(121-02-11) The Party Continues
The Party Continues
Summary: Several drop by the Tyrell manse after the dolphin parade is through.
Date: Date of play (11/02/2014)
Related: The Dolphins Arrive

Grand Hall, Garden Isle Manse

Down the center of the hall is a long, wide dining table, able to seat thirty comfortably. At the head of the table is an enormous chair of elaborately carved rosewood, with a door behind flanked by two high windows, giving a view of the sunlight gardens. Near the fireplace are smaller chairs, cushioned benches, and small tables for more intimate conversations.

Alcoves and doors at either side of the great hall lead to servants quarters, kitchens, and smaller sitting rooms. At the northwest and southeast corners of the building are square towers holding the stairs up to the floor above, where the bedchambers and other sitting rooms are found.

Garvin returns from the parade looking flushed and happy, though a bit tired. Pages hurry to take his mantle, hat, and the heavy chain of office, then Garvin heads into the great hall and drops into a chair near the fireplace, grinning. A maid brings him a goblet of mead, and he gives her a quick nod of thanks without actually looking at her. "That was fun," he says to no one in particular. "I love parades. Wish I'd seen the dolphins though."

Joss enters shortly behind Garvin, his boots scuffing softly on the floor as he walks, looking more than a bit flustered himself. But trying to keep up with Garvin as a guard? Not the funnest thing imagineable. He looks rather relieved to be back, following the lord in and muttering in response to Garvin's statement. Nothing coherent, just general grumbling as he removes a few items of his own, cloak and gloves and what not.

Having stayed with a bunch of other Tyrells and their hangers-on to watch the sporting at the end of the parade, Keyte (likely only just parted from her sisters' company) returns to the Tyrell manse with a deep flush in her cheeks, eyes bright with merriment. And wine. So much wine. Her bodice is still damp from a dolphin-splashing, and her skirts are dirtied for the all the fun, and she toddles into the great hall directly from the front gate. A comb from her hair has tumbled loose on the way home, lost on the pavement behind her, so her hair is a ragged crop of curls-on-shoulders, which she fluffs with a delighted sigh. "Cous! Is that you over there?" It's bound to be one of them, right?

Well dressed with his blade at his hip, and more than a little flushed with wine himself, Viggo follows where the party goes. Having gotten himself mixed up in a gaggle of Tyrells and their hangers on, he trails in from the parade with his pantlegs damp and the rest of him immaculate. He squeaks a little as he crosses the the floor. Wet boots and all.

"Mead!" Garvin calls cheerfully. "And wine! Hello, Keyte! Come in, come in. And Ser Cockshaw! Come, drink my wine." He's on his feet again, downing half the mead from his goblet as he looks at Joss. "That goes double for you, Joss. Parading is thirsty work. Ser Viggo Cockshaw, may I present my lovely cousins, Lady Keyte Tyrell and Joss Flowers."

Joss stands amidst the chaos as servants run willy and nilly, fetching refreshments for the nobles and taking coats and hats and any other accessories they wish to divest themselves of. Joss turns his eyes on Garvin as the man calls for mead, a hand lifting up to rub across his features. "Drink the Arbor dry I swear." He comments as he hands off his cloak and gloves to a maid to be taken to his room. "Ser." Joss offers, bowing in Viggo's direction, rising and offering a lifted brow at Garvin. "Somehow I do not think Laurent would care for me drinking on duty."

Ser Cockshaw? Keyte's steps falter, and she sweeps a look over her shoulder toward the named knight. "Oh! My good lord and ser, hallo!" Her gaze flits about him expectantly, because his squire is now a local hero, you know. But, absent Kevyn, her smile is all for Viggo. Hi! "Do join us! We have wine!" Don't we? She fixes Garvin with a look as she makes towards a nearby chair, because her personal maids are who-knows-where, right this moment. Not fetching wine, apparently.

"Lord Tyrell!" Viggo greets, immediately called to attention from where his eyes had been wandering down to his soiled boots. His squire is awesome. Although, he is rather soggy at the moment. Removing his hat from his head, he flutters in a bow that is largely directed toward to the lady and high lord with a polite nod to Joss. His hat feather continues to wave as he replaces it on his dark head. "I would happily do so, my Lord. A pleasure to meet your lovely kin." Dark eyes linger on Keyte for a moment longer, dark brows rising with confusion. "I would be happy to, my Lady," he agrees with a slow smile.

Garvin slaps Joss on the shoulder, grinning brightly. "Well, then it's a good thing Ser Thorn isn't here, isn't it?" He grabs a goblet from a passing maid, forcing it at the poor guard. "Drink! I command it and whatnot." More maids are rushing about with mead and Arbor reds and golds, so no one will go thirsty. Plates of fruit, cheese, and fresh breads are quickly appearing on the long table. Garvin turns to Viggo again. "So! I think we met a few nights ago, or maybe it was a dream?"

Eonn comes in through the manse's main doors.

Keyte is just repeating Garvin. Maybe it's a thing she does. (When drunk.) Perhaps unwisely, she collects a glass of gold before plonking herself into a seat and tousling her hair again. "Did you enjoy the parade, my lord?" She's looking at Viggo again, so presumeably that is to whom she is talking.

Joss tips his head to Viggo, but turns his eyes on Garvin as he gets a slap to his shoulder. He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds, lifting his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. A goblet is pressed into his hand and he takes the goblet, but he doesn't immediatleyd rink from it. He pats Garvin on the shoulder and steps away from him a little bit, putting a touch of distance so the lord hopefully misses him sliding the cup over onto the table and out of his hand.

Viggo has no such restraint, thanking those that hand him a goblet with an easy warmth, taking a sip from his wine. "It was not dream not illusionary fancy. I'm afraid your cups had seen more ready days than that night, my Lord. I was with your Ser Quill, whom you commended most highly," he recalls thoughtfully, brushing his fingers over his moustache. "And yes, my lady, most heartily. My squire carried himself rather well, so I heard, as well. Alas, I did not see it."

Garvin returns from the other end of the room, still grinning cheerfully. "Didn't see what?" he asks, a bit too loudly. "I so wanted to be out there, watching the dolphins and all that, but…Well, all that water, and all those people…." He shivers a bit, drinking from a fresh mead goblet. "But the parade was wonderful! Joss held my banner higher than everyone else's. Where is he? Joss! Come here, you need another drink."

"Oh, yes," Keyte responds, sitting up a little in her chair. "It were a marvellous thing! He and my good cous's squire rowed out to save the little Lord Hightower. Heroes! — The dolphins, though, lord cous. Horrid things. I put my hand out to touch one and it bit me."

Eonn is shown in. He looks. Just a little different. He's combed his hair. Smooth and shiny, even, with oil in it to keep it tame. And his beard. Not trimmed, but combed. His clothes and armour are the same, but still, he seems more respectable.

"My squire's apparent heroics," Viggo manages to offer briefly with a wave of his hand, pulling a chair into place to take a seat. The Lady Keyte explains and horrifies. "Say it is not so, my lady. A dolphin commited such a thing?" A dolphin.

Joss is currently tending to said banner, getting it all nice and neatly rolled up and stored away, handed off to a servant to be cleaned and refreshed for the next time it's taken out. He turns at the sound of Garvin's voice. "I think I've had enough my lord. On duty still after all. But thank you." He lifts a hand, waving off Garvin's attempts to get him drunk.

Garvin's eyes bug wide at Keyte. "A dolphin -bit- you? Where, let me see? Have you had a maester look at it?" He looks around, a bit panicky. "Does anyone know if dolphins have diseases?"

"It's so, it's so!" Keyte leans forward, picking a plump grape from one of the platters as she wide-eyes Viggo, and offers her hand for inspection, even. There is not a mark upon her fair skin, but that's not the point. Her eyes slide to her cousin, and she shrugs. "The lady Kesha saw to it?" Well. She saw it, if not to it. "Aside from being bitten, the dolphins were delightful. I just had not realised they were such… ill-mannered creatures."

The tall red-haired sellsword doesn't comment about dolphin diseases. He goes to find a mead goblet of his own, instead. When among the nobles, speak when spoken to, and drink as much as possible.

Leaning forward to gently hold Keyte's hand, Viggo inspects it as if it has been torn quiet thoroughly for all that there is no mark. "That must have been quiet frightenting," he notes, voice low and eyes dark. "She bears no mark, my Lord. Although if you think it best…" Smiling crookedly, edges of his moustache curling, he offers, "I could go challenge it if you wish…?" Speaking of ill mannered acts.

Joss moves back a little bit, watching everyone exclaim over dolphin bites. He just makes sure the servants keep things moving, bringing in wine, mead, and food for the nobles and their guests. He snatches a hunk of cheese and a piece of bread off a tray, stuffing the cheese into the heel of bread before taking a bite off it. "I was under the impression dolphins were rather well mannered and playful. Sad to hear that's not so."

Garvin's panicky eyes fall suddenly on Eonn, and ask Keyte doesn't seem to be bleeding or turning into a were-dolphin, his expression suddenly brightens again. "Eonn! Come, have some wine. Oh, you have mead, good. Everyone, Eonn of the Rolls…No, Rills. Eonn of the Rills! Are you feeling better, Eonn? Did you see the dolphins? One bit Lady Keyte, but then little Lyonel apparently dove into the water to fight it off, and Ser Cockshaw's squire had to rescue him. Isn't that marvelous?"

Eonn and his freshly combed hair and beard come over to Garvin, carrying a goblet and smiling. "I didn't," he says, "But they will be here a while. Perhaps I will borrow a boat later and go out to look." He chuckles. "Little Lyonel Hightower? How. Mmm. Lordly of him. I hope you're quite all right, Lady Keyte."

Keyte takes her hand back from Viggo, very impressed with how seriously he takes her dolphin-bite. "It were over and done quite quickly, and I am not so frail a lady, my lord. But the insult to my honor is grave, indeed, and your poor lord squire did end up thoroughly drenched." Serious, indeed! "I should think it only fitting that the mad creature suffer reprisal, aye!" On your way, good Ser! Eonn's address is met with a gracious smile, and a bob of her head just so. "Barely," she embellishes. "But I shall live."

All too seriously. "Hello," Viggo greets briefly as Eonn is introduced, he finishes the last of his wine in a deep drink. "That is the gravest insult, my lady. I shall avenge you," he decides, standing abruptly and setting aside his goblet. This villany shall not keep. "My lord, sirs." Nodding shortly, he strides off to do just that with his cloak flapping behind him. BAR YOUR DOORS DOLPHIN. His steps are crooked as he exunts.

Garvin gulps down more mead, then suddenly shouts, "I shall write a song about it! Someone, bring my harp. Yes, I shall write a song for the music competition, all about Ser Cockshaw's brave squire, fending off the wretched dolphin that sought to swallow good Lady Keyte whole. And little Lord Lyonel will be in it too, somehow." He finds a chair to sit in, putting aside his goblet. "Joss, where's my harp? We must have music with our drinking!"

Eonn watches Viggo depart, and wonders, as if to himself, "How can he know which one?"

Joss blinks slwoly, then just shakes his head. People and their stories. And then… "Is he actually going off to kill a dolphin?" He asks, his voice more than a bit incredulous as he looks between Keyte and Garvin, nodding his head at Eonn's statement. "By the seven.." He mutters softly, and actually picks up his earlier pushed aside goblet to take a large swallow from it. "I've no idea where your harp is my Lord. Possibly in the study, or your room, or the kitchens, or the gardens, or any number of other places you may have left it. I shall set the servants searching."

Keyte seems surprised that Viggo is leaving, even if she did just set him to avenge her. Oops. She pops her grape into her mouth, scooping up her goblet as she leans back into her chair again. "Ah, well. Perhaps he's some sort of dolphin-whisperer," she supposes to Eonn's aside. "Come to think on it, it is rather a grand tale, isn't it?"

Eonn swallows some mead. "I don't think you're supposed to kill the dolphins," he says. "Won't the septons be annoyed? And everyone else? They're sacred dolphins. At least, a little sacred?" He seems bemused.

Two harried pages shuffle in, carrying Garvin's goldwood harp between them. Not that it's particularly large, it's just an ordinary harp, but neither one wants to be held responsible if it's dropped, so both have decided to share the burden. Lord Pansy's eyes light as he reaches for it. "Keyte, tell us more about what happened!" he says excitedly, settling back and playing his fingers lightly over the silver strings. "I'm sure Ser Viggo will only chastise the beast, not kill it. Those Cockshaws, very bold, don't you think? Eonn! You're not drinking enough. Have some more! That goes for you too, Joss."

"This is not your first dolphin festival, Eonn of the Rolls?" The lady wonders such over the lip of her cup, before drawing a dainty sip. "— Oh! Well. The Maiden's Knight were rather ill-at-sea, else I'm most certain he should have thought to save the little lord and I. And our sweet Ser Thorn were very much occupied with his lady betrothed. So the task fell to the squires, you see."

Joss looks around the hall a little further. "I will when I return my Lord. I needs check on a few things." He bows to the group before slipping out the front door.

Joss goes out the grand front doors.

"The Rills, My Lady," says Eonn. "And it is. I'm afraid I missed it, though, I had duties to perform." He shrugs, and obeys Garvin by going to refill his goblet. Not that it's empty yet, but topping it off can't hurt.

Garvin pouts a bit as Joss runs off, still sober. "I just don't know about him," he sighs, shaking his head as he continues strumming the strings. "Rills, yes the Rills. Eonn of the Rills. It has a lovely ring, don't you think?" He tests it out by singing the name a few times, plucking the harp. "Was the Maiden's Knight there as well? I just adore Ser Dae, don't you, Cousin? So gallant, so handsome. He's the perfect knight. And don't you look rather knightly yourself tonight, Eonn? Your hair looks so clean and combed!"

"Oh, the Rills," Keyte corrects herself, flushing a little deeper red than her wide-addling already accounts for. "I could swear my sweet cous said the Rolls." She shakes her head lightly, shaking off her mistake. "Oh, yes, cous. The Maiden's Knight is so very… ah. Oh." Keyte clears her throat. "He's most charming, of course, and shall make his lady sister the most envied of husbands." And won't that be a waste, says her tone.

Garvin is holding an impromptu party following the parade. The table is loaded with fruits, cheeses, and fresh breads, and maids are on hand to refill goblets with Highgarden mead and Arbor reds and golds. Garvin, still in his finest finery, is in a chair, his goldwood harp held against his thigh. Keyte is sitting nearby, looking rather merry. And Eonn's hair and beard have been brushed and combed, and he's got a goblet that never seems to empty. Garvin turns to his cousin with wide eyes. "Oh, you know about that? Well, I'll tell you a little secret. She's not going to marry him after all. In fact, she wants to marry -me- instead!"

Eonn smiles at Keyte, "Who can blame him, My Lady," he says. "I'm no lord, nor knight. The Rills are just the damp cold place I came from." He shrugs under his black spaulders. They're not enameled, they're dull, black the way an old iron kettle is black.

It's a damned warm night, so warm that Griffyth is shy his leather doublet when he arrives in the main hall of Garvin's manse; he's still properly and modestly covered in a tunic and his leather breeches with worn riding boots. The mild flush to his complexion is indicative of having already had a fine share of mead and wine during the celebration, but his pale blue eyes are clear, alert. Indulging in a sweet tooth, Griffyth is picking apart a honeyed roll stuffed with cinnamon, almond paste, and crushed nuts, leaving his fingers visibly sticky. "Ho, Lord Tyrell," Griffyth calls across the length of the hall as the guards ignore his entry, so familiar a face he is here.

Keyte blinks at Garvin, blink, blink, blink, and her expression twists with some confusion. "Yes, cous," she placates, "But I'd thought the Lady Cerys was most displeased for that." She glances into her cup for a moment, then back to Eonn. "I could almost have… nevermind. Your manners are impeccable, Eonn of the Ro — Rills. Of the Rills."

Eonn smiles at Keyte, "It is kind of you, My Lady," he says, "To say so. I am sure they are not, or wouldn't be, for more formal occassions. I serve Lady Mormont, but it's not been so long that I'm a proper creature to bring into noble houses. I am. Trying." He smiles. He makes no sign of having heard the conversation about who's marrying who and who's unhappy about it.

"Oh, Lady Cerys has been weeping out her eyes, ever since we met," Garvin says most confidentially to Keyte. "I think, if I were to break off our betrothal and announce my love for her sister, she would be relieved. But I don't know for sure what I'm going to do yet." And then he hears a familiar voice, looking around with a thrilled expression. "Ser Griffyth!" he shouts, handing his harp to the pair of pages as he jumps to his feet. "Come in, come in! Joyous Dolphin Festival to you, ser. Have some wine!"

"Your love for her sister?" Griffyth's grin is broad, wolfish, and greatly amused. "If I drink any more wine, Lord Tyrell, I'll not be able to find my feet and I'll fall into a useless stupor until two days time passes." Shaking his head, the man stops at a small basin of rosewater to rinse his fingers, dry his hands, and complete the 'journey' to the end of the hall where the remaining revelers are chattering among themselves. "I came to have a talk with you, Lord Tyrell, but I'm in no hurry. I could do with more sweets, maybe music, and sitting on my arse for a while would be good." Speaking of which, the man finds a seat and plants himself into it with all of the lazy slouch of some conquering ruler.

"Oh, the Lady Mormont, of course! My apologies, I had not recognised… you look…" Keyte bumbles along and waves her dolphin-bitten hand (it's an important distinction, you know) at Eonn as words fail her. "Gracious," she breathes out heavily in Garvin's direction once more. "So nobody's marrying The Maiden's Knight? — Wait. Is that a thing?" Joyous Dolphin Festival. She's on her feet dutifully as soon as Garvin is. "That we're meant to wish people? My, I have been terribly remiss all the day long. Joyous dolphin festival, my lord!"

Garvin resumes his seat again when Griffyth sits, looking a bit pouty. "Well, love was her idea. Apparently, she thinks if I make such a public declaration, our lord fathers will be more agreeable to breaking one betrothal for another." He gives a small shrug, reaching for his goblet, rather than his harp. "Oh, I don't want to talk about Lady Mormont tonight," he says with a small scowl. "The way she goes around, breaking the hearts of men and little girls, it's just wicked. If I weren't a proper Tyrell, I'd saying something most unseemly about the way the Northern bears allow their women to behave most unladylike."

"I'm sorry?" asks Eonn of Keyte. He then drinks more mead, not seeming to expect an answer.

"That was the absolute worst subtlety I have ever been unfortunate enough to hear," Griffyth remarks wryly to Garvin's comment, and then snorts. "Lord Tyrell, you might be in the most perfect position to teach the Lady Mormont precisely how to be the perfect lady. You know, I think I'll have some mead after all." Beckoning over one of the servers standing within a short distance to service the nobility, Griffyth procures a goblet of mead, drinks deeply from it, and watches Garvin with a thoughtful expression. "Thank you, my Lady. I'm not one for dolphins, I prefer the hunting whales we have off of the coast of the Stormlands. Great, cruel things."

"Ah… no, then?" Keyte is thoroughly confused. "I thought it were you to wade in and save miss Peri from drowning herself. My mistake! Goodness. If life isn't more colourful in Oldtown than Highgarden, aye cous?" She draws another dainty sip of her goblet, her dolphin-bitten hand (it's important!) straying into the dark lengths of her hair. "Come to it, I do believe I lost her comb in the fray. My lord, you're hunted by whales?" She disbelieves, says the bulge of her eyes.

Garvin turns toward Griffyth, nose wrinkling. "Ser, was that some sort of slur against my manhood?" He sounds confused, but truly hurt as well. "I'm sure I misheard you. That comment was directed at my dear cousin, Lady Keyte, was it not? Surely you meant to say that she could teach Lady Mormont to comport herself with the elegance and dignity befitting her rank, rather than riding about in men's trousers, a sword at her side, challenging knights to single combat in such an unseemly manner."

Eonn goes quiet. He's still. The man is very good at standing motionless, it's odd. He does lift his goblet to his lips.

"Speaking of a noblewoman behind her back is no less unseemly, my Lord, unless you make something of challenging her yourself? Something about her seems to move you to agitation, though the Seven may only know why. The Maiden's Knight would agree with me, having chided me for speaking ill of Ser Arros without his presence to defend himself," Griffyth replies calmly, further drinking from the goblet in deep, quick gulps that leave it empty of contents in short order. "Don't be offended on my part, Lord Tyrell, I wasn't embarrassed to meet her in swordplay. She's a fine hand at it, although I wouldn't mind if I had a valyrian blade of my own. It seems an efficient way to end a battle, cleaving your enemy's weapon in two." Grunting, Griffyth waves off a server who steps forward to refill his goblet.

Keyte glances aside to Eonn as the lordly lads exchange in their posturing. "She seemed a right sport, to me," the girl asides, setting her cup down upon the table gently. "Sweet cous. Did you know about the hunting whales in the Stormlands?"

Garvin narrows his eyes a little uncertainly at Griffyth for a few moments, then finally turns away, putting on his happy face again. "Eonn, you're awfully quiet tonight. How are things with you? I shouldn't have said those things about your lady, and I do apologize. I know the loyalty you feel for her." His eyes show sympathy and concern, as he reaches over to pat Eonn's hand lightly. Then he turns to Keyte with brighter eyes. "Hunting whales? Who would want to do such a thing? Great, horrid monsters of the deep should be left alone, if you want my opinion. Don't we have enough trouble with dragons in our skies?"

Eonn watches Griffyth, very still. He sips more mead as Garvin speaks to him, and says, "It is not my place to protest, here and noe. Never mind." He lets his hand be patted, and smiles. "I am. Well, my Lord. I am glad to see you enjoying the festival. Perhaps you would like to rent a boat to feed the dolphins ourselves, some day. Before they swim away. When do they go?"

The Wylde knight notes Eonn's study, glancing towards the man with a neutral enough expression. "They don't hunt people, normally. A few have been known to attack children on beaches, but in the whales' defense, small children are the same size as seals which is their preferred prey. I've known a few lords and ladies who have lost lapdogs and hunting hounds that way, too." Rising to his feet in one smooth, practiced motion, Griffyth casts a downward glance towards Garvin. "Lord Tyrell, I'm going to make use of one of your rooms for the night, I think. You know which. Once you've seen to your other guests, I need to speak with you. If I'm asleep, have one of your servants wake me, it's of import."

Keyte shrugs. "Well certainly not I," she tells Garvin rather matter-of-factly. "I've no luck with creatures of the sea, of course. How terribly shocking, that they feast on children!" A hand (not her dolphin-bitten one this time) is laid across her chest in deep sympathies for those lords and their ladies. "Gracious. I believe the dolphins will stay for some time, Eonn," the lesser lady of Tyrell is pleased to report. "If you should go to feed them, though, you ought to take great care!"

Eonn raises his eyebrows a bit at Griffyth, but says nothing. He turns his attention to Keyte. "I will, My Lady," he says. "Of course."

Garvin bites at his lower lip, looking at Eonn. "In a boat?" he says, eyes darting about a little fearfully. "I would like to see the dolphins more closely, but if they've acquired a taste for noble blood, perhaps it would be safer to look at them from the shore. And only if there won't be any whales about, eating children or lapdogs. Seven, are the seas truly so filled with horrors?" He shivers, turning toward Griffyth with a raised brow. "Of course, Ser Wylde. The room you are wont to use from time to time is always prepared for you. I should like to speak with you as well. I'll be up shortly to knock upon your door." The two pages holding his harp do their best not to snicker, but it's a pretty open secret in the house that the only room Griffyth sleeps in is Lord Pansy's.

Griffyth heads up the stairs.

"I don't think whales really do that," says Eonn, quietly, over his mead. He smiles a rather chilly smile.

"Of course," echoes Keyte to Eonn. "Oh, sweet cous. You should sail out to meet them, like the good, true, brave lord of Tyrell that you are. Just, you know." She waves her hand (dolphin-bitten) about again. "Take care to keep your hands in the boat! — Sleep well, my lord." To the departing.

Garvin cocks his head in Eonn's direction, then glances at the tower door Griffyth just went through. "You don't like him, do you?" he asks bluntly. "Is it because of that fight between him and Lady Mormont, so long ago?"

"No, My Lord," says Eonn. "I don't like him. But that is not the reason."

"He's rather more blunt than a practice sword, cous," adds Keyte, taking up her goblet of wine again and wriggling her bottom in her chair. All this sitting down is quite tiring.

Garvin frowns a bit, glancing at Keyte, but pressing Eonn. "Then why?" he asks. "For what reason do you dislike him? Is it his bluntness, as Lady Keyte suggests?"

"No, My Lord," says Eonn. "Forgive me if I do not speak. Ask again with fewer ears about and I'll tell you, but it is not right to say such things here. It might spoil the party. No one cares if I like him." He smiles. It's quite a pleasant smile. At least for the stern-faced sellsword it is.

"I told you," says Keyte, only slightly smug as she points her cup in Eonn's direction. "Impeccable manners." She's drinking to that, upending the goblet to drain it in a properly thirsty manner.

Garvin pouts just a bit. "Well, I like him," he says, as if it weren't obvious. "Most of the time, anyway. We don't talk nearly enough, but I suppose that's to be expected from a man of action." He bites at his lower lip, glancing to his cousin. "Right?"

Eonn smiles at Keyte. He goes to one knee beside her, maybe from chivalry, maybe because he's tired of standing, and laughs. "I try," he says. "But best not to challenge me too much. Mostly I'm good at hitting people. And not all that good at it."

Keyte blinks at her dear Garvin, and promptly dissolves into a girlish giggle. "Of course, sweet cous. You ought not keep the lord waiting, he might think it unseemly, hmm?" And for Eonn, whose kneeling prompts a little squeak, she can't help but to grin. "Ah, you're safe from me! Unlike the Lady Mormont, I should hardly know the blade end of a sword from it's hilt. I'm more a dancer, myself. Do you dance, Eonn?"

"I could try," says Eonn. "But I'm not good at it, I am sure. I am of small birth, My Lady. I can catch fish. And hit people." He smiles at her. "And do as I'm told. Do you want me to dance?" He drinks more mead.

Garvin's eyes widen a bit, then a grin spreads over his face as he sees Eonn being so gallant to Keyte. This isn't such a bad thing, in his opinion. His cousin is far superior to the icky ol' She-Bear. Standing again, he offers a small bow, then holds his goblet to be refilled by a maid. "I think, perhaps, you're right. I should go speak with Ser Griffyth now. Yes, now. Cousin, will you be so good as to keep our dear friend Eonn entertained?" With a grin, he doesn't wait for a reply, hurrying to the tower stairs.

Garvin heads up the stairs.

"Oh, I couldn't catch a fish to save my life," laments Keyte, shoulders set a-drooping. "Yes, yes, cous, of course," she shoos off the Lord Pansy. "Gods' graces, no, Eonn. If you're terrible at it, then what's the point? I'd probably rather you didn't hit anyone, too. Have you seen the fish in the pond in the garden?"

"I don't think those fish are any good to eat," says Eonn, "So I haven't tried to catch them. And of course, My Lady. I won't hit anyone. For you, I shall refrain from hitting people for, oh, hours." He smiles. "I could show you how to catch a fish, if you want one."

"They're far too fast for the catching, anyway," the lady responds, with a wrinkle in her nose. "I try and kick them, sometimes, and they always escape. Hours, you say? Such restraint! Tell me, Eonn. How do you catch a fish?"

Eonn smiles. "In a net, usually," he says. "Perhaps with a hook on a line. What I like best are crabs, and I just swim down and pick them up, but they pinch when you do that." He shrugs. "It's worth it."

"That sounds terribly easy," decides Keyte, a skeptical skew to her brows. "You simply swim down and pick them up? In your hands? I shouldn't like to be pinched by a crab. Hasn't some clever lad invented a… why, a crab-grabber!"

Eonn grins. "You can make traps for them," he says. "They crawl inside and can't get out. Then you pull the trap out of the water and don't get pinched." He shrugs. "But I haven't got a trap here. The water is so warm, why not swim? But I do not mind the pinching. It would not do for a noble lady to be pinched by crabs."

"The water is so warm," Keyte finds herself in mournful tones again. "But its not very seemly for a lady to be swimming in the sea to catch crabs. The trap sounds a far safer alternative, aye? Forgive me, Eonn, but why don't you mind the pinching?"

Eonn shrugs. "They're only little crabs," he says. "Lots of things hurt more." He looks at her, "What if you swam in the sea far from anyone else, so they would not see you?"

"Oh." That makes enough sense, Keyte supposes. She'd like another sip of wine, but raising her cup to her lips again finds her none; it's empty. "Bother. I should think I would have to walk for miles and miles abound to find a place by Oldtown where nobody would see me swimming," she explains, leaning in closer to admit in hushed tones, "I have tried!"

Eonn laughs. "I will find a place for you," he says, "And go on horses. You can bring your sisters and blindfold me while you swim, all right?"

"Oh, horses," sighs Keyte, rolling her gray-blue eyes unashamedly. "They're such horrid creatures. I make my guards ride in my side-saddle, when we go on our adventures. I'd much rather walk!"

Eonn smiles at that. "Ah, well," he says. "That makes it difficult, but hardly impossible. We will walk." He shifts. "I beg your pardon, My Lady, if I may take my leave of you?"

"You are too kind to indulge me, Eonn," the lady says fondly. "Of course, your leave is yours to take as you please! If you could pass my regards on to the Lady Mormont, I should be most grateful. Thank you, thank you! And good eve, of course. And… joyous dolphin festival!" She scootches her chair back with a loud scrape, wincing at the sound herself before standing. "Lyla! Let's go annoy the fish! Lyla?!"

Eonn gets to his feet. He's very tall, and unfolds like a deerhound does. "Thank you, My Lady," he says. He leaves his empty goblet behind and slips out. He wears soft-soled boots and his steps are near silent.

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