Boys' Day Out [Griff]

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

Ducked low and hidden behind some thick undergrowth in the middle of the Mercian forest was Oliver. Strung tight and ready in his hands was his bow and arrow as he closely followed a wild boar hungrily munching on a clump of roots it had dug with its long snout. This should make a fine gift for the royal kitchen cooks who had been clamoring for some wild boar meat. Oliver made a mental note to take down at least two to feed the entire troop at the castle, royal family and servants alike.

He raised the bow and pulled the arrow back, taking careful aim at the unsuspecting boar which was only a few meters away from him. Not satisfied, he inched closer, shifting a bit in his spot to get a good lock in. Unfortunately, too focused he was on the impending kill that he unknowingly stepped on a twig that snapped in half a little to loudly it almost rang throughout the forest. This alerted the boar, which raised its head up to the direction of the sound for a bit, before hurriedly scampering away.

Dejected, Oliver let out a loud disappointed sigh as he lowered his bow and stood up from behind the bush. "Dang pig," he expressed to no one in particular. Then he turned to his companions behind him, his servant Lot and Caitrin's beloved fiancé Griff, whom he had convinced to go on this hunt with him. Having invited him and Caitrin to Mercia, Oliver knew it was his responsibility to keep his guests entertained as much as possible. And one way to do that was to force his guests to do what he wanted to them to, mainly go hunting with him on a rather cold morning. Seriously though, he was looking forward to some bonding time with Griff. He wanted to know more about the man who had ensnared the Lady Caitrin's heart, and maybe perhaps learn a few tricks from him on how to make a lady say yes. "Poor eyesight, but impeccable sense of hearing and smell. Let's go find another one, shall we?" he told them as he stepped out of the undergrowth. "How are you finding hunting so far, Griff?"




Tag: Griff Aubert
Where: Forest of Mercia
When: A couple of days before the pre-wedding feast

[Griff Aubert]

Griff was cold, really, really cold. Caitrin had been adamant that he would get used to it. Well, he wasn't. He was still really, really cold. How anyone could endure such arctic conditions for the majority of their life was beyond him. Mercians were a very odd sort. Why on earth was he marrying one again? Ah yes, because said Mercian was Caitrin de Archer. The most irritating woman in the world and probably the only one likely to put up with him. His mind was wandering for the hundredth time that morning. He was too cold to concentrate on anything, especially hunting. He had told Oliver he'd never hunted anything in his entire life, but the prince had, unsurprisingly, insisted he join him. While Griff wasn't opposed to spending time with the man, he was definitely opposed to being outside. He couldn't even keep moving to try and generate some heat as that would give away their position. And here was him thinking hunting was supposed to be a fun excercise.

"How are you finding hunting so far, Griff?"

He had, in all honesty, been far too busy mentally complaining about the whole experience to be paying much attention. This was not something he could say though, so he just nodded and tried to look like he was enjoying himself. "Yes, it's erm...well, it's educational." If Oliver was enjoying himself, that was the main thing. So far the man had been too absorbed to notice that Griff was just standing there not doing anything, because really he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He knew his way around a bow, of course he did, his father had made sure of that, but all this...strategy and waiting...it was far too subtle for him.

He followed Oliver from out of their not so subtle hiding place, now at liberty to hop from one foot to the other to try to warm himself up. So far, company aside, he was not enjoying Mercia. The more he complained about being cold the more he was mocked, but then he'd stop complaining and stop trying to keep a body temperature above freezing, but then he'd just be cold and complaining again. It was a vicious circle and he didn't like it one bit. He'd have to force them all to Glouchedon, and then they would understand how people were supposed to live, none of this tough northerner business, just sun and warmth. "Are you enjoying, sire?" He asked, trying to distract himself once again. The sooner they killed a damn pig the better.

[Oliver Strathmore of Mercia]

"Yes, it's erm...well, it's educational."

Oliver smiled at his most honored guest. He could see that Griff was not quite so taken with the cold weather up here, and for a while there Oliver felt bad for practically forcing him into having this hunt. What else was there for men to do around Mercia really. They can't play swords or shoot at an unmoving target all day long. And besides, Oliver was not really fond of swords to begin with. They also couldn't spend the whole day at the tavern, not with Griff set to get married to Caitrin and with Yassia currently in residence at the castle. The tavern almost always spell bad news even if all one did there was eat. He briefly wondered if Griff had a green thumb and if spending time with the gardeners would have been a better idea than braving the cold air out here. "There's a bow and some arrows. Let's get to work or our ladies back at home might find us useless," he teased gesturing for his servant to give Griff the extra bow and a quiver full of arrows they had brought. Oliver had only meant to tease Griff about Caitrin, yet he had inadvertently included himself and Yassia with his "our ladies" remark. He cast a furtive little glance at Griff for his reaction, wondering if he knew anything about him and Yassia. He hoped Griff would just brush off that part.

"It's Oliver," he implored Griff when the man call him 'sire'. Griff was practically a friend now, and Oliver would rather his friends call him by his name rather than some form of respect for his title. It somehow made Oliver feel like they were putting him at arm's length away when addressing him like that, and he wasn't quite comfortable with it. Now, Oliver could clearly see that Griff was being too polite to complain about the harsh Mercian weather, so he went to the bag slung over Lot's shoulders and fished out a smaller leather water bag that didn't exactly contain water. "Here's something to warm you up. I can't enjoy this excursion if you aren't enjoying it yourself," he added with a grin as he tossed the bag of wine at Griff.

[Griff Aubert]

Griff took the bow and and quiver from the servants, giving Oliver a questioning look in the process. Our ladies? Was there something going on with him and Yassia? He was sure Caitrin would have mentioned something if there was, unless there was something going on and she didn't know either, that was would be more strange. Alternatively, she could have mentioned a great deal and he'd either forgotten or hadn't been listening in the first place - not that he didn't listen to her a lot. He did have some sense of self-preservation, well, a lot actually, he had oodles of self-preservation. Anyway. His thoughts were going off topic. There was something far more interesting for him to be thinking about: whether or not he should be asking Oliver about his comment. Of course, it wasn't any of his business whether there was something between the young prince and Yassia, but it was interesting and there might be some small chance Griff could offer some words of advice. Alright, it was a tiny chance, but even so.

"Our ladies...?" He raised an eyebrow at Oliver, "And which of these ladies will be yours?" He kept the smirk from his face for the moment - for all he knew this could be a sensitive subject so he didn't want to be seen to be making a joke of it. That was hardly going to endear him to the man.

For some reason he still felt awkward even with Oliver telling him to use his name. Royalty were simply not addressed by their first name and it was going to be a rather difficult habit to break. Well, he supposed he was going to have to endeavour, despite what his automatic responses would be. But, before he could get too hung up on Oliver's request he was having a water bag thrown at him. He held his hands up to catch it, forgetting he was holding the bow and quiver so they ended up falling to the ground. He pulled the cork out and took a sniff. This was definitely not water. "I'm not sure Cait would approve of this so early," he shrugged before taking a swig, "But she's not here."