Of all the things I've written, this has got to be one of my favorite scenes ever. I hope you enjoy it, too! :halo: The call went up that the joust was about to begin and Axel motioned to the empty seats reserved for the king’s seer and any guest she desired the company of. “Lady Morgan. Will you be joining us, Cara?” The waterborne was leaning back over the rail to watch a pair of clansmen walk by. “What are you doing?” “Just praying for a good stiff breeze.” Being a competition that combined strength, skill and horsemanship, jousting was a much loved contest among the Bruid. The stands were filled to capacity by clansmen, warriors and raiders as well as Rheyfelwr, most of whom were wearing kilts and being on eyelevel as he was, Axel found the prospect disturbing at best. “Oh, please don’t.” Glancing at a towering Bruid standing next to his seat, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t pray for a good stiff anything.” Sitting down beside him, Morgan glanced around in confusion. “I don’t understand.” “Bruid men don’t wear anything under their kilts, my lady” Cara grinned, plopping herself down next to the seer with the relaxed familiarity that so often put others at ease. Half-glancing over her shoulder at her Bruid Defender, Morgan shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks turning a startlingly bright shade of red. “Who told you that?” Axel asked, sitting on the other side of the elementalblade and hoping to diffuse the seer’s noticeable discomfiture. “It’s true, but how did you find out?” “Bram told me. Hello!” Leaning forward in her seat, Cara nudged Morgan and motioned to a Bruid with longish, curly black hair and a beard just as black shaven close to his face and down his neck. “Now there’s a good looking fella. A nice burly sort, eh?” “I wouldn’t know.” “Oh, c’mon” Cara gave her a playful shove. “Nothing like a man with some meat on him.” “They’re Bruids.” “They’re men and unless they’re eunuchs, they’ve all got the same thing below the belt.” Cara snuck a sidelong glance at Josse with a raised eyebrow and blew a silent whistle. Morgan’s face turned nine shades of red and Axel began to regret having made introductions. There was no harm in the waterborne’s actions. Hers was the playful flirtation of a woman whose heart had been broken into so many piece she had no intention of ever giving it to anyone ever again. But there was an insurmountable difference between the modest, chaste, reserved world of the Rheyfelwr and the more liberal nature of the Tuatha de Talamh. “Figures it would be Bram. The man’s got no respect for private traditions.” “All it would take is one good wind and everyone would know anyway.” Turning in his seat, Axel looked up to find the earthborne standing next to Josse. The inquisitors all shifted uneasily, not knowing whether they should throw him from the stands for daring to cross their barrier around the seer, or be very worried that he’d managed to do so without a single one of them noticing. Standing at attention a few steps up behind Morgan, Josse didn’t even look in his direction. “I’d have thought you’d be down there getting ready to joust!” Bram looked at him in disbelief. “Two men riding straight at each other, full tilt, top speed with the sole intention of colliding hard enough to unseat one or the other.” He shook his head. “No thanks, I’ll pass. Have you seen some of those Bruid competing today? I feel like a boy standing next to this one as it is” he went on with tilt of his head toward the Defender. Josse continued to scan the crowds around his master and said nothing. “Not much of a talker this one, eh?” “Not normally, no. Especially when he’s on duty” Axel replied, leaving it to his fairly intelligent friend to figure out the ill-wisdom of bothering the Bruid while he was attending his responsibilities.