread that all Frea thinks will be proven wrong. To run would be yet another form of disappointment so she stands still.

Can it really be true? Would the Gods really send a messenger, a person such as she to say things to be false?

Brienne sniffles again dabs at her cheek. The fabric of her kerchief is soft, of course floral smelling. She tries to hand it back. It's met with the most radiant smile yet. What on earth will she do?

"Lady Frea. I am Brienne of Tarth." She swallows and now tries to collect herself enough to bow to her ladyship. "You've no family name?"

Nobody expects the May Day Imposition!

If Frea's lying, she's damned good at it. Isn't it far more likely she's telling the truth? Or that she's addled or something? But not a liar.

She'll take the kerchief and dabs at a spot Brienne missed before tucking it away again. And by 'away', this time, it means somewhere where Brienne can keep it. She must have a pocket or pouch or something.

The bow is met with a curtsy, quick and not as practiced as a proper lady's would be. "No, it's just me. Brienne is a lovely name. May I call you that?"

No, it seems she is a true lady. And with a gentle heart it would not be an impulse at all to speak falsehoods to cause mischief or pain. Brienne looks into her face again and finds no reason to think that she would be capable of anything so unjust.

Away can be at the belt, her leather gloves are folded and fastened there.

"Thank you." Did she just give Brienne a favor? She doesn't want to look away again but is sure that the bit of fabric is now on her person.

Her curtsy still has a charm to it. Not practiced but like the faltering steps of a new fawn. "Brienne is just fine. And thus so you are Frea?" No title.

Frea much prefers when Brienne is willing to look at her. She takes it as a sign she's doing something right. No heart as noble and gentle as Brienne's could bear to look upon someone unworthy with such softness in her eyes.

"You're welcome." Sure, they can call it a favor. If there's a joust, she'd be happy to cheer for Brienne in every tilt. Even the ones she's not competing in. Someone might need to teach her how these things work.

"And thank you. I prefer my friends call me by my name, yes." There is a title, but why bring that into things and make it all awkward?

Edited 2016-05-18 01:32 (UTC)

Staying, breathing and taking it in was the better option. Some of the panic has worn away. So many times the rug had been pulled out beneath her feet. Still she stands.

Jousts and tourneys do need people to cheer no matter what's happening. The mechanics can be taught! Brienne sniffs again. "It is not usual for me to be so, so emotional." At least not like that. Frea is untroubled or alarmed, just as sunny and cheery.

"And so shall I." Are they really, truly friends? Is it so simple and easy like that? The corners of her mouth dare to turn upward.

Brienne will learn that Frea is steady, in her way; her roots run deep. The tree and the rock can coexist, even support each other. And while she may dance and flit about like a leaf on the breeze, in the end, she'll always come home.

"It's okay. We all get emotional sometimes." Frea wraps her arms around one of Brienne's now, to start gently propelling her. They were going to get some food, remember. It's more intimate than the escort Brienne's used to, but then, it's Frea.

"Perfect." Frea's sunny smile comes out to encourage Brienne's. "Tell me about Tarth while we walk? Please?"

A leaf in the wind on a breeze, has there ever been anyone so light and free? At King's Landing she beheld Queen Margaery, the rose of Highgarden and walked at her arm and didn't feel as she does right now.

They come to motion, Brienne with her steady long strides remembering to not try and drag sweet Frea. Leaf or not. "Usually the company is not welcoming." An understatement.

"If you wish, yes. It is an island off the coast of the Stormlands. Reasonably large I suppose. Large enough for waterfalls, glens and forest. As a child I never knew that water could be any other color but a brilliant blue. The Narrow Sea around Tarth is said to be sapphire blue."

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