| Meeting Carmichael |
| Location: | The Crown and Rose, in Amber |
| Date: | April 10th, 2017 |
| Summary: | Rian meets his cousin, Benedict's son Carmichael. |
| Characters: | Carmichael and Rian. (Aine joins towards the end as a new scene begins.) |
| NPCs: | Keir |
Carmichael is sat at a specific table. It's a little out of the way, with a reasonable view of the tavern floor, but set to the side and out of the way. Although it's large, it's also mostly unoccupied and often has things like the cutlery stacked there, for ease of the servers. Tonight, all that has been moved. Carmichael, bandana on, blades arranged to hang neatly behind him, is people watching. He has a pint of bitter at hand, a terribly focused look on his face that's almost a thousand yard stare.
Rian enters the Crown and Rose from the street. His miniature gryphon is perched on his left shoulder and he is dressed in shabby-survivor chic trousers of natural tanned goat hide, matching boots and a dove-gray lenin tunic. He has a scruffy beard and unkept, long hair pulled back into a rough ponytail with a black lace ribbon. He looks around for an interesting table and for a moment looks ready to head straight up stairs when he notices Carmichael. He acquires a pint of beer and then approaches the otherwise unoccupied table, ignoring the other patrons present, and says, "Mind if I join you?" without an expination that the blades and combat attire are what attracted him to the man.
Carmichael's eyes focus on the here and the now. The man, first off, then with eyes pinning like a bird's, they focus on the little critter on his shoulder and he looks for a measure of a moment, to be astonished. That face is not one given of strong emotions, but rather a stoic outlook and subtleties, so the widening of eyes is a significant thing. Recovering himself he nods, pushing out a chair with one boot, "By all means," he offers, voice a deep whiskey and smoke. The man himself is taken in, from weather worn attire, to the unkempt lines that speak of 'endurance' rather than style. "I don't believe I've seen you before. I'm rather sure I'd remember," he offers that, signalling the barmaid with a little reverse nod. Oddly, she attends the table speedily. "Whatever this man wants… and bring gizzards for his friend."
"I've recently returned to Amber and was only here for about a month in my previous 'extended' visit," Rian says as he sits down after nodding his thanks at the order made on his behalf. He extendes a hand in greeting, "I'm Rian," he says as an introduction. Keir squacks on his shoulder and Rian adds, "This is Keir," with a slight inclination of his head towards his companion.
Carmichael peeps at the little gryphon on Rian's shoulder, a chuuuuuuuuurl sound like a warble manufactured in his throat as Kier is introduced. He nods to the animal AND the man. "Aah, a traveller then," he offers, giving a slight incline of the head, otherwise poised where he sits. He's occupying an off-to-the-side table, large but otherwise deserted and sporting a very large seating arrangement which is otherwise empty. Rian appears to just be joining him. "Rian and Kier… well met," he extends his hand, a signet ring on the right finger for meaning, looks a bit spendy. "Deputy Prince Marshal Carmichael Montfalcon, son of prince Benedict…" he offers his own greeting, one that explains the martial attire.
Keir returns the greeting noise to Carmichael as Rian shows some surprise at the interaction. "Well met Prince Carmichael," he says and then polietly corrects him, "Less a traveler and more a sailor who was left out of circulation entirely unwillingly."
Note: Corwin just +fingered you.
"Aaah," Carmichael responds with a faint smile at the correction. "I see… well, for such a man it will not be hard to find a ship again, perhaps even the very ship you were set adrift from, if such is your inclination, I'm sure." He offers that, lifting his bitter in a toast to Rian. "Where do you hale from?" Minos would be an obvious choice, but not with such an unusual pet! Thus, he takes nothing for granted there.
"Perhaps, would be nice to take her back from the mutinous crew I last saw sailing her," Rian says… perhpas explaining the scruffy look he currently sports. "I hale from Cameron originally, although I've familial ties to Amber," he explains to answer the question and then asks, "Which service are you tied to, Deputy Prince Marshal?"
"UGH! Deirdre's beard! GETOFF!!!" A small whirlwhind of red comes swirling through the door - literally. Aine is spinning in circles as she backs through, bumping hips and elbows against doors and frames as her hands swat through the air over her head. "Shoo! Go on! Scram! Get!" Just as the door tries to slam behind her, a bird swoops through, small crimson body, and vivid rainbow tailed plumeage trailing behind. "Caine's left ear you're irksome. Get out of here, go find your witch!"
Carmichael's eyes snap to the door at the dramatic entrance. The fiery bird gets tracked fleetingly, eyes narrowed on it, but he doesn't interfere with whatever harassment it's trying to give. For all he knows, it may be attempting to deliver a message to the one it's bothering at the moment, though he does give a little jaunty salute toward Aine, planing his hand out as if skimming the disorderly conduct away with the flick of his wrist. He returns eyes to Rian, "I'm the deputy prince Marshal, shipman Rian. I'm in charge of the army," he notes, a simple reply.
Rian nods after finishing his drink. "It was a pleaure to meet you, Prince Carmichael," then with a nod to Keir who's been enjoying the gizards Carm ordered for him, "You know your way into his heart also." He stands and Keir only slightly begrudgingly leaps up onto his man's shoulder. "Feel free to look for us here if you'd like to entertain our common friend again," the Minosian says as he steps away from the table. "I'm afraid the airs in the city have left me winded after years on a pristine island, so I will be retiring for the night to my room." He bows his head to the royal. The disturbance at the door doesn't really bother him but Keir, now that he's not focused on the gizards, looks at Aine and sqwacks at the red bird that entered with her.
The wave from Carm is unnoticed, Aine is too busy trying to kick the door back open with one foot so she can shoo the drat bird back out them to see it. "Shoo! Ugh! For the love of Julian's nose hair!" Commotion achieved. Also acheived, shooing. The bright tropical bird is managed to get waved out the door JUST as Keir warbles, and then Aine immediately grabs the handle, pulls it shut, and starts looking for a lock to turn, as if it's an invading army she's trying to keep out rather than a small feathered annoyance. She can't find a lock, so instead, she lifts a foot and tugs off one of her slippers, wedging it beneath the door instead. Sadly, it's silk, not wood, and likely won't do anything at all to keep the door actually shut. But the gesture of it seems to make her feel better. Now that her hands are free of shooing, they run a few times over her head to smooth down the wild flurry of crimson curls, and then they smooth over scarlet skirts and ivory lace until she's put back together once more. And then, once she's settled, she finally takes a look around, and spots her cousinunclesomething. "Not Bicycleluke!" Her voice is excited, her smile bright, her wave eager as she greets him as she starts towards his table, curious to meet whatever new family it is she's assuming are around him.
Carmichael inclines his head to Rian. "Of course, think nothing of it. I'm glad your little friend enjoyed his meal. I'm sure we shall meet again, I have questions…" nodding at the animal by way of indicator, the prince lifts his pint in a farewell salute. "Rest well…" and turns upon the chaos of Aine. "My name is Carmichael," he reminds again. "Prince Carmichael."
Having been properly dismissed, as is right for his apparent social class at least, the scruffy sailor and his animal companion depart by heading up stairs.