It had been several months, at least, since he'd last been here. After a brief stay at home in Pirate's Swoop and a few days' ride north towards the capital, Senz was ready to find his place at the palace again, to re-establish himself in this place he called home.

He nudged his mare forward, passed by the guards without so much as a word. They hadn't needed to ask who he was, and not because they may have actually known him personally. He owned a horse and carried himself like most other nobles did - with pride, dignity, and that certain sense of belonging. And, even if those signs hadn't been clear, the fact that there was a shield strapped behind him, its polished surface portraying Pirate's Swoop's emblem, should have been enough to indicate that yes, indeed, he did belong here, even if he had left for several months to tour the Copper Isles.

Dismounting from his mare, he patted her strong, dark brown neck reassuringly, her mane and tail grey, on the verges of becoming white, it seemed. She was a large beast, sturdy and muscular. Her coat glistened with sweat as her mane fell in her eyes. Brushing it aside, Senz smiled, settling his hand against her large muzzle. She had been his warhorse since he was a page and he loved her dearly. "We should take you to the stables, Catahe. Give you a well-deserved rest. Come on." He took her reins and led her along, speaking quietly to her as if she were another human being. It didn't take them long to find the stables. Choosing the right-most building, they approached it.

Entering, Senz's booted feet thudded against the wood underfoot before four sets of hooves joined in with the initial cacaphony. A young stablehand, his hair as shaggy as the knight's who wandered the long aisle glancing back and forth with vivid blue eyes, looked up suddenly at the unexpected sound. Brushing off his hands, he met them halfway.

"'Allo Sir! Do ya needs sumthin' frum me?"

Senz smiled at him. He was young, probably no older than fifteen or sixteen. "I do, actually. Would you mind taking Catahe here and wiping her down? I would do it myself but-"

"Oh no!" the youth replied, grinning widely. "Nah, I can takes care of 'er, Sir. Honestly! I won't 'urt 'er."

"I wasn't afraid that you'd hurt her. I was more worried that I'd be impeding on your time."

"Nah, not at alls Sir. I'll jus' take 'er over 'ere and..."

"Ah, hang on." Senz reached up and unhooked a large bag from behind the saddle, as well as his shield, and pulled them down. "There, you can take her now. She likes apples." Senz winked and turned away, sauntering down the long aisle, walking by horses that were either sleeping, nickering to one another, or eating, the bag slung over his shoulder, the shield on his left arm.

There were a number of things the young knight wanted to accomplish, although he honestly doubted he could do it all in one day. Therefore, rather than spend his first day back running errands or re-acquainting himself with the city, its taverns, inns, and shops, he decided he would loiter around the palace, if only to seek out new faces and perhaps greet old ones. Breathing in the warm, sunlit air, Senz made for the palace itself. His first order of business? Find his room.

As per usual, the palace was relatively busy. He passed by pages, squires, fellow knights, servants, maidens, and a variety of other people, and to those who caught his eye he offered a nod and a wide smile, his infectious grin spreading to those who caught it. He pushed his hair out of his eyes with his free hand, watched the walls and the floor and the ceiling, looking for differences. Nothing's really changed since I left... he thought, warmed by that fact. Familiarity was nice, comforting. He supposed, too, that his King and Queen were still in power, as no news had reached the Isles and neither his mother nor his father had mentioned anything. It's good to be home.

Senz found his room easily enough. From what he could tell, it had been left alone, undisturbed. He tossed his sack onto the bed and delicately placed his shield beside it. Rather than roam the palace, he wanted to be outside. And where was the best place outside? The gardens.

As he stepped out into warm sunlight and gentle breezes once again, Senz breathed deeply, feeling the wind stir his hair and his clothing. The ties at his neck had come undone, exposing his throat and the edges of his collarbones. The tunic was loose and of a beige colour, his breeches a dark brown. It was difficult to see his boots against the darker material, but if one looked close enough they could see that they reached to his knees. Lifting his arms and bending his elbows until his hands clasped behind his head, he roamed the gardens silently, catching the mutliple scents of a myriad of flowers. He sneezed, grinned, and pulled a red rose from among the thorns, glancing cautiously about to see if there were others nearby, namely the mages. So far, so good. He unsheathed his dagger and liberated the flower from its thorny body, holding it up, twisting it around. With his free hand he stowed away his weapon.

"Hello, little one. Aren't you a beauty?" Most would have thought it crazy to talk to a flower, but to him it was simply normal. It wasn't as if he answered himself, either.

Not where others could hear him, anyway.

Brynjá was not overly fond of the palace gardens. To put it quite simply, Brynjá could not stand the loud, clashing colours and the flit-flitter of flocks of butterflies overhead. The whole place was rampant with fragrant blossoms, dusting her nose and sleeves with their pollen and attracting the buzzing attention of bees. There were more flowers in the whole of the royal gardens than there were in all of Scanra it seemed, all of them robust and thriving under the nurturing Gifts of garden-mages. Despite her prejudices against the gardens, Brynjá could be seen among them frequently when she found the weather too hot to walk beyond them to the other grounds surrounding the palace. Today, however, Brynjá's handmaid had encouraged her to take a walk and have some time away from the fuss of her relatives; the only catch was that she couldn't stray too far unless Aina and the seamstresses needed her again for something.

Going out, Brynjá brought with her a book to read as she walked, but she found that she had much too much on her mind to concentrate on the story. Exasperated and somewhat sullen, she went along the many paths with the book closed in one hand, while her other trailed a vine or swatted an obnoxious flower within her range. Yet strangely the gaudiness that so often irritated her about all of the flowers was becoming some kind of consolation––it was certainly preferable to the incessant chatter and gossip she had endured indoors. The sweet smells and colours seemed to wrap around her and isolate her from the world, muffling the sounds of the outside world and making the sounds within the garden soft and gentle. Even the scuff of her footsteps and the rustle of her kirtle seemed quieted by the scent-laden air.

The lane Brynjá had been following split and opened up to a rose garden to the left. Roses Brynjá could stand in moderation––there are truly only few who are not lured in by the rich, rosy scent. She liked the smell of roses well enough, but too many tended to overwhelm her. Perhaps the thing Brynjá liked best about roses were their thorns; you couldn't get a pretty one without pricking your fingers. This fact had amused Brynjá since she was a girl, and she couldn't quite place why. Maybe it was because she liked the idea of a flower 'fighting back', refusing to be clipped and carried off.

A few steps after entering the rose garden and Brynjá came to a halt. It wasn't uncommon to encounter someone in the rose garden, certainly, but she hardly expected to see a man like Senz in the rose garden. Not moving, she simply watched him, her brows lifting incredulously as he spoke to the bud he now held between two calloused fingers. To spare him from doing anything else embarrassing, like bursting into a serenade, Brynjá cleared her throat audibly.

The clearing of a throat was just enough to catch Senz's attention, who was still admiring the flower he held in his scarred fingers. Glancing up and around, his eyes fell on a woman. She held a book in her hands, dressed in a kirtle, providing hints about who she may have been. Turning to face her fully, he beamed and walked forward with a grace one might have thought he lacked, given his high-spirited attitude and knack for being 'different'. He wasn't aware of her strong distaste for the gardens so, when he was only several feet away, he proffered the rose to her, holding it out to her betwixt index finger and thumb, careful not to prick his hand against the thorns above and below.

"Good afternoon, Lady." He spoke with a lilt to his voice, cheeriness abounding within the tone. When less than two feet came to separate them he bowed low, the flower still poised for her to take it, and then straightened, his free hand falling to his side from where it had once been, at his waist, to allow him to fold over it. He couldn't recall ever having seen her within the palace, neither while he was a page nor after his knighting. But, he thought, taking a moment to memorize her appearance - a head full of golden hair, fair skin, not terribly short for her gender - how often was I looking? A second glance over her kirtle told him she was at least of the same social standing as he was.

"My name is Senz," the young knight continued, offering her the hand that had not been holding the rose. "Would you care to join me while I stroll through the gardens?" He didn't expect her to take his hand - at least one of hers was already occupied with the book - but it was done more for the gesture than anything else. If he remembered his court gestures (and he honestly didn't think he was doing too badly at this point, having been away from the capital, its court, and all of the frivolities attached to it for quite a while), offering a hand to a woman was a sign of respect and was an attribute all gentlement were said to possess. And it certainly couldn't hurt, could it? If she refused even to walk, that was fine. The gardens had just happened to be his choice of venture for the day, until he settled back into the life he had lived prior to his leaving. Then, once court life for him had resumed and he had found his place in its system, he would venture elsewhere.

Like the training yards, he thought. I could certainly use the practice. He would save that for another day, when it wasn't so hot and he wasn't in the midst of a lady.

Brynjá forcibly kept her eyebrows level and her lips in a thin, neutral line as Senz grinned and strode towards her in an energetic swoop of motion. While her expression betrayed nothing about what was going through her mind, she was certainly wishing she had some excuse to turn on her heel and skitter off in the opposite direction. It wasn't that she was afraid of Senz, even if he did look swarthy and uncouth by her standards, but she was just not cut out to deal with his kind of personality. He was quite apparently eccentric to the verge of unsettling in Brynjá's opinion, and undesirably social by the eagerness with which he met her. Here she had been hoping to get a little solitude and now she would have to figure out a proper way to dodge this nobleman. No easy feat, especially when she had to do it decorously, for fear of damaging some connection with her in laws.

While Senz swept a low bow, Brynjá allowed herself a moment to grimace visibly down at the rose that he was holding innocently up for her to take. The grimace was short-lived however, for Senz soon straightened––the motion giving a little more emphasis to his outstretched hand. Brynjá affected a pale smile, shaking her head faintly. "I'm afraid I cannot accept the rose, my lord," she clipped, allowing touches of her Scanran accent to seep into her words. "My fiancé would not be pleased if I were to return with it, you understand."

That said, Brynjá hoped that that would help distract them from a further conversation. He seemed like the flirtatious type, and once he realized that she was to be a married maid, he'd leave off. That did not excuse the looks he had been giving her a few moments before, and as a warning, she flashed him a hard, cold look––one that starkly contrasted the charming, foreign softness of her words.

Despite her frigid glance, she lifted a small hand to his and performed a dainty curtsy over it, as was to be expected. "Brynjá fa Wyrmssköld," she likewise introduced herself, "although it is soon to be Mindelan. I would accompany you but again sir, I cannot afford to slight my husband to be." The last bit of her sentence had a definite chill to it, despite its light and conversational charm. In fact, it was the tone that conveyed Brynjá's true sentiment in ways that she could not say out loud: no, I do not wish to walk with you and no, I do not wish to further our acquaintance unless it would be of benefit to me.

Kaira's Governess nodded and the girl grinned, jumping up. With the help of the woman who was so often by her side, Kaira put on one of her favorite dresses, yellow and simple, yet pretty, with a little yellow bow accenting her loose, brown, flowing hair. She was out the door with a smile on her face in a matter of seconds, with a small wave to her Governess. She walked down the halls, first a right turn then a left, and then a small hallway, and then she was out into the fresh air of the day. The Gardens, with her own little nook and all the flowers was one of her favorite places to be, and as a six year old she was getting her very good share of outdoors, going there all the time, with all her free time after lessons and family time.

The Princess heard some talking and stopped her casual walk between the bushes. Peeking around one bush that was almost as high as her head she saw two figures, one male one female. She vaguely recognized the male, but only knew he was a noble. As for the female, the little girl hadn't seen her before, but took from the way she walked that she too was noble. Learning how to judge people was one of the things that Kaira had picked up from people around the castle. Now, as she looked at the two, she could tell they definitely weren't the best of friends. Thinking that it couldn't hurt, and perhaps she could lighten the air a little, Kaira walked out towards the two, then stopped. Her Princess heritage and training lost for a second, she stood like a normal six year old, just lost for words. On her face was a cute little look. It was just one of those moments.

"Of course." The reply was curt, yet understanding. The rose retracted towards him as he studied it for a moment, his eyes eventually lifting to stare at her once again. Her eyes, he noticed, here hard and hostile - as if, he thought with an internal grimace, she assumed that he had knowingly tread on territory that was not rightfully his. She took his free hand and used it to curtsy, yet declined his second offer, the nature of her words equally matched to that piercing look she had given him. If his intent had been to upset her fiancé or to make her uncomfortable with words that were as innocent as he was high-spirited, he would have done far more than politely offer her a rose and an opportunity to stroll the gardens with him. In his eyes any knight would have done as such, yet apparently she did not feel the same. Her accent, he noted, sounded Scanran. Are things really that different there...?

"I apologize, my lady, if I offended you in any way." The atmosphere was awkward now, his boisterous demeanour deflating slightly now that he had somehow irked a woman who he didn't know, and who really had no reason to despise him the way she seemed to. Yet, as he silently pondered a way out of the situation, he heard the footsteps of another. Glancing around Brynjá he saw a child. It took him a moment to realize that she was one of the princesses. Senz glanced towards the noblewoman standing before him.

"It was a pleasure speaking with you, Brynjá fa Wyrmssköld. I wish you the very best with your future husband," he said quietly, stepping around her. He paused for a moment, as if to add something, and then continued on. The knight had used her full name, lest he offend her further, and had taken that silent hint. He only hoped that he wouldn't further infuriate her, to make it sound as if he were upset that she were taken. The truth was, he didn't much care, as her attitude was far too conflicted with his onw. Instead of trying to repair or salvage what was left of any ties between them, he simply let the subject and their conversation go. He recognized that there was more there than a simple desire to keep her future husband happy, and rather than press her, he'd allow her to go on her way without another word edgewise. Instead, Senz focused his sights on the child, her picture of innocence and childishness enough to revive the former humour and flamboyancy that had gripped him before Brynjá had decided to speak.

Senz kneeled down beside the girl, smiling warmly. As he had made those few steps he had wondered exactly how to approach her. Should he be respectful and polite, treating her as he would the King and Queen with deep bows and lavish flourishes? Or should he treat her as she was, a young child romping through the gardens, looking for adventure and fun? He decided on the latter, thinking that the poor girl might find it awkward, or might not understand at all. "Hello," he said quietly. "Would you like this rose?" He held it out to her, careful of its thorns. She was a cute thing, the air of innocence surrounding her making it hard for him to believe that outside of Corus innocence was a thing of the past, something that soldiers only dreamed of. If she weren't afraid he'd venture to take her through the gardens. He wondered why she was alone - didn't most parents have their children in their care at all times, or at least have another to watch over them? - but didn't question it. For now he simply wanted to forget his encounter with Brynjá.