A Soothsayer, Truly? [COMPLETE]

[Joscelin Trevalion]

"There's a Fortuneteller down within the slums," Aemon uttered suddenly. Joscelin, though, seemed distracted and rather uninterested in that. "Did she tell you of the bowels movements you'd be having later tonight then, Aemon? It must have been oh, so shocking..." Joscelin says with a drawl of sarcasm. He was half-dressed and leaning over a table where a number of parchments were scattered. He had his hands flat upon them to keep them from flitting off the table when Aemon had opened the door so wildly.

"You may shut the door now, Aemon," Joscelin says. So, Aemon did and sighed thereafter.

"No, my lord, but I've reason to believe that she's a bit different than any other soothsayer. Apparently her predictions are rather accurate and frighteningly truthful than others. That, and a bit more specific than anything general." Aemon says and stands there with his gaze set on Joscelin's form. It was then that Joscelin drew up and threw his hands up within the air. He arches his back like a cat and groans heavily before turning upon his heel to face Aemon.

"You know what I think about magic, Aemon. I'm not for all that superstitious buggery," Joscelin tells Aemon and nearly laughs at the fellow. Aemon, though, didn't take the comment without dealing a blow of his own though. That, and with a semblance of common sense at that.

"Well, my lord, you are here within Camelot. It's different," he says suddenly. "You've seen what some of these people practice here. It's...witchcraft," Aemon whispers. Joscelin scoffs at that. "No, not witchcraft, Aemon. It's Alcemist tricks and illusions," Joscelin states.

It's then Joscelin works to gathering the pages and stacking them and Aemon continued.

"You've been to a number of places where they practice such peculiar things, my lord. You've seen enough strange things to know that anything's possible." There's a pause as Aemon watches Joscelin step away from the table and toward the hearth. Joscelin stands there and allows one sheet after another to drift within the hearth and low there as fuel for the flames.

Joscelin knew that Aemon was right.

"She has a following down within the slums and even some of the nobility frequent her shop," Aemon says. "Her name's Cailean Aridia de Sable," Aemon adds. Joscelin, though, seemed to stand there like stone with one hand upon the mantel and the other releasing the final parchment to burn; missives written by his ears and spiders -- evidence.

"Just humor me this once," Aemon says and Joscelin sighed heavily.

"Fine, Aemon, I will. Have my horse readied, will you?" Joscelin asked and Aemon nodded.

It's not that Joscelin did not believe Aemon. Truth be told, Joscelin found Aemon to be a trustworthy and capable man, but there were things that Joscelin did not believe and that was what one considered magic. Mayhap part of the reason he held no belief for such a system was for the fact that Joscelin himself could not conjure up balls of flame himself. Instead, Joscelin dismissed such things as fanciful tricks created by Alchemists; after all, one could do a number of things with chemicals and nature as a whole. Nonetheless, Joscelin was free for the day and found that he did not want to linger within the castle any longer.

Joscelin wanted Aemon turn upon his heel and saunter out of the room, and when he had, Joscelin turned from the hearth and sought his wardrobe. Normally Joscelin would dress as some eccentric merchant to gallivant about the slums, but this afternoon was for a more serious matter. After all, Aemon had made mention that nobles often frequented the shop. He could play the part easily enough. So, Joscelin sought clothing befit his station.

Joscelin slipped on a shirt made of a very fine white cambric, and thereafter slipped on an elegant black long vest highlighted with silver brocade, which Joscelin cinched. Afterward, Joscelin hastily removed the fawnskin trousers he had been wearing and replaced them with black knee-length britches with lace spilling at the calves and cinched at the front. With that, Joscelin toed within his boots and looked for naught else beyond his cloak to withstand the dust from the afternoon summer day. Then Joscelin left.

The venture to the slums wasn't that far off and Aquilon seemed eager to be free of the stables for once. In fact, Joscelin felt the same way by the time they were riding through the city and veered off from the main thoroughfare to navigate the close-knit serpentine pathways of the slums to find one Cailean Aridia de Sable's establishment. Yet, when Joscelin had...ah! Aemon seemed almost too eager to point such out to the point where Joscelin suspected to be set up.

It wasn't long until they arrived though and Joscelin dismounted swiftly and tossed the reins of his beloved companion to Aemon. "Well then," Joscelin begins and looks to the small shop that seemed to be crushed there and hidden before eying the sign over the door. "I suppose I'll see when I die then." Joscelin says morbidly but Aemon scoffs. Joscelin, though, smiled and motioned for the door and pushed inside. Truth be told, Joscelin wasn't sure what to expect.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

The truth was, that Cailean was shocked to have garnered any sort of reputation, let alone outside of the slums. What came as even more as a shock was the fact that her reputation seemed to be mostly positive. For most clairvoyants whom chose to exploit this particular power, it may not come as such a shock, after all, they could see the future. And still, Miss de Sable was surprised by the near constant flow of traffic in and out of her humble little shop front.

Some may ask why she was so shocked, and the simple fact of the matter was, well, that Cailean was full of it. Her clairvoyance was mild, to say the least of things. She’d felt it from a young age, and instead of speaking up, the girl attempted to muffle such, that was, until recently. Still, she’d never taken the chance to expound upon her god-given abilities, and instead, she’d simply been coping with what she had now, taking what minor visions she’d been granted, and running with them - in the dark, mind you.

Though the girl wasn’t particularly gifted, she was observant, not to mention the fact that she seemed to have a sweet tongue, and was more than eager to tell those desperate enough to frequent her shop, what they wanted to hear. Even if her predictions weren’t particularly accurate her customers found themselves satisfied with even the slightest of hopes for a better future. The thought of things going smoothly was enough to appease and satisfy them, and more oft than not, Cailean never heard another word of her inaccuracies.

That’s not to say that Cailean was free from trouble, while some are satisfied with the hope she brought. Some became enraged over her misleading words, and even moreso at the fact that they wasted money upon her services. Still, Miss de Sable worked on a ‘no refunds’ policy, and those unsatisfied could throw all the temper tantrums they wanted, and it still wouldn’t make anything better than it had been moments before. If anything those fits seemed to amuse Cailean. Of course even she didn’t have the gall to laugh in their faces.

It’s within this particular establishment that the young girl finds herself day, after day. In all honesty, she didn’t have a problem with that. It’s not as though the young girl had anything better to do with her days. She could dedicate them to learning a profitable trade, sure, though something about faux clairvoyance simply suited her. Cailean was unafraid to be herself, and apparently acting as a con artist of sorts was something she was afraid to exploit.

She grunts, then and there, the slender line of her slight body arched, with elbows pressed forth and upon the front counter of the shop - the one which she’d taken to stashing any coin she’d earned within. Amongst the drawer containing her profit laid many others, each containing some handful of bells and whistles, amongst other small trinkets which some may consider pretty. It’s become her work desk, of sorts, and it’s at this place that Miss de Sable hand-crafts many trinkets which those with a small enough mental capacity would feel inclined to buy - good luck charms, fertility charms, and the like. Needless to say, none hold any true power, and still, many pay good coin for such trivial toys.

“What do you think?” she asks of the pigeon whom frequented her shop. Yes, a simplistic bird which loitered day after day at her stall door. Cailean suspects it’s because on occasion she offers up a crumb or two to this malnourished piece of poultry, and other days Miss de Sable believes the bird to be genuinely interested in her work. Truth was, that Cailean wouldn’t be surprised if either were true. Either way, Cailean had dubbed the bird ‘Gable,' though she knew not whether her feathered accomplice was male, or female, though she supposed it didn’t matter.

The bird coos in reply, before cocking his head in that way that birds do, and with that, he struts within the doorway to her shop, though seeking a closer look.

Cailean grins, taking up that small bracelet only to lean forth and offer it down, and toward that cooing and curious bird, whom replies with a simplistic flap to it’s wings, and another cock to it’s dumb head. And with that the bird flutters from within her shop, and away. Cailean has no doubts that Gable would return at another time. Perhaps when he grows hungry, though perhaps when he feels she has something more to share.

Though truth seemed to be that Gable wasn’t simply going for another jaunty and idle flight. No, he’d been scared off, by a small number of men, one of whom was soon entering her shop. Cailean had never laid eyes upon this particular specimen, though she was glad to have gotten the chance to. He was undeniably beautiful, and the girl can’t help the grin spreading across her features, one she doesn’t bother stifling, even as she lays down the half finished wire, and twine trinket.

“Afternoon,” she greets with a widening smile of her own - warm and welcoming, “Welcome. Might I take your cloak, given you’re in the right place,” she teases thereafter. It’s then the girl rights herself, the bare line of her spine straightening, and the small swath of fabric wrapped about her chest, tightening about her soft breasts. Cailean offers a hand, to take up his covering.

Intuition told she was within the right place - no one ever came within her shop on accident, after all.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Joscelin had always thought that clairvoyance was the art of crones, but upon entering the shop and seeing one young woman, Joscelin was fairly shocked and surprised. In fact, he found himself staring at her and wondering whether or not he had entered the correct establishment. If not for the number of wares, trinkets and oddities strewn about for sale, Joscelin would have undoubtedly backed out of the shop, but...then again, the young woman was fairly attractive.

Although, maybe even more than only fairly.

Nonetheless, Joscelin found himself watching her from the entryway.

She looked utterly exotic, and rather lovely, too. She's undoubtedly younger than him as well, but truth be told, age never bothered Joscelin. He tended to be attracted to younger women. Although, that's not to say that he wouldn't sample an experienced lady nor were they out of the question entirely. Yet, there was something about the woman's dark hair, tanned flesh and eyes that made her look feline. That, and her homeland garb that made her stand out and bared flesh that would make most women seem improper. Although, on her, the garb seemed to accentuate her curves and make her stand out more; commanding the respect of her people and from those who were passerby.

Perhaps she was the real deal...? There was only one way to find out.

"That depends, my lady," Joscelin begins, but his hands lift to the clasp of his cloak nonetheless. He didn't doubt that he was within the right place. Aemon had seemed eager to point such out to him before, but he couldn't come to terms with the soothsayer seeming so young and attractive.

"I've heard of a soothsayer by the name of Cailean Aridia de Sable whom I am seeking for guidance," Joscelin confesses as he sweeps the cloak from about his shoulders. There was no sound of coins within any hidden holdings sewn to the cloak, which often seemed to be the case with some noblemen and women. It's not the case for one Joscelin William Trevalion though. In fact, Joscelin's coin lingered within a bulging purse at his belt. It's then that Joscelin lays his cloak upon her hand before pursing a mouth.

"I'd say that you may be the woman I am looking for, but you certainly do not look the part," Joscelin admits. Yet, what did Joscelin know of clairvoyance or even her people for that matter...? Well, somewhat, but not enough. There's only so much one could learn from literature and the written accounts of other explorers. The only real knowledge would be firsthand such as Joscelin was wont to do from time to time. Nonetheless, Joscelin was here now and he could catch her scent upon the air within that enclosed shop of hers.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

Cailean offers another smile as the young man speaks her name. There’s certainly something attractive about the sound of her name upon that sweet tongue of his. Perhaps some lesser women would have demanded him then, and there, but Miss de Sable managed to maintain some semblance of control within that moment, and simply issued a slow nod of confirmation, “At your service,” the young soothsayer confirms.

Her gaze flits from that beautiful face of his, downwards to search the floor once more. Perhaps Gable was gone for the day, or perhaps he’d return at a later time, though truth was, that Cailean wasn’t too worried about her feathered accomplice. Sure, having something to talk to was nice, though with a potential client around she wouldn’t need to have that bird to talk to. Aside that, she much preferred the sight of this handsome man, as opposed to that dirty bird.

Still, she’s uncertain how she’d react if the dirty pigeon never returned.

“Perhaps I should hide my face?” the girl offers up, her fingers tangling within the neckline of that cloak of his, her hands slip upon the fabric, easily hooking such over her arm to fold upon itself whilst her fingertips seek out any spare pockets, as some merchants tend to have. She seeks any semblance of spare coin; any “donation” she may claim in her name, and the name of her business. Though no matter how skilled she seems to have become in this movement, she found naught. “Would I appear more professional?” she asks of him, then, motioning to lift the loose tie of her top to cover that wide mouth and nose alike, her brow perks, then, and the small girl stashes his jacket behind that work bench of hers, for safe keeping.

It’s then her eyes catch sight of that heavy purse set toward the rise of the young man’s hip. Her brows furrow for a short lived moment before the young girl gives a quick shake to her head, dismissing that feeling of disappointment, and offering up yet another coaxing smile. She was a business woman, after all, and there was nothing more off-putting than a deep set scowl.

“Did you come here alone?” she asks the boy then and there, seeking some sort of information on him, just in case those ever elusive powers of hers decided to fail her. Those blue eyes of hers flutter upwards to meet the young man’s own just before she steps around him to settle a hand upon her doorway, so she may close such for privacy. It’s then Gable bounces inwards with another dumb coo, and with that Cailean swings her door closed.

“Perhaps you’d like to join me in the back?” she offers the boy with an almost coy smile, wide and parting those soft lips of hers. Her fingertips touch toward the scarred back of his hand, and she continues onward to the back with or without him.

Still, with hips like those, who wouldn’t follow?

[Joscelin Trevalion]

So, Cailean Aridia de Sable was a young woman after all. It's passing strange to say the very least. Idly Joscelin wondered whether or not she had the years under her to have developed her skill. If there was any skill. Joscelin hadn't exactly decided whether or not she truly did have an ability. Although he'd admit that she's an attractive woman, and that if she didn't have a true skill...well, then mayhap she'd consider the art of becoming a courtesan.

Joscelin wasn't here to converse over her occupation though.

She suddenly suggested obscuring her face, and even did so playfully before setting away his cloak. Joscelin laughed at that and wrinkled his nose. "Ah, no," he says simply enough and shakes his head. "I suppose I had some preconceived notion that all soothsayers were crones," Joscelin suddenly admits and purses his mouth. "I was wrong." He'd own that he was. Yet, who could blame him...? Most children's tales spoke of crones doing such work, and Joscelin had been witness to older women tossing about chicken bones and worn dice to tell the future.

Cailean was certainly different.

"Your comely face will be more than welcome, my lady...ah, may I call you Cailean?" He asks of thereafter and realized he hadn't offered his own name. "I'm Joscelin. Joscelin Trevalion," he says and continues to watch her face; searching her eyes and features for any telltale signs that may show her as being anything but genuine. Her query filled him though and Joscelin wasn't certain whether or not this was beginning of her act or a curiosity of the man standing out front. He lolled his head to look over his shoulder and then back. She brushed past him to shut the door and Joscelin took the moment to breathe her deep and drink the sight of her.

He ached and felt odd thereafter at the sight of the strange bird.

"Ah...No, I didn't. I've come with someone," Joscelin says but adds nothing more. He didn't feel the sudden need to question her over her pidgeon then and there; after all, some people simply kept exotic creatures. Sophia had her wolf and Cailean had her pidgeon. Joscelin...well, he had Aquilon. Although horses were the norm, Aquilon was more some beast than the norm. Either way, he found himself drawn to her at her question and the thought of the back room.

Idly Joscelin wondered what he'd find back there.

Mayhap there will be censors full of wafting blue smoke that would leave him within a haze; enough so to make him believe anything. Perhaps there will be...well, anything, really. Anything was possible as Aemon had told him. She touched the scarred back of his hand though and her touch sent a bolt of warmth throughout his flesh. He watched her off and his gaze flitted to the sway of her hips. He wanted to clasp them and hold her still.

He didn't.

Instead, Joscelin followed her and swallowed hard to check himself.

"Do you need the use of my hand for this...well, reading of yours?" He asks suddenly. His gaze settled upon the sway of her hips and the dip of her spine; that flesh he longed to caress and lap at. Ah! He was certainly a man with needs to say the very least. Nonetheless, he forced himself to look away and gaze over all the oddities she had within the back and wondered.

How did she perform her tricks...? He hoped Aemon wasn't fooling him.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

“You may.” she coos in reply to his query. The girl presses her teeth toward the lower tier of her pout. “Ah, Joscelin…” she breathes in reply to the gift of his name. Another warm smile spreads upon that soft mouth of hers, and her attention falls back upon his face, “A woman’s name,” she teases then and there, “Fitting, for such a beautiful man,” she continues onwards, though issues a slow, almost luxurious flap to her hand, dismissing the notion that she may be mocking him.

“You’re not from around here,” it was more a statement than a question, though a confirmations of sorts would be appreciated. The fact of the matter was, that sometimes foreigners were harder to bullshit for the simple fact that she knew less about them. Less about their family, their origin. At least within Camelot there was a chance she may have heard the family name. Still, it wasn’t the first time she’d offered her “talents” toward a man from a faraway land.

Whatever the case, the two soon found themselves within the inner most sanctum of her shop. A room very few were privileged to see.

More oft than not, her store front was used to simply peddle her wares - those tiny and useless, not to mention over priced, trinkets which people so often placed their faith within. Readings were often done within the open market of Camelot, straight from within the back of her cart. There was no smoke, and no mirrors within that cart, and it certainly lent something to her credibility. She suspected that could be another reason she was so highly praised - whether she knew what she was doing or not, there was certainly nothing physical that hinted toward such.

Musty was a word which could easily describe her back room. It smelled of the ground floor which began within that doorway, not to mention dust, among a small number of perfumes. It could all easily be considered overwhelming, though Cailean herself was rather use to the scents which filled her shop. Despite the apparent neglect this room was receiving, there was still a small table settled amongst the shelving units, with seats settled toward either side of that awkwardly shaped stand.

She laughs, then, a wide smile spreading across her soft mouth, and amusement clear within those blue, and cat-like eyes of hers. Miss de Sable gives a quick shake to her pretty head, dismissing that amused look quickly, lest he become offended by her easy demeanor. “No,” she manages then with another shameless smirk, “That is, unless you fear what I have to say,” the girl continues onwards. It’s then she settles into the further of the two seats, and she leans close to the young man, “In which case I would gladly hold your hand.” Her mouth purses and her brows lift, all the while she smiles toward the young man.

Gable likewise bounces inwards, those beady eyes of his settle upon Joscelin for a moment, before his head cocks toward Cailean with an inquisitive sort of coo. Some would argue that this disgusting bird was Cailean’s familiar. Though familiars were for witches - something which a one Miss Cailean Aridia de Sable was not.

Still, Cailean tosses an almost expectant glance toward the quieted bird. Her brows furrow, and her mouth firms for a short moment. A moment of silence passes before Cailean draws a breath inwards, her gaze lifting toward Joscelin once more, “You don’t believe in what I have to say, do you?” she asks of him, then, though quickly brushes it off, “That’s all well, I enjoy a challenge,” Cailean murmurs.

Gable offers another chuff, along with a ruffle to his feathers, though mocking her.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

"So I've been told," Joscelin murmurs at the mention of him having a woman's name. He took the comment without a hitch though. Truth be told, Joscelin wasn't so very bothered by the mention; in fact, he couldn't see himself with any other name. It fit him well or so Joscelin liked to think. Nonetheless, her compliment thereafter soothed him, too. She found him attractive as he did her albeit Joscelin didn't voice it. Nonetheless, Joscelin had little time to mull that over as she makes a statement of where he hailed from without the specifics.

"I'm not," Joscelin agrees without a hitch. It was more than obvious that he wasn't, and truth be told, Joscelin was unimpressed thus far. That, and rather skeptical, still. You see, Joscelin didn't think what she told him so far was anything of a great measure. In fact, the things she stated so far should more than obvious.

Joscelin looked like a nobleman, or at least somewhat of a higher status, which meant he would be accompanied by another who would assure his safety. That, or even a driver of a carriage; no matter how one looked at it, Joscelin wouldn't be alone as nobles were wont to do. Then there was the fact that Joscelin carried himself different and held different manners with his body language; oh, and the lilt of his dialect, too. It was obvious he hailed from elsewhere.

When they had entered the back, though, Joscelin was assailed by the numerous scents from the earth to the dust and numerous perfumes. That, and the dim lightning hurt his eyes. Idly Joscelin wondered whether or not the scents, though, played one's mind to make them susceptible to reading or acceptance. He tasted the air but found no foul traces there beyond the norm of an Incensemaker. The only difference was that she wasn't one. At least he didn't think so. Who knew what she did for extra coin on that side! Nonethless, Joscelin drank the room in, and soon after the two high seats at either flank of that stand lingering as a center piece.

"That depends," Joscelin admits. He wouldn't say that he wasn't afraid. In fact, Joscelin was afraid of a few things. He was afraid of his own failure. He was afraid of his father, too, before his passing. That, and he was afraid of his own mortality, and thensome. He was human. Nonetheless, Joscelin approached the seat opposite of her and lowered himself onto such as he caught wind of a wayward coo.

It was the pidgeon once more; the strange beast following them both. It's peculiar.

Yet, her sudden words were more so albeit once more practically general.

He'd allow her the benefit of the doubt.

"Yes," he confesses. "I don't...I'll be completely fair and honest with you, Cailean, I've never done this before, and I highly doubt you'd be able to tell me anything that I already don't know, but I've heard of you. So, humor me," he says and offers his hands playfully to her with the palms up. They were rough and scarred. They were not a nobleman's hands.

"Mayhap you could tell me whether or not you in my future?" He questions with a smile.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

That depends. Or so he said. Depended upon what? Well, truth was, it didn’t so much seem to matter, Cailean doubted that he was actually afraid, or that a any point within her reading he may become fearful. She’d simply offered to hold his hand in jest. Though truth was, she wouldn’t really mind holding his hand. He was attractive, after all, and Cailean enjoyed the feel of a man’s hands upon her own flesh.

Could she be blamed? She was only human, after all, and Joscelin was a man, to say the very least of him. And one that miss Cailean wouldn’t mind letting touch more of her.

Though she should truly focus, though that was hard with that dumb bird bopping about and fluttering aimlessly between the front and back room of her small shop. Cailean finds her brows knitting, and her lips parting with a quieted sigh. Despite her distracted state, the small girl catches wind of Joscelin’s words, and yet another wide grin spreads across her soft mouth. “If you insist,” Miss de Sable agrees with a slight shake to her pretty head. Her mouth purses, and her own soft hands lift upwards to settle upon the young man’s own. Her thumbs settle upon the dip of the young man’s palms, and fingers curl and wrap about to smooth briefly over the rough and scarred expanse of his knuckles. Cailean’s gaze dips, and her thumbs smooth upon calloused palms, following the lines drawn in place.

Whatever made him comfortable, or so she told herself.

She says nothing all the while, that was, until he speaks once more. Cailean’s wide mouth spreads into a shameless grin, and the small girl shakes that pretty head of hers, it’s a dismissive sort of gesture, though truth was Cailean didn’t much mind his advances. Perhaps had he not been so handsome it would have been a different story. Still, she masters herself for a short moment, only to draw another breath inwards, as fingertips trace upon the lines of his palms, “I do!” she mocks, “I see us tangled within fine linens,” she murmurs, “You’ll ask for me…” the girl trails off, only to offer another teasing grin, coupled with the slightest crinkles to the bridge of her nose. Truth was, Cailean didn’t expect anything from this young man.

He was simply another client. Another skeptic at that.

Soon enough, though Cailean finds herself growing serious once more, and her brows furrowing as she attempts to summon up some sort of bullshit. The trouble with her meager powers, was the simple fact that they seemed to be, well, on their own time. There was naught that seemed to deter it much more than trying to force it.

Nothing.

Soon enough, though, any semblance of concentration she may have been holding was ruined, and that damned bird fluttered upwards and onto the table top. The bird bounces close to Joscelin with those tiny, beady eyes fixed upon his handsome features, before his head cocks, and the bird bops closer toward Cailean once more with a flutter to his wide wings. The bird lingered close enough to shock Cailean - while unafraid of most, Gable had truly never drawn that close to either Cailean, or another.

“Gable,” Cailean breathes in a hushed tone. With any luck Joscelin would not hear, not mock her. A single hand lifts upwards, and away from Joscelin’s own touch, in some attempts to shoo the critter away. Though the pigeon seems brave within that moment, and simply flaps it’s wings. Cailean’s fingertips brush upon the fringe of his wing, and it’s then she’s suddenly hit with something.

It doesn’t knock the breath out of her, nor does it force air into her lungs. It’s not a shock of heat, nor a chill running down her spine. It’s simply the nagging feeling of knowing something, coupled with the need to share it. It’s the press of a nagging secret within her chest, and it’s enough to bring a worried sort of knit to her soft brows.

Cailean looks first toward Gable, who still sits calm upon the tabletop, and then toward Joscelin.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Joscelin couldn't help the look of amusement that alighted on his features. It was hard not to when Cailean seemed to so easily accept his playful flirtation and take part of such with little shame. Although Joscelin doubted that she genuinely wanted to bed him. Then again...well, no, Joscelin wouldn't allow his ego to swell him that far. So, Joscelin only smiled and wrinkled his nose at her, and even allowed amusement to gleam within those blue eyes.

"Is that so? Mm," Joscelin eyed her. "You may be right."

It was playful and shameless. That, and utterly innocent or so Joscelin thought. Nonetheless, Joscelin was skeptical and suspected that this would be the extent of their time together. That soon enough Joscelin would leave empty handed and with a lighter purse for her reading. If her skill could even be called that. Ah, fortunately she was an attractive young woman at the very least. It's then that that strange pidgeon motioned closer and caught Joscelin's attention.

Cailean's touch upon his hands as a whole was nothing compared to the distraction he felt when that bird was about. It seemed so...well, peculiar and drawn to Cailean. That, and looked curious of him. Most birds would flutter off but this one was different. So, when the creature fixed him with a beady stare, Joscelin looked back and met such evenly.

It's then Joscelin caught wind of a name: Gable.

It must be the creature's name, and Joscelin was ready to utter such, but didn't manage when Cailean reached out to chase the bird away. It's then everything seemed to change and even Joscelin felt something stir within him at the sight of her. He furrowed his brow and his mouth turned toward a frown.

It's then he expressed his concern for the young woman.

"What's wrong...?" He questions and then looks to the bird. "What's with the bird?"

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

That bird.

It suddenly occurs to Miss de Sable just how strange Gable was. Even the most city-wise birds tended to withdraw at the sight of people, if not on foot, then most seemed to flutter away altogether. Though Gable was different, and while he’d previously retreated, he seemed quick to return, and was unafraid of Cailean herself, and Joscelin alike. Despite this sudden realization, well… truth was, it didn’t mean much to Cailean, perhaps the bird was sick, or something of the like. Even for a clairvoyant Miss de Sable didn’t place much weight in the “magic” arts.

Magic or not, there was no denying that Gable was a strange bird.

Still, her brows furrow, and those blue eyes of hers settle upon Gable for another long, and silent moment, simply weighing all the possibilities. A single small hand lifts upwards, only for timid fingertips to press, and smooth over the lift of that pigeon’s scalp. Gable looks neither irritated, nor particularly enthused by this act, and simply blinks up at Cailean with another dumb coo. It’s then Miss de Sable’s palm cups downwards to run more completely over the gentle arch of the pigeon’s back. Truth was, Cailean wasn’t too sure how to react to all of this. Her brows knit, allowing a brief look of confusion to lapse over those cat-like features of hers.

Suddenly Cailean brings herself back to reality, and with that Cailean releases Joscelin’s opposite hand, both soft palms motioning to scoop up Gable so she may set the creature upon the bare earth floor. The bird replies with a confused sort of coo before finding some place to hide himself amongst all the clutter lining her walls. Cailean’s brows furrow once more, and her gaze lifts upwards to peer upon Joscelin’s handsome features once more.

What was there to say within this moment?

“That’s Gable,” Cailean murmurs, her gaze flitting from his features and toward his open and empty palms, “He hangs around my shop sometimes… I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Miss de Sable confesses with the slightest of frowns. It’s then Cailean’s own hands are filling Joscelin’s own once more. Her fingertips soothe over the lines drawn across his palms, before she dares to lift her gaze to meet Joscelin’s own.

She’s quiet for a moment longer. Truth was, that Cailean had never been met with any sort of news that could be considered this hefty. Though was it even true?

“Joscelin,” Miss de Sable begins, looking to gain his attention, “Tell me, the woman who raised you, she wasn’t your mother, no?” she asks of him then, her brows knit, and her gaze levels with his own once more. This time, she resists letting her gaze falter.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

It seemed that Cailean was not only a successful clairvoyant but likewise had a way with birds, and by successful Joscelin meant being able to make money off of her skill. Nonetheless, being a wizard of pidgeons were rather impressive to him. It took a certain amount of skill to be able to earn the respect of an animal. Patience, too, that not many had. Although Joscelin found her choice for a pet to be rather peculiar. It's then Cailean releases Joscelin's last hand.

He unfurls his fingers and clasps them together within his lap before leaning backward. He watched her then as she set down Gable with all the tenderness she could muster. It was a strange sight to say the very least. Yet, Joscelin understood the need to be gentle with such a frail creature. Joscelin watches as the bird wanders off. He didn't know Cailean was watching him when she spoke that name once more.

Gable.

"Gable," Joscelin murmurs and stores the knowledge at the back of his mind. "Perhaps he does not like the company you've taken this afternoon." Joscelin adds and looks back to her with the lift of his brows. It wasn't a threat but a mere jab of curiosity toward finding an answer. He wasn't certain whether or not the pidgeon liked him. That, and Joscelin doubted the bird had a large enough mind to even hate. Nonetheless, Joscelin sets his hands within her own again.

Joscelin watched her then and allowed her the benefit of the doubt.

Yet, the moment he had, Joscelin felt vulnerable when she spoke once more.

"I..." Joscelin found himself trailing off and sobering at what Cailean had spoken of. There was no way she could have known of Ysandre Vestrit, Joscelin's foster mother, and the lady wife of his father. Unless Aemon had spoken...no, he wouldn't have, and neither would the other men that had come with him. They had been chosen years ago for their ability at being discreet. Nonetheless, Joscelin found that something truly peculiar was happening here.

"No," Joscelin says suddenly. "I mean, yes, you're right. She's not my birth mother."

Part of Joscelin wondered what else she knew. He wondered whether or not she could read the past, too, but doubted that. She was a soothsayer and not some woman he could read one's past. That's not to say Joscelin didn't dare to dream of such a thing and wonder of his mother...ah! Nonetheless, Joscelin found himself watching her and with his heart quickening.

"What do you see...?" Joscelin asked with genuine curiosity clear within his eyes.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

“He’s simply a strange bird,” Cailean reasons with another knit to her brows. Though that truly wasn’t the matter at hand. Still, Gable made for a good conversation starter, or at least something very similar. He certainly held her interest, after all. More oft than not, he was her only company, and Miss de Sable found herself having full conversations with that stupid, and dirty bird, even if he didn’t always reply. “Perhaps,” she muses thereafter, “Though it’s not up to him what company I keep,” Cailean reasons with a hopeful sort of smile. The girl gives a slight wrinkle to her nose.

Whether Gable had some sort of impact upon the company she kept or not didn’t seem to matter within that moment, and soon enough Cailean was providing information on Joscelin that she hadn’t previously known. Whatever the case, she knew now, and Cailean half surprised herself within that moment. She hadn’t expected to be correct, let alone have Joscelin confirm her accusation.

He was a skeptic, after all, and even when correct, it was sometimes hard to get a skeptic to believe.

Still, he was pressing her onwards, and truth was, that Cailean didn’t wish to share any sort of information she may have been granted. It was truly intuition within this moment, nothing seemed concise enough to share with Joscelin. Still, there was this sickening feeling churning within the pit of her stomach. It brought a cool prickle across the bare dip of her spine; lighting goose bumps across the expanse of her flesh. Miss de Sable didn’t feel well within this moment, though the girl made her best attempts to keep it from showing upon her face.

Cailean clears her throat and bites upon her lower lip softly. The young woman draws a breath inwards with a knit to her soft brow. She pauses for a moment longer before making the decision to speak once more, “I fear she’s not well,” the girl confesses.

Would he believe her? Perhaps not, though even if he did there was no doubt that he would be hesitant to accept such a notion. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind, though, perhaps he didn’t care for his adoptive mother, though something within her told Cailean that this wasn’t so. That he did, in fact, care for the woman of whom she spoke.

Truth was, that Cailean had never really given bad news before, though apparently the gods, or whatever it was had decided this information important enough to pass on toward Joscelin.

Her hands grip upon Joscelin’s own, and she appears almost apologetic within this moment. Sheepish, even. “I know she means something to you,” she continues onwards, in some pathetic attempts to soothe him, lest he become angry with her.

Though, truth was, Cailean wasn’t so sure what to say.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Joscelin didn't expect much from Cailean upon entering her establishment. Truth be told, Joscelin didn't even believe in such a thing as clairvoyance. Cailean knew this, and so, the moment the young woman had told Joscelin that his mother was unwell, Joscelin had saw that as a cruel barb set for Joscelin's heart to upset him. It was cruel of her and Joscelin felt his blood heat at what Cailean had uttered. If not for her hands on his own, Joscelin would have come to his feet within a flurry and struck out. Yet, he didn't. He didn't know why, really.

Then Joscelin had begun to think.

She must be upset over what he had admitted to. The fact that he was skeptical could have changed the way she dealt her cards. Mayhap she was tired of being called out on her art and wanted to make certain that Joscelin would never return to her humble shop.

Joscelin found himself staring at her.

He wondered what else she had to tell him then and there. In fact, that's why he stood quiet and simply watched her. Daring her to continue on this foolish charade. So, Cailean did and Joscelin looked aside and down at their clasped hands. He clears his throat and wrinkles his nose.

"Yes, she does," Joscelin murmurs and looks to her. Then he found himself laughing...somewhat. It was forced and cold though. "What does this mean then...? Is she coming off of a cold or some other illness?" Joscelin asks and wondered why he felt so...wrong then and there. He wondered why he felt so worried and confused. He wanted to stand and push away, but Joscelin couldnt' find the strength.

Instead, Joscelin found himself planted there.

He meets her eyes evenly then.

"What does it all mean?" He dared to ask.

He wanted to believe she was lying. Yet, something told him she wasn't.

[Cailean Aridia de Sable]

Did he believe her? Cailean expects so. He seemed angry with her, after all, though to be fair he could be angry over her prediction, as a whole, or angry because he felt he was being lied to. Cailean suspects that it didn’t matter which it was, though.

Those cat-like eyes of hers settle upon Joscelin’s own, and her brows even go as far to arch. She stares at the young man, searching for, well, something else. Though Cailean wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for. Through it all, she suspects that Joscelin did, indeed believe her prediction, whether he wanted to or not. Truth was, Cailean felt bad for giving the young man such bad news. It hadn’t been her place, that was, until he stepped foot into her shop. If Cailean believed in destiny, she supposes that she would have been delivering this news whether she wanted to or not.

It was a shame, too, Joscelin was a comely young man, with a pleasant enough attitude, despite the fact that he’d doubted her from the get go. In some ways Miss de Sable wished that he had reason to. She wished that she’d have been able to bullshit him, to tell him that he’d have a good round of dice that night, and he’d walk away with his purse twice the weight as it had been upon his arrival. Hell, she wished that he would have accepted her prior playful banter, and swept her off her feet then and there; taken her home with him. Though she hadn’t been permitted either of those pleasantries.

While Cailean wasn’t directly responsible, she fully expected to be blamed for her words. If not her fault, who’s was it?

Still, her brows furrow, and her gaze falls from Joscelin’s own, alongside her own soft hands. Her palms smooth upon bared knees briefly before the girl stands upwards, only to lean forth and press her mouth upon Joscelin’s furrowed brow, “Perhaps you should go to her,” Cailean reasons in reply to all those questions flung her way. Once more her brows furrow, and the small girl’s soft mouth turns downwards to the slightest of scowls. She felt a pang of hurt within the depths of her heart.

“I’m sorry, Sir Trevalion,” Miss de Sable apologizes, “I truly hope I’m wrong this time around,” Cailean continues onwards. It’s then Gable struts through the doorway, and onto the bare earthen floor once more. Cailean hadn’t even seen the dumb bird exit. Gable held her attention now, though, and even moreso when the pigeon fluttered all the closer toward Joscelin and herself.

This bird was certainly more trouble than he was worth.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Her hands left his own and there was a silent moment between them. She had no comforting words to share with him; none whatsoever, truly. It's what made things worse. If she was lying then Joscelin would have no reason to worry, but the fact that she spoke the words with such a firm belief...well, Joscelin found himself oddly confronted and uncertain of how to react.

Part of him wanted to clamber from his seat and reach over to her. He wanted to grab her by that swath of cloth and drag her over the stand. He wanted to demand of her the truth, and he wanted her to tell him what he wanted to...hear. Mayhap she was telling the truth then. In which case Joscelin should come to his feet and leave. He should return to the castle and pen a missive to his mother. He could send a runner and pay the fee for a nonstop delivery back to Tulia if only to soothe himself and assure that she was wrong.

He found himself staring at his hands.

"It's a cruel thing to say about one's mother," Jocelin managed to say without lashing out at her. Nonetheless, Joscelin had dubbed Ysandre his mother. Despite the fact that they were not related by blood, the woman had loved and cared for him as her own when she had every right to loathe him. Instead, Ysandre had become Joscelin's mother through her actions and did not blame the son for the sins of the father.

She loved him and Joscelin loved her. He wouldn't know what to do without her.

It's then that Joscelin slowly came to his feet, but this time Joscelin wasn't drawn to the pidgeon that wandered upon the bare earthen floor. Instead, Joscelin seemed detached and within deep thought as his fingers settled on his purse, and within moments, Joscelin removed three coins; golden and gleaming. It was more than enough for her brief reading and Joscelin departed with them without a hitch. He reaches out to set them within her palm.

"I believe I shall be taking my leave now," Joscelin says suddenly as he pays her.