Righting Things (Braeldia) [May 3010]
May 15, 2018 17:30:26 GMT -5
Post by Wynfled on May 15, 2018 17:30:26 GMT -5
Wynfled was not exactly sure that Bjarr had been fine. He certainly never carried on appropriately with his talk of horses and stables and all manner of topics which were not appropriate for a civilized household.
It did not matter how she felt, however, Wynfled told herself inwardly. It only mattered how she played herself. How poised she was. What appearance she gave was also of prime importance. She brushed a hand down the folds of her dress beneath the table, and then raised it to tuck the tiniest strand of golden hair which had strayed from her braid back behind her ear.
“Oh, you do not cook? Does your mother not teach you?” she hummed. “You know, you should learn. There is no way to better impress a man than by good cooking. Did you know Prince Theodred's favorite meal is mincemeat pie? I dined with him not long past, and he was ever impressed by the pie he was served. Hm… I wonder what Lord Eomer's may be… if you knew, what a feast you could set before him. It must get tiring for him to eat in the Great Hall day after day, in the company of all those men…”
Wynfled reached for her tea to take a sip. The perfect temperature, of course. “How pleased you would make him.”
For moment, she wondered. Bjarr certainly knew Eomer; he rode with him often in the Eored, and he was closer in age to Eomer than many of the older riders she knew. Certainly he could find out what the Lord would enjoy for a supper, and Wynfled might be of assistance in helping her learn how to craft it. Of course, Bjarr would be far from discreet in the asking. She sighed. They would have to think of another way.
It did not matter how she felt, however, Wynfled told herself inwardly. It only mattered how she played herself. How poised she was. What appearance she gave was also of prime importance. She brushed a hand down the folds of her dress beneath the table, and then raised it to tuck the tiniest strand of golden hair which had strayed from her braid back behind her ear.
“Oh, you do not cook? Does your mother not teach you?” she hummed. “You know, you should learn. There is no way to better impress a man than by good cooking. Did you know Prince Theodred's favorite meal is mincemeat pie? I dined with him not long past, and he was ever impressed by the pie he was served. Hm… I wonder what Lord Eomer's may be… if you knew, what a feast you could set before him. It must get tiring for him to eat in the Great Hall day after day, in the company of all those men…”
Wynfled reached for her tea to take a sip. The perfect temperature, of course. “How pleased you would make him.”
For moment, she wondered. Bjarr certainly knew Eomer; he rode with him often in the Eored, and he was closer in age to Eomer than many of the older riders she knew. Certainly he could find out what the Lord would enjoy for a supper, and Wynfled might be of assistance in helping her learn how to craft it. Of course, Bjarr would be far from discreet in the asking. She sighed. They would have to think of another way.