A Guard and A Mouse [Charlotte/Cen]

[Cen]

Cen picked up his pace to catch up to the lead wagon. He had long legs, it didn't take him very long. Cen moved to the right of a small pit of mud, and then came to walk next to where Myscha sat on the cart. He yawned before he spoke, he'd just eaten a full chicken, and night was growing closer, this was time should spend sleeping. However, if Cen was to get on this woman's good side, he couldn't do anything resembling rest.

Cen looked up to her and smiled. He cleared his throat. "So your name's Mycsha?" Cen hoped he hadn't mispronounced her name. That could be bad. "Is that Ilian?" Cen continued to walk along side the cart. He scratched a small bite that had risen on the back of his hand. He made sure to stop scratching far before he wanted to,Cen hated the feeling of an itch, and if his parents hadn't yelled at him after he fell into a patch of poison ivy, he'd have bled out from scratching.

[Charlotte]

Charlotte couldn’t sit still in the lead cart, her legs having grown restless after sitting for the first two hours of the trip. Restless legs were just one of the negative side effects of her frequent travels across the continent. She loved to indulge in the comforts of soft, plush beds and cushioned chairs when she was home, but with all of the logistics of their job on her mind, the last thing Charlotte could think about was simply sitting quietly in her cart.

So after having the cart slow a little, Charlotte hopped down, her heeled boots making her landing a bit less stable than she would have liked. Not long after she had jumped down from her place, the green-haired caravan guard from earlier approached the lead cart. Charlotte wondered if he needed something, but it seemed he was just looking for idle chatter. She chuckled as he took a stab at her nationality based on her name, especially considering his best guess was that it was Ilian. Either the man was out of touch or he didn’t pay attention when he was told who he was guarding.

But she was feeling particularly dramatic at the moment, so she didn’t mind spicing up her backstory a bit. “It is, actually,” Charlotte smiled, reaching her hand up and rubbing a knot that had formed where her neck met her shoulder. “Mum was from Arphen, but Da’ was born and raised in Macendew.” She looked around like she was revealing some big secret, before looking back to the green-haired man. “Probably best if we leave it at that, though, all things considered.” The men were all under the impression that she was a foreigner, but they hadn’t been told where she was from, and Charlotte wouldn’t be telling them the truth any time soon.

“What about you?” Charlotte asked in return. She paused for a moment, trying to decide which of her two guesses she wanted to throw out. He sounded Lycian, but his green hair made him look Sacaen. She trusted the regional accent more, but she felt like throwing out her other guess anyways. Even if she was wrong, it was an opportunity to humanize herself and keep the conversation going. People loved to correct you when you made a wrong assumption about them.

“Cen… My guess is Sacaen?”

[Cen]

Cen raised his eyebrows at her response. He hadn't even stopped to consider the fact that his guess that his guess after her heritage meant that she was a practical enemy of the state. At least in the eyes of most of the rebels. Cen at least believed himself to be capable of judging someone from their actions instead of their birth. Nine hells, people would think he was some kind of, kind hearted simpleton if they knew he was a stable boy from a little country farm. Cen lifted his eyebrows, but then let them fall. He was in no position to judge. He wasn't too dumb, but he'd always been told he was too kind of heart. So maybe she was an enemy, but Cen was still going to wait before he acted on any theory. For now, she was being a lot friendlier than most employers he'd had, and that was reason enough to trust her. That was Cen being too kind hearted again.

"Don't worry, ah won't tell anybody. Mixed heritage is hard to deal with some times." Cen looked at her eyes, they were a nice blue, very deep, but somehow sorrowful. She was pretty, and from the way that she carried herself she probably knew it. If she ever flirted with somebody who looked like him, it was probably her being manipulative. That was cynical, Cen thought. He needed to do something wildly optimistic to make up for thinking like that. Luckily, the woman afforded him the opportunity.

He ran a hand through his lime green hair, and grinned. "Oh, yeah. The whole green hair thing huh? Well you're not far of. Mah-My dad's mother was Sacaen, which had a list of problems with it on a farm in Lycia. Not as bad as it could have been if they'd lived in Southern Lycia, but still not as good as it could have been. They got mocked by all the surrounding neighbors, but after a few years, everyone suddenly forgot." Cen winked. "Didn't have anything to do with suddenly having the best bunch of colts born in Cornwell in three generations, I'm sure."

Cen was sure she could figure it out, but he'd always loved it when his dad told the story, and he wanted to keep going. "You see, my grandpa had gone with his father to Southern Sacae to wrangle a team of wild horses, Sacaen Thoroughbreds. While there, they ran into my grandmother's tribe, and her and my grandpa fell in love. So, when my grandpa and great grandpa returned, they came with my grandma. So when a group of horses as big as a Lycian Draft Horse, but as fast and with the endurance of a Sacaen Thorough was suddenly the standard horse in the territory, all outrage fell flat. My father and his sisters all had this green hair, but didn't look as Sacaen as me. Not to mention my brothers and sister. So I might look a bit Sacaen, but I'm born and raised in Lycia."

Over-sharing with a stranger? Very optimistic.

[Charlotte]

“Sounds like everything worked out for you then,” Charlotte smiled, though her eyes flitted momentarily to the road ahead as they moved. She knew Rogus would scout out any trouble they might be headed towards, but the woman was still inherently distrustful, needing to see with her own eyes that nothing was approaching them. Just as with anything the blonde did, she liked being as close to 100% in control as possible, one of the many reasons she preferred to work on her own. But larger shipments generally meant larger rewards, so here she was, working on a veritable team.

Satisfied with the glance she had taken over their path, Charlotte looked back over to Cen as they sauntered along, stretching her arms in front of her and pulling them up above her head before letting both of her arms drop back to her sides. She was feeling a bit stiff from sitting on the cart for so long, so being able to stretch her legs was a welcome change for now. An also welcome change was being able to listen to someone actually respond to her questions and attempts at idle conversation, unlike the lead cart driver who had no interest in speaking to her on anything but official business. What a bore.

“I’m surprised you’re out here on your own, to be honest,” Charlotte continued, mulling over everything he had just told her. “Seems like you should be off working in a stable somewhere, or at least riding one of Cornwell’s best right now. Not a big horse guy?”

Charlotte crossed her arms, curious to hear the man’s response. Of course, the man probably liked horses well enough, but she was honestly surprised that he wouldn’t be atop one if his family had the best in their region. If they were poor he would be back home helping his family, but since he was here he was probably looking for some sort of personal fulfillment. Maybe prove himself to someone, parents, who knows? Charlotte would need to talk to him more to really get that good of a read on him.

[Cen]

Cen looked at his feet for a moment. They should be sitting in a pair of stirrups at the moment, but instead they trudged along through the mud of the road. "I'm a very big horse guy. I'm just not a Knight, and until recently I was squire to a real Knight, and it wouldn't be proper for a squire to ride a horse. He fell in a battle against bandits, and since then I haven't been home, or had the money to buy a mount, even if I wanted to have a horse. When I ride, I'd like it to be on one of my family's mounts, but," Cen shrugged, "the call of my romantic soul could come from anywhere." The squire smiled.

He looked at the short woman beside him, "What about you Miss? How does a woman with Ilian blood come to be int the rebellion. You have a moral reason?"[/color] Cen lifted his left eyebrow. He noticed for the first time that one of his bootstraps on his right boot were loose, and flapping against his calf as he walked. Cen kicked his foot out a few times as he walked, but couldn't shake them to a position of silence. Cen would have to remember to tighten them next time he stopped, but it would be disrespectful of him to stop in the middle of a conversation in order to fix a wardrobe malfunction. Besides that it would just be rather silly to halt a conversation for such a minor personal annoyance. [/font][/font]

[Charlotte]

Ah, so the man wasn’t a full-fledged knight yet. Charlotte wouldn’t pretend to know the ins and outs of knighthood, but she knew enough to know that squires weren’t supposed to ride until they were “graduated” into knighthood by their mentors. Charlotte could construe that, after losing his Knight, Cen was trying to make ends meet, which was why a job like this that offered food and pay – however meager it was for him – was probably attractive enough to grab to keep him on his feet.

Knowing the man was striving for knighthood was important for Charlotte, mainly because it would slightly affect the way she would approach the man being there. Sure, she knew he was here for the food and the coin, but at the same time, knights tended to be good-hearted people, looking to protect those in need. Charlotte also had observed that they were pretty good when it came to working with and motivating others. Might not matter in this group, considering the rebels certainly had motivations separate from a fledgling knight, but Charlotte made a note to try and have Cen help out around the caravan, fill the gaps where it was needed.

Charlotte gave a light shrug in response to Cen’s question of her own motivations for being with the rebels. Of course, the Illian “Myscha” wouldn’t be here for money and clientele building, so Charlotte had to get creative once again. “In part, I guess. It’s mostly because of my Da’, though,” she paused, thinking over where to take her false background next, wanting to seem like she was opening up. “When Illia first took control of Bern, Da’ and a few of his friends tried organizing a civilian force to keep Macendew from falling into Illian hands.”

The blonde paused again, biting her lip as she feigned remembering her ‘Da.’ “There just weren’t enough of them to even come close to the soldiers Illia was sending. Da’ and his friends were caught and… executed for rebelling.” She stopped speaking abruptly, crossing her arms and looking down at the ground ahead of them as they walked, looking uncomfortable as if she’d actually recalled her father dying. She wanted to continue the conversation and continue learning about the other man, but considering what she’d just ‘revealed,’ Charlotte knew she had to wait for him to move the conversation this time. They had plenty of time, anyways, considering they’d be moving all night.