(121-02-09) Crows Night
Crows Night
Summary: Riderch and his men's celebration is rudely interrupted — twice.
Date: 09/02/2014
Related: Some, but I'm not the linking kind. >.>
Players:
Riderch..Keyte..Kai..

Quiet Pool, River Road


A couple of miles from the city there is a little wood, and at its Northern edge is a soft green meadow. Here a still pool is formed in the river by a big boulder embedded into the bank, a stone perhaps representing the furthest trickling trailing edge of the Uplands. It is worn smooth by the ages and large enough for several to sit, or a few to stretch out and take the sun.

The pool, sheltered from the current by the big stone, is broad and deep enough to make a pleasant swimming hole, and in the summer the water is always comfortably warm. This far upstream from the city, it's clean and quite clear.

There is a motley of men in red and black — well, 'motley' may be an excessive term to describe four of them. A wiry Blackwood lord and his three sworn men, two of them are shorter and dark of hair, and one is shorn bald and as big as an ox. He has a greatsword strapped across his back. The little group is gathered around a small fire laid out by the river pool, and they sit, pleasantly chatting away loudly with occasional little explosions of laughter. One might be able to spy mugs in their hands, it looks like they took their booze with them. Well, minus the Big Guy, who is empty handed. Several horses are tied to nearby trees.

Keyte's ragtag group of retainers could also be described as 'motley' — at least three of them are large sworn guards, with an assortment of weapons, but there's also a gaggle of lesser folk who've seen fit to find themselves 'lost' with the notoriously escapist lady Tyrell. Between the group, there's but two horses, and lady Keyte is upon neither. Instead, one of the burlier men is in her proper sidesaddle, and the laughter amongst the group over this particular joke precedes them down the trail far further than the light of the torch or two they've somehow drummed up. "Nonsense," is the lady's opinion, highly amused. "He rides far better than I!" She's at the head of the pack, though walking backwards and almost like to trip over the giant mass of fabric that serves for her skirt.

Yep, as motleys go, the Riverlander motley is definitely struggling to be defined as such. The four men are clearly in a heated, if friendly discussion about something. "Hahahaha, and then Tewdric, if you could bloody /believe/ it, came out of the chamber with skinned cow's head in one hand and he just turns to me," the voice here narrating now clearly belongs to Riderch if one is paying attention, "and asks who was in his chamber last night? As if I was supposed to know?!" More laughter. And then song.

"Let not, the sunlight o'er our pathway close 'Till we overthrow our ancient foes. Strong as yonder foaming tide, rushing down the riverside. Be ye ready, sword and Speeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaar"

"Pour upon the the spoiler nearrrrrrr!" All four men manage to stay in key, although some are better than others. They're clearly partying, and partying hard.

As the bunch stops to catch their breath, as the big bald man sets down the cup he has not even been paying attention to, pointing in the distance. Torchlight, and sound. He nudges Riderch in the arm and the Lord sits at attention. "Uh oh, I don't suppose they think we've been poaching. Tel, do you have any wine left? Maybe you should share." More laughter, as Riderch sits up to spy the approaching group. "Well Gods kick me. What have we here?"

At least part of her party looks civil and noble? It's a stretch. They're a pretty slappy bunch. That broad guardsman is riding sidesaddle, for pity's sakes.

The song must carry, though, and there surely has been a skin or two of wine abounding amongst their merry selves, for as the quintet's harmonies carry along the path, Keyte starts to dance. She lifts her skirts higher, exposing some pretty fancy footsteps, all whilst walking backwards. Most of what Riderch et all will see is just the lady's curls bouncing merrily in time in the torchlight, and she dissolves into a giggle as their singing stalls, dashing from her position ranged far in front of her group to the safety of their sides. Not to close to that smelly horse, though.

"I should hope the Gods won't kick you, Ser!" Her catcall is bold, her voice ringing clear in the eve's air, encouraged by more laughter from her companions.

"I think m'lord's account's going to run up a little bit more." The big guy says, chagrinned as he produces another bottle from a nearby pack and sets it firmly on the ground.

Riderch reaches for it and hefts it in the air again, as though he were to drink, and then notices the cork. And the mug he still has next to him. The wheels in his head visibly turn for a second before he sets it aside and ambles to his feet, brushing some grass off his tunic. "Well I'll be damned." He notes. "Tel, I guess we'd better share this bottle. And I'll be on my best behavior, these are Tyrells coming our way."

Another short laugh and then he calls out in the distance towards the now-familiar noblewoman. "I would hope they would — We are trying to wake them up!" Riderch suddenly sounds oddly serious with this last statement.

Keyte is in her cups, and so every single one of her movements is exaggerated. This includes the stopping still as she's addressed by the Blackwood, and the puzzlement on her face for his response. He seems familiar. She's trying to place him. There's a look askance at some random laundress, who just shrugs and continues wandering down the path because: it's not laundry!

"H- ah… no. R… R… Rickart?" The lady of Tyrell's stab in the dark is just that. She skips along the path a few steps, stumbling upon a stone and dropping her skirts for a comical pinwheeling of her arms to regain balance. The guard a-saddle her horse brays a deep laugh at his lady, who doesn't seem to much care.

"I feel you've mistaken me for the ghost of my great-grandfather, my lady. Who I've heard was taller!" Riderch proclaims. One of the dark-haired men in Riderch's party glances off at Keyte's antics, but specifically focuses on her guard. Could that be a look of commiseration? No, of course not. That would be rude.

"We were just celebrating a feast of —- of.." Riderch shrugs, trailing off some as he glances to the fire. "Come on, Tel. What was it called?"

"Crows' Night." The large, bald man says, sounding fairly assured.

"Crow's Night!" Riderch repeats. "It's a celebration where we…." He just trails off, pointing at the little camp around them.

It would be so rude, but not as rude as it might be for Keyte's put-upon guard to share in such a look. Must be a trick of the torchlight; he would never! And neither would the laundress, or the pot-stirrer, or the potato-peeler…

"Crows' Night?" Keyte doesn't sound convinced, really. She's found her footing again, though, thank the Gods. "What is that? Something to do with your Uncle gone to the wall?" She doesn't try to skip again, rather drawing up with even footfalls into the light of Riderch et al's fire. Her party seems to just assimilate, crowding around the Blackwoods as though it were only natural.

The two men and the bodyguard look in askance at Riderch but appear clearly at ease as their Lord does at this point. If this were cover for an act of untowardness or crime it would be quite a crazy one.

"Oh no." Riderch finally starts, processing this concept as if it never really dawned on him before. "Nobody knows how it got it's name. That's just a coincidence, really." He looks at her and her little entourage, beckoning them forth. "Here! Here!" He points at the still-corked wine bottle. And what looks like another pack of assorted smoked meats. "Mm. Oh, it's right here." He bends downward to produce a block of cheese that looks like it's probably hard enough to crack a man's skull. He makes a face and puts it down again, with the clear gesture of 'it's yours if you want it.'

"Friends are welcome! Our hospitality's a little shabby at the moment but it's freely given. Tel, Belarius, Gaheris — this is the Lady Keyte Tyrell who I have had the distinctly dumb luck of meeting several times in passing." Riderch himself takes a bow and to his credit, it's steady.

"Oh." Keyte seems almost disappointed; a celebration in the honor of such a brave act should be a fine thing, after all. Remembering herself belatedly, she flashes teeth, lit gold by fire in the dark, as she smiles. And then frowns, teeth hidden behind the curve of her lips again. "You won't tell?" She's pretty well aware of the liberties being taken here, and they're not only limited to the sampling of other Houses cheese. Noblewomen, nightly prancing about, etc.

That guard, who can be seen to be quite a well-fed, portly fellow upon his dismount, slides off Keyte's horse and promptly offers a skin bearing the Arbor's stamp upon it in exchange for the Blackwood party's bottle of wine.

"These four are the best I've ever led." Riderch gestures towards the men who more or less take the compliment in stride, one of them seems to puff up a little at it and bows his head, not that his Lord can even see him. "You ask to keep a secret, we shall." The wine bottle is passed over towards the beefy guard and after a moment's pause, the skin is obtained, by one of the four. Belarius, it seems.

Riderch's words are fairly playful but there's no mockery in them. "We were remembering some of those who passed from Raventree Hall. It's a thing we do, although the Tree is not here to properly perform the ceremony." He pauses in explanation. "No one knows for sure how long this has been so, I think it dates back to the expulsion of the Ironborn."

Only after the assurance does Keyte see fit to see herself to a seat by the fire, none too bothered about how near or far from his lordship she finds herself. Coincidentally, it's a few bottomslengths (look, that is a legitimate unit of measurement) away. "My lord is too kind," says she, bright and sincere. More of a grateful undertone than a threatening one.

In the background, her rotund guard samples the bottle of wine he's traded for, and finds it not to his taste. He passes it on to a more combatantly-built lad with a sword, and back at the fire, Keyte practically beams a grin at Riderch. "Is that so? How fascinating. How ought the ceremony go, then? Were the tree here?"

For his part, Riderch's a gregarious sort, and if one stuffs enough booze in him it becomes immediately clear that he inheirited the 'happy drunk' trait from his ancestors. The 'dour' trait must have skipped a generation or so.

He waves dismissively. "Hospitality's one of the pillars of my people. You learn that young. At least, you're supposed to." There's a sharp twitch of his lips and lets out a quick, sharp snicker.

The few Blackwood men also linger by the fire, the big guy with the greatsword buckled on seems to be the one revelling the least — it's probably his job to make sure the other idiots don't get out of line. He winks at the guard who passed over the wine, probably not his cup of tea.

"Hrm. —It's done at dusk." Riderch finally starts now, turning his attention back to Keyte. "It's a dead weirwood tree. Every evening at dusk, hundreds of ravens come and pay homage. And then leave. Once they leave, we pay homage, remembering the dead." He grins, slightly, a little at odds with the subject matter.

Around the fire in the eve's light, there are a bunch of mismatch Tyrell retainers to accompany the Blackwood four; laundresses, a kitchenhand, a few guards, one of whom is very well-fed. Likely a minor noble, they tend to eat a lot. A few of them carry weapons, none of any exception but every one of them capable.

The lady Tyrell is seated just a few bottomslengths (look, I already explained this is a legitimate unit of measurement) from Riderch, the flush in her cheeks barely visible by firelight. She's been drinking. And she's listening with rapt attention to the Blackwood lord's explanation. "Huh," she squeaks in reply, folding her hands amongst the haphazard folds of her crumpled skirts. "You follow the Old Gods, yes? It's very… well. Interesting, meant in the most least offensive of ways, my lord. May I call you Rickart, out here? You can call me Keyte. I promise I won't tell!"

The subject is broached and Riderch takes a breath, and a pause, as if there's a measured, practiced caution surrounding it. He shoots a wry glance at his men and finally he pivots back to Keyte. "We do remember the Old Gods. We have not abandoned them and are merely — waiting. I've —" He purses his lips, it could be the drink or just the awkwardness of the topic "I've made peace with the presence of other faiths in this place, though." What he's actually done has probably pissed a few devout worshippers of both the Old Gods /and/ the Seven off by taking a clearly half-assed position, but he at least takes it seriously.

"If you want, — as I said, it was my Great Grandfather's name and by all accounts, the man was larger than life." He winks a bit. "Well, Lady — Keyte." There's a pointed 'ahem' delivered to the big bald dude in his little group.

Kai rides along through the darkness silently, the swords on each of his hips softly clinking. He squints slightly as he smells smoke, and soon after he notices the flickering of a fire, he softly pulls on the reins of his horse, taking a moment to gaze towards the various guardsmen about, he sighs softly, sparing a glance towards the two bottles of apple cider secured to his saddle before deciding to press on, slowly easing his horse forward in hopes that nobody decides that he is some description of demon and attempts to stab him, as it would likely be a very bad experience for all involved.

Keyte looks mildly troubled for all the pausing and breathing and caution, unsure if she's stirred up more than she intended. "Oh," she stumbles, not often failed by words. Yet, here she is. "Oh. Ah. Um. That's… well." She literally bites down on her tongue, the peek of its tip held between her teeth showing as she wrinkles her nose. "I'm not very pious," she finally confesses, words spilling forth all in a rush. "I do try!" As for her prowess at remembering names having failed her, she blushes quite deeply, the rise of red darkening her neck and all the way up to her cheeks.

"Riddart?" It's a guess. She's too stonked to remember, really.

The attention of the few Tyrell sworn in attendance flickers from their lady and the more attractive of her retainers to the approach of Kai, but they aren't inclined to engage. Unless the Blackwoods are? There's something of a camaraderie been formed, with the sharing of wine, here.

The three Blackwood men look like they'd rather try biting into that block of tooth-shattering cheese that Riderch set down than actually lift a finger to cause or solve problems at this point, and to his credit, Riderch isn't exactly that interested either. As he spies the lone rider he squints a little. Which is good, it takes the edge off the religious discussion for a moment before Keyte's statement on piety pretty much defangs it entirely. If her display has brought on any kind of social awkwardness, he hasn't noticed it. "I — am, I suppose, in my own way. Some thought our Gods were dead. I think they're just sleeping." Yeah, uh-huh.

"Riderch." He corrects, while eyeing the passing rider. "Looks like he's headed somewhere fun." He again takes a glance at the figure of Kai as the man passes on through. "Wonder if his wine is any better than ours."

Kai looks amongst the faces of the the few men that he can see well enough and then he notices the pool, which draws a slight frown from him, although he quickly wipes it from his face. He slowly reaches back for a moment, a rather suspicious movement to over-worried individuals, only to pull out a bottle of cider, hefting it up and then hopping off his horse casually, leaving it to roam free, apparently, "You chose a fine place for a drink." he says, approaching a man the farthest from the fire, offering the bottle to him with a friendly smile, then turning his gaze over to the pool, "And a fine place to swim." he finishes, a swim that he has grown to look forward to quite a bit. His gaze flickers towards Keyte for a moment, and the man whom she finds herself talking to, before he looks back at the man whom he offered the alcohol to, lest hostilities arise.

"Ohhhh, Riderch," Keyte exaggerates, because she knew it all along. No, really. That Arbor wine really addles your wits! "I didn't forget because you're forgettable, Riderch. I swear it!" She's upbeat enough that it's probably true. "Well I should like to hear of your thoughts on the Gods, Riderch," the lady of Tyrell insists, clearly overspeaking his name to try and commit it to her drunken memory. As for Kai's wine: "I doubt it." She's a Tyrell, after all. "But we could ask!" And Kai seems already to be addressing them, thankyou wine-timing. The lady tilts her head and squints across the fire, sure she recognises the newcomer but certainly unsure where from.

"I never implied anything of the sort." Riderch snickers, mirthfully towards the Tyrell woman. "I think those thoughts are best left for a time when I'm a little — yeh. You know what I mean."

Well, there may be safety in numbers, or it's just a good night, but the Riverlander looks to the various people assembled, and then over to Kai. If there are any hostilities here they're certainly not on Riderch's part, as he studies the man oddly — attempting to place him in the grand scheme of things. Or maybe he's just buzzed.

"It seemed like a nice place to build a fire. The city's impressive but the countryside here is — I don't know. Not so forboding as all that." He waves his hand towards the man in greeting.

Kai is quite hard to place in a persons memory at the moment, largely due to his style change, short hair, goatee and all that, one could almost place him as a noble at first glance, as he is quite the finely groomed lad. He chooses to sit with the men for the moment, blending in quite seamlessly, joking about and chuckling with them, deciding that suddenly stripping down and diving into a pool may not be his best course of action considering his company, besides, after sparing a glance towards the noble lady, he is fairly sure he recognises her, and from where he does, and that does not bode well with him, at least, when he is not wearing a shirt.

"It's much easier to escape to the countryside from Oldtown than from Highgarden," Keyte admits, not the slightest bit unappreciative of their surrounds. She, more than he, would understand the privilege of such. In her peripheral, the sight of Kai is noted, but she will focus entirely on her lord of Blackwood, for a good long moment, eyes absent. "You've been invited to the feast for my lords cousins? They're both betrothed now, it's a chance for me to prove my merit with regard to largesse, Riderch." She will orchestrate an invitation, says her tone. Though one should have been forthcoming!

"It's different this far south." Riderch intones, pensively. "I don't feel like I'm just stepping on somebody's bones here." in response to the woman. "Really? That's — an invite to a feast. I imagine my parents would applaud. But I'm — " There's almost a laugh there. "I wasn't invited before but you are really the first Tyrell I've met. I'm honored. I will try to attend if I can. My men too?"

There's a glance to the big guy again, appreciative. He pauses a bit, idly noting the newcomer. "It's a nice place, the pool. But be careful of the geese. I, uh — let's just say I am wary of them now."

"Of course, and your men," says Keyte, not at all bothered by the crash of her kinsmens party. They surely won't mind! Whilst Kai pauses on the periphery of their party, the lord and lady indulge in some longer conversation, until the both of them fall to a comfortable silence… which is apparently too comfortable for Riderch, his deeply lined eyes closing for the evening. Keyte is left to ponder the semi-familiar figure whom her guards have seen fit to indulge with Blackwood's wine. Hello, Kai. She's still not quite sure where she recognises the man from.

Kai spends a few minutes conversing with men about the periphery of the party, until finally Riderch blacks out for the night, and as he does so, a black stallion, a rather beautiful, nimble-looking creature approaches the fire, an unusual act to say the least, for a horse at least, although it likely intends to just pass by it on it's way to the pool, regardless, Kai takes this chance to excuse himself from his conversation about the finer women at the Bawdy Bard with some of the men and slowly brings himself to his feet, walking over to the horse and lightly grabbing it's reins, running his hands over it's black mane. He looks towards Keyte as he finds himself quite close to her, and chooses to speak up in his rather exotic accent, which is some description of blend between multiple Essos accents, along with an emerging streak of Westerosi, "Greetings milady, how are you this fine evening?" he asks, sounding ever the noble, a skill he learned from lonely housewives.

Keyte is a little put out, once she regains her wandering attention and find Riderch's lacking. But what is a lady to do, so far from home and so indecently socialising? She smiles, is what. Directly at Kai, clearly remiss in her recognition of his face. "Ah," she stumbles, hands tangling together amongst her skirts for the lack of wordliness. "Well, thankyou. And you… I'm… not at all sure I could address you appropriately, my lord." Clearly. Rookie (drunkie) mistake.

Kai chuckles quietly quietly at her mistake, going so far as to even make that polite, and attractive sounding, flashing her a smile, "You may simply call me Kai, milady." he says, not going so far as to correct her, but not outright lying either, he lightly slaps his horses side, sending it off towards the pool, as it passes by, Kai's suddenly got another bottle of apple cider in his hand, which he had quite seamlessly retrieved from his horses saddle as he pet it, quite magical. He looks down at Riderch for a moment, keeping a slight smile on his face, "It seems your conversation partner was overwhelmed by your beauty." he jokes, sparing a glance towards her, and then the pool, "Tis' a fine night for a swim.." he finishes, hand instinctively moving to the front of his belt, which supports three falchions and a plethora of pouches, perhaps thinking of taking it off right then and there, not that it would do much more than remove the swords and pouches from his person.

"Oh," Keyte infers, from the lack of surname given. She's no simpleton, after all. She's certainly grimacing at her mistake, probably envying Riderch and his wine-fuelled slumber about now. "Kai, then. A fine night for a swim, indeed, though not a thing a lady should indulge herself in." Perhaps she's used to compliments, or simply immune for whatever reason, for she hardly reacts to the comment on her beauty. Of course. "Are you going to?" Swim, that is. The Tyrell girl looks to her guards for guidance, here.

Kai shrugs slightly at her question, and slowly takes a seat, "Perhaps." he says simply, casting a glance to his new guard friends whom are likely getting quite drunk off his alchohol at this time, then looking back at the girl, "I suppose some description of actual introduction is in order.." he pauses for a moment so that he may pop open his bottle of cider, and then look around for cups, should there be any, and then looking back at the girl, "I am Kai, as I said earlier, I am.. Well, just about whatever you want me to be." he says, chuckling quietly as he says it, considering it is quite true in most situations, "May I ask your name?" he asks, with a charming smile.

Keyte watches the stranger carefully as he aims into a seat. There are cups, certainly, though none of them belong to her retainers. It's the Blackwoods with such forethought, but an easy enough willingness to share. The Tyrell girl pauses for a moment, briefly considering giving her twin's name instead of her own, but it's ultimately "Lady Keyte of House Tyrell," that she introduces herself as. "I know you," she accuses Kai, eyes narrowed upon his face as he smiles at her. She is not fooled by that charm.

Kai casually grasps himself a cup from the Blackwood armory, as it were, his smile widening slightly as she claims to know him, "I know me, too!" he exclaims, quietly, taking a sip from his cider, "We have so much in common." he says, sparing a brief glance towards the sleeping noble man for a moment as he begins to snore, his gaze turning back to Keyte so that he may examine her face, rather carefully, bright grey eyes taking in her facial structure, eyes and skin, a rather intense experience to be sure, although depending on ones tastes, not an unpleasant one.

She is clearly a Tyrell, as Kai looks her over: there is something in her bone structure, evidently, her complexion and the intensity of her eyes, that in the firelight are nothing but dark pools. Maybe dark blue, at an extremely obscure guess, but definitely dark and intense to any amateur onlooker. Keyte is clearly more comfortable in the company of the known quantity, aka Riderch, but she's not entirely off kilter under Kai's gaze. "So much in common, indeed," she agrees with a laugh before venturing, boldly, "Where do I know you from?"

Kai looks away after absorbing the womans facial features, at least half-satisfied that he may be able to recognise her should two versions of her appear before him, "Hmm, I don't know." he says in reply to her question, slowly turning his gaze over to the pool slowly, "Perhaps you shall remember by the time I go for a swim." he says, knowing that it would be quite difficult /not/ to remember when he takes his shirt off. He looks back at the woman once more, with a smile, "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Keyte." he finishes, pouring himself some cider and drinking it down, lifting the bottle a tad afterwards, "Do tell me if you would like some of the Quill and Tankards finest apple cider." he says, gesturing towards the bottle idly, "I imagine your wine is higher-quality, though."

"You lie!" Keyte has no qualms calling that out, given the lack of House name supplied by her latest companion. And he's familiar. "I should not want for any inn's cider, master Kai," she all-but-scolds. "Should you want for Arbor's gold? Or ruby-red, mayhap. My companions drink of both, and I imagine they're like to share with any friendly soul who cares to ask." Perhaps the sleeping Blackwood's guards could attest — were they not mid-gulp.

Kai smiles calmly as the woman scolds him, gazing into her eyes as she looks most angry, finding it rather amusing, "I'll stick to my cider, thank you." he says before quietly chuckling, "I shall make this easy for you and tell you that I have spent time upon the pillory, tis' likely you recognise me from there." he says simply, gradually finishing off his cider.

Keyte is not impressed at the way her questioning gaze is weathered. Even less so as Kai explains his origins. "Oh, my," exclaims the Tyrell, cheeks flushing brightly in the firelight. "Master Kai, how unseemly! And you deem it fit to sit by a lady?" She's incredulous, despite the fact that she's out here for the sitting-by in the first place.

Kai smiles slightly, "Yes, I do." he says simply, looking over towards the water once more, "Have you ever gone swimming late at night, and simply decided to sink into the darkness? I imagine most people find it to be an unpleasant experience, but to me it is more calming than anything, as if in that darkness I were alone in the world." he says, sounding ever the philosopher as he speaks, sipping more of his cider out of the cup he holds, his falchions positioned neatly at his sides.

Keyte can't help but to laugh at that simple admission. She shakes her head at Kai, reaching for a skin of her bannermen's wine from one of her companions who offers it freely. "I have never," admits the Tyrell, her eyes shining as she pauses to drink from the skin, no cup needed. "It is not something a lady is privileged to enjoy, you understand?"

Kai finishes off his cup as the woman finishes speaking, and sets it down, apparently feeling the desire to drink no more, he slowly crosses one leg over the other as he sits, but keeps a straight back regardless, as good posture is something he likes to keep, "So, as a Lady you are 'privileged' to enjoy getting drunk off your face with a man.." he gestures over to the passed out Lord, "But you are not 'privileged' enough to go for a swim?" he asks, chucking quietly after a moment, "I must say, that is quite depressing." he says, his smile widening to show white teeth as he lets out a brief, rather musical laugh.

"I assure you," begins Keyte, unaffected by Kai's 'depression', "I was well in my cups before I happened upon the good Lord of Blackwood." Her handmaid will attest to that with a nod, as will the soberest of her guards, having been subject to the jape of riding side-saddle upon the lady's horse. "Were I inclined to swim, I could! But I should not want for the ire of my sweet cous, you understand? And I am certain he should be wroth, master Kai. I am certain we are both aware of that, actually."

Kai chuckles quietly at the word 'wroth', inside joke, perhaps, "Yes, I suppose stabbing people doesn't work too well amongst nobles. Well, unless you are me." he says, casually undoing his belt where he sits and then casting it aside, along with his swords and pouches, slowly rising to his feet afterwards, "Speaking of swimming, though, I feel the need to enter the water, tis' quite nice this time of night." he says, looking down at the woman with a smile, "I don't suppose you have any desire to join me, with all the ire and what not." he finishes, putting it out there for the sake of courtesy, and because he enjoys doing nonsensical things.

"Good gracious, my… master Kai," stammers Keyte, entirely unused to being propositioned such. "I — of course not! It is entirely one thing to exchange by the firelight supervised, and entirely another to swim in the dark unchaperoned. No, no," she assures, sweeping up onto her feet in a single agile movement that defies her wine-addled mien. "I could not wrong my sweet cous, so. He is but the fairest petal in Tyrell's rose, et cetera, et ceteraaaaa," she adds. "You would do well to find his favor, rather than antagonise him. Thus has always been my motto."

Kai nods and grunts friendly agreements as she goes on, courtesy and all that, "Which one is your.. 'cous', by the way?" he asks as he begins to stroll towards the water, pieces of his armor dropping as he goes along, which eventually leaves his heavily-scarred back uncovered, it is littered in scars, cuts and burns, but despite this, the grace in his lithe muscles can be seen, or at least you could see it, if you aren't distracted that he's only wearing smallclothes now.

Increasingly distracted as the familiar fellow disrobes, Keyte does her best to hold her attention at even keel upon… her laundress? Her potato peeler? Anyone but Kai. "Why, any of the Tyrells," she provides, eyes fixed firmly in her lap now. "More notably the Lord Pansy, Garvin Tyrell, or Lord Ser Laurent his closest sworn. The Lord Ser Oakheart, Quillian the Blackrood. Various ladies… my, I'm babbling. It must be time to see myself home."

Kai chuckles quietly as he walks along, his feet quickly finding themselves submerged in water, "A list of men I wish to fight, or have defeated already, quaint." he says, not stopping as his knees are covered by the somewhat cold water, "Do feel free to stay, I'm sure half of your men will lose their way if you head back now." he finishes with another light chuckle, referring to the rather drunk men about, whom would likely not find their way home if left alone, as they are quite a few miles away from the city. As he finishes chuckling he dives into the water for a moment, submerging himself briefly before resurfacing and giving his hair a flick to the side, turning his gaze back over to the fire in the distance, and his horse, which seems to have found itself by the edge of the pool, near where Kai entered.

"Quaint is not, perhaps, the word I should use to describe my lords cous," retorts Keyte, as she smooths out her skirts in a huff. Her patchwork group of retainers know well enough when their luck has run out, and are already scrambling to their feet as a collective. "Nor are they the exhaustive list of those who should defend my honor, master Kai. I am sure we shall find our way, and be better for the finding than for the staying. Good eve." Her slippers carve a small arc in the grass beneath, betraying their lady's annoyance at her own offering of such pleasantries. She only prays the Blackwood guards, still alert as they are, understand. The Tyrell group moves off back toward the city, as one.

Kai calls out "Good evening." politely, and then stops smiling as the woman walks away, the expression is replaced by an entirely blank one, and then he simply inhales and dives into the pitch-black depths of the water, sinking to the bottom slowly as he twists about in the water, he stares up at the surface for a few moments before simply closing his eyes, and darkness envelops him, and he does not resurface for a long while, simply closing himself off in the abyss.

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