(1311-04-30) Archery and an Offer
Summary: Hase takes her shots, some discussion and flirting, and a promise of a tour.
RL Date: April 30, 2019
Related: Day of Azza Competition
clara yves hase 

Tournament Field

The wind billows pennants and banners as far as the eye can see, here. The terrain is generally flat, with some signs that areas of the plain might have been built up to help flatten it— one corner in particular overlooks a steep downward hill. The plain is partitioned off by fences into walkways and competition grounds, and in the middle of each set of fences feet have long worn away the grass, leaving the centers of each area naught but earth and dust, all the better not to accidentally trod in a hole and break oneself.

On the western edge of the field a huge mass of stands has been erected out of fresh beams of wood, all redolent of pine and of cedar, nailed in place with giant iron stakes and sturdy enough to stand firm below the mass of humanity which moves onto and off of it every day during the tournament competitions. Opposite the stands are the brightly colored pavilia, each with its banner waving overhead, where the competitors of each family might store equipment, rest and prepare. In the middle of the pavilia is a raised stand where the Duchesse, her family, and invited VIPs may sit under a canopy of their own and watch the games from closer to the action.


The second round of the archery contest, having been put off until quite near to the sunset due to a sprinkle of rain that turned into something of a downpour and sent everyone into their canopies or else back to the city itself. By the time the rain had had enough of making mud all about the place, the combination of the sun's setting and the clouds on the horizon have provided a gloomy twilight over the place, and those competitors who have decided to remain are few and far between, as are the people who have come out again to see the second round. A smaller, but perhaps a rowdier crowd, with the taverns having seen some evening's draughts undeway before people knew there would even be a second round of shooting.

One of the benefits of having made your Marque is an ability to go see things which strike your fancy without having to worry about guard, protection, or lost profits. And so a flame haired courtesan with the marque of the Rose Sauvagespecifically the Red Rosesappears at the archery competition with an eager look in her eyes. To the exigencies of the rain she has brought an umbrella, and a slightly opaque shall over her shoulders blurs the marque on her bared back without obscuring it completely. Clara watches the competitors with eager eyes as she makes her way to find a seat.

Of the competitors, possibly shortmost amongst them is one Haese of Montchapetre, who is settled balanced at the top of a line of fencing, one boot heel wedged on the slat beside her, the other leg dangling in ballast. She keeps her bow under hand, its lower horn marking the mud a little bit, and whistles to herself while she looks over those settled in the stands, watching them just as much as thy might be watching her and the quiver of arrows on her back.

Taking a seat next to his cousin, Yves doesn't even try to play it smooth as he drops into the spot in the stands next to her. "Hey," he says in greeting, his garment is undoubtedly colored in a styling fitting of the Valliers, predominantly a crimson jacket with white styling and a matching sword with a white scabbard at his hip. Unlike how he might act with everyone else, when he recognizes family, he is able to act like a normal person.

And as the bales are arranged at the first mark, so, too, along the line of the fencing to either side of the archers' lanes, rise lanterns to allow both the participants and the spectators to see a little better in the failing light of day. A trumpet sounds, perhaps a mite urgent in its sounding, since nobody very much wants to be shooting arrows out into the dark, and Haese, for her part, unbends her leg and hops down from the fencepost, landing and plucking her rather tall bow from the ground where it had been resting against the post next to her. She mosies to the leftmost lane, but, finding it occupied, she stands in the second lane from the left, and makes a couple quick rounds of conversation with the person next to her while the other competitor, over on the right, is introduced and fires his three arrows for the first round. And then it's her turn, after all, and she turns around to face the stands with a sheepish sort of smile, lifting an arm as though to wave, but then reaching behind her to draw a trio of arrows by their fletches from out her quiver, and, on turning, to hold the lower two dangling while she notches the first and lets it go; then rights the second and lets it go on after; then the third, all in rather quick succession.

<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged: Good Success. (7 2 5 6 2 1 5 6 5 4 8)
<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged: Great Success. (1 1 7 7 5 6 5 8 7 7 3)
<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged: Good Success. (7 4 3 6 3 6 8 2 7 2 1)

Clara looks over at her cousin as he moves to sit down next to her, and offers a beaming smile to him. "Hello, cousin," she offers to him, scooting over to let him have more room if he desires it. "I hope you're well today. Have you come to watch, or compete?" She asks curiously. When the competitors start to loose she turns her head back to watch. "Ooh, well done!" She cheers for the Camaeline woman.

"I'm not an archer, so I've just been watching people compete for a while now," Yves replies and smiles aside at her. He's normally very awkward around women, but around family and people of a proper Camlach-bent, he at least acts fairly normal. "But yes, I'm well, do you know any of the people competing?" he inquires, looking after those on the line, letting loose arrows. When Clara starts cheering, he joins her, clapping enthusiastically though he doesn't know anyone.

The cheer makes Haese turn herself about and look, first, over her shoulder, then turn all the way about while the person to her left shoots, marking, at length, the source of her support in the stands, and noting the Valliers colors of at least one of the pair. The other is in all evidence a courtesan— possibly there with the Valliers gentleman? It's hard to tell, from here. Almost as hard as it is to tell the landing of the arrows as dusk falls faster and faster. But the scores are announced, and Haese is happy enough with hers, while the haybales are moved back to their second mark. And the tosses a chipper salute to Clara and to Yves before turning around and taking her quiver from her shoulder, setting it down to take them more easily one at a time. The targets are further away, this time, and she'll need a less encumbered grip to draw the string far back to her ear, and, when it is her turn, to loose each shaft, one, two, three, with somewhat more of an intermission for her to dip a knee and steal another green-fletched arrow from its case.

<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged-2: Good Success. (2 3 6 2 6 2 7 4 7)
<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged-2: Good Success. (4 2 2 7 8 3 2 7 1)
<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged-2: Good Success. (3 1 8 2 3 8 2 4 8)

Clara nods at that, smiling back. "I'm glad you're well," she says genuinely, which seems to be the default setting for the young woman. She waves to the woman who salutes her, and then looks back to her cousin. "Don't know a soul, but I saw there was a Montchapetre competing, although I don't know who it is. But these kinds of things are always much more interesting if you choose someone to root for." She watches the next firing, and then claps again.

When Hase waves in their direction, Yves looks behind them, and seeing that nobody is behind him to be waving at her, he waves back. Blushing furiously. A glance then to his cousin and he nods at the suggestion of cheering for Hase, though neither seems to know her. "She's doing about as well as anyone in the first round of shooters," he mentions. "Let's go down and get closer," he suggests, and gets up and starts off the stands, headed down into the area nearer the competitors. Not on the proper shooting line or even behind it, but nearer.

Häse has a little bit of time while the scores are being tallied and the haybales moved even futher back; she doesn't think too much of wandering off of the line and hooking a booted foot over the lowest slat of the railing between her and the audience, resting her weight against the front of her thigh on the uppermost slat, in turn, and lifting her bow a few times to summon a more enthusiastic cheer from the sparsely poplated audience, "On, then, everyone's out shooting in the mud," she calls out with a laugh, "Hey-o Valliers," she calls, more directly, then, to Yves and his companion du nuit, grinning and spinning about to hop down and trot back to place, leaning forward to squint at her target in the lamplight and then even dropping to a knee, gaining more stability thereby and a better bit of leverage, stretching out one leg in front of her and drawing her long bow back and negotiating its angle in against the ground to find a good arc toward the center of the target, with one arrow- two- three.

<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged-4: Failure. (6 4 2 4 4 2 3)
<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged-4: Good Success. (2 2 7 2 5 8 1)
<FS3> Hase rolls Ranged-4: Great Success. (3 7 1 8 3 7 7)

Clara lets out a merry little giggle as Yves blushes, and then shakes her head. "Do you need me to do the speaking for you, coz?" She asks wryly, before she glances toward the ground that Yves is leading them toward. "You know, not all of us are wearing boots. I had to walk very carefully just to get here…" She offers wryly, although she solves the issue by leaning down and plucking off her slippers and hiking up her skirts. Barefoot and bare calved, she pads along after her cousin more easily and less ruinously if also less properly. "Very good shooting, my lady!" She says happily as she comes up on the woman. "You've done our province proud, I dare say."

"She knows you, apparently," Yves declares, since there's no reason that the Montchapetre woman would know him, but he waves again all the same and applauds when she takes her third round of shots at the distant target. "Well done!" he agrees with his cousin, and looks down at her feet as she pads along, and then looks at his boots and sort of just shrugs. "She's second or third, maybe, so far," he mentions aside to his cousin, who may not have been keeping a strict count of points.

It does take Haese a moment to get to her mark, but once she does, she strikes well and true even from a distance, and when she stands again, mud staning the knee of her trouser, she only swats it clean — ish? — and looks pleased enogh with her accounting of herself, taking herself and her quiver back over to the fence and waiting on the return of her arrows. Meanwhile she can natter with the Vallierses in the stands. "Aw, thanks," she tells Clara— and Yves, as well, with a beaming grin that turns wry as she appends the comment, "Something had to be done, at least. After my cousin's dastardly flight into the dark," she sucks in a tsk between her teeth and shakes her head.

Clara shakes her head. "No, I've never had the opportunity to meet the Lady in question. But our fathers are somewhat famous, after all, and I do look rather like a smaller version of my mother." She didn't grow up quite as statuesque as she would like. She smiles. "My lady of Montchapetre, please allow me to introduce Lord Yves Valliers, my cousin and son of His Grace Duc Jervais. And I'm Clara Valliers no Rose Sauvage, at your service."

At the mention of Hase's cousin, Yves looks totally lost, apparently unfamiliar with whatever bit of gossip she is referring to, though he can sort of guess based on the description of them 'walking into the dark.' At the introduction, he bows slightly from the shoulders in a sort of appropriate manner and then looks aside at his cousin and nods at her, as if thanking her for doing the social part of that. "It was excellent archer-ing," he says to Hase. "Second or third best today."

"Lady of Valliers," Haese replies, pushing with her toe once more at the bottom of the fence and lifting herself to hang over it at the hip, leaving her bow resting against the inside of the fence and reaching out a hand to take Clara's, if she'll grant it, and brush her knuckles with her lips in a courtly fashion, cut from too great a formality by a crooked, impish little smile. Then, righting herself, she crosses her free leg behind the heel of the foot poises en point upon the fencing, and, with one arm for stabilityupon the top rain, she executes a remarkably ginger curtsey there in her muddy-kneed leathern trou, and grants him her hand, in turn, to grasp and shake, or else, if he prefers, to kiss, "And my Lord of Valliers, hello. I owe it to you and your cousin's support from the stands. It's always nice to have someone in your cheering section, even so far from home," she answers.

When Hase reaches out to take her hand, Clara smiles and offers it over in proper fashion. When the kiss is offered, she curtseys delicately. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady," she says genuinely, before she grins to turn and watch how Yves reacts to the offer of a hand. "Oh, you're too modest. Your skill is what carried the day, we were no more than moderately helpful. How long have you been in the city, my lady?"

Taking the offered hand, Yves sort of looks at it a bit distraught, then he grasps it firmly and gives it a brief kiss. Like he's just repeating what she'd done with Clara's hand. It's obvious that he doesn't really do well with the society. "No problem," he confirms and glances between Hase and Clara as they engage in conversation so easily. He puts his hands on his hips and looks around at all of the others mulling around and finishing the last of the competition, before turning his attention back to the others. His eyes wandering. "So, what did you mean about your cousin?" he asks, when he realizes he still didn't know, and temporarily forgets his manners.

"Since end of winter, thereabouts— I thought it was to be the end of winter, of course, and then the snow kept coming," Haese shakes her head with a shrugged shoulder of helplessness toward Clara. The awkwardness on Yves' part, well, she can take that in stride. It takes all sorts, after all. She doesn't even mind him bringing up her cousin again. "My cousin Maxence— you haven't heard? Well, it's true, I hadn't heard except for that the guard came to question me about him. It's said that he slew a man, a Delaunay, after quarreling with him in that new mens' club just opened. He's disappeared, though— that looks incriminating. Unless it is that he's also been hurt. I've written home to see whether anyone there has heard of his return to the county, but the courier will be some time in getting there and back."

Clara's mouth goes in to a little 'O' of recognition. "I did hear something about a fatal duel," she admits, "And that the living party was now missing. I didn't know it was your cousin. I'm so sorry, whatever has happened, that you had to go through that," she offers sincerely, reaching out to put a comforting hand on Hase's shoulder. "Honestly, if gentlemen have that much excess energy they want to run around fighting, we do have the Night Court."

"No, I don't uh.. hear much gossip, or stories, or true tales or anything of that sort," Yves admits, not one to be talking about the business of the day, too busy with whatever it is he does to pass the time. "But, really? That's, that's quite the thing, do they know what they were quarreling over?" Turning his glance over to Clara, he blushes slightly at the implication and mentions, "I don't know that a duel over a quarrel is going to be caused by excess .." and sort of trails off.

"Angels only know," Haese rolls up her eyes with a shake of her head, but a grateful smile to Clara at her offer of comfort. "You know, for as long as I've been lodging here, I haven't visited the Court yet, either. But now I know you, I'll have to come call… maybe you can show me around the place?" she posits gently, in such an offhanded way that a recusal could be easily stomached.

Clara turns the beam of her smile to Hase at the woman's words, grinning. "My lady, if you ever find yourself desiring to scratch that itch or indulge your curiosity, I would be more than happy to show you around the Rose Sauvage, and the rest of the court," she says, genuinely and directly; she even winks. She then looks back to Yves. "Oh? I find men who are spent rarely have the energy to lift their…sword," she offers wryly.

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