"—yes," he says, after a moment's bewilderment. "They remind me of home."

“Oh, good! But since I am pressed for time, you only get one. And I am not giving it a face, I know that’d probably be better, but I have no idea how to make that look good, and it’d take me time I don’t have to figure it out.”

She shows him her embroidery. With the clarification that it’s to be a weirwood… it does look like one, doesn’t it. The beginnings of one, anyway, all branches in white thread and a few red leaves and its trunk only penciled in planning.

Oh. Ohhhhhhh. Oh okay! Okay he understands now. "It's lovely."

“Well it’s traditional for a lady to give her sweetheart a,” she waves a hand vaguely, “a favor, for them to carry around, to represent her love for him. And I could just give you a handkerchief and call it done but, I mean, it seems more meaningful if it had any resemblance to your home, especially since the whole thing is a Southern tradition and probably seems very silly to you, so it should be nice for you for other reasons, and I’m best at plants, except I don’t know any northern ones except weirwoods and I’m babbling again aren’t I.”

He leans his head on her lap and keeps an adoring gaze up to her face. "I could spend all day listening to your voice, milady. And I shall treasure this gift always; it touches me deeply, that you wished to make this for me."

“Oh,” she murmurs, smiling. Then sets her embroidery aside, and reaches down to run her fingers through his hair and pet him. “Well, good. I’m glad it’ll be to your taste. Because while I’m also very good at flowers I somehow expect you wouldn’t appreciate them as much.”

"Some flowers bloom, with Spring snow. Not many, but there are some."

“So, tastefully placed embroidered flowers are a maybe, but too many is gaudy and overdone. Good news, those are my tastes, too. Though I did notice the state of the godswood after our wedding, do you happen to know anything about that?”

He grins for a moment, but then turns a bit more serious. "Godswoods are not meant to be built in castles. Castles are to be built around them. And they are not gardens and should not be turned into gardens. They are the old gods, they are nature itself, and trying to change them to make them look safer and more appealing to the eye is... just masking it. It's pretending, trying to make the old gods safe. Gods aren't safe, and one should not forget it."

“Huh. I think I understand.” She leans down and presses a kiss to his head. “Though I think only because we married there, in the godswood. The Seven are… sort of meant to be safe and comforting.”

"Hm. Maybe so. But I do not trust them."

Pet pet pet. "I understand the hesitancy."

It sounds like she does more than understand, actually, but that's when Estrith returns with Alisander's plate. Lady Anavett should probably not be telling her husband heretical things like 'I have never really cared for or found comfort in the Seven' where anyone south of the Neck could possibly hear her. Estrith, for her part, looks very embarrassed about interrupting the moment of intimacy and scurries away immediately, along with a promise to lock the door and let it be known they are not to be disturbed for a while.

Alis does not get up from his kneeling position but he thanks Estrith warmly and offers her his most charming smile, coached to perfection by Zak. He has to admit he was surprised to see just how much a single smile could change things, but so it goes.

"It seems she has some assumptions about how we'll be spending our time together, here," he observes.

"She's very happy for me, and thinks we're terribly cute together. But yes, she does. She'll gossip, and be certain of how we spend our time regardless of if we confirm her assumptions or not, but it'll all be flattering and sweet."

"Then it seems only respectful to her to make sure she does not tell a lie."

"Oh, don't worry, she's very good about saying merely the facts and leaving the rest to implication!" she teases, grinning at him as she continues to pet him.

"Nevertheless."

"Oh? Worried about even her implied honesty? Such chivalry! Should I be jealous?"

...he blushes. "That depends. Are you jealous of Zakary?"

Blink, blink.

".... No? I mean, I suppose that depends on what you expect me to be jealous of, but. I don't think I'd feel jealousy even if you were bedding my maids, I'd mostly be concerned for them being treated properly. Or irritated about you not warning me first, since you said you weren't going to."

"Mmhm." He rubs his face against her leg like a cat. "Then you shouldn't be jealous of a maid. Between the two of you I don't have the energy for anyone else."

"My poor, tired husband." Pet, pet, pet. "Hm. I really don't think I'm jealous of Zackary? Perhaps being raised with you, if I really stretch? But then the Eyrie is terribly isolated, all tucked away in the mountains, and I did actually like my childhood well enough. I probably would have been bored, even with you to distract me." Pet, pet, pet.

He continues rubbing his face against her leg lightly with semi-lidded eyes. "I said that merely in jest. Milady was clear yesterday about her feelings, to my great joy."

“Oh. I suppose it was just playful banter, wasn’t it. Sorry, it seemed an important question, so I immediately got distracted trying to answer it to the best of my ability.” Pet, pet, pet. He has nice hair, she likes carefully disentangling it with her fingers. “You look very comfortable down there. Do you want me to hand feed you your lunch, so you don’t have to move?”

"That sounds very nice, if it would not bother milady."