An Early Evening Run

[Eidolon]

Byron

"Worry not good Lady Malaika! I will be turned out for a day on the city. Perhaps even freshly bathed and cleanly dressed...likely so actually. Light but would it be disastrous for both our reputations if you were seen being led about by some brutish labor hand as I no doubt look now." He grinned again, looking himself over with a well measured hint of discomfort. "Not that I much mind how people view me, of course."

She had seemed vaguely off-put at his mention of dancing. Not quite the peaked interest of a woman that thought fondly of the idea, nor exactly the disdain of those rare women who truly disliked the activity. No, something in between. But, she hadn't denied him the prospect, so now it was but a gamble and a challenge. Things he found much too enjoyable to be persuaded away from by so light hearted of warnings.

Mistress Osilia finally emerged from the kitchen again to see off the last of her other patrons, quietly snuffing a few spare lanterns about the far side of the room, then after a moment's fuss to clean their tables she finally made her way towards the pair, laying a hand on a chair adjacent to their table and looking to Malaika for her approval for the older woman to join them.

Byron of course gazed up at her in apparent disbelief that Osilia would so quickly ignore him for his guest (as good mannered as it might have been) and his mouth worked as if to find words to properly voice his concern for her so coldly abandoning him for a complete (albeit interesting, well mannered and generally pleasant and good natured) stranger.

Malaika

Malaika should have guessed he would not be so easily dissuaded, and given the mischievous nature of him, suspected belatedly that she had probably only made things worse by claiming lack of ability, particularly if he assumed she was just being coy with her remark. Perhaps he would forget. She was not sure she could be so impolite as to outright refuse, especially given her peculiar reasons why and his kindness in indulging her curiosities with such good humour in the first place, but if she continued to insist that she couldn’t dance (which was still very true) then there was always the danger he might insist on teaching her, which would be infinitely worse. Oh, she wished she had said nothing, now.

“I suppose a wash wouldn’t go amiss,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose, though she could smell nothing from where she sat but the fresh scents of dried leaves and woodchip. Truthfully, she did not care how he decided to dress, whether that was rough dock hand or well turned out gentleman - or whatever mask he chose to adopt for the occasion. Malaika was not particularly aesthetic, as her own plain attire suggested, but she appreciated that appearance was as an important part of his glamour as his accents and stories and eccentricities. Integral to his reputation(s), of course. And apparently hers, too - the thought of which almost made her laugh as she rested her chin in a cupped hand, half hiding her smile behind her fingers. No, she did not think there was anyone in the whole of Tar Valon who would be even remotely interested in the company kept by a reclusive Brown as she.

She looked up as Mistress Osilia approached, aware of Byron's antics from the corner of her eye, but ignoring them. It took her a moment to realise the woman appeared to be waiting for permission, and her expression warmed in greeting. It was difficult not to recall the earlier seriousness of the conversation, but she was Aes Sedai, after all, and whatever thoughts flitted through her mind, they did not stray to her face. She noted that they were the last ones left, and though she was sure the Mistress would be far too polite to turf them out, was aware that few had the luxury of keeping odd hours the way those at the Tower did; Osilia had probably been working hard all day, and would find no reprieve on the morrow. Light, is it so late already?

“The food was wonderful, Mistress Osilia” She made a gesture to suggest that the woman was very welcome to sit and join them, but equally kept an eye out for signs that she would rather shut up shop and retire to bed.

Byron

"A finer fare then she usually provides for me! I'd best remember to keep bringing guests, I clearly get better treatment when I've company!" He was all grins and light of tone, clearly joking even as he smoothly gained his feet and pulled a chair for Osilia to sit, playing quite the gentleman as he tucked it in.

Mistress Osilia simply sniffed in mock disdain as she sat, although she did give Byron's hand a thankful pat as he tucked in her chair, clealy glad to be off her feet. "I have to watch what you eat young man. You don't seem to have half a mind for taking care of yourself after all." She waved pointedly at Byron's poor state of dress, and the woman finally seemed to relax into her seat. "Although I'd turn the other cheek if you came by to rub my feet more often."

He frowned and puffed up a bit at that, "We can't have people knowing I do such things Mistress Osilia! Light, but if some Aes Sedai discovers I've even a touch of skill at massage, well...t'would be over for me wouldn't it?"

She patted his shoulder comfortingly but looked to Malaika anyways, "Claims he learned in from a village healer a few years ago. A good shoulder rub can feel wonderful after a long day's work. Of course, I'd never have known had I not been doing something a woman half my age shouldn't have tried."

"Yes, well, I keep telling you to hire some help! You can't go moving all those boxes by yourself all the time Mistress Osilia. She walked about three days with a right terrible twink in her back, all snappy and irritable and not willing to say why. Creator strike me blind if I didn't think I had done something wrong the way she near took my head off before I found out." He managed to sound both reprimanding, hurt and worried all at once, fidgeting in his chair briefly and clearly resisting the urge to put his feet up again. "Of course, there are some scented oils the Domani use sometimes. Not rare, exactly, but rather uncommon as they're most often used in more...familiar sessions." Now he was just trying to play up his reputation again; balance the good with the bad, his tone playfully suggestive as he even offered Mistress Osilia a wink before wilting under her almost motherly glare.

Malaika

Observing the interactions between Byron and Osilia always proved amusing, and Malaika's soft expression was quite content as the woman joined them. Where she had been talkative before (or what classed as such for her) she faded back to gentle silence now, as she often did in conversations with more than one other. It was quite natural for her to sit back and watch, rather than engage with others, particularly in company she was not so familiar with. Her eyes twinkled at the playful banter, and even behind her hand it was clear she was smiling.

It seemed to her, despite Byron's protests to the contrary, that he rather wanted his eclectic skills to be known, and she wondered if he were expecting - or hoping - that she might share what she had learned of him with her sisters. She was not a Green, though, and while Aes Sedai of all ajahs gossiped about the men and women on the fields, Malaika was rarely among their number. A man so lavishly social must have plenty of Aes Sedai acquaintances anyway, and she refused to believe that none of them could see through his exterior. She shrugged the thought away as Mistress Osilia addressed her, and her gaze flickered between the two as they teased one another.

More… “familiar” sessions. Light! The thought of massage seemed “familiar” enough contact without the added innuendo - a nuance she only picked up on in respect of his wink and Osilia’s glare. He did seem to like displaying his prowess so, like a peacock fanning his feathers, although to what point she wasn’t exactly sure. Her gaze drifted away, lest she find herself swept up in that particular conversation, and she almost wished for the distraction of more tea if she hadn’t drank quite enough of the stuff already. It was not that she minded such candid conversation as much as she had very little to add to it, and he had already made her blush once this evening.

“Do you run the teahouse by yourself then, Mistress Osilia?” She had not noticed any others serving the tables, but then she had been too engrossed in Byron’s tales and her own thoughts to pay much mind. There must at least be others in the kitchens? She had noted Byron’s concern, wrapped in roguishness as it was, though, and thought to ask anyway.

Byron

It was fine reasoning; just why did Byron's odd array of skills and background keep coming up in conversation? Certainly, it was easy to assume he was boasting. He wouldn't deny that he was a sort of Jack of All Trades, and that many of his skills were rather outside of the usual schooling of a Warder. But did he boast for his own ego? To fuel rumour mills and perhaps even market himself out? Or did he simply allow them to come up because he enjoyed her reactions? Malaika seemed to be enjoying herself, between ferreting out little tidbits of his past to even the faint blushes at his more 'liberal' stories.

It seemed clear that she wasn't the type for gossip, especially considering how long it took to get her to even mention anything of her own opinions on various things (he would certainly remember not to liken Warders to loyal dogs around her again), and he had little worry of her divulging too much about the 'Gleeman out of motley' she had met on the streets. So why was he so open? To most Aes Sedai, he seemed energetic and overly talkative, pleasant enough in an immature sense. Point in fact, there were only a handful of Aes Sedai he had ever really had anything more then a passing conversation with in what felt like ages.

"Not entirely, Lady Malaika. I do have some helpers for part of the day. Aery and Hadna, but both have grandchildren. They are much too old to be lugging boxes for me." She smiled softly, clearly fond of her two employees, "Besides. It just means that this young lout has to come visit whenever he can to help out around here. Otherwise, who knows what sort of real trouble he could get himself into."

He sighed heavily and rubbed his shoulder as if it were paining him, "I'm still stiff from the last shipment. Blood and ashes woman, you could at least rent a cart or wheel barrow or some such next time! Lugging a crate of spices from the docks to here is tiring work! Especially when the crate is half the size of a respectable ale keg!"

Mistress Osilia just shook her head and looked to Malaika, smiling sympathetically for her having spent the entire night in his company. "He does enjoy the sound of his own voice. Especially when he's complaining about something. It was a small box, just some spices. Weighed less then a good sized mouser!" Mouser, barn cats, the lazy brutes of a farm house lawn charged with keeping the mice out of the grain.

He sputtered and leaned into the table to look at her in apparent shock, "Aye it was heavy! Especially when you find need to stop and jawjack with every stranger on the street! Creator take my foot if it weren't a half afternoon's walk from the docks to here with all your little stops! Ninnering on about so-and-so's son? 'Oh, is Kay still with little Arilla? They're such a cute couple!' 'Oh my no, Kay's working on a ship these days, off to see the world. Hear he met someone up in Whitebridge now, settling down to start a family!' 'Oh dear me no, but what of poor Arilla? Whatever shall she do?' 'Oh my no need to worry about her dear, why she's bookkeeping for a Domani merchant now. Sound head on that merchant's shoulders, although you wouldn't know for how she dresses! Scandalous!'" He flipped between a close facimily of Mistress Osilia's voice (perhaps a bit on the shrill side) and of some empty-head sounding but equally womanly voice, head tilting side to side for either impersonation, hands held up and flapping at each other as if they were the two involved.

Malaika

Malaika watched Osilia as she spoke, and thought about just how apparent it was that the woman cared for Byron as though he really were her son, and how lucky she was that that care was just as clearly reciprocated. A tangled web, all history taken into account, but it suddenly seemed very simple. She might not understand Byron’s motives, and certainly had no right to pass judgement, but accepted that the relationship the two shared was far too precious to destroy over something as intangible as the truth. There is no truth, only the lie we like the best. The only person Byron hurt with the lie he had chosen was himself. Light, but it’s far too late for convoluted philosophy like that!

Her lips quirked to silent laughter as they argued over the size of the spice crate, glad for the blithe distraction; left unchecked, she was far too prone to serious contemplation, and it was pleasant to be care-free for a while. She might not be sure how to interact in such a situation, but it didn’t dampen her enjoyment of it, either. For that reason it was amusing that Osilia should sound as though she were expressing sympathy for Malaika’s ‘unfortunate’ predicament as the unwary Lady snared by wit and charm, only to discover the trap of an inescapable bore. Malaika didn’t challenge Osilis’s assumption - she thought it likely another facet of the two’s teasing rapport - but her gaze did slide to Byron with no small amusement at the misunderstanding.

He, of course, was quite in his element. She was fairly certain Osilia wouldn’t take too kindly to that particular rendition (not to mention the flapping hands), but it was amusing to watch all the same, in a comical, juvenile kind of way. He had a knack for capturing voices; the subtle inflections and tones that made a persona rather than simply an accent, and she suspected that he could some even closer to the mark had he not been playing with parody.

“But at least you spared Mistress Osilia’s shoulders, yes?” She did not think he would be so daft as to injure himself that way anyway, and certainly he did not lack the stamina given his unusual training practices. Not to mention that he was, after all, one of the gaidin. Quite unbidden, she laughed a little then; a hum of a sound, since she still had her chin rested in her hand, half her mouth covered by cupped fingers. "Perhaps it's time Mistress Osilia saw to marrying you off? Pitter-patter of tiny feet; she should have no end of youthful helpers, then." A jest, and only because of the distaste he had shown toward marriage earlier. And the playful complaining he did now. Gaidin didn't wed anyway, unless to their Aes Sedai she supposed, but it was bountiful ammunition for the teahouse Mistress, and probably enough fodder for her and Byron to banter well into the early hours.

Byron

Byron seemed quite happy for a moment. He'd gotten an honest laugh out of her after all, and Mistress Osilia was enjoying herself too. What was the point of life if you couldn't enjoy the little things? Sure, it was tiring work, but it was reward enough for even that brief and incredibly subdued outburst of Malaika's, hidden rather cutely behind her hand. But then she had to go and bring up one of his most dreaded of topics. Another near perfect act on his part, if not for the ever present hint of mischief in his eyes.

"I've been thinking of that very thing, Lady Malaika. He's getting on in years, and it's about time a good, dependable man like Byron settled down. He'd need a strong willed woman though, some one that can get a short leash over that thick head of his." Osilia cast Byron a very pointed look, smiling sharply at the apparent discomfort in his posture. It was always a tender topic for Byron, although he never really explained why.

"Both Aery and Hadna have daughters you know. You've met them before, they stop in from time to time to visit. No doubt either one would be interested in settling down. They're eligible, bright, and strong willed enough to keep the likes of you in line." Her smile had all the warmth of a block of ice imported from the mountains to keep some manipulative and calculating Cairheinin Noble's wine cool.

Byron sat still a moment, glancing helplessly from one woman to the other, clearly hoping for more support from Malaika then he was likely to find with Osilia. For all his squirming and discomfort, it was an act, simply playing the part. Although he really was terrified of the thought of marriage. "But...Mistress Osilia! I'd be a terrible father! Gambling away our savings, drinking to all hours of the night, getting into fights, always away!"

"And you earn more then you lose gambling, as much as I hate the idea of it. You'd have no end of stories for the kids to help them sleep. And you're much too loyal. You'd never do anything to hurt them, and you know it. Once you get to know someone, you're the type to stick with them." She smiled warmly, clearly proud of her 'adopted' son, and Byron managed to beam under the praise.

All his outward beaming was part of his mask of course. She had touched too close to something that was still a tender topic for him, considering his rather morbid history with her departed brother. True to form, he carried through without anything more a brief aversion of his eyes. "But the travelling! Unless she were a Tinker maybe? I am rather fond of those little wagons. And music. Dancing. Wonderful food. Did I mention the dancing? I was just saying earlier they have this one that's..."

"I know Byron, I know. If you let him keep on this topic too much, he might just try and show you a few steps." The way she sniffed and cast him a careful glare likely meant that he'd tried it before, and while Mistress Osilia didn't seem particularly prudish, clearly Byron's antics must have been a bit too much the last time. Of course, she still couldn't quite hide an amused gleam in her eyes.

Not one to be the sole target of such abuse, Byron drummed his fingers across the table top and pointed vaguely at the two women, finger drifting from one to the other almost accusingly, "And what about you two? Mistress Osilia? You should be married and settled by now, no doubt about it! Too busy working, you are. What about that strapping old blacksmith you were so interested in chatting with the other day? All that nannering about pots and pans and what not. He gave you a puzzle too! Made special for you. And you good Lady Malaika? Years ahead of you yet, but a long life is only as rewarding as the company you share it with." His tone drifted from teasingly confrontational to surprisingly...knowing, having seen no end of Aes Sedai that had spent many long years sequestered away from the outside world, their only interactions with Tower servants and a few of their Aes Sedai friends.

Malaika

Malaika’s eyes closed a fraction at Mistress Osilia’s phrasing, unknowing as it was. Leash. A short leash. It shouldn’t have reverberated the way it did, and she certainly shouldn’t have allowed herself to react with what, in the subtle language of Aes Sedai, was equivalent to a flinch. But she had nothing to gain, here, in being emotionless. It wasn’t entirely a slip, just another indication of how relaxed Malaika was in the present company. And perhaps it would explain some of her attitudes, if Byron had not already worked out what she had once been. If marriage can be described in such a way, maybe he has just cause to fear it.

His defence seemed so vehement that she wondered if it were entirely an act, or if there was something more behind it. She couldn’t tell; he seemed so many things at once. Perhaps he had already lost a wife or sweetheart - he was not so young that it was impossible - but it could also just be a card he used for its entertainment value, or a facet of his established mask that made the reaction expected by those who ‘knew’ him. Probably it was not as simple as any one reason. Smoke and mirrors; some things about him were obvious, but she didn’t think he let on much more than he ever intended, despite how his chatter made him appear transparent.

Her humour dipped a bit at Osilia unintentionally stinging words, full of genuine praise as they were, and she almost regretted clearing the path for such a comment. Not that Byron particularly showed any discomfort; in fact, she might only have noticed that brief aversion of his gaze because of what she knew of his story. She tried to catch his eye to express some form of apology, though she didn’t exactly know why. His guilt was his own doing, but she did not like to have facilitated those feelings in him. She supposed she had decided, no matter the questionable things he had done - and those, only, that she knew about - that he had a good heart.

Malaika found herself unsurprised that he managed to return the conversation to crudeness - or would have, if Osilia had not deftly cut him off - and wondered just how much that was a defensive mechanism, too. Though the subject matter had made her blush before, with the teahouse Mistress like a robust iron fortress, the Brown only seemed amused, now. She wasn’t phased by the return fire, either, though she hadn’t even considered that the tease might be reversed around.

They weren’t talking of marriage anymore, if Osilia didn’t know it. She wanted to frown, but refrained, and settled for a vague shrug. The cloud of her gaze suggested an inner retreat, though she did not seem perturbed so much as contemplative. She was very used to keeping her own company, and she’d never considered the bond as a form of companionship before. Her prejudices were too deep-rooted to see beyond her fears, and a fear never shared was never addressed. “A scholar like me? I have more books, than suitors.” She deflected the issue, and clearly answered about marriage not bonding. It was not out of an effort to hide; if he thought about it long enough (and there was no real reason why he should) he could probably piece enough together to figure out a fairly accurate guess as to the source of her aversion.

Malaika did not consider herself lonely, but she was often alone. She was remedying the reclusiveness, though, and had told him of her intentions to travel; the Browns were not all a sedentary lot, and while Malaika was socially inexperienced she was of a warm demeanour; not the most vigorous of company, but certainly kind-hearted. An Aes Sedai might expect to outlive the non-channelers around her, but she would not cut herself off from the world before she had even had a chance to explore it. And, as he had pointed out (controversially, since age was something of a taboo subject, though Malaika barely even noticed) she was still very young.

Not wanting to fall too deeply to serious thought, she turned her attention to Osilia, head gently tilted. "A blacksmith, Mistress Osilia? And a strapping fellow, too? It might be pleasant to have a big, strong man about the place." She glanced ruefully at Byron, but he would just have to take the dent to his ego if he wished the usually muted Brown to lend him her support in the playful banter.

Byron

That was the final peice of the puzzle for Byron. He hadn't quite noticed it at first; the slight narrowing of her eyes at Mistress Osilia's comment. What had she said? Something about marriage and strings. A short leash. Now why had she found that so distasteful? But then again, she also hadn't been fond of the idea of Warders being thought of as loyal animals. She was clearly Seanchan. Why hadn't he noticed it sooner?

He quietly chastised himself for not having peiced it together sooner. He hadn't really given it any thought, but all the little details clicked all too clearly now. It dawned on him just as Mistress Osilia had made a comment that had unsettled him in turn, and he glanced to Malaika hoping to offer a silent apology for his own wool-headedness, only to find her offering an equally sympathetic look for him. She was all too aware of his rather sortid past, so why in the Light would she offer him any sympathy for something he had done to himself? Well, it was appreciated all the same.

Then she was lost to her thoughts for a moment, likely giving his comment much more thought then it deserved. She was prone to it, clearly, and seemed very eager in silently debating and pondering near everything he said. It was a strange feeling, that she was paying quite that much attention to his usually inane ramblings. Certainly not bad, but almost rewarding that she even bothered to see through his stories. What conclusions had she come too? He was certain no shortage of them were close to the mark. He had never really said he had done anything to his old employers, but had she figured it out? The poisons and treachery that had been their downfall?

More books then suitors? Not surprising really. Was any man, other then a Warder or those destined for the role, really brave enough to try and court an Aes Sedai? Light, few Warders even tried it. They were an odd breed, both Warder and Aes Sedai, foreswearing love and marriage and the other common joys of humans for the Tower and the Light. Most found it emboldening, a matter of epic stories and even a grudging respect for their sacrifice. He couldn't help but find it sad; men and women alike deserved a chance for happiness, no matter their title.

"Aye, built like a brick house, that man is. Doubt he'd fit through the door without having to turn side ways! Short though. And bald. That's probably from years around the forge. No arm hair either, it's a bit disturbing considering the thick tufts of it sticking out from under that leather apron of his. I imagine you'd have him slaving over a stove baking pies and sweet breads in no time." Byron was rather fond of his build; he wasn't a strapping, muscle ripped image of manliness most Warders seemed to be, but he was certainly well turned out.

Mistress Osilia's back stiffened at Byron's description of the man in question, but she clearly thought to ignore it and looked to Malaika instead, "He's just an old friend is all. Been tending my pots and stove for years now, and we get along just fine as we are. He was married once, but his wife passed away some years ago. Two kids, one being little Arila, as Byron here so smoothly mentioned earlier." Another glare for Byron and the man wilted a bit, awkwardly glancing away as if something on the wall had caught his interest.

"He's a good man though. It's an uphill fight just to let me pay for his work, you see. Stubborn lout of a man, seems to think I need his help for free. I'd say he's wool-headed but well...Byron is right, there isn't a hair on his head." She grinned then, her tone hinting at a greater fondness then she was wanting to let on, "But he has his forge, and I have my kitchen, and while I can hardly depend on Byron here, he's all I have."

Byron's eyes widened then narrowed conspiratorially, fingers tapping out a quick beated tune of some tavern song or another. The one in question being a rather bold one about a noble woman falling for some simple dirt farmer and the two ended up running away together. Perfectly suited for what he had in mind. Time to play match maker. He glanced at Malaika while Osilia wasn't looking, and gave her a knowing wink and a nudge of his head to Osilia, hinting at what he might be up to for the next few days. Getting the old tea house Mistress and the blacksmith in question together. Not that he wouldn't have plenty of time for her tour, of course. That took priority, what with she being Aes Sedai and he a Warder.

Malaika

Malaika smiled at the conspiracy. It didn’t surprise her that Byron should take an interest in Mistress Osilia’s well-being, and it seemed to Malaika that the foundation was already there - there was fondness in the tea mistress’s tone and a twinkle in her eye that belied her indignation at the implication. All it needed was some gentle encouragement. Insist too hard and she would likely dig her heels in harder than a grolm. But make her believe it her own initiative, else encourage the blacksmith to be less subtle in his affections, and she thought things would run their course.

The young Aes Sedai crossed her feet at the ankles and leaned comfortably towards Osilia, her voice soft as though she meant to speak woman to woman under the tapping beat of Byron’s tune.

“Gestures like that speak a thousand words, Mistress Osilia. Not every man can have a tongue as silver as your Byron’s, to be able to express their feelings in words.” She sported the doe-eyed, romantic look one might expect of the Lady she was playing, but she spoke rather solemnly, and with an air more knowledgeable than she was in reality - about this sort of thing, anyway. But even she could tell that Osilia and the blacksmith seemed as stubborn as one another, and he would not refuse payment for his wares if he didn’t return her feelings.

There was no point pushing the tea mistress now, though. Despite the hints of affection, Osilia was outwardly bristling - presumably at the implication that she should need a man when she survived perfectly fine without one, irrespective that she clearly cared for him, which was the main point. Planting some seeds of thought could not hurt, though, to help Byron on his quest. Malaika offered Osilia a small and honest smile as she sat back. Even should Osilia reject the words of a stranger, they were clearly well meant.

Her gaze returned to Byron. ”Another talent creeping from the woodwork? Are you musical, too?”

Byron

Well well well. He hadn't expected anything of the sort of the young Aes Sedai. Not only was she being an active part of the conversation, she was so comfortable with the idea that she was even acting! Light but it was a heartwarming sight, and she was even subtle about it. Certainly a bit of work to get it down right, but he would have never expected anything of the sort of her. He couldn't help but smile warmly, clearly approving of her antics.

Mistress Osilia took it near as well, but without any of the insight Byron had. Coming from Malaika, a seemingly well-to-do, educated stranger, her opinion was strangely enlightening. It wasn't the first time she had heard such an argument, but that had always come from over-bearing friends or the occasional glib remark from Byron. She frowned in thought, clearly thinking the situation over in a new light, and Byron just smiled charmingly and settled back in his seat, looking to Malaika.

"Could there have been any doubt, good Lady Malaika? Your first impression wasn't far off the mark I'd say. I've little doubt that I'm better with a lute then a sword, a flute then a bow. Light's blessings but I've turned to crossbows rather then spend the years training with a good longbow." He grinned ruefully, offering only a vague shrug of an apology at the admission. As any Warder, Byron was fine hand with a sword, but only in the grand scheme of things. Pitted against any of his brothers or sisters, he lost nine out of ten matches. Against a common man, however, well...he was a Warder after all. A Warder who was poor with a sword was still a far sight better then the average soldier.

"I dare say he could make a far better living with music then he does with dice." Osilia had drifted out of her own thoughts to pounce on this new topic with gusto, looking at Byron dissaprovingly (as usual) before turning to Malaika, "He plays here sometimes, and he knows songs from all over."

He grinned and shrugged off the compliment dismissively, ignoring her earlier glare, "I've always said the best people to go to to learn a new song is the Tinkers. They make a living of it you know, looking for songs. Well, one song actually, but they've no end of love for any song they can find. Anything really, from the silliest of feast day jigs to the most heart-wrenching of epic ballads, ones to make the blood run cold from fear or loss, or boil from righteous anger or lust."

Osilia sighed and shook her head, letting Byron fall into his rant, glancing at Malaika with a hidden smile, clearly not so exhausted of is tirades as she made it seem, "And the stories! They've no end of tales, gleaned and passed down over hundreds of years! They, truely, are an untapped wealth. Recipes too! The things they can do with so modest a bounty as a few rabbits and some tubers. Light's blessings if they have a few onions on hand. Amazing, truely!" He clearly had a high opinion of the Tuatha'an.

Malaika

Malaika noticed Byron's smile, some odd mix of approval and amusement, and wondered why he should be so surprised. She was Aes Sedai, after all, whether she could be considered ordinary of her sisters or not, and an Aes Sedai knew how to get what she wanted. Malaika wasn’t judicious or ruthless in her use of manipulation - and she certainly wasn’t as duplicitous as a Blue - but subtle persuasion, gentle nurture; those things she could do, and usually to good result - and with the recipient none-the-wiser, too. It was her nature to want to encourage the best for people; she had adopted the Lady persona Osilia might expect to see without thinking, but the words had been hers. She almost shrugged, but did not wish Mistress Osilia to suspect her as anything less than genuine; she had been genuine, point in fact, but if she caught the undercurrents of the silent conversation between Aes Sedai and Warder, she might doubt.

Well, no, it wasn't a surprise to learn he was musical; but it had been the swiftest topic change she could think of, lest Osilia begin to feel the intimacies of her private life were being openly scrutinised. More of Byron's teasing, good natured as it was, would only make her more resistant, and she had wanted to leave the tea mistress pondering, not fuming. Of course, Malaika, being so inexperienced in such social situations, had grasped the first thing her usually leisurely thought processes could latch onto - in this case, Byron's fingers drumming against the tabletop. Never mind that it might be questioning the obvious…

A gaidin who professed to be better with flute or lute than sword or bow only meant a gaidin that was extraordinarily gifted with those instruments, as opposed to poor with those weapons. Warders were weapons in one way or another; it was what they were for, as much as that was a distressing thought. She had already discovered how dangerous Byron could be to cross, but he did not seem to fit very comfortably in his box - in fact, he plain refused to get in it, as far as Malaika’s perceptions of Warders had been before tonight.

Tinkers. He plainly had a high opinion of them, to bring them into the conversation so often. Malaika's mentor among the Brown Ajah had once been a Tinker, and certainly still dressed the part, in the brightest most vibrant colours - all clashing fabrics and patterns and styles. Her personality was equally effervescent, and Malaika could imagine how Byron might feel kinship with the Tuatha'an if Eithne was representative of their sort. A shame the woman was already Bonded - and to one of the Sea Folk, no less - because she imagined that the jovial Brown would enjoy Byron's company. And probably could have found a use for his unique skillset, too, given the extensive and subtle webs the woman was able to weave. Contrary to what Byron seemed to think of the Browns, she actually thought no fair few of her Ajah sisters would be fond of him and his stories, if they had known his existence. Adira wrote and collected fiction, and Wyne studied its history (though the latter would no longer accept another Warder, after losing so many in such a short span of time). But it wasn't her business to find him a bondmate.

“Have you spent much time amongst the Tinkers?” He must have done, to sound so affectionate of their way of life. There was probably a woman attached to the story somewhere, she’d warrant - she almost asked who she was, but refrained from backtracking to a subject no-one seemed that willing to discuss. And it was probably too personal a subject, anyway. His experiences of the people, though; that she would love to hear, if Mistress Osilia did not mind listening to such stories for, it seemed, about the millionth time.

Byron

Byron grinned warmly and shrugged dismissively, "A handful of visits over the years. First was when my horse was bit by a snake. That's when I learned that rather entertaining dance" A determined sniff and brief glare from Osilia kept him on topic, although there could be little doubt he had been about to launch into another tirade about that particular memory, "I've taken to accepting a day or two detour from time to time if I learn of a group near by. Always pleasant...every group feels like family once they come to accept you. Which is fairly easy with them. A bit of ceremony out of the way, then it's a night of food and drink, song and story. Helps that I'm a quick learner I suppose."

Mistress Osilia smiled and shook her head, "A quick learner when there's drink involved. Although you haven't been indulging near as much lately, have you? You usually stop by for some tea to help nurse your hangovers."

He sat up a bit more proudly, "It's true, Mistress Osilia. I've learned my lesson. With age comes wisdom...especially after one particularly nasty morning after. Just can't hold it as well as I used to, which could pose a problem for my reputation if anyone finds out." He glanced between the two women hoping they might understand that he didn't want that little tidbit to get out. He was past his champion drinking days, and into the downward spirall of hangovers the morning after.

"But to the point...if I even have one? I've learned plenty from my short visits with the Tuatha'an. A very wise people, no shortage of stories and wisdoms to be found. They seem to meet from time to time, share what they've learned. Music mostly, songs and even the occasional dance, but there seems to be little left out there for them to discover." He shrugged a bit, not really sure how to feel about that. There were always new songs, but most were simply a matter of rewording an older one.

Mistress Osilia sighed and patted Byron's hand, looking to Malaika, "No shortage of broken hearts either. If he hasn't told me every time he visits them that he's fallen in love, well...something simply wouldn't be right in the world."

"Yes, well...a fundamental clash of philosophy I suppose? For all my willingness to turn the other cheek in a conflict, there are times when their Way of the Leaf simply can't work in the real world. Sad, for sure, but true all the same. As much as I enjoy their company, I always have a tendency of bringing, or causing, trouble and have to leave again." Byron smiled softly, fingers drumming the tabletop again in a brief jovial rhythm and then he shrugged it off. "All for the best anyways. Certainly wouldn't be right of me to go and settle down somewhere else. There's always a chance someone around here will need me for something eventually. Other then shopping trips."