One Year Older and Wiser, Too (Sam et Dymphna)

[Dymphna]

"Maybe we're trying to spoil you." She grinned brightly as she moved closer to Denen, bobbing and weaving a little in a goofy manner as she went about. Dymphna seemed endlessly cheerful this morning, and it was without a doubt due to it being Denen’s birthday. He clearly had a special place in her heart that had been just waiting for him to fit into. The young woman held out the little bundled package with both hands. Upon closer inspection, the girl had managed to procure a new set of leather gloves and a loose hood, both lined in soft fur. The edges of both were covered in blue and white knotwork – She thought it fitting considering the clans at hand. There were even a few sparse opals here and there. “I thought you may need some extra warmth." OOC Ledger Stuff : Leather Gloves, 5sm; Hood, fur, 1 gm

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"None of us have enough fat on us to keep a sparrow alive through the winter," he noted aloud, though he caught Denen's eye before he spoke. Then he grinned, because it was indeed a joyous day, even if he had slept in long enough to look lazy in front of everyone. The horses got along, the people got along. It was Winter, but they would weather it without too much trouble, with Dymphna sneaking away from her pavilion to play. "What are we going to do today to celebrate?"

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen's face was hot, and his hands shook. He was excited and pleased to have such friends. How odd it was to have people who sincerely cared for him beyond familial obligations. Everything else--from the waking up cold to the tripping in front of his friends--was forgotten. This was the best birthday he could ever remember having. His slender fingers nimbly opened the package from Dymphna, and he had to swallow hard to keep from getting choked up when he saw what she had given him. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, and he blinked rapidly to fight back tears. They were too kind to him. It was difficult to believe that people could be so good to him. "I wasn't planning on celebrating," he confessed. "Why don't we eat some breakfast and then figure out what to do. Maybe we can visit my Pavilion. I have not introduced you to my family yet." And he sincerely wanted to. He needed to show his father that he was doing well on his own, with his new friends.

[Dymphna]

Dymphna slipped over to Denen, moving to wrap an arm about him. She leaned in to press a flushed cheek against his shoulder. He was a good man, and sometimes she found herself worrying that he didn’t seem to understand that about himself. This theory, of course, was never discussed with anyone, but she did whatever she could to tend to the fire of his confidence. She smiled softly at Sam, giving a tiny nod as Denen’s words. “I think that would be nice. I’d like to meet your family.” With that said, she moved to the campfire she’d carefully tended to while everyone was asleep. Hanging above it were two pots – One filled with cereal and venison. It was one of the few things she knew how to cook reasonably well. Bending down, she gave the pot a stir to make sure nothing had stuck to the bottom (Of course, it had). The other pot was filled with whatever herbal infusion she’d decided was needed for the day.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

When Dymphna moved to tend the fire, he slung his arm around Denen's shoulders to walk companionably over toward the fire so the three young ones could share in its heat and the dubious quality of the Whitefeather girl's cooking. Not that Sama'el was an artist of haute cuisine, but they were all going to have to practice at that if they were going to eat without poisoning each other. "I'd like that too," he said when he caught Denen's eye. It wasn't that he was adverse to grassland sign, but sometimes his hands were busy with other tasks.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen smiled up to Sam, leaning into him a bit as they walked. It was impossible to not do so, being positioned as they were. He wrapped an arm around Sam's waist, and beamed up to him. Today was immeasurably better than he had imagined it would be. He'd thought it would have gone well, yes, but not like this. He offered up the pretty stone to Sam. "Sama'el, will you help me tie it into my hair?" His blue eyes seemed reflection of the stone. As if that were not enough to tell who he rode with. He grinned and nodded, clearly pleased that they had both accepted the offer to visit his family. Maybe his older sister, Keila, would have made something good to eat. She was, after all, the best cook he knew. "Do you want help?" He offered Dymphna.

[Dymphna]

Dymphna looked up from what she was doing, grinning to the men who were joining her. She gave a slow shake of her head to Denen before saying towards them, “No one cooks on their birthday. It’s against the law.” Of course, on her birthday they’d likely find her bent over the fire cooking. And cleaning things. And working. Dymphna had a problem sitting still when there was something that needed to be done. She moved to pour three cups of tea. One-by-one, she started dishing out the food she’d partially made and partially ran off with from her pavilion. A bowl and a cup were held out to Denen first.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el agreed with the hand not slung around Denen's shoulders and sat him down by the warmth of the cook fire. When Dymphna offered food, he nodded toward a nearby rock for his own. With the sapphires dangling against the tops of his fingers, he identified a hank of hair between the nape of Denen's neck and his left ear, quickly twining it into a thin braid, and beginning the long, laborious process of wrapping his hair with the gem-bright, strong string. "Thank you," he said to Dymphna over Denen's shoulder, the young men sitting as if in a toboggan so Sama'el could be close enough to do his fine work without stretching awkwardly.

OOCWhenever you think it's time, Sammich, you can fast-forward us to the Brokensong Pavilion since you have to be the one to describe it.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen accepted the bowl with a grateful smile, and immediately began to eat. He wasn't picky, especially when it came to his friends. Even if the food had been completely horrible, he would have eaten all of it, and likely asked for seconds. He sat still, smiling happily as Sam wound the gem's cord into his dark hair. He hadn't worn a lot of pretty things in his hair before, but now, he felt honored to do so. This was for Sam.

The Brokensong Pavilion was a relatively large one, thanks to Stone's prolific nature. His second wife had given him no children, and his third had died after delivering her first, but his first wife, Pebble, had borne him six. Four, strapping sons, and two lovely daughters. Each of these children were married now, and had begun having children of their own. He was a proud man, stoic and as hard as the element from which he drew his name. He was, at present, overseeing a mixing of herbs with his oldest grandchildren, a boy and a girl of thirteen. He was, with these children, patient but firm. Such was his nature. The Pavilion was bustling at this time of day, and Denen reached back for the hands of his friends, so that they wouldn't get lost in the swirl of Brokensongs. He was stopped along his path by Pebble, who greeted the boy with a warm smile and an embrace. "Denen, dear. Welcome home. And who do you have with you?" Denen blushed and motioned to his friends. "These are Sama'el and Dymphna Whitefeather. They're my friends. I wanted to introduce them to Father. Do you know where he is, Aunt Pebble?" She touched the gem in his hair, giving him a soft, almost motherly smile, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "He is with Lelat and Sandar. He should be in his tent." She pointed in the tent's direction, before placing a kiss on Denen's cheek. Her eyes turned to Sam then, studying him with a look that spoke of knowing much. As Denen began to walk toward the tent, she placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, and checked to be sure that Denen wasn't looking. "He must think very highly of you, you know, to bring you here. Please, take care of his heart. I haven't ever seen him smile like that before." And saying this, she stepped back, motioning for them to follow after the deaf lad.

[Dymphna]

The Brokensong Pavilion didn’t seem too horribly different than the Whitefeathers’, but Dymphna hadn’t been expecting it to. They were both of the same clan, which was starting to lead the girl to wondering if maybe they were distantly related somehow. It was a random, romantic notion that sent her looking about at the Brokensongs in hopes of finding some sort of resemblance between the families. She squeezed Denen’s hand as they moved along. And at the sight of Pebble, she gave a surprisingly shy smile. Mother figures made her a little nervous sometimes. She couldn’t help it.