Olberic descends the staircase quickly, only taking care to quell his smile a moment before he crosses into the common area. He has no idea which of his companions he will be joining at this hour and absolutely no desire to give anything away, particularly to young Therion. The pale-haired rogue was too cocky by half and Olberic had no intention of listening to any variation of "I told you so". A quick scan of the room reveals a distinct lack of smirking thieves but judging by the mirthful expression on Alfyn's face, the knight wasn't sure that the apothecary and scholar were a much better option.

"Well good morning, Sir Olberic! How was your...sleep?" Alfyn pats the bench next to him, grinning up at the knight.

Olberic bows slightly, his expression carefully neutral. "Restful. I hope all is well with you gentlemen."

"Oh, splendid! Why I was just telling Alfyn here how much I admired your vigor. You must have been at it quite early this morning," Cyrus greeted him amiably.

Olberic raises his eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your strict training regimen. I pride myself on being something of an early riser, but you were up and out so early today that I daresay your bed has nary a wrinkle."

Alfyn laughs, clapping a hand on the mage's shoulder. "Sir Olberic here is notorious for his rigorous training schedule. Why, I imagine he was up for most of the night drilling away while the rest of us lay abed," he winks at the large warrior. "Just pace yourself, sir, we can't have ya wearing yourself thin, now. I can only take care of so many patients at once before I overextend myself here."

Olberic stares at Alfyn silently for a moment. A serving girl approaches and he occupies himself ordering an assortment of breakfast items to bring back up to Primrose's room. When he finishes, the men's conversation has turned to the dancer and her recovery.

"Not to overstep here, but I recall stumbling upon some reading in years past which may help," Cyrus interjects. Olberic opens his mouth to reply but the scholar was already off and running. "I found the most intriguing scrolls detailing exercise techniques of an ancient sect of wise men. Controlling your respiration and heart rate, muscle extension, that sort of thing. Perhaps young Primrose might benefit from a bit of deep stretching and strengthing her chest muscles. Have you examined her thoroughly?"

Alfyn barely contains a grin. "Oh aye, she's recovering quite well. Strong girl. I saw to her wounds earlier, but I suspect good Sir Olberic here gave her a much more thorough exam. Would y'say she needs some deep stretching there, Sir Olberic? How was her breathing?" He leans forward, grinning openly now. "Are you feeling alright? I'm not sure I've ever seen someone turn quite that shade of red..."

"That...will be quite enough, thank you Alfyn. Cyrus, I will be sure and relay your suggestions to Lady Primrose," Olberic rises, nodding politely to the scholar. "Now then, if one of you would be so kind as to track down Sister Ophilia while I bring some food up? We need to see about some clothing to replace what the Lady lost."

"Oh! Do let me assist with that, Sir Olberic! It would be my honor to help select some attire for our fair dancer!" Cyrus beams up at the knight.

Olberic's eyes widen. "I...Ah...While I appreciate the offer, I simply could not impose..."

"Nonsense!" Cyrus beamed. "T'would be my pleasure! I know just the place, as it happens. My very own personal tailor comes from Noblecourt and maintains a small shopfront here!"

A vein was beginning to throb in the tall knight's temple. Alfyn's shoulders shake from silent laughter at Olberic's obvious discomfort. The apothecary gains control of himself long enough to interrupt, reminding Cyrus that he'd promised to assist H'aanit identify some of the local flora before they left the area. Olberic looks at him gratefully, gathers the breakfast tray and takes his leave before the exuberant scholar can come up with a way to accomplish both tasks.


"Oh, that wretched boy. Amused, was he? Do not fret over it, I will wipe that smirk off his face for him when I see him again," Primrose gestures pointedly with a cheese knife.

"I sincerely doubt he will bring it up so freely in front of you, Prim. This sort of ribbing is quite common amongst the men in the barracks, but it is not something generally repeated in front of the women." Olberic leans back, watching her eat. "I should not have troubled you with such nonsense."

The dancer chuckles at him. "Trust me, I have been subjected to far worse than a snickering country boy."

Olberic reaches towards her, covering her slender fingers with his calloused hands. She smiles at him, her lips parting slightly when he turns her hands over in his and brushes his lips against each of her palms. "Alfyn is harmless, but I will not tolerate any disrespect."

She sighs and scoops up the breakfast tray, dropping her knife onto it with a clatter, then leans across him to deposit it on the table next to the bed. She turns back and closes the distance between them, facing him and kneeling to straddle his legs. Not quite trusting her self control after their all too brief encounter the previous night she maintains a bit of space between them, holding her hips just above his lap. The dancer rests her arms on his broad shoulders, idly running her fingers through his thick black hair. "You are going to be a terribly busy man if you insist on making an example out of everyone who comments about me, you know."

His hands rest lightly on her hips, thumbs moving in slow circles on her stomach. "If I do it properly, it should only take one or two..."

She grins at him, hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. "I am being serious, Olberic. I dance. I enjoy the feeling, the power of being able to capture the attention of everyone in a room, of making them forget themselves for a time, and I don't intend to stop. Part of that hold leads to men flirting and making crude suggestions you might not wish to hear." She gives his hair an affectionate tug. "I need to be sure you are not going to carve up every leering fool we encounter in our travels and whatever lays beyond. I enjoy our time together and I'm looking forward to exploring things between us, but I am not in need of a keeper. I never was."

"Having you at my side is a gift. Being permitted to take you in my arms is a blessing I did not expect and do not deserve. I am not going to do anything to jeopardize that, I promise you. My sword and shield are yours, along with anything else you desire, for as long as you wish to possess them." He applies slight pressure, his large hands pressing her hips closer to his and she inhales sharply at the contact, tightening her legs to hold him against her. "You navigated this world just fine before I came along, I do not doubt your ability to continue to do so. If you need me, however, I am here."

He shifts his hips slightly, his growing bulge now resting directly beneath her heated core. She kisses him hard, grinding her hips against him as their tongues dance. His hands find their way under the hem of her shirt and glide up her bare back, rough fingers grazing her smooth skin and leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. She breaks the kiss with a gasp, arching her back and pressing her breasts into his chest. Her hands slip free of his hair and drop to clutch his shoulders, her fingernails digging into him as he pulls her closer and begins sucking gently at the pulse point below her jaw.

"Olberic," she moans, her voice thick with desire. "Please."

He nips at her throat, eliciting another gasp, then soothes the spot with tongue and lips. "Hmm?"

"Please," she breathes. "I need-"

A series of taps emanates from the locked door. "Lady Primrose? It's Ophilia. Are you awake?"

A stream of whispered obscenities pours from Olberic's lips, the vehemence shocking even Primrose for a moment. She laughs helplessly, clapping a hand over his mouth. "What is it, Sister?"

"Master Alfyn said you were looking for me earlier. I've brought you some clothing...is this a bad time?"

"I'll get rid of her," she whispers, brushing her lips against Olberic's ear.

He shakes his head, gently untangling himself from her arms. "Too soon," he mouths, nodding to her bandage-wrapped belly.

She frowns at him.

"Lady Primrose?" Ophilia calls from beyond the door. "Shall I return later?"

Primrose sighs, reluctantly pulling away from the knight and tugging her shirt back into place as she strides towards the door. She unlocks it and pulls it open sharply, enjoying the startled look on the blonde's face as she runs her wide blue eyes over the disheveled dancer. "No, now is fine. Olberic and I were just...discussing some plans."

Ophilia raises her eyebrows, pursing her lips but apparently deciding it was none of her business. "Seems like it was quite a spirited discussion. Are you sure that this much excitement is a good idea, considering?"

"A little excitement never hurt anyone, Sister. I will survive," the dancer replies casually. "Now then, let's see about some new clothing. I'm sure Olberic would like to get me out of this shirt at some point." She winks at him and he sighs, knuckling his forehead.

Ophilia giggles at her, too busy rummaging through her bags to catch the frustrated expression on the knight's face.