Making a Proper Woman [cailean]

[Joscelin Trevalion]

"Fetch the lady Cailean Aridia de Sable," Aemon muttered under his breath as he left the household that Joscelin had commandeered. It had been cheap to rent out for their needs albeit more for the fact that the town house was abandoned and kept in bad repair in the first place. Fortunately, Joscelin found worthy woodworkers and masons to repair what was necessary, and afterward, Joscelin had the home prepared properly for living arrangements, although he had no servants under his service beyond Aemon. That and Joscelin needed no one else; after all, what he planned to groom Cailean into was for only Joscelin, Aemon and her to know, and certainly no one else should be privy to that.

So, Aemon left the town house and sought Cailean at her place of business. He had hoped that she would be there, and if not...well then, Joscelin was certain to be a bit annoyed by that, but then again, Joscelin didn't exactly tell Cailean when he wanted her to expect him. Instead, Joscelin had told her that he'd call upon her on his own time, and that was now.

Aemon arrived at her shop and lifted his hand to latch. He entered and looked about the crowded room, gaze flitting from the stacked walls and to the counter she was normally located. "Miss de Sable?" Aemon called out, still holding the door open. With that, he released the latch and stepped further inside, looking about and touching things here and there before he sought the back room. He called her name once more.

"Miss de Sable? Joscelin has sent me to fetch you, I'm on standing orders not to return until you are in my company," he said, which undoubtedly meant the moment was rather...well, urgent.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

“We’re closed!” Cailean calls back in return to the voice, “Closed, closed!” she sing songs idly, “Come back tomorrow,” truth be told, Cailean’s shop hadn’t been closed prior to this point, though that truly was her prerogative. It was Cailean’s shop, and responsibility, and if she wouldn’t be able to meet rent by the month’s end… well, she’d certainly be displeased with that for a later point and time. Though for now, she simply wasn’t in the mood for working, be it actually reading some poor sap’s future, or finding the gusto to muster up some sort of lie.

Her mouth purses as she searches her own future for such a happening, idly wondering whether or not she’d have enough money in the first place. Though her own future had always been somewhat of a mystery to her. She was uncertain as to whether or not this was by choice, though more oft than not, she was grateful for those snippets of ignorance.

There was simply things that were best unknown.

Money or not, Cailean remained stationary from her place behind her makeshift work desk. The girl sat, legs folded, bare feet upon bare thighs, and nigh naked, despite the slight prick of autumn that was hovering near. Though her choice of attire should truly be no surprise to any who may frequent her own debatably fine establishment. Not to mention anyone else whom may simply cross her path. On occasion there were whispered murmurs, though most within the slums knew her name, not to mention her trade.

Soon enough, though, the door to her shop was falling shut, and Miss de Sable rolls forth from her place upon the floor. A number of beads roll from within her lap, alongside a spindle of thinly cut leather, something which she’d recently been traded for a simplistic reading. Of course Cailean had every intention of putting it to use, and extorting some spare change from anyone whom was foolish enough to purchase such a pointless charm.

A blind hand grasps for those beads, though her gaze was directed towards the door, just to be certain her intruder had left.

And, ah!

“Aemon!” Cailean breathes, a smile blossoming upon her soft mouth, sidling forth and making herself known. She looks somewhat wild with dirt upon her palms, and braids tied within her hair - not even to mention one of those useless charms boasting a feather plucked from Gable himself - still, it was expected from Cailean, at least somewhat. She certainly wasn‘t anything the higher classmen, as Joscelin was, was use to, or so she suspects. “Ah,” she murmurs, looking suddenly disappointed. He certainly didn’t make this visit seem like anything promising, “Of course I’ll come,” she assures him, thereafter, lifting herself toward her feet with relative ease, her hand flickers into one of those many small pockets within her desk, to retrieve a small handful of, well, something, perhaps Aemon would be graced with that knowledge at a later time.

“How is your woman?” she asks suddenly, sidling close to him with another mischievous smile upon that mouth of hers. Her hands tuck towards her hips, first and foremost tightening the bindings which held that loose cloth upon her hip, and likewise pressing that small something or other upon her bared flesh, keeping such close to her form.

“Please leave the door cracked,” she asks of him suddenly, “If Gable needs me, he’ll need to get out,” though she doubted that would occur, not to mention the fact that Aemon probably thought she was some sort of simple for believing a bird as dumb as a pigeon would actually need her, let alone possess the capability of seeking her out and successfully locating her.

And with that said, Cailean ducks from within her small shop only to await Aemon’s lead.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Cailean was surprisingly warmer and more welcoming than Aemon had expected her to be, although that's not to say that she had given an impression of being anything else before. She had seemed somewhat kind when he had first met her, and even somewhat understanding when she had read his future and spoke of the woman he had been courting; the same in which she asked about afterward.

"Well, she's a woman," Aemon said, which meant that she had undoubtedly given him a hard time. Aemon did like Claire though, she was an attractive woman and around his age with her own responsibilities to tend to. Nonetheless, Aemon stared down at Cailean as she sidled close and looked impish. "I like her though and she's kind," he did admit, even offering a smile that bared his teeth. Yet, as he continued to eye her, his smile faded somewhat as his errand came back to mind. It seemed the same happened to her.

"Alright, Miss Cailean...I...wait!" He watched her leave and he followed after her. He pulled the door shut but left it ajar somewhat s she had asked. Idly he wondered whether or not anyone would steal from her, but then there really wasn't much to steal in the first place, or so he thought. Nonetheless, when he sidled up to her, he gestured forward.

"This way, Cailean," he said, and with that, Aemon led her.

The walk was short, but with the way the streets winded, fell and lifted, it somewhat felt longer. Either way, Cailean was treated to the sight of something that looked like it didn't belong in the slums, and that was a quaint town house tucked in a bend that left it hidden from passersby. He gestured her through the winding path and through the flanking garden before up and onto the stone porch. He opened the door and gestured her inside.

"Aemon! Is that you?" Joscelin called from one of the other rooms. The entire town house was empty though...well, mostly. It left his voice echoing throughout; filling each room. "I do hope you have Cailean with you!" He called once more. Aemon called back. "I've brought the lady Cailean Aridia de Sable, my lord!" There was a spread of silence. "Send her to the dining hall, please!" He called back.

"Well then, just keep to your left and don't take any stares," he said.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

She’s a woman.

Or so he says. Truth be told, Cailean knew well that all women were not the same, in fact, she knew she was far different than many. And, still, she understood all too well what Aemon meant by that simplistic statement. Though she says nothing further on the topic, and simply finds another smile blossoming. She hadn’t known Joscelin long, and Aemon even less. Though she knew well that all people needed someone, and for that simple fact, she hoped that he found what sort of woman she was, and soon.

It certainly helped to know what type of woman you’re dealing with.

Soon enough, though, Cailean was instructing him to leave her door ajar, and, no, she wasn’t worried of losing anything. More for the simple fact that there was naught of value within that tiny, tiny store-room of an operation. Oh, sure, there was small odds and ends, beads, and small trinkets made of soft, and invaluable metal, though not even the most desperate would find use in those few items. Aside those knick-knacks most everything else was well bolted to the floorboards, and Cailean had little too worry about as far as those items were concerned.

Her shop truly could have been within any building- any street corner. People came for her, not the atmosphere.

“Yessir,” Cailean mutters as he seems eager to direct her. She imagined he had better things to do than run these errands for Joscelin. Though… what? Sure, he had his woman, though where else did he need to be? Did Joscelin hand him a list of things to do for the day and Cailean was simply upon the top of such? Cailean didn’t know. Perhaps some day she would feel inclined to ask him. Though, now wasn’t one of those times.

And they traveled in silence.

The small home wasn’t something Cailean had expected. Let alone the overall quality of it. Though there it stood, pleasant enough, and unblemished by the thrum of the slums around it. Cailean is left within awe in that moment. Or at least within a semblance of such. Though the insides were sparse, and for some reason, that didn’t surprise Cailean, to say the least of things. While not dirty, the less than cozy insides suited the slums more than it’s crisp exterior did. Miss de Sable felt at home within that moment.

Though it didn’t exactly remind her of her own home. Her own home was small, and cramped, even moreso with two people living in that undersized home. It small, cramped, and smells of sickness, though there was truly naught she could do of such a thing, save for wait for the inevitable. Though few knew of her family drama, and it was her preference to keep things that way.

“Thank you,” Cailean seems eager to thank Aemon as he sent her on her way to find Joscelin. The girl grasps his hand for a brief moment before leaning close. Her mouth brushes toward his jaw, and with that, she was off, and through the doorway in search of Joscelin. As instructed, the girl avoided the stairs, and wandered throughout that sparse home.

“Penny for your thoughts, Lord Trevalion?” Cailean asks of him, stepping within that room. Cailean leans her shoulder to the door jamb, and offers an almost satisfied smile, “Nice place you have,” Miss de Sable compliments, her gaze lolling to take in the expanse of that dining hall. “I’ve brought you something,” she notes thereafter, though it wasn’t immediately apparent what she meant, after all, her clothing was sparse, and there was little room on her being to hide anything. Though truth be told, the offering was small; a charm made with Joscelin in mind, that was.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Aemon flushed somewhat at he kiss Cailean bestowed upon him. It was somewhat unexpected to say the very least of things and far more lady-oriented than he would have thought Cailean capable of, but then again, Aemon had spent the last two weeks listening to how Cailean wasn't a proper woman from Joscelin. It had shaped the way he had looked at her, but fortunately, Aemon didn't think her any less than she was and considered her highly still; after all, anyone who could impress Joscelin should be treated with respect. Nonetheless, she sauntered off and he took his post at the door, propping himself upon a chair and extending his feet as Cailean disappeared into the next room.

"I would think that my thoughts would be much more valuable than a mere penny," Joscelin said, laughing thereafter and shaking his head at her. His laugh though was full and large; leaving his chest and projecting into the air to fill the room. Then he grinned at her, eyes alight with amusement. He looked far more amiable than he had at her shop the second time around. Fortunately for her, that undoubtedly meant that the day would come along well enough, or so one would believe.

He stepped away from the far end of the room, leaving the wide open windows to approach her until suddenly stopping midway. He extended his arms from his sides, hands unfurled and presenting the room to her when she mentioned the homestead being...well, nice. The dining hall though was empty but spacious; which was certainly what they needed.

"It's not too bad is it?" He asked, looking amused.

Joscelin had been happy with the purchase and the mild renovations needed to repair the town house. Yet, what might have been considered more strange beyond his enthusiasm was the fact that Joscelin was dressed rather plainly. He wore a simple white shirt with the sleeves tucked to his biceps and the collar undone, and trousers that hugged his strong thighs; feet adorned by boots which were tight laced.

The moment she mentioned having something though...well, he looked surprised.

Joscelin eyed her, gaze roaming over her without little shame but soon he looked doubtful as he pursed his mouth and drew closer, offering his hand for her to take. "And what's that other than your magnificent splendor, my lady Cailean?" He asked, looking amused.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

Cailean’s bare shoulders lift and arch almost lazily, “Perhaps,” the young woman muses. Were his thoughts worth more than a mere penny? Well, perhaps, though Cailean wasn’t exactly one to judge matters of money. After all, she lived on very little of it, and still, she was content. “How much would you think they’re worth?” she asks of him, then, her brows lifting.

She smiles despite, wide and shameless.

“Not bad at all, Joscelin,” Cailean agrees with him, smiling all the wider. Her head lolls to looks towards the ceiling, and then over her shoulder, once more observing the hallway which she’d just stepped through, once more getting the lay of the land. It was certainly sparse, though much nicer than Cailean’s own home and shop alike. Which isn’t to say that Cailean’s place of business was unkempt, it was simply, well… compact, and some place which few noble men would confess to having been seen within. Joscelin, though? Well, he seemed to be something else entirely.

He was a kind, and handsome man. Warming to the very core, and someone whom didn’t seem to be afraid to confess to much of anything.

“You’re not bad on the eyes, either, Joscelin,” Cailean observes, that wide smile only growing upon that warm pout of hers. She seemed truly amused within that moment despite the fact that she truly believed what had been stated. Still, she grinned, those dark eyes of hers alight with pleasure and amusement. Mischief, some would argue, though Cailean was truly no one to stir up any sort of trouble. Well, at least not on a regular basis, anyway.

Soon enough, though Joscelin was offering his hand over, and Cailean steps forth, nigh silent upon the soft soles of her leather shoes. Her hand slips within the young man’s own, her fingertips smoothing over the hard ridges of Joscelin’s palm before soon enough her fingertips were simply cupping upon his own hand, her body tucking close to the boy’s own. It’s then the girl lifts herself toward tip toes, only to bestow a soft kiss toward Joscelin’s own jaw, much the same as she had toward Aemon’s.

“Ah, Joscelin,” Cailean breathes then, giving a quick shake to her pretty head, “You’re far too flattering, Joscelin!” the girl argues with a wrinkle to the delicate and freckled bridge of her nose. Despite this fact, the young woman’s free hand soothes toward the rise of her hip where that small bracelet she’d crafted laid, pressed upon her bare flesh.

Her hand upturns Joscelin’s own, then, only for her fingertips to fall, gathering up either end of that well worked string of leather, only for slender and deft fingertips to do up the ends, binding it easily about his wrist. The bracelet is simplistic, to say the least of things, save for a small number of beads trailing down to a feather tied tight amongst the beadwork and leather. “It’s… I made it for you,” Cailean explains, sounding suddenly bashful, “Since I haven’t anything else to give. To thank you for everything,” the young woman explains, a slight blush rising to her freckled cheeks.