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May. 2nd, 2015 03:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kindlymeant[ it is harder to rouse herself the morning of the tilt than it ought to be, she knows. despite that knowledge, however, and despite Myranda yanking on her toes, Alayne clings to her pillow and attempts to will the world away for at least an hour. at least it was yet early. in the autumn sky, the sun was as reluctant to rise as she was. she ought to be excited - and she is - but the prospect of dealing with Robin, with pimpled young gawkers, with Harry the Heir --
Harry the Arse, she recalls Lothor saying, and she grins into her pillow before eventually forcing herself out of bed to break her fast. the feast left her feeling confident, yes, their conversation ending in her favour, but she's still in no hurry to face him again. their every meeting, she fears, will be like treating.
she's to be her father's daughter, though, so that shouldn't be a problem, but as she sits down to eat with Randa she reminds herself she still needs to find someone upon whom to bestow her favour.
(thankfully, Myranda is happy to pore over names with her, quite delighted by what she deems wickedness.)
the tourney itself will not start until the afternoon, but the Gates are already buzzing with activity by the time she heads outside to assist in the final preparations. never before had she considered how much work such events might be, but she's come to appreciate anything that keeps her mind busy. she's wanted for everything - inspecting, finalizing, deciding things that should have been decided days ago - but that was all part of Petyr's plan, ever approving as he is of learning through experience.
all in all, it is not quite enough to keep ser Harrold from her mind, but it's a valiant enough effort, at least until she meets him in the yard. whether by coincidence, or by effort on his part, she can't be sure. when first she comes face to face with him, her eyes linger, measuring - does it suit her better to walk on, or should she speak to him?
it is hard to decide, without Petyr's guidance - but she'll learn, through the experience. she excuses herself from Lothor, telling him she'll find her father later, before she takes one step closer to Harry, offering him a smile that's more polite than truly warm. ]
Good morning, ser. I trust you are well prepared to ride?
Harry the Arse, she recalls Lothor saying, and she grins into her pillow before eventually forcing herself out of bed to break her fast. the feast left her feeling confident, yes, their conversation ending in her favour, but she's still in no hurry to face him again. their every meeting, she fears, will be like treating.
she's to be her father's daughter, though, so that shouldn't be a problem, but as she sits down to eat with Randa she reminds herself she still needs to find someone upon whom to bestow her favour.
(thankfully, Myranda is happy to pore over names with her, quite delighted by what she deems wickedness.)
the tourney itself will not start until the afternoon, but the Gates are already buzzing with activity by the time she heads outside to assist in the final preparations. never before had she considered how much work such events might be, but she's come to appreciate anything that keeps her mind busy. she's wanted for everything - inspecting, finalizing, deciding things that should have been decided days ago - but that was all part of Petyr's plan, ever approving as he is of learning through experience.
all in all, it is not quite enough to keep ser Harrold from her mind, but it's a valiant enough effort, at least until she meets him in the yard. whether by coincidence, or by effort on his part, she can't be sure. when first she comes face to face with him, her eyes linger, measuring - does it suit her better to walk on, or should she speak to him?
it is hard to decide, without Petyr's guidance - but she'll learn, through the experience. she excuses herself from Lothor, telling him she'll find her father later, before she takes one step closer to Harry, offering him a smile that's more polite than truly warm. ]
Good morning, ser. I trust you are well prepared to ride?
