Running an Errand (Selphia)

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan huffed and puffed as he walked with a certain air of frustation in his step. He and his fellow soldiers had the morning off and he for one had nothing to do. Tristan wasn't the sort who liked to be bored and he always found that time was best spent doing something useful. He had already spent some hours training and he had grown tired of that, had already polished and cleaned his armour, fixed his shield and had already finished all the jobs he had been itching to do for some months now. Being granted a morning off was a rather rare oddity so he figured he might as well enjoy it whilst it lasted. After all, once he returned to training he knew it wouldn't take long to follow the usual formation of blood sweat and lots of hard work.

As Tristan was floating around the soldiers quarters constantly complaining of his endless boredom, he was now undertaking jobs and errands for other people. He had been asked to fetch a basket of fruit and also some plain white garments so the market seemed a suitable place to get all of these items. Instead of simply going to the palace kitchens and getting fruit he thought a brisk walk out in the open air would do him some good. Plus it gave him the opportunity to kill some of his boredom and do something useful at least.

Tristan repositioned his sword in it's sheath as it was beginning to irratate him as he walked. He was dressed in his usual soldiers outfit, accompanied with armour and all. His chain mail hung loosely on him and rattled and clanged as took steps. He was also heavily made up with all his weapons giving him outright confidence should someone decide they wanted a fight. He scanned his eyes through the atmosphere infront of him, surveying the scenes for any signs of danger. This came naturally to him as it was something he always did when he was out and about. The world held many dangers and threats and he was out to eradicate them all.

He flashed a quick smile to the rather overgrown man who worked the fruit stall. The smell of ripe, sweet fruit danced into his nostrils giving his stomach room to complain of hunger. He cleared his throat to get the mans attention and pointed to the items he wanted. "I'll have 3 apples, 3 oranges and 2 bunches of bananas if you please sir" He said politely, biting back the urge to fight off the pleasantries. As a soldier he had to uphold the highest levels of appearance, being polite, looking the part and restoring peoples confidence in Camelot's security were all part of the act. Every soldier was told to follow it.

As Tristan turned around he heard a loud uproar coming from the stall opposite him. A large gathering was beginning to form and he couldn't quite see what was going on. He heard deep voices mumbling an inaudiable sound and he desperatly hoped there weren't any innocent bystanders involved. He immediatly sprung into action seeing what all the commotion was about, his hand placed lightly on his swords handle; he went to investigate what was going on.

[Selphia Dek]

There was a small group that surrounded Selphia. For what reason well it was simple and even she would explain that it was. She stood with her hood down, something she never did when in public, and yet here she stood, revealed. Her long pale locks framed her face as she looked out at the people who now surrounded her. Her pale gaze if revealed would have called for loud cried of daemon. She did not wish to be stoned in the city square for being simply different. She could not help how people viewed her. In fact it was the very reason as to why she covered herself up.

Her slender arms remained limp at her side. Her gaze locked upon those about her. Moving to one then the next as they danced about her. They were making her dizzy as she tried to keep each one insight. They were getting closer and a few were getting louder. She would have rebutted, but they were loud and she could not yell over this mob that was forming.

Her head snapped back as she felt someone twist their hand into her long locks and tug hard. She yelped and was pulled off balance. She toppled right back onto her side as her body twisted about in order for her to land on her hands and not flat on her back.

The ground was soft after the early morning rain. But that did not fair well for Selphia as she landed in a rather muddy patch upon the road. It was not long before she was pretty much head to toe in mud. She had moved her hand before her to brace herself for the impact. This impact ended up with her hands deep in the mud up to her wrist. It was then that she felt something hit the side of her face. It was more of a splat then anything, but then that was what the sound was when someone threw mud at someone else.

Selphia’s form was bent over on her side hand in the mud at her wrist. Her face was caked, as was her hair. Making her pale complexion not so pale and not like the daemon they were calling her out to be.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan watched from a far for a few seconds, waiting to see if the fight would run it's course like they normally did. As seconds turned into minutes the fight held no signs of it breaking up. He couldn't stand being on the sidelines for much longer and had to see who the fight was between. He knew it was probably none of his business and he was currently off duty yet there were no soldiers around to look out for this sort of thing which they were supposed to do. He made a mental note to talk to Prince Arthur about the lack of foot soldiers on patrol and confidently half ran over to the scene not knowing what to expect.

He kept a firm grip on his sword that was not yet unsheathed; he would only do that should things get out of control. He pushed and shoved his way past the curious onlookers to get to the culprits who were actually fighting ignoring the disgrunted looks and abuse he was beginning to get from the eager peasants wanting to witness a fight. His eyes were immediatly drawn to the young girl on the floor, obviously being 'bullied' by the pot-bellied, pompous drunken old men. He felt outraged, how could they do that to a women? He let out an aggravated sigh and put himself inbetween the men and the women.

"Oi, what do you think your doing?!" He spoke with a threatening manner and made it clear that he was prepared and ready to fight even if he was outnumbered. "Leave now, or I'll drag you all to the cells myself!" He spat out his words with a certain degree of venom and ignored the wary laugh of the mob. "Yeh, you and whos army?" Tristan ignored the comment from the man and finally unsheathed his sword. "Final warning" Tristan was beginning to become annoyed now; he wanted to help the women not occupy himself with low lifes like these.

He was entirely prepared for the fist that rapidly flew in the direction of his face. He caught it with speed and with his other hand sent a knuckle straight into the mans stomach, letting go as he keeled over onto the floor. He spun round to meet another fist that narrowly missed his ear. He grabbed hold of the mans arm and twisted it round until he heard a loud 'pop' that would put him out of action for a while. He had been taught to disable opponents rather than kill them and that was what he was doing. Even though he was largely outnumbered, all he would have to do was take them all down one by one and the battle would be won.

He felt a pang of pain in his shoulder and turn round to see a man holding a rusty dagger. He sent his foot behind the man's ankle and pushed him with force until he fell over and his head connected with the hard, cold floor. He smirked and was caught of guard as he was proud of what he had achieved so far when two men made for him with broadwords. He ducked a swipe that was made for his head and navigated himself to behind the two men. As he moved with speed, they hardly noticed his change of position. He placed his hands on the backs of the mens heads and knocked them into each other, letting go to watch them topple over onto the floor.

From the reflection in a murky puddle he could see another man advancing on him with a mace, before he had time to stab him with it, Tristan swung his sword round and plunged it into the mans lower leg. The mace the man was holding was flung into the air and Tristan caught it with a small jump. He swung it round his hand and signalled for anyone should they want to attack him, to make their move now. "Anyone else? I could keep going all night!" He said with a beam of a smile, watching the remaining men shake their heads and run off with their tails between their legs. "No, thought not" Tristan dropped the mace as he had no need for it, placed the sword back in its holder and rubbed his hands together in accomplishment.

He jogged over to the women and bent down to see if she was injured. It was hard to spot for injuries with the amount of mud she had collected on her clothes so decided to refer to the other method of just asking instead. "Are you okay? Can you stand up?" He asked offering her his hand to help her into a standing position.

((OOC: Wow, that post was a lot longer than I intended it to be haha))

[Selphia Dek]

Selphia knelt in the mud looking up at the crowd that had soon gathered about her. She gave little reason for them to treat her in this manner, but she soon thought perhaps she did not need to give them any reason. The world was a strange place and it was getting stranger and darker by the day. People needed little reason to dislike someone. These days it was the magic that one wielded. Not that many of these folk knew a magic user when they saw one, it was just that they saw them in everyone. Even though Selphia was such a person.

How was it that these people would know? Her long pale locks with matching, eyes and flesh tones. That was how they picked her out. Now covered head to toe in grey clay like mud she looked up at them. She would move a hand to her face and wipe some of the mud from her right eye. Her hair was caked with the stuff, as well as her robes, which made it rather difficult for her to get to her feet without help. And no one here was coming to her aid.

That was until she saw someone break through the crowd. His tones were indeed laced with annoyance at what these people were doing. As he spoke to gain the crowds attention, Selphia tried to help herself. Pulling her foot out of the mud only to find that it had claimed her shoe. She furrowed her brow as she looked down at the misshapen mounds of mud before her. Her slipper lost and her foot bare. This was getting worst by the minute.

From what Selphia could make out of the man he was fairly tall, much taller then she and many about. He almost towered over the majority of folk present, which should have been rather intimidating to most. As he spoke to those about him, it appeared that he was not winning them over and a fight ensued. This was the time when Selphia felt that she could slip away. But the mud saw a quick end to that.

She paid little mind to the fight, and even less to man that fought. Her thoughts raced as she heard all the name-calling and wickedness pour from the crowds mind. How was it possibly to think in such a manner toward someone you knew nothing about? The pain shot through her head causing her to concentrate upon calm herself and not escaping.

The fighting continued for sometime. When she looked up again that was when she heard a voice to her right ask if she was okay and could she stand. Her extremely pale eyes looked at the man that was settled upon his hunches before her peering into her face. She stared for a moment as she could not help but note the shade of green that his eyes were. Odd that she would now find herself staring. She blinked and quickly pushed herself up to stand. She was still unsteady on her feet as she looked to the square as it was clearing.

“Thank you for your aid.” She told him as she bowed her head. Selphia prided herself upon her manners. Her head would roll back and she would nod to the man before she started to make her way toward the Inn. All she wished was to bath.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan momentarily looked behind him to make sure the crowd was beginning to split and not re-grouping a rebellion to use against him. Luckily it looked as though everyone had gone and carried on their binge-drinking spree and had all returned to the Ram to get more drinks. At least the girl was safe now so he had fulfilled his duty and could carry on his errands. Yet, he had nothing better to do and retrieving fruit from the market wasn't exactly going to take all evening. He power-walked over to the girl he had just helped after she had so kindly thanked him but was beginning making a hasty retreat.

His spur of the moment adreniline was still pulsing through his veins and he had to admit, that was fun. Not for the women obviously, he was sure it must have been a terrifying ordeal for her, yet this was one thing he was trained to dealt with. It wasn't often that he got to test and try out his theories and practice on the field as he was only fairly new to the ranks in the Army of Camelot.

"Hey!" He called out after her and soon with his long legs and fast stride, it didn't take him long to catch up to her. It was evident that she was going toward the Inn to clean herself up, and to be honest he couldn't blame her. She was covered in head to toe with a rather think, cakey mud and he imagined that could not be comfortable at all. He decided he'd wait outside for her whilst she showered, so he could talk to her and find out why she had been in the middle of the fight.

"Wait up!" He said in an attempt to stop her walking away from him. "Why don't you go clean yourself up and I'll wait outside and take you for a drink?" He beamed with a charming smile, hoping that she would say yes. "It's just I have nothing else to do and it seems like you could do with some company"

[Selphia Dek]

Selphia did not slow her pace. Some of the mud was starting to dry upon her cheeks. She could feel her skin becoming tight as she muttered to herself. A flurry of Latin phrases came forth in a low, firm tone. She did not acknowledge Tristan the first time that he called out to her. She figured it to be one of the members of the crowd that she had been accosted by. In fact her steps quickened and she did not let up.

Tristan’s presence seemed to be overwhelming as he came along side her. It must have been his size. He was height was in proportion to his body mass. She came to a halt when he spoke again.

~Wait up~

Selphia did not wish to stop. She did not know this man from anyone else; therefore she did not trust that he would not toss her into the mud, throw insults at her and call her names. When he came along side of her his form moved along in front of her, which caused her to stop abruptly. Her gaze narrowed upon him before looking down at herself. She was covered in mud. A strange thought came. Sure she had mud on her, but the mud seemed to work better then any robe or hood did. Hiding her from prying eyes, questioning looks as to who or what she was namely due to pale features. At the moment she held more color then she ever had. Sure it was grey and it was in fact mud, but she could not help but thank the one that had knocked her into it.

Her pale gaze rose to take in Tristan. Starting at his chest for that was where she came up on him. She scanned the armour, his crest then slowly to his face. She could not deny that he was handsome. His smile obviously one of his best features along with his eyes. She recalled just how green they had been when he was bent over and looking at her when she knelt in the mud. He was rather forward, a trait that she was unfamiliar with, and uncomfortable with.

Sure she was alone in Camelot, but she held firmly to her virtue. She looked at Tristan with a furrowed brow in question. Telling her to bath while he would wait. Was he that sure of himself that she would want to. By the look upon his face she could not help but pass judgement that he was use to getting his way with women. Perhaps she was wrong, but what man would approach a woman without a chaperone. Proceed to tell her to bath while he waited for her to take her for a drink.

“Sir, I thanked you for your aid. And if it is boredom that you look to release yourself from, well I am not the one that can do so.” She told him, her thoughts reflecting upon the reason as to why she was in the mud in the first place. “I have had my share of company.”

She did not wish to be rude, that was not her intentions. But her situation did not leave her in her best of moods to accept any invitation.

[Sir Tristan de Braose]

Tristan was taken aback by her rejection and certainly wasn't used to that. He never normally was forward enough to ask a women out, but at least know he knew that his way of approach didn't work. It would aid for future reference anyway. He knew a lost cause when he saw one and he could see no such way that she was ever going to accept his offer liked he hoped she would. He wanted to find out more about her, more about why these men had it in for her so badly. But it seemed she couldn't get away quick enough and wanted to be left by herself to maul over the recent events. She made an internal sigh as he admitted defeat, still reluctant to leave her as she was. He didn't want the men to come back again once he had left her and had her best interests at heart more than anything. He wanted to make it clear that he wasn't hitting on her, just to make sure she was okay. One last final attempt was in order he thought.

"Please, I insist. I just want to make sure your okay. As soon as I leave you I fear the men who attacked you may come back. I have your best interests at heart, I promise. Please, just to settle my mind will you at least let me escort you to your home? or It's likely I will be worrying about this all night?" He smiled, trying to be as polite and as honest at he could muster.

Everything he was saying was completely true. He was the sort of man to worry about anything that he left unfinished. He was that sort of a man. A perfectionist. It was his duty to serve the people of Camelot and that was exactly what he was doing. Plus he had nothing better to do and time spent helping others was a good use of it. He wasn't going to keep her for hours, if she wanted to spend a drink with him he would accept that, yet if all she wanted was a watchful eye kept over her from a distance then he would respect that. Over the duration of his stay at Camelot he had found that he was slowly becomign more empathic and held more emotion to every person that was left under his care and protection. A few months back he would not have cared what happened to this women, but he was a changed man and for the better. And doing good deeds like this one assured him of it.

The eerie silence un nerved him, so he decided to assure her some more. He wanted a positive response out of this women and was most hopeful that he would get it. "Or, if you don't like the sound of that I can trail behind you and watch from a far that you get home safely? I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you that could easily be prevented" He said with a smooth smile, waiting anxiosly for what she had to say.

"So, what's your verdict?" He spoke, hurrying her response along as a rather rowdy group of men were drawing further on their current positions.

[Selphia Dek]

Selphia turned to Tristan. She had not meant to be rude by any means. She was just coming to understand the way the world truly was. Though Camelot was relinquishing its bar against the use of magic and the user’s of magic, there were many that did not share the same view. Though this man seemed to be beyond such views. He seemed genuine to her plight. She felt beside herself for her treatment of him. Thinking that he viewed her as something to pass the time with. Boredom was a note-worthy trait of a lot of men. Her brother was a prime example of such.

She was not a stubborn person, though the moment was telling her that she should return to her room, lock the room and go to bed, perhaps never to leave it again after this night. Her muddy appearance must be something to behold and yet he never laughed. He showed genuine concern for her well being. For that she felt that she should at least acknowledge him for it. She shivered, as a cold wind seemed to pick up. “I do not wish to be the cause for your worrying.” She stated, then finally agreed to allow him to escort her to the Inn, in which she was staying at. He smile was pleasant enough, note worthy and returned with a soft one of her own. “If you would be so kind as to escort me to the Inn up the road and to the left.” She had forgotten the name of it. It was a grey building with a matching if not duller grey roof. “The grey one.”

She could not even curl her hands under her arms for everything was covered with mud. It would take several hours for this mud to come clean. She furrowed her brow, as she let her arms fall to her side. She would turn toward the street and start walking. “You need not follow behind me. It defeats the purpose of escorting me.” She just wanted to point out. She was a shy girl, not surly or sassy as she had seen some of the girls in town behavior. She just wanted to get cleaned off. Having been standing in the street covered in mud for hours. It was at this time she turned to him and apologized for her abruptness.