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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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."

Frea may not be a rose, but neither does she have Margaery's thorns. She considers her freedom a fair trade for a painful measure of beauty.

Brienne can set her pace and Frea will find a way to keep up. Hopping and skipping may be involved, and she wouldn't mind in the least. "I'm sorry to hear that. You deserve better friends." Also an understatement, though she doesn't understand how or why.

The story gets the bulk of Frea's attention. "That sounds lovely. Beaches and waterfalls and forest? Sounds like paradise. No wonder you grew up so wonderful."

She is her own kind of bloom. And nothing that she would say would sway Brienne to think another way. The flowers in her hair match her so well as though they grew with her. Or whoever had selected them for her knew how to bring out the natural beauty of her face.

They find a pace after a few tries. "Perhaps when my work is complete." Perhaps she may win over people.

"I would climb trees and swim. Sometimes hide." Sometimes? Often. Her smile is more easy thinking of home. "I...can't say that is the reason. My lord father would be pleased to hear that someone thinks so. I came to be more like a son than a daughter." Her tone implies that this is a disappointing thing nonetheless. "Did you grow up here?"

The truth, dear Brienne, is that everyone is their own kind of bloom. Brienne is a protea: large, exotic, demanding; and yet delicate.

That's the trick, isn't it? To keep trying. To be partners. "You've got me, so, looks like you're starting early." She doesn't think that's a bad idea. "Work can be a lot easier with friends."

Brienne's smile is lovely and Frea treasures it. "You came out as yourself. That's a fine thing to manage. You're good and kind, and yet strong. Those aren't 'man' things or 'woman' things, I don't think there are even gendered things really, just different arrangements of anatomy."

So progressive, this one. But then, she'd know wouldn't she?

The question was one she was expecting, but still isn't quite prepared to answer. "I... no. But I've always lived here. I'm not. It's weird, I know."

Variety is welcomed in flowers, plants and wildlife. Active living things then are treated as lessers: birds and rabbits are victim to the wolf and the lion. Life is viewed more savagely when mobility is involved.

"I'm not sure exactly what I've done to you to...earn such a right. And I am glad for you." For her words, for another kind of bloom happening in her chest.

Good and kind, yes she is both. Strong, well truth. The rest is a little harder to follow. Ah, backward Westerosi thinking. "I don't know how I could have been another way really. I was not born to be a lady else the gods would have crafted me different."

"This is your adapted home, then?" It sounds complicated. "So many have claimed it as such."

Westeros would be a foreign place to Frea; she doesn't see the world that way at all. She loves and cherishes all the varieties of things nature offers. But then, that's her job.

"You're kind to me. You don't treat me like I'm strange." Brienne didn't quite ask, but it was enough of a prompt for Frea.

"You're who you're supposed to be." There's that smile again, and she gives Brienne's arm a squeeze. "Yeah, I guess you could say this place and I have adopted each other. Here we are."

Frea nods toward a tiny little restaurant they might have walked right by if she hadn't been looking for it. There's a divine scent of cooking meat and spices coming from inside, and huge pieces of skewered meat spinning as they cook and as they're sliced. That's right. They're getting shwarma.

So exceedingly foreign indeed. From the people and customs alone it is antiquated. To be out of it even in such a small amount of time, Brienne is astounded the world can be any other way.

"I don't think you strange," she nearly stops at to look at her. "Who thinks you are strange? Why?" Brienne asks as if it's a grave offense.

What a thought. She was intended to be this half a woman, half a man being. That's better thank thinking she is a mistake. Frea has a way with words, she thinks with a sigh. "So long as it is your choice and you are not in exile."

Coming to the spot is like finding an oasis. "Here?" Brienne's eyes widen at the abundance of meat let alone, that this is the place. She still looks to Frea trying to be subdued. There is a very fierce hunger settling in her gut.

Surprise, Brienne: there are all kinds of options.

Frea sighs and leans her head against Brienne's arm briefly. "Because I am. Because I dance and sing badly and talk to animals and try to always be cheerful. I'm not serious enough. I don't behave like a proper lady." So that makes two of them.

"I like it here." And that's enough of an answer, for now. Better to think about the culinary wonders ahead. "Yes, here. You do eat meat, don't you? We can go somewhere else if you want."

More and more surprises.

The armor and heavy leather shirt prevent her from feeling the full touch of her resting there at her arm. The weight is enough. "You're more a lady than I shall ever be and it is not song or dance that would deem you so. It's grace and manner. As to proper, you'll find no judgment from me. Maybe we can both be as we are?" The last words are spoken softly, daringly.

"This is very suitable." Which is an enthusiastic yes. "Do....you not eat meat?"

All the surprises! At appropriate intervals to keep her from being overwhelmed. Just. Off-balance a little, sometimes.

The armor is decidedly in the way. Le sigh. It isn't a concern for long, because Brienne is saying exactly the right things. Frea turns another smile on just for her. "Thank you. You're right, that's what we should do."

It might be an enthusiastic 'yes' for now, but Frea's thinking they can do better... but that's for later. "Oh yes, I do. Some people don't. C'mon." Since the choice is deemed suitable for everyone, she's eager to go inside and get started on the feasting.

A good and steady succession of surprises does sound like a logical way to go about it. She will be very glad that someone is keeping track of things.

Leather and steel are all she has right now to wear. Perhaps another time she'll be able to properly know what Frea's cheek feels like. Her face almost goes beet red again. Almost. And this time she dares to return a smile readily at one of Frea's. "There will be no strife. And I really am out of the practice to tell you the truth." The last time she wore a dress was because she was forced to.

There are better establishments than this? So much to see in Nexus! A feast it shall be! "I can't imagine life being satisfying without eating something substantial."

She may regret letting Frea be in charge of keeping track of things. Organization isn't one of her greatest skills. That said, she'll be keeping track of Brienne as best she can. Brienne's wellbeing is important.

They might need to find Brienne some other clothes. There's less need for leather and steel around the Nexus, and it's going to get so hot over the summer. Nobody wants a Broiled Brienne. "You're out of the practice of being yourself? And here I thought you were doing so well." No forced dresses coming from this side of the friendship.

"They do it for ethical reasons, or because they're concerned about their health. Different people need different things." They need lots of different things too, given how she's ordering. Beef and lamb wraps, stuffed grape leaves, cucumber salad, and hummus with chips. And a pitcher of lemonade. Eating so much is thirsty work! Brienne might be used to ordering servants around, but Frea asks for things politely, with a smile, and with thanks and compliments when they're delivered. And, of course, prompt payment.

Organization is a skill that not many are good at, it's true. For now Brienne's focus is learning more about the world, feeling at ease in it. And...this new mission of making connections. Brienne of Tarth, with real friends? It's been more likely than it ever has before in her life.

With the blessing of a new summer she'll be willing to set aside arms for the sake of the peace in Nexus. And it is plain to see that there isn't a real threat about. She is not so willing to start a row if there is no point or purpose. Some lands are more prone to peace. Nexus is the highest water mark of such places in all existence. "I mean I'm not so good at practicing to be anything else because I am myself."

It doesn't take long to figure out that the roster holds all they offer. Brienne follows suit and perhaps goes a little overboard. She is wont for please and thank yous. Though it is rather odd that the staff smiles so at this establishment.

Learning to be at ease and learning to make connections might be two deeply interconnected missions. Which is great for multitasking, but sometimes more difficult when old feelings and habits need to be untangled.

"Oooh. Well, good." Frea is quite pleased with that answer. Good job, Brienne.

Between the two of them, they might end up with enough food to feed an army. Frea had been planning to order for them both, but when Brienne joins in, she'll let her friend get whatever sounds good and focus on the paying. She has money, but commerce in the Nexus can be a tricky dance of negotiating different currencies. Best to get it done while Brienne's attention is focused elsewhere.

When the first tray is full she'll take it to a table by the window. At least from there, she can see the sky.

At least these tasks either individually or together are not ones that put any lives at risk. Or safety. That's explains her reason for being so willing to undertake multiple. Feelings will ever be odd. Brienne's habits oh those for sure will need to be untangled. Her hair is at least some manner of groomed.

"What employs your time here, Frea?" Since she is not a lady of title with land. What do folk do? It's a question she asks when they have their great, heaping table of food. How curious that one has to go and fetch it. Her complaint dies away with the smells of everything and that first taste of lemonade.

When Brienne learns just how dangerous social connections can be, she'll be ready to play The Game. She won't be learning that from Frea. Not directly. Nor will she be learning much about hair grooming; Frea's own hair is only pulled back in the barest semblance of order.

"Hmm?" Frea looks back to Brienne when her friend sits. Well. No getting around it this time, that's a pretty direct question and she's been trying to dodge things already. Brienne will start getting suspicious. "I'm the May Queen. I'm kind of... in charge of making sure the spring and summer go the way they're supposed to."

An awareness of The Game is the very first thing worth knowing. Brienne believes there's still a system, that good and evil are at stake and not agendas. She will likely continue to be a pawn in the mean time. Frea and any sort of council she'll bring is at least some she feels will make sense to her.

She was about to lift her fork to her mouth. Oh. Her blue eyes blink and her mouth opens and shuts. "You...are a queen?" And thusly she's sitting with one casually no escort--whoops wait, well Brienne could very well be her escort now couldn't she?

Poor, sweet Brienne. Frea has no interest in damaging her innocence. The world will take that from her soon enough. Too soon, really.

If Frea's given the impression she worries about things like escorts and being overly casual, she's doing something very wrong. So very wrong. She gives what she hopes is a reassuring smile and reaches over to touch the back of Brienne's hand. "Only for part of the year."

For now she will gladly flaunt it without any real idea. Brienne already believes she is hardened and seasoned and that is before a war. Frea's company makes her feel carefree. It's the easy way about her.

Ah, but a girl raised in tradition does fret about things for her. Their casual dining, dress, all of it say that the title does not. Tension leaves her face as she looks down at their hands together and then up at Frea's serene face. "Is it a demanding short rule--?" Brienne almost bites her tongue but manages to not say your grace.

Even the most debased and hardened soul can be innocent or ignorant of some things. It's no bad thing to have the truth revealed by degrees.

It's good she bites back the honorific; Frea would only giggle at it. Her hand stays on Brienne's a little longer than strictly necessary. Brienne has nice hands. "Every season has to make way for the next. It can be demanding, yes, but I wouldn't call it difficult."

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