[A] Don't touch my things - Sephen [FINISHED]

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[Delia Sarafine Mowbray]

There wasn't much that Delia found relaxing, but surprisingly, helping Dorsa with her shopping errands was one of them. She knew that Dorsa normally considered the hustle and bustle of the market to be one of her more harrowing tasks, but in fact, it was just the things that Dorsa didn't like that Delia did. Going to the market could be a great stress reliever, especially if someone happened to do something to make her mad. Any feelings of anger or stress was then unleashed on the unsuspecting patron or entrepreneur. It made her feel much better, having someone to lash out at. At the moment, though, she didn't have too much to be upset about. She just enjoyed being free of her mother for the time being.

Presently, she wasn't quite sure where Dorsa had gone off to and that alone put her in a good mood. No one watching her every move. There was a special reason for this particular visit into town. Not only did they require food for the evening -she was almost sure Dorsa was off getting her mother's fish- but a local carpenter had been commissioned to make a rocking chair for Mother. She didn't know why she wanted one, but Delia had heard that the carpenter had superior skill and was excited to see what the chair looked like. It didn't take long to find the man's stall and tell him what she was after.

The chair was utterly beautiful, far surpassing any and all of Delia's previous expectations. Immediately, she decided that soon, she must commission the man to make her a new harp in this fashion. He'd carved fine vines of ivy over the arms and dowels along the back, delicate wooden leaves hanging down and curling slightly as if real. She marveled for a moment before paying the man for his trouble, adding a slight hefty bonus for his superb craftsmanship.

Yes, the chair was beautiful, but goodness, it was weighty! She wondered what wood it was made from and wondered if Dorsa wouldn't mind showing up out of no where and proposing a good way to get this home. She tried to lift it into a more manageable hold, but seemed to keep fumbling with it. She was afraid of breaking something, but she knew she could carry the thing if only she could pick it up. "Of all the things... She should have sent us with a cart!" the Lady hissed under her breath. If her hair fell out of the new style she had tried this morning, she wouldn't be in such a good mood anymore.

[Lord Sephen De La Braose]

   It was a very welcome break when Sephen could finally find time to relax his mind and body; he had already traveled north to trade, made his deliveries to Miraz and the Narnian camp, and for the time being only had to focus on relieving some of the stress that had managed to pile up on his shoulders. At this very moment, he was crouched over Thane's saddle, thundering over the dormant, frost-covered fields that when it thawed in spring, would be a medley of colors rivaled only perhaps by the royal gardens at the Telmarine palace. There was little else that made the rest of the world fly away quite like the thrill of galloping at top speed on the back of a horse and watching the landscape rush by; Thane was nearly ten years old, a middle-aged horse, but even at his age could still outrun a good number of horses much younger than himself. Even now, the horse had a notorious competitive streak that compelled him to try and pick a race with horses they encountered on trails or in the pasture.

   But, as all their runs did, this one did have to end; in this case, though, it wasn't in the village that the serfs living on his land inhabited; instead it seemed to be a small town a few miles outside the border of the fiefdom. Sephen distinctly remembered frequenting this place when he'd been younger, though the name of this place escaped him. Slowing Thane down to a walk, he stroked the horse's warm neck soothingly as his excited snorting calmed to contented nickering. He dismounted, leading the horse by the reins along the more sparsely-populated outside of town, tipping one of the local merchants (a farrier, by his luck) to keep an eye on Thane while he wandered around. Sephen didn't trust his horse with anyone, but of all people a farrier was the most trustworthy of candidates to look after his prized steed.

   The marketplace was surprisingly busy for this time of year, with clouds of breath floating up and then disappearing into the cold air; there were calls for fabric and hides, firewood, weapons, with one merchant selling what he claimed to be exotic birds (though Sephen knew better than to believe they were anything other than common birds with painted feathers). Though there was the obvious level of respect from those who recognized his status, it was something of a culture shock seeing what it was like to wander the cobblestone or dirt streets just as a commoner might do. It would seem, however, he wasn't the only one of nobler title here; as he approached an intersection, a carpenter's shop sat at the end before the street branched off into a turn, and standing in front of it was what appeared to be a Lady struggling with a rather large wooden rocking chair. He sped up his pace slightly to a jog, helping to raise the chair off the ground when it seemed like the lady was about to stumble with the heavy piece of furniture.

   "Would the Lady like some assistance? This is a rather heavy chair." He offered, manners having been pounded into his head from a rather early age to a point where he could hardly speak without such diplomacy.

[Delia Sarafine Mowbray]

Delia didn't take kindly to strangers. At least she didn't when her parents weren't watching over her every move. She especially didn't take kindly to strange men who assumed they could walk up without so much as a hello or an introduction and it progressed her dislike even more when they assumed they could touch her things because, for some reason, they assumed that she couldn't take care of it herself. She didn't much care who they were or what their status was, just the fact that they skip over proper manners such as 'hello, my name is' for chivalry annoyed her. Delia was also a very territorial woman.

So, when the man in fine garments came to her 'rescue' by trying to help her with a chair, she was, indeed, not at all happy. Then she noticed it. Three dark strands of her own hair, wrapped around one another, had fallen from her style. She took an almost unnoticeable pause in order to pity the man before her. "Oh, so you noticed that, did you? Yes, it's a heavy chair; thank you ever so much for presuming that I needed your help and practically taking the furniture out of my hands." She stared him down for a moment -despite his being taller-, raising herself up to her full height and carefully pushing the strands aside.

"I'll now kindly ask you to set it down and leave me be before my hidden guards come to kill you or escort you away." That was a blatant lie. Of course, the only person here with her was Dorsa. Somewhere. But, what he didn't know could only scare him and she kept any hints of deception carefully hidden. She set her mouth in a hard line and wondered if her plan would work. If not, she might end up yelling. Mother always did frown on her yelling and if Dorsa saw or heard, she would most certainly be made to tell the woman all about it. Her eyes narrowed in to a particularly venomous glare that in the past had turned away even the most determined of men. Part of her hoped that it wouldn't scare him off because suddenly, she needed to vent a little anger. Squaring her shoulders, she realized she was actually hoping for a fight.

[Lord Sephen De La Braose]

   Of all things, the last thing Sephen had expected was to be met with hostility for what he thought was his attempts to help the Lady to not drop the rather exquisite wooden chair; but, then, he was never one to give up so easily. Killian, on the other hand... he probably wouldn't have hesitated to bite back with icy sarcasm for such a remark; but, then, he was not his brother. Without putting the chair down, he looked at the dark-haired woman earnestly, inwardly pleased to see what he thought was the wind coming out of her sails when he wasn't phased by her words.

   "I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't handle it, m'lady." He replied, still managing a polite, conversational tone, "Perhaps it was my mistake, but it appeared you had stumbled with it."

   Sephen had to bite back a snort at the mention of 'hidden guards'. Oh, really? Initially he had thought the lady might just be cross with him for his sudden appearance, but now he was just under the impression that her crossness wasn't anything new or momentary. He raised an eyebrow at her, unsure whether to be amused or a bit put off when she drew herself up to full height, squaring her shoulders and glaring at him as if intent to burn a hole through his head.

   "Hidden guards, m'lady? I'm quite sure if you had guards, you would not be having to move furniture yourself... nor would it pass well if word was to get out that you had attacked a lord over something as trivial as helping carry a chair."

   He shrugged.

   "But, if you so insist that you can carry it yourself, by all means, take it from me. Prove me wrong."


((meh. got a bit rambly, next post should be better once he's more annoyed XD))

[Delia Sarafine Mowbray]

"What it appeared to be and what it actually was was not something you had cared to stop and ask, was it?" she retorted, jutting her chin out. She would give him slight credit for keeping himself in check. Maybe more so if he kept it up. She'd doubt he'd last as long. The fact that he'd referred to her as 'm'lady' made her want to laugh. Referring to him as 'you' would do quite nicely for her at the moment. She also hoped that it would convey exactly how much she didn't care for him or his acts.

She arched an eyebrow, the rest of her face a stone mask as she folded her arms over her stomach, regarding the man before her. It was not at all pleasant that he should see through her deception. "Well, at least you're not as stupid as you look," she said right off, making sure that he knew she wouldn't be put off just because he called her on her bluff. "Oh, goody, you're a Lord. Aren't you special. I'm a Lady, so I suppose since we're of equal rank, I really could just ignore you, couldn't I?" No, she really couldn't, but as before stated, she really didn't care. There wasn't anyone around to watch over her.

The fact that he had the chair already up would give her the advantage she had been looking for earlier when all she needed was to hoist it properly so she could more easily carry it. Of this, though, she would not let on. Stepping forward, she put one hand on the bottom of the chair and her arm around the backside, pulling it from him with a careful jerk. It was still heavy, but now it was manageable, which meant she would have no problem carrying it. She did spend a good deal of time lugging a large harp around her home. She looked at the Lord with an air of smugness. "Are you quite satisfied now, or shall I continue my verbal rampage?" Delia wouldn't have looked forward to standing there, holding the chair for so long while she continued to snap at the man, but she would just because she decided that she didn't like him one bit.

[Lord Sephen De La Braose]

   If there was one thing that Sephen had found it was this; that as dissatisfying as it might be to him at first, it became much more rewarding later when he simply agreed with whatever someone insulting his person might say, and doing so in a carefree manner. That in mind, it was more or less impossible for him to keep himself from offering the lady a smile, though he at least had the restraint not to look smug; well... not too smug, anyway. He shrugged, his arms barely feeling the twinge of tiredness carrying the heavy chair.

   "No, apparently not." He replied, putting on his best 'oh well' expression, "I was the tiniest bit preoccupied with thinking you might drop the chair."

   Now, there was really only one thing that made him and Killian different when it came down to arguing and insult; where Killian was showy and quicker to anger, Sephen tended to be more tactful and sarcastic. It was not to say he didn't have his own triggers (in particular, he was not kind to those who spoke ill of his family; Killian in particular, seemed to need his honor defended on a regular basis), so much that being the elder brother to a very attention-hungry, argumentative younger brother had at least taught him not to lose his cool too fast. Sephen cocked his head towards her slightly waiting for another sharp-tongued retort. Aaaand... there it was.

   "I suppose you could, but then I would still have your chair, wouldn't I." Sephen reminded her, "Though no Lady that I am familiar with would be quite so rude."

   Looking elsewhere, though, Sephen was less than pleased to see that they had attracted a small audience, mostly foot traffic that had stopped whatever deal they were making or item they were examining to watch the nobility verbally duke it out. Narrowing his eyes, it seemed to work well enough shooing off some of the nosy eavesdroppers with a frosty glare. Sephen looked back again when the lady took the chair from him, looking rather pleased with herself now that she'd gotten the leverage to pick it up; Sephen merely folded his arms, smirking lightly and raising an eyebrow.

   "Oh, by all means, continue." He retorted smoothly, "I'm curious as to how long it will take you to run out of insults and patience."


((XD these two crack me up. Now Sephen's just egging her on))

[Delia Sarafine Mowbray]

Drop the chair? Was he now implying that she was clumsy? It wasn't as if it would have very far to fall- she'd barely gotten it off the ground as it was. "Well, thank you for your concern for the chair, although I do think that's almost a stab at the quality of the crafter's work. Do you not think this a sturdy chair?" She was quite sure he was beginning to argue with her now in a fashion that she was accustom to using at socials. Calm and collected so that it couldn't actually be construed as arguing. She was sure it was like a second language to anyone who had to attend such events.

Delia narrowed her eyes the slightest bit and the corners of her mouth twitched just slightly, the smirk disappearing just as fast as it had shown. She rather liked that one. "Then may I inform you that I am flattered to say I am most certainly no Lady you know," she replied in a low voice. She paid no attention to any onlookers they may have attracted, but apparently he did take notice. For the moment he took to shoo them away with a look, she wanted to snap her fingers and tell him not to look away from her when she spoke. But, this would imply respect and since she was in no way showing him any, she shouldn't expect any. At least, no more than he was struggling to keep in tact.

"I'm sorry, are you a glutton for argument, or simply a masochist?" she asked, not that she particularly cared. It was rhetorical. And her arms were stronger than most women, but they could not hold this much weight for long periods of time. She refused to have to set it down from weariness while he was there to see. "If you wish to avoid such a confrontation in the future, I suggest you mind your own business and not take other people's things."

[Lord Sephen De La Braose]

   At this point, Sephen wasn't altogether sure whether to be amused or annoyed. On one hand... he was taking a rather juvenile delight in egging on the lady's temper, something more characteristic of Killian; on the other, she was taking offense to just about everything he had tried to say, whether he meant to annoy the lady or not. It took just about every ounce of willpower in his being not to roll his eyes at the remark that she was 'no Lady he knew' and agree wholeheartedly; no doubt that would earn him another biting remark for his troubles. At this point, he was playing the waiting game to see whether she would run out of steam first, or tire and put the heavy chair down. The things he did in the name of chivalry...

   "I'd hardly call myself a glutton for argument, when it seems to be you that finds some new offense to take whenever I say something." He shrugged, almost wincing to hear the slightest tone of smugness in his voice, "Besides, if I'd had any intention of taking anything of yours, I'd have been long gone with it by now; never mind the fact that I would hardly stoop so low as to resort to thieving."

   This... was definitely not his day. Sephen didn't exactly make a habit of angering people, much less those of nobler rank than that of the common man; but, in this case, it seemed unavoidable, and he was trying his damnedest to retain some semblance of composure (as opposed to letting loose some full-blown sarcasm). He had better things to do than this.

[Delia Sarafine Mowbray]

"Perhaps if you weren't so offensive, I'd have nothing to find!" she retorted, a shred of anger breaking through in her tone in reaction to the ever so slight smugness he seemed to decide upon having. To make matters all the more infuriating, those strands of hair had fallen into her line of vision again and she had no free hand with which to sweep them away. She tried carefully shaking back her head, but it didn't help. "I don't quite remember saying that you were stealing anything, merely that you took something from me. I don't care what your intentions were. Rest assured that had that been your end game, you would have been stopped long before you were able to take your leave of this town."

She weighed the options against one another of leaving now or trying to smash the exquisite chair over the man's head. She wasn't nearly tall enough, but it wouldn't keep her from trying. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dorsa. Drat it all. She glanced at the girl and made a motion so that she would follow her. "Now, I would like nothing more than to stand here and continue this repertoire, but some of us have more important matters to attend to, plans for the day, and frankly, you're really not worth anymore of my breath. Good day." She abruptly turned -or as abruptly as the heavy chair would allow her to- and began to march away, Dorsa behind her with the evening's meal to be cooked. She hoped to never meet the unpleasant Lord again.