Close starter for @tionpeake Setting: During das Roggensaatfest (rye sowing festival) at Longtable.
The sun dipped low behind the orchards, bathing Longtable in a soft amber glow that painted the fields and rooftops alike. Music already flowed through the air, fiddles and flutes weaving into the laughter of children chasing each other beneath garlands of spring flowers. Lady Seffora Merryweather stood at the entrance of the keep's courtyard to welcome her guests as they were still arriving. The lady donned a gown that was the color of spring's deep green, simple but finely made, cinched at the waist with a sash embroidered in fine golden thread that echoed the colors of her house’s sigil. She looked like she belonged to the land, not just in name but in spirit. She smiled and greeted those who were just arriving as they all passed a great archway woven of early rye stalks that framed their path like a blessing of abundance.
Her gaze softened when it fell upon the familiar silhouette of Lord Tion Peake as he and his retinue dismounted. She stepped forward to greet the Master of Coin, a warm smile upon her lips. “Lord Tion. Welcome back,” she said with a polite nod that had an air of familiarity. He did not feel nowhere near as much a stranger as when he visited for the first time. “You’ve arrived at just the right moment. The last barrel of last year’s rye has been poured, and the folk have begun to circle the bonfire. Your men are already part of the festival. Over there”. She gestured to where a pair of men who hailed from Dunstonbury stood shoulder to shoulder with local farmers, hoisting tankards and grinning as though they’d always belonged to Longtable.
It was fortunate the Lord Peake had agreed to her request and that those who came from his lands —smiths, builders, and farmers— had been settling in well thus far. It was yet another thing to be grateful for on a day like this.