Participants: Jaice, Celebril, Maeve, Diar, Nobreon, Raechel, Mestoph.

Background: After finding herself unexpectedly in Cairhien, Jaice spent two days searching for help; in other words, her friend Maeve whom she knew to be in the city. But finding her friend proved more elusive than she thought, and Jaice was finding it difficult to keep her strength and hopes up. During a close call at the edge of town, Jaice was lucky enough to run into Celebril Girthilin, a friend from Tar Valon... and so they set off to renew Jaice's search.

Setting: River Road: Cairhien, Cairhien

Jaice's fingers are still laced with yours, and your long cloak does a good job of covering her tattered dress, a boon when it comes to attracting attention. At your words, Jaice casts you a faintly amused glance, and her slender fingers tighten around yours. "You're saying I have a day's more experience than you do? Here, there's an Inn up ahead we haven't checked."

"I'm not saying that," Celebril answers with a quick grin, teasing. "Oh, confound it," he chuckles, squeezing your hand once and glancing up at the Inn. "You're the one who's been here longest. Lead on, Ranger."

"And to think you spent all that time on a sweaty horse to get here, and I--" Jaice had been leading you toward the Inn, but she pauses mid-step, her eyes widening. "Someone's channelled."

Celebril's own eyes dart to yours suspiciously, about to ask what that comment was leading to--if the curiosity writ so plainly on his face is any indication. At this admission that someone is channeling, he appears puzzled.

The excitement is plain in Jaice's face as she turns to you, looking up through the light rainfall to smile eagerly at you. "Don't you see? It could be Maeve!" And with that, she takes your hand again, and begins leading you off towards a busy side street. "It was this way."

Celebril doesn't appear entirely certain as to whether or not he is following or being dragged, but only grins ruefully and comes along as per 'orders'.

The two skirt through the streets

Jaice pauses in front of the Inn, a frown creasing her brow. The rain has dulled your cloak -- the one that now sits snugly about her shoulders -- to a dark grey-black. "I think it was from here. But I'd checked this one already."

"You couldn't have checked all the private rooms, though," Celebril illustrates with a small grin. Nodding toward the door, he shrugs his shoulders. "Well, let's get it over with."

Jaice takes a breath, and steps toward the Inn. "If it isn't her, maybe it's someone who could help anyway. And if nobody's there... well... I could use a stiff drink right about now." There's a switch. Jaice has never mentioned drinking anything more than cider before.

Common Room: Silver Star Inn, Cairhien

Celebril pushes through the door, exiting the stableyard.

Mestoph leans agaist the bar facing the crowd. Held in his left hand is a wine glass holding a red wine. He looks over at Jaice and Celebril as they enter the room.

The rain can be heard falling steadily outside as a slender darkhaired woman and a tall blond man push their way in, both rather soaked. The woman is wearing a white dress, mostly obscured by the dark, heavy cloak she has draped about her. By her dark skin and the tattoos on her hands though, her origins are far from here. It is with a sharp, searching gaze that she peruses the room.

Raechel mutters to Nobreon, "I'll... honest... you Lord Nobreon...When Omni... to... I... compete... the shipping... have... world.... job.... would very... you... Add your business... ours,... I can... be..."

Celebril, the golden-haired man beside the exotic-seeming woman, releases her hand as they stand upon the threshold, and she studies the Inn. Rather than study the room at large, though, this man concentrates on faces, gestures, accoutrements of a few certain people.

Nobreon grins at the comment. He mutters to Raechel, "My... plenty... fill... interest in... shipping... needed... them."

Raechel mutters to Nobreon, "... this... you... interested..."

Nobreon grins. He mutters to Raechel, "... isn't?"

Mestoph seems to have lost intrest in trying to pick out the words of Nobreon and Rechel's conversation. Sipping his wine once again he casts his eyes to the two new strangers that just entered.

The Sea Folk woman -- for it is easy to tell that that's what she is -- evidently doesn't find what she needs; and so she leaves the taller man's side to weave gracefully between the tables, every step a symphony of lithe fluidity. A dozen pairs of eyes watch her as she crosses the room, and she rests one patterned hand on the bar as she gestures to the aleman. "Good evening," she begins, her voice warming to the room. "Have you or your patrons seen a man and a woman here, both with reddish hair? The man would have tattoos like these."

"And an arrogance to match Gaidal Cain's," Celebril adds drily as he steps up beside her. Exactly how he parted he crowd to reach the slender girl's side is uncertain, but it seems that even without the blade, the scabbard of a heron-mark swordsman is given a wide berth.

"Aye," the barman responds casually, his hands just as busy with a dishrag and mug as his eyes are studying the unusual pair. A Sea Folk woman and a Blademaster are an unlikely sort anywhere you look, much less together. "They's in there," he says, with a toss of his head toward the Archway. "Been theres a while now."

Raechel mutters to Nobreon, "The... benefits are... will wage... your... We will... their... or... go... business.... have a... duel... noble... who... you for yours... everyone... endless as your imagination."

Nobreon grins happily. He mutters to Raechel, "... certainly... the... ones?"

Raechel mutters to Nobreon, "... far... payment goes,... said... depends... on... successfull... I... it... be..."

Nobreon nods. He mutters to Raechel, "... certain..."

Is that a look of excitement the dark-skinned woman casts Celebril? Perhaps -- perhaps not. It's hard to tell behind that expression of neutrality. "Thank you, kind sir." Those words are all she speaks, yet the barman finds himself bobbing his head at her, his eyes following her long after she's turned toward the Arch herself.

"Thank you, goodman," Celebril answers the barman with a polite smile. "Here's for your troubles, and a room for the night." Retrieving a coin from the purse at his belt, the flash of gold is unmistakable as the swordsman flips it to the innkeep--who plucks it from the air with practiced ease.

Rose Tea Room: Silver Star Inn, Cairhien

Celebril walks through the archway, entering the tea room.

An unlikely sight fills the Archway as a pair of wet and downtrodden-looking travellers enter, their silhouettes outlined by the dancing firelight from the common room. The woman is dressed in white, but the dress is mostly obscured by a long, heavy cloak that's draped over her. It must belong to the Andoran beside her; for he's soaked right through his tunic.

Sitting with Maeve, Diar briefly smirks at her after she seems to have finished speaking to him. He digs into a light lunch that's spread at the window table he shares with her, bread and ham and suchlike, and takes a long drink from his glass of wine as he turns his head to look at the other patrons of the tea room -- to spot a pair of familiar faces, one somewhat-expected, and the other ... well, not, when a hint of color at the hem of her dress catches his eyes. "Light help him," Diar says, settling his glass down with exaggerated slowness. "What's the madman gotten himself into now? 'A few days delay,' indeed..." He begins to rise as he speaks.

Seeing movement by the doorway, Maeve turns away from Diar for a moment -- even before he speaks, lowering her almost empty glass of cider to the table once again -- and promptly drops it the last bit as her gaze falls upon the newcomers, just barely catching herself before her jaw does the same. "Light... Jaice?" she finally gets out, still staring with wide-open eyes and a rather amusing look of utter surprise, shock even on her face.

Celebril's look is dry and ironic as he meets Diar's gaze, ice-blue eyes flashing with the same droll wit that rolls off his tongue. "Madman? I must be mad, to follow the pair of you... Light, you keep a hard trail to follow, Moderal." The words are the only thing rolling off him, of course, that cannot be classified as rainwater.

"Maeve!" The relief is evident in Jaice's voice as she crosses the last few steps to meet her friend, and as her cloak -- Celebril's cloak -- falls open with her movement it's evident just how much of a mess she is. Smudges of dirt marr her dress and cheek, and her sleeve is torn. "Thank the Light it was you I felt channelling."

Hastily Maeve rises, for now ignorning the comments exchanged between Diar and Celebril, the look of surprise just refusing to leave her face completely as she looks over the approaching Jaice. "Channeling?" she starts, looking lost for a moment, then a hint of recollection shows upon her face. "Oh, just to dry my clothes. Light... but, felt from where?" Not Tar Valon surely, but where else? As she reaches up to rake back a stray curl of hair, its obvious just how puzzled she is at the moment, though even so -- and despite a certain Accepted's rather sorry state -- a smile finds its way onto her face. "Light, such a surprise, but its good to see you are well, reasonably anyhow."

"Uhm. Yes, indeed, Lady Jaice, Lord Celebril. Here, have a seat," Diar says quickly as he gestures to the table, moving in such a way to partially block view of Jaice's dress with his person, all smiles. "Wet, is it not? No doubt you'll find the room a bit cool, Lady -- do keep your cloak on, if you will." A passing movement of his eyes -- ahh, of course; this is Cairhien. Everyone watches. "So, had a hard time keeping pace? No one told you to dally behind, Girithlin. Have some wine, if that'll appease you. Maeve and I were just discussing how we found the Cairhienin." The last is a bit loud, to be overheard, but then most of it was pitched to be overheard. He murmurs something else, just for you three: "Quieter, or an Aes Sedai will be here, no doubt, within the hour, with our luck."

Celebril clicks his tongue at mention of Aes Sedai, joining Diar in the indicated seat without long allowing his gaze to wander from Jaice. It would seem that so long as she's wearing that smudged and torn outfit, his glances are of the protective variety. To Diar, he replies casually, "Mulled wine will do, or something stronger. Just enough to take the chill off until I can try my room, and a change of clothing."

"The next street over," Jaice answers, exchanging glances with Celebril as she re-adjusts her cloak to obscure the bands of her dress. She's not stupid -- she had no trouble noticing the attention she attracted during her first day here. "I've been searching for you for the last two days. I think I'd covered just about all the Inns in Cairhien -- including this one -- when I... came into a bit of trouble, and thank the Light, Celebril arrived in time to help." She slides into the seat Diar offers, casting him a thankful, if ragged, smile. It seems she's been through a lot the past two days, for her to seem this out of character. "Wine would be nice," she echos, seeming not knowing where to start -- with how she got here, how Maeve is, or some of both.

Sitting himself down, Jaice's request is easy enough -- he slides his former glass to her, pushing a plate of food along with it. "Seem like you need it -- Mulled wine, Girithlin? A moment then, I fear, until someone passes by to see if we require anythi --" And of course, having seen you two enter, a woman did come to see to your needs, already beginning to leave when she sees you both seated; but Diar's sudden wave of a hand catches her eye, and she comes forward. Once the order is set and she's gone, he simply keeps up a healthy, pointless banter, a bit too loud -- but very distracting.

Retaking her seat, Maeve's smile fades somewhat as Diar's words, and Jaice's as well, remind her of the potential seriousness of the situation. Lacing her fingers about her glass, she brings it to her lips again, draining it quickly from what was left of the cider, though at the moment her look betrays a wish for something stronger. "We'll need to find you something... clean to wear, as soon as possible," she comments as she sets the glass down again, looking to Jaice again, more than a hint of concern in her expression. Seemingly to find something for her hands to do, she produces a fan from inside of her bodice -- still rather generously unlaced, but she seems to have forgotten that -- and unfolds it with a flick of a wrist. "Back at the house we rent, I suppose. Explains why you had trouble finding us, Diar changed his plans." She tries to copy the latters example of easy-going chatter, almost succeeding.

Again Jaice grants Diar that thankful smile, but it's not long before she's busying herself with his meal. By the looks of her she hasn't eaten in the two days she'd been looking for them; if she was forced to leave the Tower as quickly as her garb would indicate, she probably lacked the money for it. The woman is concious of watching eyes though, and so she eats with delicate regality, her nod to Maeve echoing the other's concern for appearances. "I came for the Feast, but who knew the crowds would be so vicious," she lies. She almost looks the part of a lady, were it not for her bedraggled appearance and Atha'an Miere exotic looks. "Got pushed into a puddle, of all things." Sure.

Celebril makes a face as Jaice's words reach him over the incessant soft chatter of Cairhienin, and his sapphirine eyes narrow, flickering to her as he accepts his mulled wine from the returned serving girl. He does not comment, or add to the general conversation, however; Lord Celebril seems rather guarded and not at all comfortable in this city.

"The wine has been flowing as freely as the rain over the last days, so no wonder. The crowds yesterday at the sword-fighting contest... quite barbaric." An attempt at an amused smile, and more of that light-hearted conversation, and thankfully the fan covers much of her expression from anyone not at the table. Likely no coincidence. "I trust your... journey here wasn't so bad as the welcome?" The pause is slight, but noticeable. "Swift it must surely have been at least, though me and Diar, we took our time on the road." Maeve falls silent for a moment, grey eyes flicking over the three at the table.

Eyes do watch, and ears hear -- that can't be helped. But interest, at least among most, wanes at the frivolous chatter. One or two are sharper, however, and they linger (without trying to seem so). Diar himself seems easy enough, now picking at Maeve's own meal and drink as she seems to have fogotten it. "Indeed; but then the pleasures of the Feast would have drawn Girithlin at least, eh?," he speaks up over a sip of cider. "You'll have to tell us of it afterwards -- have you found rooms, or? The house should have room enough, though it's impossible to hire servants at the moment, I fear..."

Jaice's quick glance to Celebril over the rim of her wine glass seems to be imploring him not to say anything regarding the 'puddle', but at Maeve's words she responds with a vague nod of her head. "It was very fast. The time flew by like... like it was seconds rather than days." Her eyes meet Maeve's then, one brow arching.

Leaving the practical arrangements to Diar, she only adds a thoughtful nod to his words before turning her attention wholly upon Jaice again, slender brows arching in response to her friend's reply. "Interesting. We must... discuss our experiences as soon as possible, when we retire to the house perhaps? If you found a speedier route here, it will be interesting to hear of it." She speaks just a touch slowly, those grey eyes watchfully alert for the slightest nuance of change in the other woman's expression.

Celebril, apparently, is not the sort to hold intriguing discussions in the style of Cairhien after a long day, and in soaked clothing. Finishing the mulled wine quickly, he turns to Diar with a grimace. "I took a room here, but should be able to get my coin back. Where's this house of yours, then?"

The Atha'an Miere woman places her cutlery neatly on her plate as she finishes her meal, one wave-sworled hand idly tinkering with the wine glass. "I have much news to tell you," is all she says for the moment. "But I would like to get out of these wet clothes. Perhaps we could discuss this... elsewhere?"

"The merchant district, actually. Not terribly hard to find it, though the house -- they're all the same, ugly and square things. Ours has a sign though, for the Domani merchant house that owns it; a bluebird, a gold coin in its beak." Diar's description is easy enough to remember, and he doesn't seem to mind overmuch as to how his current residence looks. After grabbing a roll of bread, he takes a breath... then smiles again. "As for going, yes indeed. Now will do, all paid for more or less." The 'more or less' is an extra coin set on the table as he begins to rise, agreeing with the sentiment of leaving this all-too-public place swiftly.

"Elsewhere, and after a nice, hot bath," Maeve replies with a smile, neatly folding and tucking the fan back into her bodice, which seems to make up for what it doesn't conceal by hiding other things. "We'll find something not so... white for you as well, Jaice. It really does attract dirt like nothing else." A glance over at Diar, and as she finished her meal long ago, and really wasn't that hungry anyhow, she rises as he does.

Jaice is already standing, the heavy cloak thankfully hiding any tears, smudges, or bands on her dress. She rejoins Celebril's side as the four begin to make their way out.

Only too happy to rise, the cloak-less Celebril grimaces as he prepares for another jaunt in the rain. When Jaice rejoins him, though, the discontent seems to pass from his face as with the memory of why he goes without outerwear. Surreptitiously, he touches her shoulder reassuringly.