Primrose awakens first the next morning, somewhat surprised to see the normally early rising knight contentedly snoring away. She runs her eyes over his handsome face and broad, well-muscled chest and gives some serious thought to slipping back under the sheets to tease him awake with lips and tongue. After a moment she shakes her head, carefully easing out of their bed and dressing quickly so as not to disturb him. The road beckoned and they would have plenty of time to satisfy their urges later.
After a brief trip to the bath house to wash off the previous night's exertions, the dancer emerges refreshed and dressed for the day in the pale blue dress provided by Sister Ophilia. The innkeeper rushes over to bid her good morning, begging forgiveness for not anticipating her needs sooner. She pats his arm with a smile, assuring him that she is quite capable of seeing to herself. "There is something you can do for me, though, if you do not mind," she says, her voice taking on a honeyed tone.
A series of knocks emanates from the door. "Your Lordship?"
Olberic sits up and swings his legs out of bed rubbing at his eyes distractedly. He glances around the room, noting a disturbing lack of Primrose. The knocking begins again as he grabs his clothes off the floor. "Just a moment!" he calls out. He fumbles to pull his trousers on, rising and striding across the room to open the door. The serving girl blinks up at him, a blush spreading across her cheeks. Clearly she was not expecting to come face to chest with the shirtless warrior. He mumbles an apology and steps back, admitting her to the room. She bobs a quick curtsy and briskly sets about whisking away their untouched supper and replacing it with a platter of fruit, cheese, and bread. A steaming pot of tea completes the table. After pouring a jug of scented water into the washbasin, the girl backs out of the room, craning her neck to get another peek as Olberic stretches his shoulders with a groan. He shuts the door firmly, shaking his head. After grabbing a washcloth and going through his morning ablutions, he could no longer ignore his stomach's nagging and sat down to eat, tearing through the meal with gusto.
Some time after his third cup of tea, Primrose returns to the room, arms laden with packages. Olberic leaps to his feet, moving to assist her. She glances over at the table and her forehead creases in a frown. "How was breakfast?"
The knight blinks at her, embarassment flushing his face. "I...ah, I'll run down and get another-"
She laughs, hugging him. "Teasing, lover. Just teasing. I sent that up for you. I didn't want to wake you, so I ate in the market while I was buying provisions for us. Are you ready to pack up? I think I have us all set here."
"You...really?"
"Mhm. Not all of us get to layabout all morning, dreaming the day away." She sets about opening parcels and arranging items into neat little stacks, repackaging everything tidily with an air of efficiency he had never seen her display. She senses his stare and turns around, eyebrows raised.
"I was not expecting you to do all this, honestly. These tasks usually fall to me." Realizing he was standing around while she worked, the knight quickly starts gathering their personal effects and stowing them neatly in their respective bags.
"I know. I felt like you worked extra hard last night and earned yourself a little break."
She flashes a sly grin at him and he felt heat staining his cheeks again. Brand lend me strength, she could push his buttons like no other. She knew it, too. Vexing woman.
Together they make short work of packing and with a final goodbye for the innkeeper and promises to visit again, the couple departs the inn. Olberic begins heading for the southern road but Primrose stops him with a smile, indicating instead the merchant docks just outside the walls. "I made some arrangements to get us closer to the Sunlands," she explains. "There is a certain merchant captain awaiting Lord Berg and Lady Thorn and he happens to know a little used beach near the Riverland border that will put us much closer to our goal than the eastern route."
"A merchant captain?" Olberic chuckles, having a pretty good idea of who that might be. "And you managed this so quickly, just this morning? Impressive, Prim."
Primrose waves her hand dismissively. "Tressa helped. The captain is a friend of hers, she sent word ahead for me before we left Noblecourt. The innkeeper had some connections at the docks who helped me track him down before he left port. Terribly helpful soul, that one."
"Just so," Olberic nods. People seemed all too eager to do as Primrose asked, he was learning. "So then, Tressa knows what we intend."
She shakes her head, linking her arm with his as they walk. "No, not at all. I simply suggested to her that walking all the way down to Bolderfall through the Frost- and Woodlands would be an awful strain, given my weakened condition. She was very helpful in offering to broker a solution that would spare my poor feet a few hundred miles of wilderness, as well as tossing a little income to a potential business partner. It just so happens that this particular beach is also much closer to the Sunlands without all the hassle of a slog through the mountains south of Rippletide."
"Indeed. I am well acquainted with the area, the journey can be arduous."
She glances at him, considering. "Would you prefer to take the longer route, maybe pass through Cobbleston? You know the roads better than I do..."
"No, no. You were correct in your assessment, sailing is most assuredly the wiser choice for a variety of reasons. Probably for the best to mislead the lass as well, I am not sure that one is capable of keeping a secret. As to Cobbleston..." He pauses, considering his words. "I am certain the village stands. I left them in capable enough hands, and the issue we had with the brigands was an exceedingly rare occurance. My sudden appearance there would be a distraction and most certainly cause a serious delay, and I am anxious to reach Wellspring."
She pulls him to a halt, slipping her arms around his waist. "I did not intend to do all of this without your knowledge, you know. I'd truly thought to discuss this with you last night, but we were a smidge distracted."
Olberic bends his head, capturing her lips with his. "My dear," he says, pulling back to look at her, "Any time you wish to 'distract' me while you make arrangements to make our lives easier, you have my blessing."
She rises on her toes, kissing him again. "Well then. To the docks! I don't know about you, but I am quite looking forward to seeing our cabin." She laces her fingers with his and tugs him onward, their destination in sight.
As they approach the tall, three masted ship, Olberic catches sight of a familiar figure poring over maps on the main deck. Primrose falls a few steps behind the tall warrior as they cover the last bit of ground towards the gangplank, a backward glance revealing that the dancer has opted to let her traveling cloak slip over her shoulders exposing the curve hugging dress beneath. While not quite as provocative as her dancing garb, the low-cut garment is clearly meant to draw a lustful eye: several decorative cutouts at the waist display her smooth, toned abdomen and thigh-high slashes to either side allow her long legs to flash into view as she strides (struts, really, if he's being honest) towards the ship. She catches his eye and throws him a conspiratorial wink and he relaxes his grip on his sword. When did I reach for my sword? Shaking off his momentary flash of possessiveness, he turns his attention back to the task at hand. A pair of deckhands lean over the railing, calling back to their captain and pointing down at the approaching couple, their words lost to the wind. He looks up from his maps, stares at them for the briefest of moment, and then barks out a laugh. With just a few long strides he descends the gangplank and meets them at the bottom, leaning casually against a stack of crates.
The blond man sketches an elegant bow. "Well, well. If it isn't Lord Berg." He places slight emphasis on the name, knowing it for a falsehood. "Ah, and that would make you the Lady Thorn, no? A pleasure to meet you, m'Lady. Word of your beauty could not do you justice, your radiance outshines the sun."
Primrose inclines her head slightly, her eyes lowered and a gentle smile curling her lips. Olberic clenches his jaw, adjusting his swordbelt before extending a hand in greeting. "Well met, Captain Bastralle."
"Well met indeed," he replies smoothly, amusement sparkling in his pale blue eyes as he clasps arms with the taller warrior. "So! To business, then? I am not accustomed to taking on passengers, you know, but Mistress Colzione is dear to me. I find it difficult to to deny her anything. As a result, my accommodations likely leave a bit to be desired. I've gone ahead and cleared out my own cabin for your personal use, Lady Thorn. I pray that you find its poor comfort sufficient."
"That was terribly kind of you, Captain. You did not have to put yourself out," Primrose says.
"Nonsense, my Lady. I wouldn't dream of exposing such a lovely creature to the rigors of shipboard life. Lord Berg, I've set you up in my first mate's cabin. Not quite as spacious, naturally, but it beats sleeping on the deck."
"That won't be necessary," Olberic rumbles, pausing when Primrose lays a slender hand on his forearm.
"Actually, Captain, I would prefer to remain closer to Lord Berg," Her sultry voice was silk over steel; this was not being posed as a request. The warrior shifts his weight, tucking his thumbs behind his swordbelt and assuming a slightly more relaxed stance.
Bastralle flashes a charming smile. "You are quite safe aboard my ship, lovely Lady. I know we seafaring men have a terrible reputation among the rest of the world, but I assure you that none of my men will dare to lay a finger upon you lest they face my wroth." He pulls his flowing sapphire cloak back from his hip, displaying an elaborately engraved blue spear as if to emphasize his point.
Primrose quirks an eyebrow at the former pirate, amusement dancing in her amber eyes. "You misunderstand, Captain, though I do appreciate the gesture. I have no fear of unwelcome fingers when my Lord is at my side, where he belongs." Neither of the men miss her emphasis.
"Ah," Bastralle replies, giving Olberic an appraising glance. Olberic hoped he was remembering the time they had sparred in the streets of Rippletide. It had not gone in the pirate's favor. The blond man leans back, running his eyes over Primrose. A hint of disappointment is evident in the set of his mouth. "I see. Well, if that is your preference, then so be it." He steps back, bowing with a flourish and motioning wide with one arm. "Come aboard, and be welcome."