chivalrouswench | Open post

cont. from here

I'll be there soon.

[ She hopes.

Fortunately, finding the right tree does end up being less difficult than she feared, and thus she comes upon the sight of a chained-up Jaime.

If it didn't call to mind such deeply painful memories, there might have been some small satisfaction in seeing him pay for running that annoying moth of his, but as things stand what she feels is mostly concern. ]

[ There are worse positions to find him in, right? He could have been, for instance, lying slain in the dirt, and it would have fallen to her to do something about his corpse. Unchaining him from a tree in the dark seems to be asking very little in comparison.

There is a winning smile for her when she arrives, despite the fact that he has by all evidence been thoroughly vanquished. Why is he, more often than not, in some manner of restraint whenever their paths cross? ]

Good evening, my lady. You're looking lovely. Just the sort of knight I was hoping would come forth to rescue me. It's a shame you weren't here before, they would not have given you a second glance before running the other way.

[ Perhaps the gods are trying to tell him something with that. Or perhaps he just makes a lot of people very angry. ]

I don't suppose they left the key somewhere near?

[ She does not return his smile, even if it softens something inside her to see it. It wouldn't do to let him know that after all. ]

If they did, you will have to scrounge around in all of that shadow-and-spider infested shrubbery to find it. I would recommend simply using your brute strength.

[ Maybe he is indeed an idiot, taunting the very person who had, presumably, come to rescue him.

At any rate, even if she fails to find the key, and even if she fails to improvise a way to free him, at least he has won her company, as indignant as it might prove to be, if the look on her face is anything to judge by. Better to be with her than to be stranded alone. ]

[ Scrounge around she does, but not for a key.

With a few unbecoming grunts, she drags over a large rock with a somewhat flat top to where Jaime is sitting. Then she searches around some more until she finds another that might function as a crude sort of hammer.

With these rudimentary tools at her disposal, she tries to tug the chain so that part of it lies on the "anvil" rock. ]

You said you were hurt. Where is the injury?

[ If she can see to it before getting him loose, she probably should. It seems unwise to let him bleed more than he has to. ]

[ He watches her first in disparaging judgment, thinking she does in fact mean to find the key in the ink-black shadows of the brush. A fool's errand, and he is on the verge of pointing that out to her before he falls silent again, blinking, confounded, as she drags a rock to where he sits.

He is struck by her strength, as he tends to be, tilting his head when she produces, afterward, a smaller rock. Impromptu. Clever. Nothing as flimsy and commonplace as chains would ever presume to stop her. He makes himself pliable to her maneuvering of his chain, grimacing as she sets it against the rock, as if he expects that she might smash one or another of his bones in the process. ] Remarkably resourceful, my lady. If only you had daintier hands.

[ He answers her question regarding his wound as if he is capable of showing her, which he is not, so he shakes gold hair from his face in an attempt to bare his temple, where he was obviously clouted with a stone much smaller than anything she has procured.] Right here.

[ Blood still runs bright, though the adrenaline of the encounter has kept the bludgeon from feeling like anything more than a dull bruise. ]

Unfortunately they didn't hit me harder. You might've enjoyed the rest of your evening in peace otherwise, gods forbid.

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