Roleplay City
Oberon Castle => OBERON CASTLE: Drink Today, Die Tomorrow => Broken Wheel Tavern => Topic started by: pinkroses on July 10, 2011, 03:08:31 AM
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Harriet squinted, her nose wrinkling up as the bright sunshine blinded her for a few seconds after coming out of the heavy wooden doors into the bright sunshine, wiping her floury hands on the apron which was tied around her slim waist. She’d just finished kneading the bread and it was set to rise for the bread rolls which would accompany the stew that was bubbling away nicely on the fire.
Her blonde hair, almost white on top from days in the sunshine, was pulled back out of her face, apart from a few stray bits which had come loose. This was one of the times of day she could actually relax for a few minutes. Harriet was wearing a plain dress, made by her own hand, out of a pale green cloth that had been on offer from the market one day. She’d made it several years ago, so now it was a little shorter than intended, about calf length, but in the hot weather she quite enjoyed being able to feel the breeze on her ankles.
She’d had to let it out a little at the bust as she’d grown as well, and now it was a little lower than the dresses she usually wore, but it still covered up more than what a few of the serving girls wore handing out drinks in the evening. Usually when she wore this dress she wore an under skirt which covered up more of her cleavage, but it was too hot today and in the kitchen it was definitely too hot for too many layers. To be honest, when dressing that morning she’d forgotten that she would have to meet the delivery man, but there wasn’t much she could do about that now. There was no way she would wear a shawl today.
As she hopped up onto the fence to await the delivery, the young woman let her clogs slip from her feet and she wiggled her toes as her feet swung off the ground, a smile on her lips as she enjoyed the sunshine. She\'d been up since before dawn, doing much the same at home, preparing bread for her family to eat, tending the garden and picking a few vegetables for one of her siblings to cook the dinner, putting a package of food together for the twins who would be heading out to one of the further fields to work during the day. It had been a long morning, but it always was and Harriet rarely let it affect her good spirits.
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Normally, Fenwick only handled deliveries when he absolutely had to, and that was generally only when he was dealing with the noble sort of folk. And not only that, but he would have an assistant with him who would do all the carrying, making him seem of a much higher class than he actually was.
Fenwick understood the nuances of the social dance to every dotted i and crossed t. He also understood that some people were lazy dogs and would rather spend a day in bed with a low-bred wench than earn some honest pay from some honest people... or mostly honest, at least.
With choppy, rushed steps, Fenwick walked upon the street which led out to the Broken Wheel Tavern, a place he had visited a few times, though not with the greatest of pleasure. He wore fine clothing today, smart black pants tucked into dark brown boots, a light green tunic of soft cloth, a dark brown vest, and a fancy black hat adorned with a large emerald green plume, not to mention equally as fashionable dark brown gloves.
He was a dashing figure... if he had not been sweating from carrying a large, reinforced leather satchel full of delicate wine bottles which were all full and thus quite heavy.
It was a delivery of six bottles of wine, just the standard red the Baldor family vineyard put out, without any fancy cask treatments or other ingredients. It worked for the simple farm folk, and was friendly enough to lend a light buzz after just a glass, which made it a wonderful seller. However, that did not change just how heavy it was.
When he spotted the tavern up ahead, Fenwick smiled broadly, his lopsided grin, and moved to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He stopped mid-motion, glancing at his sleeve. He did not want to get sweat on the fabric; with this color of cloth, it would turn dark at any touch of moisture, and he really did not want to look messy, so he kept going, seeing the girl sitting up on the fence.
"Good day, lass." Fenwick started to give a bow, then ended up just nodding anyway. "I have come to deliver the wine shipment to this fine establishment. Might you point me in the right direction?"
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Harriet opened her eyes at the sound of the welcome and leant forwards slightly to eye up the figure before her. She didn’t recognise him, and she thought she probably would have done if she’d seen him recently. He was quite handsome, and looked as though he had been well groomed before he’d begun lugging around deliveries in his finest clothes.
“Aye, I can. Ain’t y’ a lil’ dressed up t’be makin’ deliveries though? What with y’r fancy hat an’ all?” she asked in a teasing voice. “Or did y’ have a party t’ be getting’ off t’ after this?” she added, slipping from the fence and slipping her shoes back on. Now she was on her feet, he seemed to be just a little taller than herself, but the silly feather sticking out of his hat gave him some extra advantage on those grounds.
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Fenwick flushed a dark red at the comment that he was a bit dressed up for the task. His smile drooped for only a second, then was back in its full glory, Fenwick looking himself over in an exaggerated fashion, dusting off a pant leg with a flourish, slowly straightening his gloves. And finally, he tipped his hat, since she had made mention of it.
It was hot, really, really hot out, but by Adora, Talon, and anything else out there, he was going to look good despite it all.
"Oh woe be it that I was caught by surprise, and alas, made the trek so shod." Fenwick gave a short, ringing sort of laugh at the end of his delivery, enjoying the fact that he finally had someone to talk to, even though he had no clue who this young woman was.
She was plain looking, so he marked her as a farmer\'s daughter, or maybe the daughter of one of the less well off merchants. If this wasn\'t the inn of choice for the farm folk, he might have thought of her as a commoner, nothing more, but location really did mean everything.
"And where, young lass, might I be taking this wine, if you know as you say?" Fenwick kept up his smile-- and on the same notion, kept up his performance. If his family would just let him already, he\'d be off performing nightly in the theater, however, they would have nothing of it. So be it. He would take his performances to every street, every day, and make everyone go through it with him.
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Harriet gave a laugh at Fenwick’s show, not a mocking one, but finding him amusing, even without speaking. She didn’t have much opportunity to just chat to people normally. When the head cook was at work, the old woman spoke only to bark orders to Harriet, although the young woman knew the old bag talked plenty to those she liked when she’d had a few glasses of the wine Fenwick was carrying, or a pint of the strong cider served in the tavern.
“Ah, now that is a shame. Perhaps y’ll find some refreshment up ahead before O’Hare t’ go on y’r wearisome tasks. This way, good Sir,” Harriet said, giving a playful curtsy before leading her up the path a little and gesturing grandly for him to enter through the gate before him into the yard of the tavern. Once he was through she darted past him to scoop up a slate and piece of chalk which had the day’s deliveries marked on it.
“Y’r from Baldor’s I presume, sir? An’ y’r load’s six bottles of red?” she asked, glancing down at the slate before looking up at Fenwick again with a warm smile.
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Fenwick\'s smile became completely natural as the young lass gave him a playful curtsy back. It was wonderful when people played along, and he could not help but absolutely glow because of it. In fact, he had almost forgotten about his business delivering the wine all together until the lass mentioned that fact.
He took it in stride, walking with her through the little gate of the tavern. His gait was easy and relaxed-- his legs were anything but, from all the walking he had been doing, and so heavily laden as he was. He was just not cut out for heavy labor. Thankfully, he was on his last delivery of the day, unless another of the hired hands managed to weasel their way out of a good wage.
"Yes, indeed I am, and I come bearing the six bottles." Fenwick shrugged, the motion a touch difficult with the weight of the straps bearing down on him. It was a good case, and kept the bottles safe, but really couldn\'t they have commissioned a smaller case that was easier to handle? But then they would have to hire more hands. What a vicious cycle.
"Delivered by yours truly, Fenwick Baldor himself." Fenwick flourished another bow this time, a very small one, considering he was still wearing the pack.
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“Oh, well I had no idea we’d b’ expecting such company. I’d’ve dressed myself up a wee bit more if I’ve been aware,” the young woman said with a smile at Fenwick’s attempt at a flourish to accompany his bow.
“It’s a pleasure t’ meet y’, Sir. My name’s Harriet Loblack, an’ I’m sure I’ve never heard of me,” Harriet said, giving another curtsy in response to the bow before moving around Fenwick. He looked exhausted and she didn’t want those bottles being broken if he suddenly fell flat on his behind.
“Let me help y’ get those off y’r back,” she said, moving to take the weight of the bottles so that Fenwick could undo the straps and get the case off. They were heavy, but Harriet was used to heavy labour, lugging around heavy pots, barrels of alcohol, bags of feed for the animals, flour for baking, screaming children who didn’t want to be picked up and told where to go.