(Untitled)

[halfrottenonion]

The truth is, Davos is scared.

He is a simple man in many ways but he likes to think he is a sensible one and there are somethings that no simple man should ever meddle with. He has rose too high, that is the truth. Rose too high and made enemies out of those who resent it.

This is their work, he thinks, it has to be. Her work or that of her god.

Comments

[eldeststark]

Robb Stark is spending an inordinate amount of time thinking these days, and hence is outside. Grey Wind rises from his place at Robb's feet and pads a few steps forward, baring his teeth. Robb stands as well, eyes narrowed and hand warily to his sword.

"Who are you?" He challenges, not recognizing, but Grey Wind seems wary, and not trusting his wolf's instincts in the past has proved to be a bad idea.

Typist: Welcome!

[halfrottenonion]

Davos didn't answer the question as the sight of a large wolf along side a man who was clearly a warrior, had caused his throat to tighten and he took a small step back instead.

"Lord Stark?" he asked hesitantly, more of a question than a greeting and he very deliberately didn't reach for his sword. He had never met the Young Wolf but he heard of the boy King and his wolf companion and if it was indeed them than he could not hope to beat them in a fight.

Of course, the main problem with that theory was that Robb Stark was supposed to be dead.

[eldeststark]

At least he's not Jaime. Just about anyone is an improvement over that one. (We said just about. Don't tempt fate please.) Robb narrows his eyes but says, sharply, "Grey Wind, to me," and the direwolf obeys.

He nods once, briefly. "And you are?" He notes the weapon, trying to figure out allegiances of this man, though the lack of immediate motion to attack is a relief.

[halfrottenonion]

"Davos, my lord," Davos replied with all the courtesy he could manage, relieved that the wolf had been called back. "They call me the Onion Knight."

He was not at all sure why he was facing a man who was supposed to be dead but he knew it was not good news. He had never met the Starks in battle but Stannis was no friend of theirs and they were sure to know it.

[scionofkushiel]

Because.

Melisande Shahrizai doesn't venture out often, not with the amount of people who want her head, preferably off her shoulders. But she is at the edge of the woods this afternoon, and allies are nothing to pass up. She smiles, her expression bright, the scars across her face mostly covered and missing finger hidden by long sleeves. She brushes her dark hair back.

"Your pardon, ser, are you lost?"

[halfrottenonion]

Davos gave an awkward bow when the woman greeted him.

"I fear so, m'lady. You must pardon me if I have come where I am not wanted."

The last thing he could afford was to make another enemy.

[scionofkushiel]

She smiles, slightly, accepting the bow as her due and inclining her head slightly. "No, by all means," she says, sweetly. "Be welcome. All come here unexpectedly, and I should not say that any are so unwanted."

[halfrottenonion]

"You have my thanks then," he answered. "What is this place?"

Nowhere he knew, in any case, and that worried him a lot more than he was showing.

[ofdoriath]

Daeron is often bored. Deprived of his favorite sport of Feanorian-baiting, he has resorted to wandering out, some would accuse, in the hopes of running into one of those particular crazies. It would at least make his days more entertaining, if only for the risk of imminent demise.

So sitting on a rock behind Davos is a (rather small as elves go) elf, harp slung over his back and observing with both eyebrows neatly arched. "I imagine you're curious what you've gotten yourself into?"

[halfrottenonion]

"Aye," Davos replied, as politely as possible, as he turned to greet Daeron. "I am indeed."

[lovingknight]

Sir Lovel, in his continuing quest to figure out all the random gadgets in the Mansion, is currently sprawled out on the couch in the timeless manner of young men in their late teens, trying to figure out what the hand-held video game system he found does.

He looks up at the new arrival, and jumps to his feet, quickly adopting a more formal pose, as he'd been trained at court. "Good day and well met, good sir. If this were my manor, I would welcome you to it." He sticks the device under a couch cushion, as an afterthought.

[halfrottenonion]

"Good day to you as well," Davos replied with a slight smile.

The mansion was a strange place, full of odd devices that struck him as witchery, and he was still unsure about where he was and what King they served here.

But this man seemed both courteous and friendly and Davos had much need of information.

"May I ask whose house this is, then?"

[lovingknight]

"No one has claimed it, though Sir Kay has taken charge of the provisions, so I suppose it belongs to everyone? No one seems to be in a dispute about it."

Sorry for the delay - spotty computer access this weekend.

[halfrottenonion]

"You have no Lord here?" Davos questions, surprise clear in his voice. "Then who had this place built, ser?"

[elven_irs]

The elf is sitting around, somewhere, assuming Davos makes it inside the Mansion. He is scarred in many places, but the most prominent and visible kiss of battle is on his left cheek, a star-shaped scar that disfigures him, almost entirely on that side of his face.

He is having some ale and brooding on nothing important, and can easily be approached. A son of Feanor he may be, a traitor he may be, harsh in tongue on both himself and others, but he would certainly not mind company.

[halfrottenonion]

Davos paid no mind to the scars. Few men came through battle without wounds of some sort or other. Instead, it was the ale that caught his eye. He found himself in pressing need of it.

"Good day to you," he greeted the other man politely as he approached. He was a lone man in a strange land and he had no wish to make enemies.

[elven_irs]

Just like Tyrion Lannister! Small world, isn't it?

"And to you, Edain," Caranthir replies, politely as well, with a regal nod. Though he may not be as friendly to humans as Finrod (he thinks of him as a fop anyway), he has some respect for them, mostly because they yielded people like Haleth, and more importantly, Faraday.

"Have you just come, then?"

Also, welcome to DF!

[halfrottenonion]

"Aye," he replied, not commenting on the Edain title. It meant nothing to him. "Are there so few people here then, that you knew at once?"

He made no move to sit down himself until he was given leave to do so.

Thank you!