"Announcing the Lady Avalbane Kinsley, of the Land of Tartan!"

A clear, masculine voice rang out from the path to the stable yard, no doubt a wandering palace guard enticed into doing the maiden's bidding. At his announcement, said Lady Avalbane stepped daintily onto the path, swept a curtsy before the guard, then to an imaginary courtier on the left. Nervous hands wound themselves into the muslin fabric of the cotehardie she wore, it's small train collecting dust at her feet. Looking quite delicate, the coltish girl bent to administer another low curtsy, to another imaginary King and Queen, and tripped, stumbling over her own gangly legs and arms.

"It's simply no use! I'm hopeless," she cried, defeated, going to lean on the steepled fence beside the guard. He was beginning to look quite anxious, she noted - but perhaps that was because she had kept him from his post for far too long. "It was a nice try, though. Thank you." The guard bowed formally before her, and with a bright smile, Avalbane reached out to pat him on the cheek before prancing off toward the stables, humming a lively Gaelic song under her breath, slightly off-key.

The first steed to catch her eye was a magnificent blue roan, obviously belonging to one of the wealthy noblemen. A gilded saddle and tack rested on the shelving beside him, and Apple's whole body itched with the urge to ride again. Then, a darling chestnut mare snorted, a lady's side-saddle in plain view. Apple snorted, the side-saddle was an eyesore. Returning to pat the blue roan, she found herself almost immediately cooing over the stallion, plaiting his mane into tiny braids and murmuring to him in Gaelic.

Finally, she had found a place in this strange, stiff court where she could be at peace!

Michael turned his head at the sound of a loud voice ringing out through the courtyard, his eyes catching sight of the vocal guard. One dark brow lifted in curiosity, his pale blue eyes lighting up at the words ‘Land of Tartan’. Who was this Lady Avalbane Kinsley, he had heard that name before.

Turning his crimson clad form towards the young lady, the two gold lions embroidered on his chest looked as if they were fighting as the sun caught on the fabric. His right hand rested on the grip his Tartan backsword at his side, his other hand hung freely at his side. He fixed his gaze on her, and he tried not to smile as she tripped over nothing.

She was new in court that was obvious, and it would only be right to introduce himself to a fellow Tartan. With his mind made up, his feet began his movement towards the lady. As he approached her relative position, for she was moving, he could hear the tune she was humming. His own deep voice came to life, as he quietly sang the words. It was an old song, and his mother had taught him every line.

When he noticed where she was heading, a smile did cross his lips. His black Friesian stallion was shifting in his stall as he saw his master approach, he broke his song to return his horses greeting.“Eacharn my old friend, would you like to go for a ride this fine day,” his words were laced with his Tartan accent. Landing a firm pat on the black beasts neck, Michael rubbed his horses forehead. Then he turned to address the young lady, his eyes playful as his lips curled in a smile.

“I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you before m’lady,” he said gently, his accent playing through his words like an unruly child. “I am Lord Ambassador Michael Ammadon.” He bowed as he spoke. Michael knew that many had heard of the bastard son to King Octavian, but he was not ashamed, for he had made his own name in the courts.

The startlement felt by the dainty courtier was quite apparent as suddenly, the words to the song poured from a man's throat. Avalbane had been totally unaware that she was in company, and nearly fell over herself again in her efforts to be proper and polite. And although she had diverted her attention - momentarily - to her newfound companion, she found a part of her conscious mind still dwelled on the roan. The stallion had obviously taken to her touch, as he assisted in her imbalance by bumping his muzzle against her shoulder for more pats.

Lord Ambassador Michael Ammadon...

The name was familiar, but her first shock was at the lengthy title the young, impish man before her seemed to possess. Several moments of musing had proffered no results as to his seeming familiarity, so after a short delay, Avalbane smiled childishly and decided to grace him with her name.

"T-The pleasure is mine, Lord Ambassador!" The Lady bent in a slow curtsy, this time having much more success since she did it very carefully - unfortunately with a great show of humor and quite a bit of irony, the roan butted her in the side with his head as she descended, sending the disheveled girl skittering to the floor of the stables.

"I am Lady Avalbane Kinsley, of the Land of Tartan," she said, trying to repeat the vocal guard's dignified clarion call as she attempted to right herself, pulling sprigs of straw from the white snood concealing her soot-black hair. "And I apologize, Lord Ambassador, for my disheveled appearance. I assure you I am most lady-like when not covered in straw." The smile that returned to her face was playful, if not devilish. Ah, well. She imagined if she was to trip in front of any courtier, this might as well be the one. Perhaps he would be willing to forget this display, whereas the courtly ladies would probably not.

He smiled at the quirky lady before him, see seemed rather prone to falling. Though he had to admit she had a way with the horses. His smile beamed at her as she took a few moments to process his title, his vivid eyes dancing about her and the mischievous roan. Her childish smile was a welcomed sight, knowing that of all the courtiers she would most likely be pleased to meet him.

“The pleasure it mine Lady Avalbane,” he was in a playful mood as he spoke. Her attempt at mocking the guard made him laugh, for the first time in a long while. Michael held out a hand to help the rather off balance lady.

“No need to apologize, I often find ladies throwing themselves at my feet.” Her devilish smile only brought a grin to his face, as he let his cheeky words slip past his lips. Michael knew that nobody was perfect, and rather liked seeing someone from his homeland.

“If I may ask, was the lady heading out for a ride?” Michael’s words were sweet, he would enjoy some company, even more so if it was of a Tartan persuasion.

OOC: Sorry it is so short, I think I need sleep.

Placing a hand lightly atop the hand that was offered her, Avalbane finally managed to right herself, brushing off the last rebellious pieces of straw from her skirt as she did so. Ladies throwing themselves at his feet? One eyebrow hitched upwards almost mockingly as she inspected his features for flaw. Suddenly, with the opportunity to get a good look at him, she could imagine why. Bright blue eyes gazed imperturbably back at her from above similarly high cheekbones. His skin was as flawlessly smooth as a babe's, and lightly burnished from days in the sun. He was handsome, she'd give him that, but Avalbane was not the swooning type of female.

Quite unexpectedly, her face absolutely lit from within, her incredible excitement at the mention of riding very clear. "A ride? Oh, that sounds delightful my Lord Ambassador!" And just as unexpectedly, she stopped, looking a bit crestfallen as she remembered her well-veiled impoverished beginnings. "Alas, I unfortunately do not have a horse to ride with. I was merely saying hello to this fellow," she said, gesturing to the blue roan, who lipped at her fingers, searching for treats. Taking a place at the Ambassador's side, she tentatively laced her fingers through the Friesian's forelock, stroking his velvet muzzle tenderly.

"He's beautiful," she murmured. "Sturdy, too. Aren't you, boy? You must have paid a small fortune for this lad." A bit of Tartan burr laced her speech as she patted the stallion's brow. Her hands stood out like bone against the horse's coal-black hide, which was a rather disturbing revelation to the young Tartan. Growing up, she'd been as tan as an Emerald native from her days in the sun. It was distressing to see how pale and sheltered she'd become.

Once she was righted, he drew back to a proper distance. She did not seem amused at his jest, but then again it was not something one would say to a lady they just met, or any lady for that matter. As she lifted her brow to his words, he could feel her eyes travelling over him. Michael was fighting back an urge to laugh, for she was trying to figure him out. A bright smile pulled at his lips, as sweet laughing words escaped his lips. “Did I pass inspection m’lady,” his accent playful and light.

The shining light that she put forth as he mentioned a ride, but then she became veiled behind a shadow. “I am sure that if we ask a groom he can find an adequate mount for you m’lady.” His words fell on her like his gaze, a smile still fixed in place on his lips. Michael was amazed by her way with horses, and could not help but admire her the more for it. Beauty and intelligence is a rare pairing.

“He rather likes attention, so beware you may not be rid of him afterwards.” He was trying to be playful, for it was always stuffy around most of the courtiers. If there was on thing he liked more then open air, it was filling it with laughter. The Tartan flare in her words was a welcome song, for he longed to be among others like him. His eyes were soft on her, not out of want, but out of longing for some piece of home. He had far to long been kept from his mother and sister.

Attempting her very best at a Lady of the Court, Avalbane smiled, and folded her hands primly at her waist, wringing the coarse fabric of her dress between her two inner fingers. "If there is a mount to spare, I would be delighted to take a ride. I do miss it. I was fourteen when last I rode." She was briefly reminded of Calder as he had lead the weary gelding through town, she herself barely clinging to wakefulness as she slumped over the thoroughbred's broad neck.

Then a wry grin broke her prim and proper facade. "You pass inspection, and so does your noble steed, Lord Ambassador. If't pleases you, may I ask that I not be fitted with a Lady's sidesaddle? I find them, frankly, ridiculous. There's no possibility of controlling one's mount when one is focused on not sliding from the saddle."

A quick glance cast from the corner of one meadow-green eye caught the look of softness on his face, if briefly. For a moment, she wondered if it was affection, but reminded herself that she was being hasty.

"I wouldn't mind not being rid of him," she murmured. Then, startled by her boldness, she added, "Oh! I mean, of course he belongs to you Lord Ambassador, but I do so miss the horses. My father dealt in horseflesh. Not having the stables nearby is like missing a piece of my heart."

Her actions seemed nervous, and he hoped that he had not been the cause. Michael shot her a winning smile, as he let his steely eyes rest on her. “I am sure that the King can spare a mount for you m’lady, but if not we may just have to share Eacharn.” He laughed at his black horse, who seemed to be trying to lip at straw that she had missed. Moving towards her, his hand reached out to loose the strand of yellow straw. Once he had finished his task, Michael returned to a proper distance between them.

“I am glad you approve of our company Lady Avalbane, and it would please me just fine not worry about losing you during our outing.” His laugh rang out once more, this time at the thought an ungainly dismount. For the first time in a while, he was actually having fun. Michael quelled his laughter, and turned his attention back towards his steed. His steady hand smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of the dark coat under his palm.

Michael smiled at her comments, and nodded as she finished. “You seem to take as much joy in Eacharn as I do, and so you shall have use of him when you wish. I must insist on it, for I do not exercise him enough.” With his last word Michael patted his horse strongly, as he smiled back at the Tartan lady. Kinsley, so that was where he had heard that name. “I have met your father only a few times, and he deals in fine horse flesh if I might say so myself. I could see why you miss the company of his fine horses, all the more reason to take dear Eacharn here out for as many rides as possible.”