Tag Archives: v: medieval summer

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

Summer felt her face heat and had to duck her head away from those eyes. “I just … tripped over my own feet.” This was not good. This was very not good. “I’m fine,” she lied, even though she could feel her ankle starting to throb a bit. She made herself pull away from him, and gave a gamine smile. “I think I owe you yet another apology now, for my clumsiness.”

He looked at her and looked at her foot, worried that perhaps she had strained it more than she did show or tell him that she had.

“Worry not of any apologies,” he said, “You need not do so for the likes of me.”

She laughed breathlessly. “No more concern for your own dignity than I have for mine. I … I think perhaps I had better sit down somewhere,” she added, as she began to waver.

Desperate Survival (Open RP)

henry-prince-of-wales:

iamthefirechild:

henry-prince-of-wales:

Hal didn’t like how everything sort of shook with each strong gust. It made him nervous and feel as though the whole thing could collapse in on them while they slept. He’d keep that thought to himself for it need not be voiced. How bad was the cut? The Prince had no idea what it looked like, how much it bled, and how deep it was. He yanked off his gloves and dropped them next to the breastplate, then brought one hand up to feel for the wound.

When his fingers graced the outer edges he winced and moved his hand to look at it. The injury was still bleeding a little. He sighed and tried to rub the blood off his fingers with the hem of the shirt under his chainmail. “You may and I thank you for doing so.” He finally replied.

“Please try not to touch,” Summer admonished. “I don’t think it’s terribly bad, but … ” Pouring some of the wine into her hand, she carefully tipped it over the mark, trying not to show her nerves. Now that there was candlelight and she could examine him at close range, the purity of his features was astonishing.

Taking refuge in practicality, she held out the wineskin to the Prince. When he took it, she bent and cut a swift strip off the bottom of her skirts, laying it against the cut with care. “If you press, so, I think the bleeding will soon slow. Will you need aught of my help to remove your armour? I think you will rest better without it.”

Half of her hoped he’d say no, and she could turn her back and attend to making them something hot to eat. The other half definitely wanted an opportunity to examine Hal more closely.

Hal winced and tried not to lean away as she tended to the cut. It stung and it was quite annoying. “Will it scar?” He asked and lifted a hand to press the cloth strip against the wound to keep it in place. He didn’t care if it scarred, but it would be nice to hear her opinion. Maybe he’d get lucky and it would heal without leaving any mark to show that it had once been there. 

“If you wish to assist me, that is perfectly fine. However I need no help in doing such a task myself.” The Prince didn’t want to deal with getting his armor off. He was tired and only wanted to rest. If it meant he’d be lazy and leave most of it on then so be it. If Summer wanted to remove his armor, he wouldn’t say no either… 

Sleeping in the armor wasn’t an issue. He had done it many times when it wasn’t safe or convenient to remove it. Hal could leave at a moment’s notice if he was fully suited up and battle ready… Stiff or not it could mean life or death. 

“No, it seems to be pretty shallow. You’re just exhausted. I … ” Summer hesitated, then plunged on. “We’re not likely to be in any danger here from aught but the weather, but if you sleep in the armour you might take a chill.” She laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Please, I beg you.”

Desperate Survival (Open RP)

henry-prince-of-wales:

iamthefirechild:

henry-prince-of-wales:

Hal looked over at Summer and nodded. That made sense as to why they were alone and the hut so far out in the wilderness. He felt around for a place to sit, and upon finding a chair he sat down. He started to unlatch his breastplate when a candle was lit and he was asked why he didn’t say anything about the wound on his cheek. He had completely forgotten about during their walk.

“Aye. It had slipped my mind for the pain is nothing compared to the aching of my bones.” He replied and pulled the breastplate off. He set it down next to him and relaxed back in the chair. 

Assembling a heap of tinder and firewood, Summer glanced up at him. He did seem chilled and weary. Well, the fire would help with some of that. Another gust of wind rattled around the hut as she snapped the flints together. A couple strikes, a reach with her mind, and slow fire bloomed in the tinder. Coaxing, she spread it among the sticks and leaves until a fine small blaze was going.

Then she unhooked her small wineskin from her belt and rose. “Will you allow me to wash the mark on your face, highness? ‘Twould be a sad thing to see you scarred there.”

Hal didn’t like how everything sort of shook with each strong gust. It made him nervous and feel as though the whole thing could collapse in on them while they slept. He’d keep that thought to himself for it need not be voiced. How bad was the cut? The Prince had no idea what it looked like, how much it bled, and how deep it was. He yanked off his gloves and dropped them next to the breastplate, then brought one hand up to feel for the wound.

When his fingers graced the outer edges he winced and moved his hand to look at it. The injury was still bleeding a little. He sighed and tried to rub the blood off his fingers with the hem of the shirt under his chainmail. “You may and I thank you for doing so.” He finally replied.

“Please try not to touch,” Summer admonished. “I don’t think it’s terribly bad, but … ” Pouring some of the wine into her hand, she carefully tipped it over the mark, trying not to show her nerves. Now that there was candlelight and she could examine him at close range, the purity of his features was astonishing.

Taking refuge in practicality, she held out the wineskin to the Prince. When he took it, she bent and cut a swift strip off the bottom of her skirts, laying it against the cut with care. “If you press, so, I think the bleeding will soon slow. Will you need aught of my help to remove your armour? I think you will rest better without it.”

Half of her hoped he’d say no, and she could turn her back and attend to making them something hot to eat. The other half definitely wanted an opportunity to examine Hal more closely.

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

“If I have offended, please accept my apology.” Too late, she tried to check her steps and failed, nearly crashing into him. 

He instinctively held out his arms for her, taking her arms carefully in his as he looked at her, concern in his blue eyes and with a questioning gaze.

“Are you well?” he asked her.

Summer felt her face heat and had to duck her head away from those eyes. “I just … tripped over my own feet.” This was not good. This was very not good. “I’m fine,” she lied, even though she could feel her ankle starting to throb a bit. She made herself pull away from him, and gave a gamine smile. “I think I owe you yet another apology now, for my clumsiness.”

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

The way he turned away, Summer wondered if she’d said something wrong. Well, maybe reminding a king of lack of freedom was a bit … cruel, actually. Brushing that extra sense against him, she nodded to herself. Best to apologise before damage was done.

She laid the bow down with respect, then whirled quickly and all but ran across the yard after Henry. “Highness?”

He turned to her as she called out to him and he blinked, “Yes lady?”

“If I have offended, please accept my apology.” Too late, she tried to check her steps and failed, nearly crashing into him. 

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

“That’s when I come here,” Summer went on. She looked down at the arrows in her hands. “I can at least pretend to freedom here.” Most of them she could shoot again immediately. Good, because this conversation was starting to depress her. Striding back, kicking at her skirts as she went, she nearly snatched up the bow in her haste to turn her mind to different things.

With a quick gesture, she offered the bundle of arrows to Henry. “Will you shoot first?”

He stood back and smiled at her, “No, you may shoot, good day Lady.”

Henry stood back, and turned away from her, the manner in which she suggested there to be little freedom even for his own guests gave him cause to think and wonder on what he could do, or what could be done for it not to be so.

But he knew, better than all, that such things were not so easily rebelled against.

The way he turned away, Summer wondered if she’d said something wrong. Well, maybe reminding a king of lack of freedom was a bit … cruel, actually. Brushing that extra sense against him, she nodded to herself. Best to apologise before damage was done.

She laid the bow down with respect, then whirled quickly and all but ran across the yard after Henry. “Highness?”

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

“Oh, well, I’ve leave to do as I like for so long as we remain here. Please don’t call me Lady Rainault, that’s my mother.” She fiddled with a lock of bright hair, that had come loose while she shot, while she talked. “I probably would not be allowed to dress up in armour and compete in the melee, though,” Summer laughed. “Father does have his limits. I thank you very much for your kind offer.”

Walking down to the targets, she began to tug the arrows loose, trying to preserve the heads if nothing else for later reuse. “I sometimes feel this castle is stifling, very closed in,” she said over her shoulder.

He looked at her and watched as she walked to the targets, and Henry followed her as he too collected the arrows, he turned to her at her last comment and a faint smile crossed his lips.

He had been known in his younger days to be a vagabond and be seen across the inns in London, but those times were now gone and changed and the only freedom he had was when he rode Pointers in the mornings.

“That’s when I come here,” Summer went on. She looked down at the arrows in her hands. “I can at least pretend to freedom here.” Most of them she could shoot again immediately. Good, because this conversation was starting to depress her. Striding back, kicking at her skirts as she went, she nearly snatched up the bow in her haste to turn her mind to different things.

With a quick gesture, she offered the bundle of arrows to Henry. “Will you shoot first?”

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

Summer raised the longbow before her face and laid fingertips to the string. Finding a bow with the right draw was imperative to the ability to aim, and she had been through almost all of the bows in the training yard. Slowly, patiently, she drew the bowstring back to her ear, releasing it with a sharp twang.

“Perfect,” she murmured. Turning to the side, she picked up an arrow and fit it to the string. At least she was being allowed to continue with her archery, despite coming to London. For a little while there, she had been afraid her father was going to insist on her being a perfect court lady, in some mad attempt to catch the King’s eye.

The arrow smacked into the bullseye, and she picked up another arrow. That was really more her sister’s role, or had been, anyway. Now Winter was married and far away on the fringes of Wales, holding off the Glendower and his crazy rebels. And Summer was here, bored silly at a court with no queen and therefore no need for ladies in waiting.

She could feel someone’s eyes on her back, and elected to ignore them, firing off three more arrows in rapid succession.

Henry walked towards the woman, watching her progression of her archery, and he could not help but smile at how well she managed. He stood and watched for a while before he turned his head to her.

He had sworn he had known all the ladies in the court and yet he did not know her.

“Where had you learned how to fire my lady?” he asked her.

“The armsmaster on my father’s estate taught me. He said, blades were too much for a lady’s arms, but archery could be used on the hunt and I should be able to defend myself at need.” Summer kept firing, pacing herself and ringing the centre of the target with bristling shafts.

Drawing the last arrow from the quiver, she flashed a smile to the king, laid the arrow to the string, and sent it downrange to the farthest target. “Now the guard no longer lets me participate in their tournaments for that I outshoot them,” she confessed laughingly.

Laying the bow aside, she turned to the King and curtsied quickly. “Summer Rainault, at your service, highness.”

He smiled and bowed at her curtsey, and he pointed to the targets. “You would do well in tournaments, for your aim is true enough. Lady Rainault.”

Henry raised his own bow and it aimed perfectly next to hers, and he smiled as he looked at her.

“You should do well on the hunt this season,” he said, “If your father would wish you to remain here for that, we shall always be in need of such good archers.”

“Oh, well, I’ve leave to do as I like for so long as we remain here. Please don’t call me Lady Rainault, that’s my mother.” She fiddled with a lock of bright hair, that had come loose while she shot, while she talked. “I probably would not be allowed to dress up in armour and compete in the melee, though,” Summer laughed. “Father does have his limits. I thank you very much for your kind offer.”

Walking down to the targets, she began to tug the arrows loose, trying to preserve the heads if nothing else for later reuse. “I sometimes feel this castle is stifling, very closed in,” she said over her shoulder.

Lady Archer | @the-warrior-king

the-warrior-king:

iamthefirechild:

Summer raised the longbow before her face and laid fingertips to the string. Finding a bow with the right draw was imperative to the ability to aim, and she had been through almost all of the bows in the training yard. Slowly, patiently, she drew the bowstring back to her ear, releasing it with a sharp twang.

“Perfect,” she murmured. Turning to the side, she picked up an arrow and fit it to the string. At least she was being allowed to continue with her archery, despite coming to London. For a little while there, she had been afraid her father was going to insist on her being a perfect court lady, in some mad attempt to catch the King’s eye.

The arrow smacked into the bullseye, and she picked up another arrow. That was really more her sister’s role, or had been, anyway. Now Winter was married and far away on the fringes of Wales, holding off the Glendower and his crazy rebels. And Summer was here, bored silly at a court with no queen and therefore no need for ladies in waiting.

She could feel someone’s eyes on her back, and elected to ignore them, firing off three more arrows in rapid succession.

Henry walked towards the woman, watching her progression of her archery, and he could not help but smile at how well she managed. He stood and watched for a while before he turned his head to her.

He had sworn he had known all the ladies in the court and yet he did not know her.

“Where had you learned how to fire my lady?” he asked her.

“The armsmaster on my father’s estate taught me. He said, blades were too much for a lady’s arms, but archery could be used on the hunt and I should be able to defend myself at need.” Summer kept firing, pacing herself and ringing the centre of the target with bristling shafts.

Drawing the last arrow from the quiver, she flashed a smile to the king, laid the arrow to the string, and sent it downrange to the farthest target. “Now the guard no longer lets me participate in their tournaments for that I outshoot them,” she confessed laughingly.

Laying the bow aside, she turned to the King and curtsied quickly. “Summer Rainault, at your service, highness.”

Desperate Survival (Open RP)

henry-prince-of-wales:

iamthefirechild:

henry-prince-of-wales:

iamthefirechild:

henry-prince-of-wales:

“Please, take me there.” He said and sheathed his sword after she asked. Hal was too damn tired to take into consideration this could be a trap or a ploy to get him to let his guard down. The Prince was hungry, he needed to bathe, and most of all… he needed rest. What harm could following this person do to him? He was armored and quick on his feet. Well, maybe not quick on his feet. Not at the moment, no. He nodded and motioned for her to lead.

Glancing back constantly to be sure of the Prince’s presence, Summer quickly made her way among the tree trunks. Just a few minutes later, she was tugging open the door to a small hut tucked under a gigantic pine. “I’m afraid there is little here, highness, but it will shelter us from the night and the weather, if not the chill, and there is grain and dried meat. Will it suit? I can do no better, I am afraid, and it is not at all suitable, but … ” She sighed.

Hal didn’t expect anyone to live this far out into the forest. They’d have to be completely self sufficient or capable of making long trips to the surrounding villages. He nodded and peeked into the small hut. It looked to be large enough to hold two to three people at most. “I thank you for your kindness, for this is more than enough.” He said quietly and dipped his head in respect. Shelter was shelter and it mattered not how large or small it was. As long as it protected them from the elements and possibly hostile animals/people… Hal could care less if he had to sleep sitting up!

He seemed a bit confused, and after a moment’s thought Summer realised why. “This is only used during the making of charcoal. Someone has to be on hand to tend the fires. That’s why it’s empty now, and so far from the village,” she explained. A sharp gust of wind clashed the branches of the sheltering tree overhead, and she glanced around.

“We made it none too soon, it seems. I think a storm is coming.” Summer brushed her hands along a ledge near the door and came up with a candle, which she lit with a quick snap of fingers she hoped the Prince didn’t see. Turning around, she finally noticed the mark on his face.

“Highness, you are wounded! Why didn’t you say? That should be tended.”

Hal looked over at Summer and nodded. That made sense as to why they were alone and the hut so far out in the wilderness. He felt around for a place to sit, and upon finding a chair he sat down. He started to unlatch his breast plate when a candle was lit and he was asked why he didn’t say anything about the wound on his cheek. He had completely forgotten about during their walk.

“Aye. It had slipped my mind for the pain is nothing compared to the aching of my bones.” He replied and pulled the breastplate off. He set it down next to him and relaxed back in the chair. 

Assembling a heap of tinder and firewood, Summer glanced up at him. He did seem chilled and weary. Well, the fire would help with some of that. Another gust of wind rattled around the hut as she snapped the flints together. A couple strikes, a reach with her mind, and slow fire bloomed in the tinder. Coaxing, she spread it among the sticks and leaves until a fine small blaze was going.

Then she unhooked her small wineskin from her belt and rose. “Will you allow me to wash the mark on your face, highness? ‘Twould be a sad thing to see you scarred there.”