(121-03-08) Stories and Strange Women
Stories and Strange Women
Summary: When Dainel and Trystan are drawn to Eva (known to Trystan as Salla) in the Quill and Tankard, she demands they tell her stories.
Date: 08/03/2014
Related: None

Quill and Tankard

This is the common room of the Quill and Tankard, that famous Oldtown Inn that has never closed in five hundred years. The building is a noble old half-timber structure with plastered stone between the enormous old black beams. It sits on a small rock of an island at the edge of the Honeywine River, and is accessed by a little footbridge, or by water-taxi.

Rivermen and seamen, smiths and singers, priests and princes, Lords and sellswords, travelers both noble and small, and the novices and acolytes of the Citadel - all come for a taste of the fearsomely strong apple cider that makes this inn so beloved by Oldtown's people. There is a pleasant buzz of chatter, cups and tankards being filled and refilled, and general laughter.

The fire in the hearth allows for a merry glow and a comfortable warmth from Oldtown's breezy, misty cobblestone streets. Benches and tables offer places to sit, and there is a deliciously toothsome smell in the air of food from the back.

While Evallash is not a regular patron at the Quill & Tankard, numerous clients of the The Black Eel are, and eels, it's said, can fit anywhere. This extension of the Eel has squeezed into a more traditionally Westerosi dress for this visit, though it looks more suited to a barmaid than a lady and she's clipped fanned peacock feathers to the taut, squared bodice. Her eyes are rimmed in their usual kohl, darker and thicker — a holdover from last night's masquerade. She's seated near the hearth although it is a warm evening outside, her light brown skin basking in the small glow, bare arms slung over the back of a big old chair that's been veered slightly away from its table.

It's both a casual pose and an approachable one; men of every variety have been coming and going from her table for the past half of an hour under the guise of taking a load off or chatting with a pretty foreigner. For some, that's the case, but for others the purpose is whispered passingly in secret and palmed under the table.

Dainel is quiet, entering with his arms around a cask. Without invitation he flops beside Eva, warming his hands by the fire for a few seconds before setting the wine down. A younger man takes a few bottles to the kitchen - likely a personal delivery of speciality wine. "Hello mistress." he offers "How about I pick up your tad and you talk to me for a bit, hm?" he offers, a bit pompously sure.

Trystan enters the tavern, alone, lookign to be wearing simple clothes at the moment. He looks and notices the woman he knows as Salla sitting with someone. He smirks and decides to take a table nearby, not enough to intrude, though. He orders a bit of cider from a passing wench.

Eva's head lolls back and to the side in order to eye the newest man to sit at the table, her gaze narrowed and discerning, but just as leisurely as her pose. Her response is delayed as, tapping a shorn fingernail on the table — a bit like a king pondering a peasant from his throne — she attempts to determine Dainel's purpose, not noticing the familiar face nearby just yet. "Do you ask because I'm a nice pair of tits," her accented voice is brazen but lazy, undecided if she's interested or not, "or because you have something worth saying?"

Dainel considers "Because you look like you have something to say and I have wine to spend my evening with if you decline. Which I assure you, is fantastic company." he quips, judging the woman for a moment before taking a moment to put a tap on his small cask of wine and pour himself a flagon, taking a sip of the deep red arbor wine. "Or maybe it is your tits." he offers with a shrug.

Trystan smirks as he hears their back-and-forth, then gets up and takes a seat beside Eva as well. "I was going to say, why could it not be both?" He smiles to Salla and nods to her, then nods to Dainel politely. "Not all men are just pigs, and not all men are chaste and polite. Most can be both."

Eva's eyes simmer with only dim amusement at Dainel, but the smile at the edges of her lips at least seems vaguely favourable. Before she can give him the answer poised on her tongue, her head rolls the other way to mark Trystan; she grins at him in recognition and raises a finger to point indistinctly back and forth between the two men. "All men are pigs when you put them in the mud," she states in a knowing, not necessarily disapproving, manner, and holds her hand out to Dainel — rather, toward his wine. "Only because you have wine," she answers in her not-quite-invested, secretively amused kind of tone — it seems to thread through everything the woman says. She twirls the same, ringed finger. "Pour some for this man, too. He is Lord Banefort, you know."

Dainel snorts "And only because I am a Redwyne will I bring wine to a strange woman and ask for company." he jokes, "Pigs are wonderful beasts, much better behaved than many nobles in this land. I am Dainel Redwyne, I made this wine and it is a ten year aged red I started long ago." he jokes, cheerfully, pouring wine for both of his new companions for the evening. "Perhaps when I finish my renovation I'll throw a party with home cooked food, wine, and fruit spirits."

Trystan chuckles, though does not turn down the wine. "I will admit, pigs and other animals at times can make for better company than the uppity nobles around these parts. But, they aren't as nice to look at as some of the women of the land." He gives a wink at Salla.

Eva's grin, slyly raised brows and gradual nod seem to agree with the Redwyne and Trystan over the assessment of nobles and pigs, as well as the festive plans. "You are right, Dainel Redwyne," she says — her accent presenting his name syllable by syllable, thick on wyne — and takes the Arbor red to lift it. "I am a strange woman. But," her expression has all the warm-blooded mischief of a wink when she regards Trystan, though she does not return his, only drinks as says, "Not of this land."

Dainel considers Trystan "You, then have never come home after a month on the Dornish marshes fighting the good fight to a roast pig." he jokes, pleasantly. "Maid, please bring me a salad of greens and a fresh roasted meat with oatbread, please." he orders, grinning at Eva "Yes, I can see, and it is very becoming."

Trystan smiles to Salla. "Of course. Strange women of foreign lands are always the more interesting ones to spend time with." He then looks to Dainel, smiling. "Fair enough. I have not, though that sort of thing is always happy to see after plenty of time in the North."

"You make fine wine," Eva commends Dainel after gulping down another, warmth in the statement although it's not flattery; just fact. "I did not expect less of someone called Redwyne." She looks away from her companions in a gaze that seems to idly roam over the Quill and Tankard, but in truth is wary of the friendly men blocking her from any more profitable visits. Looking to Trystan, the slyness in her gaze suggests spending time with strange women from foreign lands might also be dangerous. "I was once told the North is so cold, a man can freeze to the ground, even in the longest summer." Her head swings the other way. "And that Dorne is very hot. I have only been to the port of Sunspear."

Dainel eyes Eva "If we're bothering you, girl, we could leave, and I could go back to finding more objects of art to put in my personal home." he mumbles, stretching out a little as he takes out a ledger to examine it.

Trystan nods along with Dainel. "Indeed. If we're getting in the way of your relaxation, or some sort of business, just let us know."

"You're not bothering me," she says as straight fact rather than reassurance; there's also amusement present over Dainel considering such, and the same expression moves to Trystan. "Boys, boys; so insecure, these boys," she jests— mostly. She takes another hearty drink of wine. "Be confident in the fact that I will kick you from my presence when I don't care for your sight anymore. Make yourselves useful, tell me a story!" She demands, albeit merrily. Eva (or "Salla") settles back against her chair more fully still, wriggling her shoulders. She points at Trystan around her wine, squinting with humour-filled warning. "Not so noble as last time."

Dainel considers a bit "Once, in the arbor as a boy, I built a device to fling cow's shit from my presence." he muses, grinning fondly as his food arrives - enough for everyone. He rather pickily picks here and there, taking bites "Well I built it and had great fun. There was this lass we rather hated - a lady from another family. A bit of a how do the small folk say? A total cunt. Well I got rather egged on and we worked on aiming it and I covered her and my lovely cousin in a full bath basin's worth of cows' shit. She didn't find it funny." he comments, grinning

Trystan chuckles at her comment. "Well, when I was a page under the service of House Umber, I spent a good bit of time around hsi daughters. Convinced them that I had been stricken blind for a week. They took me everywhere out of pity and their fondness for me. Even into the baths. After some time I told them a Maester cured me, and they were elated. It was an interesting way of getting to see my first naked woman." He grins as well.

Eva seems to find Dainel's funny, smiling in a satisfied manner as if she too hated the girl in Dainel's story and then laughing. She sets her wine down to press her hands quickly together under her rounded chin, too soft for a clap; her fingers steeple in interest as she listens to Trystan's tale, watching almost lecherously— apparently she's approving of his experience rather than being remotely offended on behalf of those Umber girls.

"And yet you make your fortune on wine? Imagine what you could do with such an invention," she jokes first to Dainel, then settles a wily grin on the Banefort. "Ah! So afterall you have mischief in your blood. Now that you are grown, have you been to the Lysene Baths? And you," back to the vintner, companionably, "how did you see your first naked woman?"

Dainel blinks "I am very rich on an island. I took them swimming." he comments with a grin. "It would be a shame to get those beautiful silk gowns wet and get caught afterall." he comments slyly, chuckling "Why trick them when you can coax gently?"

Trystan smirks to Dainel. "Well, perhaps the women you grew up with are much easier to coax like that. Northern girls, not so much." He chuckles, then looks to Salla, nodding. "INdeed I have. I was invited there by the owner, with a very alluring friend of mine. I ended up sharing a bath with my friend, the owner, and a beautiful dornish woman. It was… quite the experience."

"Mm. Words to live by," Eva tells Dainel in wily agreement. "Anyone," glimmering half-mast eyes skirt to Trystan, "can be coaxed with the right coaxing … at least, before they realize where they have arrived." On that … ominous note, her smile warms. She picks idly at a piece of meat from Dainel's share with her hand. "The baths are a welcome piece of Lys in Oldtown."

Dainel mms a little "I haven't been, I normally prefer a nice brisk swim though." he admits, tilting to lean and grasp lightly on Eva's wrist, pulling her wrist up to kiss once or twice before releasing "Sorry the punishment for stealing my food." he jokes, smiling.

Trystan smirks at Dainel, giving him a look as if to say 'nicely done.' He then nods to the woman he knows as Salla. "Fair enough. I know that now. I didn't when I was younger, unfortunately." he smirks to her.

Eva regards Dainel down her arm, over the plane of her kissed hand. One of her dark brows lifts, but she allows him his little move and goes right back to stealing his food. "I appreciate the skill of luring, that— coaxing, but, on the other hand," she grins at the men, "Sharper, how you'd say… more worldly girls would have punched you each in the eye, and been right." She rolls a shoulder, stretching her legs lavishly under her dress, altogether unbothered at any rate.

Trystan smirks to her. "Quite right." His eyes wander a tad over her form, quickly, just glancing at her features of interest.

Dainel watches the two. "If you want to fight, dear one, we can fight, but I make no promises of not trying to poke you with a blunt dagger afterwards." he chimes, grinning.

Eva squints at Dainel, interpreting and then tipping her head back. "I have no interest in fighting," she replies, still utterly unbothered, "but nor can I be coaxed." She flashes a dangerous little smile, wild toothiness covered by another drink of wine, finishing off what she was given. Several tables over, a rather rough-looking fellow lurks about, casting her rather urgent looks she hasn't caught yet, and her companions nervous ones.

Trystan smirks at Salla, and does notice the rough man, though doesn't show any acknowledgement of him.

Dainel leans, whispering to Eva once before eying the man and gesturing him over.

Leaning to meet Dainel's whisper, Eva's features go unmoved. "I know what you were threatening, with your dull dagger." Is that a dull drone she puts on her choice of word; perhaps, but her smile is playful a second later. From his gesture, she catches sight of the lurking man — who pretends he didn't see Dainel. A softy perturbed mumble rattles unformed in Eva's mouth. She grips the table heartier than need be and rises in a fluid motion, spinning to touch both men on the shoulder.

"I have something I must attend to," she says importantly; the authority is a casual thing settled over this woman, who seems used to some manner of mysterious importance. "Amuse yourselves with stories of naked women, and think of me." Her light grips trails away, and so does she, to attend to her business. A business that involves going to meet the rough man with whispered words all the way out the door.

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