Lys: Fidgets

Aithne followed Artos to the kitchen, grateful that there was a place for her somewhere.
When Lucretia remarked about Vortigern, she barely surpressed a laugh, but she was unable to keep the smile from her face. Absolutely ridiculous, it was, and yet something she'd expect of a person like Lucretia seemed to be.

They said their "goodnight"s, and Aithne was startled. She had called him Artos! Were all servants so familiar here, or was this woman not a servant? If not, why was she working so hard in the kitchens?

Artos left her standing in the doorway, so there she stood, trying to decide whether to pitch in or wait. In the back of her mind played those few notes she heard as she left the atrium. The bard was playing his harp- after everyone left. He must be composing the song of the Guttersnipe's return, she thought. Her fingers itched again, and-

"Heavens, child. You're fidgeting worse than a colt!" When Aithne jumped to attention, her voice softened. "Why don't you go out for a bit. I've a feeling I'll still be here." She shot a dark look at the fireplace. "Go on with you."

Merciful Christos, you answer prayers I don't pray! With a smile and a short curtsy, she made her way outside, flew across the yard to the door of the atrium. She could hear the bard inside. A few tears sprung to her eyes as memories of her father surfaced.

Knowing better than to disturb his song-making, she entered quietly and sat down in the shadows to listen.