RENWICK
"I hope so." He countered with a smile which is far more genuine than the one he'd offered at her apology, it had a sliver of his usual charm in there. But is said a little too quickly, a little too hopeful for it to be a casual thing passed between two. He'd always prided himself on being charming, and in control of his words. Life is a fickle thing, and rarely did it give something good without taking something in return. It's seen to give him something here, however small. It's not so much about the answer he may or may not find, entangled in the path of this warrioress with silver for her hair. He prayed that fate would not take payment in the form of letting their next meeting be over the clash of steel.
Renwick had never relied too heavily on fate, it seemed to weighty a word to excuse the actions of the ill-equipped or just too lucky. But, in her, perhaps it was fate. To see her rise and wear a crown, how heavily it sat upon her forehead, how awkwardly it might have. While his station is not as lordly, at least in responsibility, he had never wanted titles. Glory? Remembrance? Sure, he had not wanted to fade into the history books as some little footnote in a sad tale, or another's expense. He imagined if he wore a crown such as she did, he would not know what to do with himself. Warrior's might have made for good Rulers in history books, but they rarely so detailed what went on beneath their skin. Crowns were heavy, but on those who had seen the bitter grief of War, they sat heavier.
He wanted to ask her how it felt, did it worry the flesh as he imagined it did? Did stepping away from it have the same relief slipping away for untold hours did? Or was it just a constant sensation, present no matter where you went.
Such is their way, there is no ill will from him as he fell onto his Courtly graces. That was one part of being a Knight. The Gods knew he had been swatted enough times as a rugged little colt who had barely donned his squire banners, for forgetting that one must uphold all tenants of their creed. If anything, she is more deserving than most. He respected her, well before he knew she was a Queen. One warrior to another, one survivor of hardship to another. Perhaps two of the few still left who understood the burdens that a soul can carry.
A courtly one, aren’t you?
He can't help the grin which appeared on his features then, whether in response to the comment, or what he detected as amusement in her tone. Both maybe. It's a luminous thing, if not embroidered with wolfish mischief. "One of the first things you learn in the brotherhood, manners. Next to how to hold a sword properly that is. It'd be bad manners to forget them now. My mentor might come back to swat me one last time."
There is a faint line of surprise which ran the length of his spine, when the air remained amiable. He had been testing the waters, he knew where he stood and as much as he liked to guess where the Silver haired Queen stood, he could not truly know. He hoped she found his company at least tolerable, that she had enjoyed his presence — however bitter and painful it might be to have someone of your past suddenly appear.
"There is no harm at playing others at their own games." Renwick agreed, the smile on his face changed to one more of a smirking nature. "Cannot say they are rather good thieves and vagabonds, if they have lead you to their doors, though." The knight added with a ghost of a laugh. "In any case, I hope I'm not a disappointing alternative, to what you had hoped to find here." It certainly is better than what he'd been expecting, he' expected to trudge through the dank and dark caverns, chasing the tell tale trail of recent tracks. Hid in the winding tunnels and listened for any hushed whispers and cautious muttering. To find himself here? It is a blessing, a welcome one, even if it started with tensions high and emotions rattled.
"Seraphina. It suits you, your name, you know." Renwick commented, softly, as she insisted to call her only that. While every ounce of that training of his chafed at casting formality to the wind, he embraced it. What was better than escaping, just for a night? To abandon duties and training, all those lordly airs and responsibilities. Seeing that the time for tension had passed, any battle or fight to be had, had drifted off into the breeze, the Knight retreated for a moment. Back toward where he'd left his bags and his lantern, in order to move them close to the water. Closer to her. Slowly, he lowered himself into the brush and dirt, legs tucked up against his earthy toned barrel, his gaze illuminated in the light of the moon and stars. A silent invitation for her to join him, if she so wished.
"Tonight we'll just be Seraphina and Renwick, then, and do whatever they wish to do. The Queen and Lord Commander can worry about their troubles another day."
TAG; @
NOTES; <3
