Camp of the Band of the Red Hand, Altara [afternoon]
Mat's plan of hit-and-fade attacks against the Seanchan had been in effect for a few days now, with Leilwin's "dragons" ("cannons", his mind kept repeating) working with more devastating effectiveness against the enemy than even their leashed da'mane could counter. It didn't mean that the Band had been able to escape the encounters unscathed. Dozens of his soldiers were buried in Altara now, and Mat had a few troublesome sword-cuts of his own. Some of them were inflamed, though he had managed to keep that from anyone so far. He hated being fussed over nearly as much as he hated anyone using the Power on him. Lopin and Nerim had sewed him up as well as they could, and he had refused Healing despite attempted bullying by all three Aes Sedai.
Now they were taking a quick break (near a Portal Stone connected to the Portalocity system, not that Mat had mentioned that to anyone), and Tuon and Selucia headed for the stream to wash, wiggling their fingers at one another rapidly. Talking about him, he was sure. When women started putting their heads together, you could be sure -- Selucia screamed and every head whipped around toward her. Mat spotted the cause as quickly as the Talmanes did, a black-scaled snake a good seven feet long wriggling quickly away from the log he was seated on. Leilwin cursed and leaped to her feet drawing her sword, but no faster than Talmanes, who tugged his sword free of its scabbard and started quickly after the snake.
"Let it go," Mat said. "It's heading away from us. Let it go." The thing probably had a den under that log and had been surprised to come out and find people. Luckily, blacklances were solitary snakes. Talmanes hesitated before deciding that attempting to comfort a shivering Selucia (he was new, he's learn that was a mistake) was more important than chasing a snake. "What kind is it, anyway?" he asked. He was a city man, after all, and a lord. Mat told him, and for a moment he looked as though he meant to go after it again. Wisely, he decided against. Blacklances were quick as lightning, and with a sword, he would have needed to get close.
Taking his hat from the butt of his ashandarei, which was driven point-down into the ground, Mat settled it on his head. "Daylight's wasting," he said around his pipestem. "Time we were moving on. Don't dawdle over there, Tuon. Your hands are clean enough."
She did not hurry in the slightest, of course. "A strange man, who lets poisonous serpents go," she said. "From the fellow's reaction, I assume a blacklance is poisonous?"
"Very," he told her, "but snakes don't bite anything they can't eat unless they're threatened." He put a foot in the stirrup.
"You may kiss me, Toy."
He gave a start. Her words, not spoken softly, had made them the object of every eye. Selucia's face was so stiffly expressionless her disapproval could not have been plainer.
"Now?" he said. "When we stop tonight, we could take a stroll alone-" "By tonight. I may have changed my mind, Toy. Call it a whim, for a man who lets poisonous snakes go." Maybe she saw one of her omens in that?
Taking off his hat and sticking the black spear back into the ground, he took the pipe from between his teeth and planted a chaste kiss on her full lips. A first kiss was nothing to be rough with. He did nor want her to think him pushy, or crude. She was no tavern maid to enjoy a bit of slap and tickle. Besides, he could almost feel all those eyes watching. Someone snickered. Selucia rolled her eyes.
Tuon folded her arms beneath her breasts and looked up at him through her long eyelashes. "Do I remind you of your sister?" she asked in a dangerous tone. "Or perhaps your mother?" Somebody laughed. More than one somebody, in fact.
Grimly, Mat tapped the dottle from his pipe on the heel of his boot and stuffed the warm pipe into his coat pocket. He hung his hat back on the ashandarei. If she wanted a real kiss… Had he really thought she would not fill his arms? Slim, she was to be sure, and small, but she filled them very nicely indeed. He bent his head to hers. She was far from the first woman he had kissed. He knew what he was about. Surprisingly--or then again, perhaps not so surprisingly--she did not know. She was a quick pupil, though. Very quick. When he finally released her, she stood there looking up at him and trying to catch her breath. For that matter, his breath came a little raggedly, too.
Arthur Pendragon
Which made it the absolute perfect time for--
"Matrim," Arthur's cultured voice said evenly, though... definitely not without amusement. "Lady Tuon."
Formerly of the carpet.
Mat Cauthon
Mother's milk in a cup.
Mat didn't leap into the air and shriek like a woman, no matter what Tuon's fingers might be spelling to Selucia right now.
"Arthur," he replied. "You're late."
He wasn't.
Merlin
"No we're not," Merlin added cheerfully. No, he did not have Arthur's grace in social situations, but he made up for it in enthusiasm.
Mat Cauthon
Tuon was already pulling away and brushing her skirts like there were wrinkles in urgent need of attention (there weren't), so Mat fixed Arthur and Merlin with a slightly impatient look. "We were just about to break camp."
Arthur Pendragon
"Yes, I could see there was rather a lot of 'breaking camp' going on," Arthur said. He was not doing a very good job of repressing the amusement on his face.
Or really any job at all.
Mat Cauthon
"We're very bloody quick about it," Mat declared a little sulkily as he turned to realize even his own men were looking really entertained. "Well? Bloody move!" he demanded of them.
[OOC: Continuing in comments with the Camelot boys!]
Now they were taking a quick break (near a Portal Stone connected to the Portalocity system, not that Mat had mentioned that to anyone), and Tuon and Selucia headed for the stream to wash, wiggling their fingers at one another rapidly. Talking about him, he was sure. When women started putting their heads together, you could be sure -- Selucia screamed and every head whipped around toward her. Mat spotted the cause as quickly as the Talmanes did, a black-scaled snake a good seven feet long wriggling quickly away from the log he was seated on. Leilwin cursed and leaped to her feet drawing her sword, but no faster than Talmanes, who tugged his sword free of its scabbard and started quickly after the snake.
"Let it go," Mat said. "It's heading away from us. Let it go." The thing probably had a den under that log and had been surprised to come out and find people. Luckily, blacklances were solitary snakes. Talmanes hesitated before deciding that attempting to comfort a shivering Selucia (he was new, he's learn that was a mistake) was more important than chasing a snake. "What kind is it, anyway?" he asked. He was a city man, after all, and a lord. Mat told him, and for a moment he looked as though he meant to go after it again. Wisely, he decided against. Blacklances were quick as lightning, and with a sword, he would have needed to get close.
Taking his hat from the butt of his ashandarei, which was driven point-down into the ground, Mat settled it on his head. "Daylight's wasting," he said around his pipestem. "Time we were moving on. Don't dawdle over there, Tuon. Your hands are clean enough."
She did not hurry in the slightest, of course. "A strange man, who lets poisonous serpents go," she said. "From the fellow's reaction, I assume a blacklance is poisonous?"
"Very," he told her, "but snakes don't bite anything they can't eat unless they're threatened." He put a foot in the stirrup.
"You may kiss me, Toy."
He gave a start. Her words, not spoken softly, had made them the object of every eye. Selucia's face was so stiffly expressionless her disapproval could not have been plainer.
"Now?" he said. "When we stop tonight, we could take a stroll alone-" "By tonight. I may have changed my mind, Toy. Call it a whim, for a man who lets poisonous snakes go." Maybe she saw one of her omens in that?
Taking off his hat and sticking the black spear back into the ground, he took the pipe from between his teeth and planted a chaste kiss on her full lips. A first kiss was nothing to be rough with. He did nor want her to think him pushy, or crude. She was no tavern maid to enjoy a bit of slap and tickle. Besides, he could almost feel all those eyes watching. Someone snickered. Selucia rolled her eyes.
Tuon folded her arms beneath her breasts and looked up at him through her long eyelashes. "Do I remind you of your sister?" she asked in a dangerous tone. "Or perhaps your mother?" Somebody laughed. More than one somebody, in fact.
Grimly, Mat tapped the dottle from his pipe on the heel of his boot and stuffed the warm pipe into his coat pocket. He hung his hat back on the ashandarei. If she wanted a real kiss… Had he really thought she would not fill his arms? Slim, she was to be sure, and small, but she filled them very nicely indeed. He bent his head to hers. She was far from the first woman he had kissed. He knew what he was about. Surprisingly--or then again, perhaps not so surprisingly--she did not know. She was a quick pupil, though. Very quick. When he finally released her, she stood there looking up at him and trying to catch her breath. For that matter, his breath came a little raggedly, too.
Arthur Pendragon
Which made it the absolute perfect time for--
"Matrim," Arthur's cultured voice said evenly, though... definitely not without amusement. "Lady Tuon."
Formerly of the carpet.
Mat Cauthon
Mother's milk in a cup.
Mat didn't leap into the air and shriek like a woman, no matter what Tuon's fingers might be spelling to Selucia right now.
"Arthur," he replied. "You're late."
He wasn't.
Merlin
"No we're not," Merlin added cheerfully. No, he did not have Arthur's grace in social situations, but he made up for it in enthusiasm.
Mat Cauthon
Tuon was already pulling away and brushing her skirts like there were wrinkles in urgent need of attention (there weren't), so Mat fixed Arthur and Merlin with a slightly impatient look. "We were just about to break camp."
Arthur Pendragon
"Yes, I could see there was rather a lot of 'breaking camp' going on," Arthur said. He was not doing a very good job of repressing the amusement on his face.
Or really any job at all.
Mat Cauthon
"We're very bloody quick about it," Mat declared a little sulkily as he turned to realize even his own men were looking really entertained. "Well? Bloody move!" he demanded of them.
[OOC: Continuing in comments with the Camelot boys!]