Harvest Feast
Martha, Barkus, Primrose, Amethyst, Salome, Riverdale, Charlie, Ross, Flicktail
Location: RW Abbey: Great Hall
Feast Day! And it comes with all the expected trappings of such an event at Redwall. There's some music and storytelling to be had, but of course, for many, the main attraction will be the food; pastries, soups, cakes, desserts and everything one might expect from an Autumn at the Abbey... Martha is setting out dishes while various Order members, residents and visitors do similar or set up or simply enjoy the event. The hedgemaid turns, wrings her paws, but smiles. It seems a happy thing so far.
Barkus has of course put himself in charge of drinks with a few abbey beasts to actually hand them out while he keeps the supplies stocked up. They may not have been going too long but he's already hauling another barrel of mead out on his shoulder, stepping over a few dibbuns playing on the floor and neatly sweeping round a beast with a pile of plates before he drops the barrel off the others. Now maybe if that lasts a while he can find himself some food.
Primrose giggles, dodging hedgehog footpaws as much as Barkus dodges her as she runs off, chasing one of the other little ones; heading for the big table, of course.
Martha smiles as she spots Barkus and starts to make her way in that direction. "Boo." She sidles up to nudge at him. "M-made it up out of th-the cellar at l-last again, I see. Y-you're already popular, b-by the way." She smirks, and gestures to a nearby vole, Novice Olric actually, who has found himself a rather large cup to drink from.
Barkus Smiles faintly as he spots Martha thanks to the nudge "Well there's food t'be had" he turns to squint at the Novice "Hmm, should think it's not the last time I'll be bringin' another barrel up" he left them all by the stairs anyway so really it's not like the others couldn't find them if the drinks were getting low "Y'want a drink too?"
Primrose skitters under the table with a loud giggle and watches the legs of those enjoying the feast day. She emerges a little and puts a tiny paw up, stretching to seek for something good from the table.
"I could do with a drink," Amethyst says. The blind healer has been busy today and only just now found the time to get to the feast.
Martha nods. "Y-yes. Olric s-seems very fond of the ale. An-and I d-don't think he'll be the only one. I think I w-would like some wine..." The hedgemaid says, then spots and hears Amethyst "S-see, another as w-well. W-what would you like?" She asks the rat, clearly intending either to get it... or perhaps to suggest Barkus to get it?
Barkus can just see a little paw searching the table next to him so he very helpfully makes sure Primrose's paw finds a sprout before anything else by placing one right in the way. Amethyst gets a glance and a nose twitch before he sets to work pouring Martha's wine and a second for himself, as he awaits the rat's order too.
"Eh? Wine'll do t start with," the rat says walking along the table to find an empty seat.
The seat in front of Primrose's hiding place is empty. But there's a little volemaid under there, of course. And a paw that's just found a sprout. "ICK!" comes a loud shout just after the paw disappears and an uneaten sprout returns from beneath the table at high velocity.
Martha smiles, taking her wine and sipping. She knows Barkus can hear and is already dispensing drinks so she leaves the order at that. "Thankyou d-dear." Amethyst gets a smile, though she knows the rat won't see it "How h-has the infirmary b-been? It m-must be n-nice to get out to a f-feast?"
Barkus snorts his amusement at the 'Ick' with a satisfied trace of a smirk. He ends up changing his mind at the last minute and pouring ale for himself, the second glass of wine he places in front of Amethyst and finds himself something to munch on on the table, other than sprouts of course.
The flying sprout whooshes past the rat's leg and she sits down with her wine in the seat above the vole. "Save those for any hares that sit down," she whispers to the hidden dibbun.
"Infirm's been a mite less busy with th fox gettin' well," Amy says answering Martha.
Primrose giggles. "Kay!" She responds to the rat, still hidden. Then "Um. Pwease gimme a pastee? I cannee reach dem. Too high." Comes a very serious little request from below.
Martha eyes Barkus changing his mind with a slight smile. Not very surprised, somehow. "Ah. F-Flicky... Y-yes, he was in th-there for a while... I s-saw him down here the other d-day though. P-plenty of p-praises and a l-little fear for y-you healers..."
"Good fer 'im. Still braggin' on his babes t everybeast?" the rat asks as she tries to slip a pastie down to the little voice under her chair.
Barkus never was very good at the small talk by he seems pretty content to sit, eat and drink and look specially spiky when a few merrily singing beasts pass by.
"Fankoo!" Comes a happy little squeak, rushed out before the little vole begins wolfing down her pastie. Crumbs appear.
Martha moves to sit, too, next to Barkus. She nods at Amethyst, then flushes as she catches herself. "Oh, y-yes. Very much. Um, th-the girl- Luna? I h-held her when I s-saw him. W-was very cute." She nudges into Barkus a little, and smiles at the singing beasts that go by. Maybe she can counteract Barkus' extra spikiness.
Amethyst tears a pastie in half and stuffs one side with sprouts. She nibbles on the other half.
Barkus glances at Martha when he's nudged and he slowly smooths his spikes back down again. He's behaving. Course he wasn't entirely paying attention in the first place "Who's Luna?"
A little belch is heard from beneath the table. Primrose is not very lady-like at all, yet anyway. A paw re-emerges beside Amethyst. She's looking for something else now.
Amethyst tears the sprout filled half pastie in half and pases it down to the vole along with a corner of her own pastie. At worst the rat'll get veggie thrown at her.
Martha smirks. "Luna is F-Flicktail's daughter, d-dear. V-very cute little thing. W-was adorable, though I w-was worried she'd k-keep trying to touch m-my spikes... V-very cute l-little dibbun though."
"Fankoo!" Comes the little voice again. Before the little vole tries her new prize. "Bleegh! Iz fulla yuk!" The little voice now panicked and spitting. Veggie pasty launched!
"Maybe yew've had too many?" Amy suggests to the vole still eating her untainted pastie.
Barkus wrinkles he snout slightly "He has a daughter? Eh" mentally he quickly moves on, specially with the complaints from under the table. He leans over just enough to see Primrose under there and chuckles very quietly.
"Nnnooo! Dat un was diff'rent! Was fulla yuks." The little voice states decidedly, and a little vole emerges next to the rat. "Can I haff 'nother vittles?" Pause for effect, look she remembers how to say... "Pwease?"
Martha nods. "He has a d-daughter and a s-son. T-twins." The hedgemaid smirks. "I th-think that's n-nice. T-twins. Always b-be able t-to play together..." She muses thoughtfully, smirking at the vole/rat interaction, but her eyes following another little group of dibbuns, playing around near an otter who has started to juggle plates; much to the consternation of one of the Sister mice.
Amethyst hmms, "I dunno. Yew may need t try somethin' other than pasties."
"Um. Wot is nice as pastees, miss's rat?" The vole asks, eyeing the food on the table. "I dun like da yuks."
"Like more sprouts" Barkus mutters after Amethyst's suggestion. He glances back to Martha again, there's a "Hmm" in return to the news of two new foxes before he follows her eyes to the juggling dibbuns "Now that's goin' t'be a mess"
Martha nods. "Hm. Mess. M-maybe, but I th-think she h-has it under c-control." Nodding toward the scene, where the Sister mouse is moving to relieve the otter of the plates. "Sn-snowdrop. N-not going to cr-cross her, I'd th-think." The hedgemaid names the mouse for Barkus- there's your kitchen ally. She looks back to Amethyst and Primrose, smiles and looks back to Barkus. "G-going to be Sp-spring s-soon. L-lots of new d-dibbuns again."
(Barkus gets a slight scowl from the blind rat for his unhelpfulness. "Well. Yew'll ave t look round. There's deeper in ever pie an cordail. ... salad, cake, too many t list fer yew. Come up ere an ave a look at it all," she says to the vole waving for her to climb up on her lap.)
Primrose clambers up eagerly to the rat's lap and starts looking around. "Oh, oh! Cake. I likes cake 'cus I got t' help make un in da kitch'n. No' 'llowed in dere much now..." Probably related to the cake making...
The scowl bounces off of Barkus without notice, this is him on good behaviour. He silently swirls his ale one way, then the other but he fails to think of the right words with so many beasts around so he ends up avoiding looking Martha in the eye as he gets back up again "Mm, always is. I better go check on the drinks" he'll no doubt be back but after a little bit of barrel moving.
Martha frowns slightly as Barkus gets up. "Ch-check on the d-drinks, b-but it's still a b-bit early..." She tries to protest, but knows Barkus well enough by now when it comes to 'work'... "W-well, hurry b-back? Otherwise she'll eat all th-the cake..." Gesturing to the little, rat-seated vole.
Amethyst laughs, "I dunno if she'll eat all of it. I may have t help her a little."
Salome looks a bit overwhelmed by the gathering, as she sits, gnawing on a bit of dried fruit, at a distance. Now and then, the mouse glances about, perhaps seeking familiar faces, then returns her focus to the foods.
Primrose seems just a tiny bit offended. The dibbun shakes her head. "I could eats all of da cake!" She's only marginally offended though and easily distracted. Look, dried fruit that mouse has... "Wotsat an' where ya geddit?"
Martha nods. "Well. I'm sure you w-won't have t-to help her t-too much. It always s-seems like they have st-stomachs like h-hares at th-that age to me..." Sipping at her wine then, turning back to the table now Barkus isn't there to hide her.
"That's dried fruit. If you want some ask for it," Amy instructs Primrose.
Salome struggles to finish chewing before she replies to the young vole. Luckily, Amethyst cuts in, and the mouse nods her head in hasty agreement. She holds a paw up to her smacking mouth, mumbling something indecipherable about fruits and and where she found it.
The very tip of Riverdale's tremulous nose precedes him into the great hall, through a small gap that the elderly squirrel opens in the doors. Seizing its opportunity, a gust of cold wind shoulders the doors apart, and Riverdale, cloak whipping about his meager frame, comes fully into view. Behind him stands a large stockpot, which he reaches down with his free paw to drag into the warm embrace of the abbey's stones.
Charlie comes down the stairs and heads toward the kitchen, poor cooks. He sees all the creatures that are present and waves.
Primrose wrinkles her nose. "Kay." She responds to Amy then looks back at the mouse. Who she doesn't understand. "Um. Pwease c'n I haff some o' dat?" Easier to just ask for it then work out what the mouse said about where it is.
Salome continues to struggle with a particularly chewy bit of fruit. With an uneasy smile, she extends a paw and slides the bowl of treats to Primrose. The hand motions, offering the vole her fill.
Martha feels the little gust of wind before she's aware of the squirrel, and hops up quickly. She's likely not the only one hurrying to offer help. "P-please, sir, c-come into the w-warm... H-have you come far with th-that? Y-you can leave it t-to us to carry f-from here. C-come and warm up..."
Riverdale shuffles around the far side of the pot, which is now clear of the doors, and shuts out the elements once again. He beams relief at Martha over his foggy spectacles. "Ah, oh, my, yes. That, ah, that is most kind. It's hot root soup," he says through lips like icicles. "Though... ah, though perhaps not so hot any longer." He peers dubiously down at the concoction, but quickly regains his good humor. "Compliments of my chef, Rogue."
Salome grows frustrated with this 'manners' business. Her courteous attempts to dislodge the apricot from a tooth have failed, so the mouse turns her head away from the others--somewhat, at least. Using one paw to block the line of sight, a digit from the other goes to work, prying at the maliciously adhesive fruit bit. She is paying dearly for her indulgence--how humiliating.
Primrose beams happily. "Fankoo!" She sniffs at the fruit, takes a bit and, remembering the sprouts, nibbles carefully. Her face lights up. MUCH better than a sprout. The fruit disappears at a much faster rate from here.
Charlie sees the food and quickly performs an about turn. He wonders if it would be rude to help himself, should he wait for an invite? Nah, he decides. Where the's food there's Charlie! He finds an empty spot and sits down. All food in reach is now in danger!
Martha nods happily, though is momentarily confused. "Y-your chef?" She looks for help with the pot. Hotroot is the magic word, of course... there are otters here who are more than happy to take charge. "Erm. W-we're v-very grateful, s-sir... I th-think, hot or n-not, it's an addition that w-will be enjoyed b-but may not l-last long..."
Riverdale lingers potside for a moment, head oscillating first one way then the other before at last settling on a direction roughly in line with the hedgehog addressing him. With glasses still clouded, he looks a bit ludicrous as he nods happily in her direction. "Oh, I should hope so. Ah, hmm. I, well. Would you mind terribly if I took my seat by the hearth? I've been, ah, traveling all day... From my inn, you see." His paw fidgets with the grip of his cane.
Charlie looks up from a fruit filled pastie, at the huge pot, wondering whats inside. It smells yummy, and new. He has never smelled that smell before. He sees Martha and decides that no Long Patrol hare could ever let a maid carry something big by herself. He goes to help her, with a hunk of cheese in hand, of coure. "Lemme 'elp you marm. Dis strong likkle hare cin do it." He makes a fancy bow, "Allow I too 'cist you." he tries, lifting the pot, then pushing it, then pulling it, it wont budge. Maybe he wont be such a help after all....
There it goes. Eventually, Salome manages to detach the tacky morsel, which is now glommed to her fingertip; but this shepherds in a new wave of panic. She wrinkles her nose, sheepish eyes darting to and fro, as the anxious mouse mulls over what to do with this masticated glob of food. The others look rather preoccupied with the arrival of hot root, so Salome briskly wipes the goop on the underside of the table, and stands. She folds her paws behind her back, stepping away with an awkward whistle.
"N-no, not at all. N-no one w-will mind that. The s-seating p-plan is r-rather casual. Th-there were p-people juggling n-not long ago at all and b-beasts are wandering around a-and sitting all over, y-you may s-sit where you l-like." The hedgemaid smiles. And then beams wider at the little hare, especially with his pot efforts. "Well, th-thankyou v-very much, b-but s-such a strong l-little soldier sh-should have a crew, surely?" No, he's hare isn't he? Martha amends. "I m-mean a r-regiment..."
Primrose tilts her head at the whistling mouse. She was nice enough to share the fruit but now she's being strange. And dibbuns are fascinated by the strange. "Whaffadoing?" Mouth is still full of fruit.
Riverdale watches Charlie's vain endeavors with dawning amusement, but his thawing bones preclude for the moment his offering more help in the transportation of the soup-filled vessel. "I am, ah... always, always amazed at the kindness I receive here at the Abbey," he replies warmly to Martha, with a minute bow, then peers back at the hare. "Aye, lad. I only managed to get it here with the help of a, ah, friendly fellow traveler."
"Nothing!" the mouse quips, her head shaking vigorously. "Just--I .. I've been sitting for entirely too long. Needed to stretch out a bit!" Salome proves this by engaging in some light calisthenics. "Can't let such feasts dwell for too long; they'll go right to your haunches." A guilty smile plays her features, but the creature continues to twist and bend, as if this were common behavior at a social function.
Primrose narrows her eyes at the mouse. Strange dancing. And she still doesn't understand. She's swallowed her mouthful, at least, before the next question. "Wot's a hawnchis?"
Charlie exclaims, "Yesma'am! I hava reg'ment, but dey norra here. I'ma on safety duty here at Red'all. Dey's all still ona Sal'mand'strommm." he turns his attention bac to the unmovable pot, then to Riverdale, "A friend'y trav'erler? Was 'im a hare? A Long Patroll hare? A colonol, lieutenant, or runner? Per'aps it was a badger lard? Was it a great big, stripey fellow, wot?"
Salome hats her comic maneuvering. "Erm .. it's uh." She has clearly been cornered; Primrose is on to her! The mouse puts a bit more space between herself and the vole, stepping another pace away. "You know," she delicately attempts an explanation. "Your bum." Her lip quivers, but it is not quite certain whether the dame is on the verge of laughter or tears.
Martha beams at the hare. "Well, I g-guess you need t-to deputise a t-temporary regiment wh-while your st-still on d-duty here, hm?" She eyes one of the otters who are eagerly eyeing the pot and gestures at him "D-do you th-think you c-could make do with a f-force of otters, j-just for now? I'm sure they'd b-be obliging..." To Riverdale "P-please, it is h-how the Abbey m-must be. But the Order d-does it better."
Riverdale chuckles in reply to Charlie's question. "A, ah, badger. He got the pot as far as the gates, then we parted company." He issues a vague, over-the-shoulder gesture to indicate the location of these events. Bowing once more to Martha, the squirrel continues: "Of course. But, I thought perhaps... Well, I had heard, ah, stories of an invasion here, not so very long ago. Indeed, I believe I saw them mustering forces in advance of the attack..." He shakes off such unpleasant ruminations. "Ah, but all seems well now, dear, no?"
Amethyst refills her plate while keeping an ear out for the hare. "I think our hare would like some sprouts," she whispers to Primrose.
Primrose looks amazed. New word. "Hawnchiss!" She grins happily. Then beams up at Amethyst. "Missamouse teached me a word." Before she moves to grab sprouts. As far as she's concerned, she's just been told to launch the yucky vegetables toward Charlie. And so she does.
Charlie Hmmms, as if pondering this thought. "Well. Thems not Hares, but dey'll 'ave to do. Thanks for theee idea marm." He turns toward the hungry looing otters and starts ordering them around like a tiny drill sargent. "Alwight you lazy, a'fwitted, fat, ottery exuses of an army, of your big hinies and over hea by disa pot sharpish! You there, no tasting, us'es not to do kitchens yet! Comeon ya slow wata dwellers! Move movemove!!!"
Charlie neatly ducks the sprouts and they land right in the hotroot soup!
And splash all beast near.....
Riverdale's spectacles acquire a stylish new dash of red. They're also knocked askew to a rakish angle.
At long last, Salome locates a sought-after familiar face--sanctuary from the bustling strangers. "Oh, sir! You've made it. I was worried that perhaps you had over-napped." The mouse is clucking on as she scrambles for Riverdale, finally aware of his presence. An uneasy gander is thrown among those near to the elderly squirrel, but the maid shivers their proximity off. Her scrambled thoughts are quickly doused with hotroot, which causes Salome to shriek and flail. "Oh lordy! Why!"
Salome exclaims, "My *dress*!"
Charlie asks, "Well marm, the only fing to do would be to frow somefink back wot?"
Martha is splashed with hotroot. "Oh!" And with spines, it'll be somewhat awkward to comb or wash out. The otters don't seem too bothered by being ordered around, even look amused and ready to do the hares bidding. They look dismayed to see sprouts suddenly added to the soup, however.
Riverdale takes his dampening with reasonable good humor; his cloak has seen far worse. "Salome..." his eyes wrinkler. "Good evening to you, my dear. I thought perhaps you were evading hotroot transportation duties." Noting her stained dress he adds, "Though I see why you'd want to now." He frowns. "Ah... Rogue... Hmm. Rogue told me a way to get out hotroot stains once, but, ah. I can't quite recall it just now."
Oh dear. Primrose's eyes widen and she wriggles to get down from the rat's lap. Time to run for it! She'll grab a cake on the way down and run for Cavern Hole!
Salome plops into the nearest seat, inspecting the damage. It is quite extensive. The mouse is dampened, clothing and fur, and now bears the distinct odor of soup, to her great dismay. Salome drops her face into her hand and sighs deeply, accepting the stained dress and scalding perfume as karmic repayment for her recent mistreatment of the table.
Charlie nods aprovingly seeing as the otters have safely manoveered the soup to the kitchen. then he oh's af if remembering something..... important. He finds a chair, drags it to the center of the room, and stands on it. He then clears his small throat and starts to speak, loud enough for all in the room to hear, "I'm apposed to say a poem for yews...... Dese few wards would make a blinkin' unnerwater fishy cry!Mudders, cover yor h'infants ears! Dis'll make ev'y one o' yew bawl lika likkle Dibbun who's gettin' a bath, wot?" Then, drooping his ears and waving a tiny limp paw, he soulfully begins, "Twas win'ner one summer an' spring was in bloom,The turnips was twitterin' gailyAs I cleaneded out my 'umble room,Three times I do it, two ti- I mean, twice daily.When a mole flew in my win'ow,'E bid me goodnight an' day too.His eyes was yellow, his nose was green, an' 'is tail was pinkyblue.Dat mole he gave me a very odd stare, Which I putses in me pocket fur later,Then 'e arsks iffen I'm a hare, Or a rarscally impersonater?I replied to him, ina ac'ent gwim,'Good sur, I'sa him, norra her,I'sa him thatsa hare, norra her thatsa him.An' the least be as large as th' greater!Iffen you be a hare thatsa him,' he quoff,As he yeft my woom wiv a leap,'When I return dis leap, you'll be,Norra hare or a him, but aaaa-SLEEP!'"He smiles and bows sheepishly and walks toward the stairs, "I gotta go to bed now..... Bu'bye!" And with that he marches smartly off!
Riverdale remains reasonably attentive to the dibbun's recital while he follows closely behind Salome, making an effort to appear concerned about the status of her attire. "Quite an energetic bunch here, eh?" he says limply as he eases his weary self into a chair near his young friend.
Martha smirks as the little hare regales the room with poetry and exits with a march. "The w-warrior p-poet." She mutters, then turns back to Riverdale and Salome. "Um. I c-can try and f-find something sp-spare to wear, m-miss, if y-you would like... And, s-sir, I th-think the otters are f-fixing the sp-sprout problem of the s-soup... I c-can get bowls and a p-plate of the other f-food if you would l-like?"
Amethyst never did care for hotroot soup. Having had her fill the rat pulls out her lute, at the table no less, and starts to play a song. Those that know the tune can sing it or dance it as they like. The blind rat isn't singing along just playing, too quiet with the hare and vole gone.
"Yes, sir," Salome mumbles through her fingers to Riverdale. "I am reminded of why I chose to *not* stay with Mother." The hedgehog's kind offer manages to wrest a pale smile from the mouse, who lifts her head from her palms. Ears flutter downward, as if embarrassed that Martha might have picked up on her negativity. "Thank you, ma'am," she manages to pipe.
Riverdale refrains from asking the obvious question about hedgehog garments. "Oh, that sounds lovely, dear. I, ah... I'm called Riverdale. I don't believe I've said that." A trace of doubt perturbs his lips. "Indeed, I, ah, I don't believe we've met at all." The lute turns his head. "Mm. Lovely how a sweet tune can be as refreshing as bread or wine."
Salome perks. "Wine?"
Salome realizes that this is not exactly ladylike. She crosses her legs at the ankles and smoothes her rumpled dress, head hung.
Riverdale glances quickly at Salome.
Salome's head is down, so she notices not.
Martha smiles. "I'll ch-check the trunk up-upstairs... L-lots of mouse cl-clothes don't have owners here, b-but they're clean... J-just might not f-fit so well. A-and can ch-change upstairs t-too." And then shakes her head. "N-no, we h-haven't met I think, b-but the Abbey i-is always to consider a b-beast a friend an-and so I try to do s-so too. M-my name is Martha." A nod of silent agreement about the refreshing tune, and a tilt of the head at Salome's perk. "There is wine j-just near M-miss Amethyst th-there. Oh, it is she who i-is playing, b-by the way."
Asher tumb:tumbles into the hall as he trips over his tunic, yipping and falling face first with a smack against the flagstone. Looking dazed he pushes to his footpaws, looking up at his surroundings. Adjusting his tunic he sniffs and seeming no worse for wear focuses on the food. His stomach making an audioable groan as he looks to and fro.
Amethyst continues to play her lute. She plays a dancing song.
"Oh m-my!" Tumbling badger... "Are you o-.. Okay..." Apparently he is. Going straight to the food, then. Doesn't seem too hurt. She smiles, watching for a moment to make sure the young badger can get to the food, tapping a footpaw in time to the music. But not dancing, yet, just tapping.
Martha smiles, that is.
Amethyst plays faster turning the song into a quick jig.
Riverdale's head whips round to greet the yipping and falling figure of his fellow traveler badger friend. The squirrel raises a tentative paw to greet the hapless giant, but it's apparent that the stripedog is more concerned with matters gustatory than geniality at present.
Martha watches as other beasts pair up to jig along with the ratmaid's tune, but with her own partner vanished move drinks around, she doesn't seem quite able to move beyond tapping her footpaw. Eventually she stops that too. "I sh-shall go f-find some spare clothing..." She turns back to tell Salome, then makes for the stairs, passing some otters with bowls and soup exiting the kitchen. She'll be back with some clothing soon enough, but will likely vanish toward the cellars after that.
Amethyst continues to play a fast whirling jig on her lute. Many beasts are dancing to the music while other sit eating.
Ross slowly limps into the hall, looking slightly confused as he moves slowly with the assistance of his crutch. Then he looks as if he remembers something, and walks to a nearby chair, sitting down slowly. "Ah, wow, never seen a party like this," he says.
Riverdale's attention detaches from his young mouse charge to the figure of the limping weasel, then, wandering, grazes the food arrayed on the tables. "Ah, pardon me for a moment, dear," he says, a gentle paw touching Salome's shoulder. The squirrel then rises, with an imperceptible wince, to fetch himself a well-earned repast.
Salome, meanwhile, had made a bee-line for the vino. She indulged, probably to cool hot root-soaked nerves, and remained mostly quiet when the new beasts arrived. As Martha returned with new clothing and Riverdale scurried after foods, the mouse took the opportunity to dodge out and change into the new garb. So now she creeps down the stairs, back to the Hall, donning a ridiculously oversized smock, as well as equally ill-fitting trousers. The pants are kept aloft with the precarious grip of one hand. Overall, the maid is frazzled and frumpy; lips are fixed in an indignant, hopeless frown.
Ross blinks at the squirrel as he stands up, glances to the flute playing Amethyst, then looks down at the table infront of him quickly, looking both nervous and akwardly ashamed. The weasel remains quiet.
Flicktail comes down the stairs, his left paw still in a sling but it appears the stitches are out of the right shoulder, his tail is flicking a bit more like it used to, however he's been eating a reapberry tart, preserved for the winter, and his fox fangs have a red glint to them
Riverdale offers the weasel no further glances for the moment, content instead to indulge baser instincts than mere curiosity. Grabbing a plate almost larger than he is, the ancient fellow waddles down the length of the table, murmuring apologies and thrusting an unwanted arm into conversations to retrieve the components of a hearty meal. "Ah... ah, pardon me." "Yes, ah, hello there." "May I?" In this manner, he makes forward progress, oblivious even to the entrance of his friend Flicktail.
Salome almost loses her grip on the shapeless trousers, stumbling a notch as Flicktail saunters past. Given the likelihood of another unexpected passerby, the damsel decides to migrate from the stairs. She navigates back to her seat, but makes sure to snatch up a plate of cherries and cakes on the way, which she then shovels into her maw with reckless abandon. Haunches be darned.
Flicktail uses his right paw tro keep his sword, conspiuous in that no one else is armed, close to him so the flat of the blade in it's scabbard doesn't trip anyone..he movesover to throw a log on the file, giving a sparkle eyed wink to the Weasel jill as he begins to make himself comfy
Ross looks towards Flicktail, smiling somewhat to the familiar fox, before looking back to his empty table infront of him. For now, he ignores every other beast, perhaps because there's a large group in the hall, or perhaps he's a weasel (even if there's a rat and fox now).
Flicktail chuckles to himself moving over to Ross to offer teh Weasel some spiced cider
Riverdale concludes the business of piling up tasty treats on his plate and now finds himself saddled with the further task of transporting this succulent stack of sustenance safely to his seat. Mildly panicked, he searches for his target.
Riverdale's expression melts into subdued joy as he notices his old, habitual seat by the fire. Gingerly, he limps forward, resting the platter on his cane on alternate steps.
Amethyst finishes the crazy jig she'd been playing on her lute and switches to a softer song.
Flicktail tries to plick something from Riverdales plate on the way by, dooing so INNOCENTLY of course'
Salome is too consumed by her consumption of treats to notice Riverdale's situation. She continues to gobble, drowning the sorrow of her destroyed dress in mounds of sugary confections. Bits of sugar and flakes of dough fling into the air about her--a little hurricane of immoderation.
Salome still smells distinctly--oddly, for the new arrivals--of hot root.
Unfortunately, Riverdale's situation is not assisted by Flicktail's furtive attack. A tiny avalanche of candied chestnuts goes rolling off his plate, to scatter willy-nilly across the stone floor.
Riverdale pokes his head out from behind the mountain of foodstuff.
Flicktail says, "don'"
Flicktail says, "Don't Worry Riv oi will get them for ya" he smiles"
Salome swivels an ear to the rattle of the scattering chestnuts. She twitches, as if some animal instinct insisted she drop to the ground to nibble the renegade sweets. This urge is, luckily, held back. The mouse busies herself with pastries.
Ross blinks as he looks up at the offer and smiles gently to Flicktail before taking it. Then he looks curiously over first to the old squirrel, then to the mouse before looking back to the squirrel, chuckling lightly at the sight of him and the helpful Flicktail.
"Flicky!" Riverdale exclaims happily. "Ah... whoops!" His wobbling gait triggers another small cascade, this one resulting in the premature demise of a candied yam and a scone. "Ah... I'm afraid I must sit before I lose my meal. But it is, ah, it's wonderful to see you. How's Fae?" This last question is muttered in haste, for he's stumbling up to his old armchair now.
Salome takes a break from her personal banquet to eyeball Riverdale's plate. "Oh! Pie? I didn't see the pie!" she shrieks, bits of food flaking from her whiskers. "Who's Fae?" She looks expectantly at the fox, quirking a brow.
Flicktail says, "fae be well as are Luna and Benick" he says taking the old Squirrels tray in his good right paw to help him to his seat "roight this way Sir"
Flicktail smiles to Salome "Fae be the most beautious creature in all o mossflower....that be me Vixen
Salome nods slowly, chomping down on a biscuit.
Flicktail looks at Ross "who be th nice mouse doe?" nodding to Salome
Ross blinks when he's asked the question, shrugging. "No clue," he says.
Riverdale accepts Flicktail's assistance with gratitude. "Luna? Ah. Bednick?"
Flicktail says, "Me Dibbunes Riv, Fae had twins"
Ross heads over towards the Stairs..
Salome's nose twitches as the others chitchat.
Riverdale blinks dully, silenced momentarily. "Dibbuns? You mean...? I... Well, I wish you'd told me, lad. Congratulations."
Flicktail smiles 'oi just did..Benick werenamed after benar, and well..me
Salome tilts her chin upward a bit. "I don't think I've been introduced to your friend, sir," she says to Riverdale, eyes still locked on the fox.
Riverdale samples a treat from his plate and stretches out his feet to be warmed by the chattering fire. "Mm. Oh, ah. Salome, this is, ah, this is Flicktail. Champion of Redwall. And, ah, new father." A smile kindles in his eyes. "Flicky, this is Salome. She came to my inn when, ah. Well, when the invaders came to the abbey." He shifts in his seat.
Flicktail says, "oh we got rid o them" he smiles to Salome and offers his paw "ello lass, Oi be Flictail..Oi be a otter"
Riverdale samples his salad drizzled with raspberry vinaigrette.
Salome grasps his paw, much larger than her own, timidly. "Otter? Er--nice to meet you, Flicktail of Redwall. Forgive me, but I didn't expect the Champion to be a .. an Otter."
"A very strange otter," Amethyst adds upon hearing Flicktail introduce himself.
Flicktail smiles 'why there avebeen Otter champions afore" he smiles very gentle withher paw..he bows courtly and gently kisses the backofher paw, actually his own thumb as a show of respectto the gel
Riverdale pauses in mid-bite to regard the blind rat, whose lute playing he has heartily enjoyed without particularly noting its source.
Salome manages a giggle at Flicktail. "Oh. I apologize, sir. I don't know much about Redwall and it's Champions."
Flicktail says, "well we kin teach ya if ya loikes" he smiles and sits down to give Riverdale a brotherly snug"
Salome nods, a smile erupting as Flicktail offers the elderly squirrel some much-needed affection. "I'd like that," she tells the Champion.
Flicktail says, "Oi always considered Riv ta be kinda likes a father ta me..cept is rudder be a little thin" he winks"
Salome covers her mouth, giggling.
Riverdale has resumed munching and is visibly perturbed by the intrusion. He nevertheless accepts the Champion's affection with good humor. "Ah," he says after downing a mouthful of savoy pastry, "yes, yes, lad. It's good to see you, too. Hrmph. And my tail was properly full when I was a lad, I'll have you know." With his free paw he bobs the half-eaten food in Amethyst's direction. "Who's this, then?"
Riverdale gives Salome a sharp glance.
Salome shrinks back, and coughs lightly.
Flicktail says, "That/ that be Ame, my bestest friend in e whole wide world....and a darn good ealer too...place the lute nice too..her rudder be abitthin too though" he chuckles"
Salome vigorously nods to the paw-dip. "Amy? She's a wonderful .. string-thing player."
Riverdale's voice comes out muffled by the flakey crust of his pastry. "Lute, dear."
Salome pantomimes an instrument. "I always wanted one of those as a girl. Father said we couldn't afford it, though." There is a distinct hint of embitterment in the last part.
Salome asks, "Loot?"
Salome says, "Yes--we lacked the loot, as Daddy says."
Amethyst can't see that Riverdale in pointing at her. "Aikuen might say th same about yowers, Fox," she says. "Not a string-thingy. String-thingies are very much different."
Flicktail says, "aye Ane..but oi think we can find this young mouse Gel a Lute if she'd like ta learn ta play"
Salome quirks. One ear is up, the other flat--shy curiosity. "Different? How so?"
Salome says, "I would love some loot."
Amethyst says, "Wouldn't we all."
Riverdale waves to the lutenist spiritedly. "Well met, Ame. I am Riverdale," he calls out, sounding rather formal.
Amethyst nods in the direction of Riverdale's voice when he introduces himself, "Squirrel. Yew live ere. Think I've heard of yew before."
Salome frowns thoughtfully. She looks to Riverdale. "You lived here?"
Flicktail says, "well ie do be a OLD Squirrel :0"
Salome says, "Never told me that, sir. You're so mysterious sometimes."
Salome cackles relentlessly at Flicktail's observation.
Salome says, "True that, dear Champion."
Riverdale nods back to Amethyst in silence. "I did, dear, for a time. They, ah. They nursed me back to health." A mirthless smile cracks his face. "Twice."
Salome asks, "Twice?"
Riverdale says, "Yes."
Amethyst asks, "Only twice? Yew meet a senseless otter called Aik before?" the rat asks the squirrel."
Salome shakes her head, and attempts to comb at mussed hair. It would seem that Salome is better suited this small gathering of folks, and, belly now distended with food, she is in much higher spirits. "Aik? Is he an otter-otter, or a .. um. Champion otter?"
"Aikuen?" Riverdale says warmly. "Aye, he was a good friend. We have our share of good memories. Ah, and... And some not so good."
Flicktail chguckles "Campion otter, oi rather loikes that oi do
Amethyst says, "ee does ave that effect. Yew meet his family?"
Salome kicks an unclad foot, ever so gently, at Riverdale's shin. "You need to regale me with more of these stories of your fabled youth, sir. I mean--not to be forward, but it sounds like you've left a lot untold."
Riverdale struggles a bit to catch Amethyst's gaze before giving it up as futile. "I did, Ame. A couple of seasons ago. They had, ah, already grown a bit." He sniffs and suspends a candied walnut between two claws. "Time passes swiftly."
Riverdale eyes Salome.
Salome eyes back.
Salome chickens out and looks away.
Flicktail asks, "oooo stare contest?"
Salome mutters, "I always lose."
Flicktail says, "oi try that wi Ame but she always wins"
Salome suggests with a smile, "Perhaps Miss Amy and Mister Riverdale should have a contest."
Riverdale mutters something about disrespectful youths and addresses his efforts once again to his plate.
Salome winces softly, as Riverdale mumbles a bit too loud. She is forlorn, having failed at ladylike, and shovels another handful of food down her gullet.
Flicktail says, "my word gel ye must be ungry"
Salome stops mid-chomp. "Mmf--er. Ahem." Bits of food tumble from her mouth as she sputters.
Salome says, "I get nervous."
Salome tries to smile.
Salome glances to Riverdale. "I think you're rudder still shines with all of its former glory, sir," she tells him--a desperate compliment, then another quivering smile.
Riverdale smiles. "Salome, ah. Well, she's got a good heart. But she always eats like this." He looks at her with kindness, perhaps for the first time this evening. "Ah. An old habit, perhaps. She was like me once. A bit of a wanderer in this world."
Salome says, "Father says I get it from Mum."
Riverdale visibly bites his tongue.
Flicktail sits rocking in his chair by the fire
Salome frowns softly to Riverdale.
Salome stares thoughtfully at the fire, eyelids sinking.
Salome folds her hands on her full belly.
Salome says, "Oof. Lovely feast."
Amethyst says, "Th every day food isn't bad round ere either."
Salome nods, contemplating this as she approaches food coma.
Flicktail says, "Ame, how be the beastsin th infirmary these days>"
Salome says, "I see why Mum stuck around all these seasons."
Amethyst says, "Sick or hurt. They wouldn't be in there otherwise."
Flicktail says, "well you gets em better though Ame"
Riverdale, satiated and lulled by the heat, lets his head loll to the side, where it comes gently to rest on a wing of the amrchair. His eyelids hang at half-mast, and his toes wriggle in the hot breath from the hearth.
Salome, amid her own half-sleep state, notices the drifting squirrel. "Are we staying here tonight?" she mumbles.
Riverdale stirs. "Hm? Oh, ah." He coughs and pushes his glasses up. "I don't think I'm up for the trek back tonight. It was cold enough in the sunlight."
Flicktail says, "well we hope you will stay..we love guests"
Riverdale peers sleepily at the Champion. "You'll, ah." He clears his throat. "You'll have to tell me about the, the invasion sometime, lad. How you fought it off." He grins. "I suppose you had a hand in it."
Riverdale yawns.
Salome pulls her feet up into her chair, attempting to get comfy.
Flicktail says, "well oi ad 2 paws in it..unfotrunately ou got stabbed in me roight shoulder, and ad me left arm brokeded...but Ame she fixed me"
Flicktail strecthes some and stands "well all oi must be out to check th walls..please enjoy e abbey and if there be anything oi kin do for ya..just call fer th otterfox
Amethyst stands up walks off toward the stairs. "Nice t meet yew Riverdale. Stay as long as yew like. I need t go track down th newest member of th Tazan family. He probably needs a bath after a feast like this one," the rat says continuing up the stairs.
Riverdale seems to have snoozed off again, but he raises a salutatory paw to the musician. "Well met, my dear," he says, before drifting into a deep, comfortable sleep.
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