#jynevillon

[tomreston]

I Hope You Like Pigeon | Tom & Jyne

“Eh! That’s not for you!” In an instant, Tom had stepped between his cousin and the last of the stew, threatening to hit him with the spoon.

“I was only trying to get close to the fire. You think I would take food from a poor, defenseless girl?” Danyl asked. 

“I know you would. But even if you wouldn’t, Jyne is about the furthest thing from a poor, defenseless girl that I’ve ever seen. I hope you know I’m protecting you, more than her, by stopping you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave it well and alone.” Danyl rolled his eyes, but Tom could tell that he had heard the truth in his words and turned and left, leaving the pot untouched.

It was some time before Jyne came in for supper. Diccon Martel had taken ill and she had had twice the workload to manage (which was why Tom had made her a bit extra). “I saved you some stew,” He announced, brightly, “Have a seat there and I’ll dish some out for you. I hope you like pigeon.” 

[sysleydufey]

A Good Judge of Character | Sysley & Jyne

The Northern summers were always short, but as Sysley grew older the faster they seemed to fly by. Many things had changed over her long life, but she still enjoyed being outside the stuffy castle walls as often as she could. The brutal winters that the North suffered would keep her inside for days, weeks, even months.

Even as an old woman, she would not be content with the slow, routine walk about the courtyard as the other women did to take the air and get their exercise. Today, she went to the stables. She used to be a rider herself, once, but no longer. She still had a fondness for them and, weather permitting, often had an apple or even a sugar cube tucked away in her pockets for them. 

Sunlight streamed through the open door of the barn and it was quite warm inside (by Northern standards anyway). The place was quiet and mostly empty, but towards the back there was a redhaired girl brushing out the mane of a strong black stallion. 

“You have a way with him,” She commented, “I rather like this one, myself. Last year he kicked my nephew into the snow when he tried to mount him,” She chuckled to herself as the memory came flickering back. It was one of her few cherished memories involving Rowlin. It was a lucky thing for the horse that Rowlin had been determined to tame him and didn’t demand that it be killed on the spot. 

And it was luckier still that he had forgotten about taming the horse altogether. A quick, clean death would have been preferable than that. 

“This horse seems to be a rather good judge of character.”