(121-02-08) Just The Two Of Us
Just The Two Of Us
Summary: Keyte and Kesha are apparently left unchaperoned in the gardens of the Tyrell manse.
Date: 08/02/2014
Related: Oh, a few, and none.
Players:
Kesha..Keyte..

Walled Garden - Garden Isle Manse Sphinx Street
This large garden is a wonderland of splendor. Small trees and exotic flowers are in bloom, their aromas permeating the area. The entire garden is enclosed a high wall, covered in vines and ivy. There is an area where fresh herbs are growing, and another for roses of red, white, and of course, Tyrell gold. Other beds have daffodils, tulips, lilies, and pansies. Spread out and mingled amongst the rest of the plants are a variety of wildflowers. The two far corners are dominated by massive oak trees, which spread shade over the area. The luscious scents and beauty add to the natural feel of the atmosphere here.
Stone benches of polished marble surround a long pool, also of marble. There's a statue of a small dolphin above one end, spouting water from its snout. The pool isn't very deep, only about three feet, and small, colorful fish dart about playfully. Luxuriously soft towels are folded and placed on some of the benches. To one side is a lounging area, with outdoor furniture which comfortably seats six.

The gardens of the Tyrell manse are a tranquil place, lush and flowering and oh-so-luxurious. A good place for some down-time, or to indulge in the more artistic of pursuits — painting, drawing, writing long sonnets, etc, etc. Or, if you're on the more adventurous side (and let's face it, some of us are) it's a wonderful place to play. Keyte is seated on the lip of the pool here, her skirts hitched up as her feet dangle in, toes splishing and splashing to drive the little schools of fish mad. She laughs, lifting a goblet to her lips, only to frown as she finds the thing empty. "Well, that's a shame."

A garden is a perfectly natural, even expected, place for find a Tyrell. It is a bit stereotypical, really, but Kesha for one isn't upsetting any stereotypes. At least not outwardly. Fingertips brush at some soft flowers still in bloom as she makes a leisurely stroll around. By the time she gets around to where her sister is driving fish mad, or perhaps comes around to again is more likely, she lets out a deeply patient sigh. "If you will bother the fish so, you should at least laugh in a properly mischievous way. You are near enough to giggling like that." Presumably they have some chaperones around somewhere, unless their older sister is 'chaperoning' them by not being nearby and also not caring.

"Well, I would," starts Keyte in reply, leaning back and kicking up a larger spray of water across the pool, "But I've run out of wine. It's rather difficult to pull off 'mischievous delight' when your cup is dry, you know. Is Lyla over amongst the roses? I swear she was here just a moment ago." Said handmaiden has a knack for disappearing.

"Is it? Perhaps you should try maniacal laughter, then, in mischief's stead. You dry cup has driven you mad, you poor dear." Kesha's pity for her sister's (admittedly fake) state of madness is dripping with insulting pity. Of course, that's fake too. She follows the words with a cheery smile and with a sweep of skirts moves to sit on the edge of the pool nearby. She looks around, but all there is to see are flowers and fountains. "We seem to be alone…How improper." Unlike earlier criticisms, this she seems amused by.

Keyte tests out a very low-pitched mwa-ha-ha-haaaaa, throwing her head back. "Mad, indeed. And now, you're alone with a madwoman," she retorts, wrinkling her nose and then poking her tongue out playfully. The ripples in the pool from all her kicking are starting to settle, but the fish seem reluctant to return to this side of the water.

"Acceptable, I suppose," Kesha decides of Keyte's mwa-ha-ha. It is a very minor compliment. Needs work, is the undertone. "Nothing I am not used to," she replies in regards to being alone with a madwoman, smiling over at her twin with such sweetness someone might get a toothache.

Keyte rolls her eyes at the judgment on her laugh, not bothering to give it a second go. No doubt any other attempt would yield the same opinion! Not fooled by that sweet smile, either, she half-turns with a narrowed gaze upon her sister. "Oh, psh. You shouldn't speak about Katya that way, it's not very nice. Have you been to the Maidenday gardens, yet?" The abrupt change of tack sees her brows lift, opening up her expression.

It probably would yeild the same option, unless she managed to improve suddenly. Kesha delicately presses her hand to her chest, every inch a Lady, and looks affronted. "I would never say such a thing about Katya!" Yes she would. She didn't right now, but she would. She actually looks around as if expecting their elder sister to show up right then. Safe from rebuke, she slants a sly look at her sister. "I have not, but I look forward to it."

"Lies, all lies," insists Keyte with a bubbling laugh, following that look around for Katya. What, did we miss her walking in? No? Phew. "I disturbed the ladies Lia and Mordane Bulwer there, playing a game of chase." So childish. "Lia seems lovely, but Mordane's a bit odd. She wears a hood. Very quiet. She likes to paint, though. I wonder if she's better at it than you?" That sickly-sweet smile from mere moments ago is mirrored back to her twin, although Keyte's version doesn't have the same finesse as Kesha's.

"I would never lie!" This also a lie. Kesha seems to have no shame in piling them on, for all that she flutters about it. All for show for someone who neither cares nor believes her. "My word, you have already managed to find ladies as childish as yourself? You must have found yourself quite at home." The jab loses a lot of fun with a returned one about her painting. She wrinkles her nose at her twin. It is a very familiar expression, but not very lady-like. "I suppose that depends on her preferred subject."

Keyte most definitely does not care, nor believe her. She does bear an affectionate smile for all that fluttering, though, and then she practically snorts. The sound is technically borne of holding back another cry of laughter, but when it catches in her nose it sounds most snortly, indeed. "Seven, no, they weren't playing chase. Though Lia didn't seem disgusted that I was, so… you never know!" She seems visibly brighter at the very thought of more childish companions. The wrinkle-nosed face prompts a brief flash of concern. "Don't be daft, Kesha. Of course she doesn't paint better than you?"

"Keyte," Kesha attempts to scold, but the name comes out amidst a burst of laughter for that snorting, and so loses all its power. Snorting! Once she finishes giggling, she sighs. "Oh, Keyte. What in Westeros were you chasing this time?" Does she even want to know? "I suppose that is a good sign," she agrees, carefully supporting her sister's assessment as she brightens up. Adjusting her skirts, she considers the possibility of a better painter. "No, likely not. But perhaps, perhaps she is. Though you will of course not say so to anyone else if she is." Grey-blue eyes are big and almost pleading turned on Keyte. Right?

Snorting, yes. She doesn't even have the grace to blush about it, instead laughing right along with her sister. "Lyla, one of the guards, and the most scraggly looking cat I ever saw," are the people (and animal) involved in the game of chase, by her admission. "It was such fun." The twinkle in her own grey-blue eyes dulls as they meet their match, a hand laid over her heart to affirm her most solemn of swearings: "I shall spill my tea upon every single canvas her brush has ever touched, if it is so." A beat. "And on her dress, for good measure."

"Ruining out good reputation already by chasing around some scraggly cat the gardens." Kesha sighs in a way that is deep and entirely over-dramatic. Then she cants a smile at her sister, which is plainly amused. "I suppose there are worse things for you to be chasing." Despite dramatics, she doesn't really look put-out her sister was chasing a cat around. Losing her smile, she nods sharply, mimicking Keyte's solemness. "Thank you." Another nod. "Good thinking." About the dress.

"At least I introduced myself as Lady Keyte," quips she, looking pleased with herself. Maybe next time she'll use her sister's name. Keyte returns Kesha's nod, equally sharp, and adds a few more bobs of her chin to accept that praise. "But of course. I'm more than just a pretty face, you know!"

Kesha eyeballs her sister in silence for a long moment like she expects that introducing herself as 'Lady Kesha' is exactly what Keyte will do the next time she's caught doing something a little improper. "Well there is that." She is both grateful and relieved. "Oh, I know," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if it didn't need to be said. "You have many good qualities. I am always pleased when you apply yourself. Just do not spill anything actually accidentally."

Keyte weathers that long look from Kesha with the straightest face she can manage, which is not entirely straight. Her smile is itching to blossom from the corners of her mouth. That is, until they turn down in a peevish frown. "I see what you did there," she tells her sister, her brows knitting down. "And I'm not going to bite."

Kesha arches her brows a touch at that smile she can see just wanting to blossom. She sees you. Two can play at the name game, you know. "Of course you are not," she says, drawling as if that's patiently obvious. Then she smiles suddenly. "Biting would mean you acted with intention. You would be more likely to accidentally trip so your teeth land somewhere."

"I would not!" A deep blush is rising up her neck, into her cheeks, threatening to creep past her temples even. "I could bite, if I so wanted," Keyte flusters. Wait. "But I don't want to." But she has, regardless. Fiddlesticks. She kicks her feet most huffily, water spraying in a wide circle about her feet for the violent disturbance. A rain of droplets wets her skirts. "You're so awful to me. I promised to ruin her art, even. Ugh!"

My goodness, that is some blush. Kesha looks deeply pleased with herself, just staying silent while letting Keyte stammer and fluster about. At least until there is kicking water and she leans away with a noise of protest. The fish, who had just begun to think the water was safe again, scatter in complete panic. "You did. That's because you are such a good sister." She smiles prettily and gives a lock of her sister's hair a friendly and familiar tug.

Keyte kicks the water again, just for good measure. She's a 'for good measure' kind of girl. Her blush is still bright, though it's progression up to her forehead seems to have stalled. "I am," she responds grudgingly, curling both her hands about her empty goblet and checking it once more. In case she's missed its magical refilling. (She hasn't.) Her head flops in an exaggerated movement for the tug of her hair, and she harrumphs. "Where is Katya, anyway? And where's Lyla. I want some more wine."

"You are," Kesha soothes, not falsely placating her sibling by any means. As obnoxious as she can be towards her twin at times, heavens help anyone else who would try to do the same. This doesn't stop her from rolling her eyes at all the extra kicking and harrumphing. "I don't know. Maybe a rosebush picked a fight with her. Or worse." What is worse? "I suppose we will have to go find them, then." They are so put upon. Terribly so.

It is a special sort of relationship, isn't it? Keyte is slowly coming around, a change of subject doing much to help. "A rosebush," she agrees, not under any illusions that it should actually be a plant their sister is out tangling with. With shared weariness (they are so put upon!) she sighs, plucking her feet from the water and swinging around to find her slippers. "I suppose we shall," she resigns, glancing at her feet to add in complaint, "My toes have gone wrinkly."

"Mhm." Kesha doesn't give a lot of thought to what their sister might actually be doing. Mostly because it affords the pair of them a lot of leeway to escape being chaperoned and wander off as they please. She nods in agreement with her twin's weariness. Yes, yes. Then she leans over to eye the wrinkled feet. "So they have. The fish are having their revenge."

"Stupid fish," Keyte mutters, not at all impressed with her wrinkles. "I shall have them all beheaded if I get a blister, and make a feast of their colorful carcasses." That particularly bloodthirsty vow is trotted out whilst she pulls on her slippers, and is quite lacking in conviction.

"They are terribly stupid," Kesha agrees, being quite supportive. She stands up, smoothing her skirts, and looks at what is visible of the fish before looking back at her twin. "There you go. That is the spirit." Sort of. She is probably okay that such a vow is made without conviction, if only because she does not want to be involved in any explanations of fish beheading.

It'd probably be accidental. I stepped out of the way and the fish fell onto the sword, kind of thing. Her slippers tugged on, Keyte stands and smooths her skirt in exactly the same manner as her twin, albeit with an empty goblet in one hand. "Come on," she urges, grabbing for Kesha's hand with her free one. "We've got handmaids and errant sisters and wine to find." At least one of those three shouldn't be too taxing to hunt down, right?

I fell holding my silverware knife and landed on the fish. A likely story. No, really, from Keyte it's likely. "That is quite the list," Kesha says, making it sound less like a horrible chore and more like the start of an adventure. Which it just might be. Holding onto her sister's hand, she nods and strides off in a direction, tugging her twin along. "Come on."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License