(121-04-04) Sorry Not Sorry
Sorry Not Sorry
Summary: Keyte sneaks out and finds Kevyn.
Date: Date of play (04/04/2014)
Related: A whole bunch. Laurent will link them.
Players:
Kevyn..Keyte..

Kevyn has spent as little time as he can get away with - and given his knight's mood these days, he can get away with a lot - at his rooms at the Quill and Tankard. Not that he's precisely hard to find. As the day winds closer to evening he's found his way to the docks, to watch the ships. And, if one strains their eyes far out to see, the shapes of dolphins jumping on the waves. His gaze is far away as he stares in their direction, watching them without really seeing them.

Usually when Keyte's out and about, she's flanked by at least half a dozen people employed for many and varied reasons by House Tyrell. On the odd occasion, it's just she and her twin who steal away to explore together, and even rarer is a trip alone — but alone she is today, dressed in a simple peasant's dress and a hooded cloak. She's got flour spilled down her front, and a little on her nose, and her hair has been mussed up before being pulled back in a low ponytail and tied with string. She does look almost passably common as she rounds the corner of a back street and finds herself not far from Kevyn. She brightens. Jackpot, seems to say the bloom of that brilliant smile of hers, and she scurries up behind the lad to interrupt his emo with a cheerful, "Fancy seeing you here!"

Emo Kevyn is emo.

He is not, however, so deeply ensconced in emo that he doesn't recognize the voice of Keyte Tyrell. "Lady Keyte. Hullo…uh…good day…uhh…evening…" He's half-way through spluttering a greeting as he turns to regard her. And stare at the state of her. In a different way than he usually stares at her. Actual surprise at her apperance, rather than just gawking. "Ummm…aye…fancy that. What are you…umm…?"

Horror flashes very briefly across Keyte's features as Kevyn names her, and she shakes her head desperately. "No, no, no, shhh! Stop that, don't be calling me lady, now! Maiden's mercy, but I don't look ladyish, do I?" Whilst the squire stares at her, she glances about the docks, checking to see if anyone's overheard her real identity. And then she looks herself over, much as one can, before wriggling her shoulders and looking back to Kev. "What am I doing? What does it look like? What are you doing?"

"It looks like you're pretending to be a peasant girl for…I don't know," Kevyn replies, literally. He doesn't 'lady' her again, though, and he drops his voice lower. "What are you doing?" As for her question to him, he pauses a moment, then shrugs. "I don't know. Just got tired of hanging about the Quill waiting for…not sure what for, exactly. Hadn't been here in awhile. I like the dolphins. Though they're too far out to see all that well now." He adds, with a slight trace of humor, "Guess that means you won't have to fear being bitten. Even if it is lucky."

Keyte leans in conspiratorially to reply in her own hushed (but over enthusiastic nonetheless) tone, "That's exactly what I'm doing!" Isn't it a great idea? She seems to think so. Her bright smile fades a little under the wear of all the emo coming from Kevyn, and she sighs. On his behalf. "I've the Dolphinsbane at my side, no need to fear their bites now," she retorts, "Even if it is lucky."

Kevyn flushes when she calls him 'Dolphinsbane,' though it does make him smile. A little. He extends an arm to her, in some imitation of gallantry. "W-will you walk with me a bit?" A pause and he adds. "If you haven't somewhere else to be. Are you…umm…is there a reason you're looking like…that?" He adds quickly, "Not that you don't look quite lovely. You always do. It's just…"

"Of course I will," Keyte responds, latching onto Kevyn's arm with another of her beaming smiles. "I was looking for you, actually. I waited at the Sept, but I think one of the septas recognised me after a time, she was looking so oddly at me, so I ran out the doors and through the back streets and I almost bumped into a woman with her bucket full of laundry water, but I side-stepped and only a little water spilled out, and… well." Here she is. "I just didn't want to be with half the household watching me, today. I don't suppose you have that problem, yourself," she says, wincing a little. She adds flatly, "Doesn't that sound ungrateful."

"I've been avoiding the Sept the past few days," Kevyn admits. Mood going in the emo direction again. "I think it's the sort of place people know they can find me and…I'm not so much in the mood to be found." Realizing that sounds a little grumbly he quickly adds, "I mean, by people. Not by you. You aren't…I mean, you are people, but I don't mind you finding me." He clears his throat. Then, something occurs to him, which surprises him a little. "You were looking for me?"

Oh no, not the emo. Keyte's really a little unsure what to do with emo, so she tucks in a little closer and tries to… ignore it. It's easy to ignore when Kevyn's fumbling over how ok it is for her to find him, and she finds herself smiling smugly. "I'm a person, I'm not people," she corrects him boldly, lifting her chin in a not-at-all-common kind of way at odds with her current appearance. "And I should hope it's alright if I find you, seeing that I wanted to, and I did." She turns her flour-adorned nose toward him, brows aloft. "Is it so hard to believe?" That she was looking for him. Also: "Why aren't you in the mood to be found?"

"I…umm…" Kevyn is stuck on the 'Is is so hard to believe?' question. So he just doesn't answer it. Moving on to the last one. He shrugs the shoulder of his free arm. "Ser Aevander came to find me at the Sept after…" He doesn't finish that sentence, either. "…he asked me about Wickham's Nest. Again. As if the story would change. Funny the Targaryens are taking such an interest in it now. No one seemed to care when it happened, excepting your kinfolk. For which I'm grateful my la…umm…" More trailing off and he asks, "What should I call you? If you're…umm…out in secret?"

Keyte wrinkles her nose. "You can call me whatever you like, just not lady," she supposes. "Aevander was looking for you? You know, I had thought we were friends, he and I. He squired at Highgarden, we had a… well, a prank war, I suppose you'd call it. When we were young. Kesha and me and he. But he seems different now." Not in a good way, says the droop in her voice. "My cousins don't trust the Targaryens either," she admits. "Laurent said Brynden Hightower went on your hunt."

"What did Ser Laurent tell you? Of our…hunt?" Kevyn asks, cautious on the subject. Though he nods a silent affirmation, about Ser Brynden. "And all right…Keyte." He still says her name quietly, though with another of those slight smiles. Even if his mood isn't so buoyed as he thinks on Aevander. "At least he seemed to be pursuing the matter. I wish they'd shown such an interest before…" He clears his throat. "…not sure how much it matters now."

"He didn't tell me anything," Keyte says with a shake of her head, "I overheard it. But it's not… well." She levels a look across at Kevyn that's very grave, by her standards. She's sticking to the story, though, saying, "I'm sure you all had a fine time of it, at cousin Quill's lodge. They call you all the Lords Errant, did you know? Fits better for some than for others, I think."

"Is that what they call us?" Kevyn makes a "Hmph" sound in the back of his throat. "Aye. Better for some than others." He meets her grave look, with one of his own that's not particularly cheery, then drops his gaze. "How do you think it fits for me?"

"It is," Keyte confirms, glancing from Kevyn's grave look down to her feet as he looks away. "I don't…" she begins, but trails off, considering her response for a moment longer. "You don't seem to wear it very willingly," she hazards, with a squeeze on his arm. "But I think it's fitting that there's some sort of… official-ness, to the group of you. Even if it's just some gossipy nickname. It's important that solidarity is… well, that it's known." She stops walking, tugging on his arm to stop him, too.

"Solidarity. Aye. I did my duty by my sworn knight, and by my family, as I was bid. Couldn't have done any different." Though she's correct that Kevyn wears it not quite willingly. "I've been thinking on it. The raid. Since Ser Aevander came to speak with me, since I talked to Ser Viggo again and since…well…Ser Aevander said he didn't think the Blackmonts did it at all. That somebody planted that helmet and dagger that we found. That it was all over that lady that was my cousin Eryk's guest. The one with the Dornish earring. Or that we think was my cousin's guest. All that's left of her is a table-setting. Like a ghost, more than even the dead who were left."

Keyte listens, which… well. She's more of a talker, so enjoy all those words, Kevyn, that she's actually listening to. At several points she looks like she might interrupt, but ultimately she doesn't, until… "Wait." She unlatches from the squire's arm, even, only to nudge at his shoulder to try and turn him toward her. Her, and her puzzled look. "Why? I mean, if there was some Dornish lady there as your cousin's guest, who would want to frame the Blackmonts for… for what, avenging her indiscretion?"

"I don't understand that part of Ser Aevander's ideas myself," Kevyn says. "I can't think on who else would have reason to do it. But he's right that the raid seemed…there are border raids now and again, but this was different. There was a vengeance to it, of some kind. Even Ser Viggo agrees it was likely done over this woman, whoever she is. Wherever she is. Whatever she did with my cousin." He frowns. "I just…it'd sit easier with me if I understood why it'd happened."

"I thought Lord Ormund might have something to do with it," Keyte confesses hurriedly after Kevyn's explanation. "After we spoke in the sept that day, and you said how he'd been skeptical of your story, and I thought on it some… he came well so suspiciously close to the massacre, and didn't want to support your efforts. Then they took the Dornish right there into the Hightower… I was relieved to hear Ser Brynden amongst the Lords Errant. Surely Ormund would have known his intentions? I just… so your cousin, Eryk, entertains a Dornishwoman the night of the massacre. If Aevander's right — which, he may well not be, but he's… I've known him to be smart enough — who would want to frame House Blackmont that way? What if that man simply… fell, down the well, in the fray. And the woman, she were a Blackmont, and the cause of all this?"

"Lord Ormund Hightower…" Kevyn's eyes go wide. "But…a Hightower lad was squired to our family, and killed when the Nest was razed…" He shudders. "That'd near make him a kinslayer, and I can't believe that of a Reach lord, even if I wish he'd backed our family better. And I don't know who'd want to frame the Blackmonts. I suppose…I suppose Ser Aevander might just figure it'd seem easy to believe, because of the tensions on the borders. That they were just…convenient. I don't know. I don't think we were wrong about the Blackmonts." Quieter he adds, "I pray we weren't. I do think we don't understand the whole of why they did what they did, or how my cousin Eryk might've been mixed up with that Dornish woman. And I…I'm not saying I'd have done any different…" What precisely he did, or didn't do, he doesn't say. "…but I think it'd be…easier, if there weren't questions left. Maybe it would be."

Keyte reaches out with both her hands, curling them around Kevyn's shoulders. "You're so good," she murmurs, her expression twisting in a conflicted kind of way. "Whatever has been done, it were done in the name of justice, and you weren't wrong. I'm sure my cousins delighted in it, and that's a hard thing to witness, it truly is. And I'm sorry, I've always been sorry for their crass and awful ways, they're just… brutal men. I could ask Emilia? Cousin Quill's wife. She's a Blackmont by birth, but no doubt she's protested that House's innocence and will continue to…"

"Ser Quillian seems to hate the Dornish," Kevyn says. "I can't think any words with his wife would be pleasant, given she's a Blackmont, whatever she thinks." He sounds like he rather pities her, though he speaks no more on it. "Ser Laurent did his duty. He's a fine knight, and he's been good to our family. I can't find fault with him. It's all…I just hope it's over." Though he sounds skeptical. He turns his head slight, so he's facing Keyte as best he can, after she curls around his shoulders. "Good?" He smiles ruefully. "I cannot tell if that's good or bad, when you say it like that."

"Laurent's a brute," Keyte says with a roll of her eyes. "He's hardly tolerable, but he's not evil, not in the sense of justice, anyway. And Quill's… well. You've met them both." She hardly thinks she needs to explain, though there's some affection in her tone, perhaps moreso for the Oakheart than the Tyrell. She tilts her head, puzzling with a smile, "Why would it be a bad thing?" To be called good, presumably.

"It's not the sort of thing pretty girls seem to mean as a compliment sometimes, I've found," Kevyn says. He almost sounds like he's teasing her a little now. Almost. He's not being horribly emo anymore, so at least that's something. He watches her a moment, then his eyes go out to the water again. "How long ago was the Dolphin Festival? A month, maybe two? Seems longer gone than that…"

"I very rarely say things I mean the opposite of," Keyte informs him very matter-of-factly, her smile dimpling. She's pleased the emo seems to have dissipated, and watches him back for that moment, following his gaze out to the water after. "My hand still hurts," she lies, "So it can't have been that long. But Garvin rolls his eyes when I tell the story now, so clearly it's long enough gone to matter little in the scheme of things."

"Your hand looks all right to me," Kevyn says. Not that he's looking at her hand at the moment. His head is tilted to regard her face, instead, consideringly. "Are…are you sure nobody can recognize you like that?"

"It still hurts!" Keyte's going to insist on this until the next Dolphin Festival, where hopefully she'll be bit again for another year's worth of story. She turns her floury face back to Kevyn, and laughs. "No, I'm not sure. But it got me out of the manse by my own self, didn't it?"

"It doesn't seem like anyone's noticed you yet…" Kevyn says. Though more as if he hopes that's true than as if he's been paying attention. "And I was just thinking…" He does more trailing off and losing his train of words. He does something slightly proactive in their place this time, though. Rather than try more stuttering, he leans forward as if he's going to kiss her. And he is going to. Unless she slaps him or something.

Oh. It's not that Keyte isn't ok with this, and she even tilts her chin up a little to meet him, but there's something just a little bit off about the way her lips meet Kevyn's. She'll let him have his kiss, albeit just a short little thing, nothing flirty or fairy-taley or anything. When she breaks away — on her terms, mind you — she shoves him in the chest quite hard. "You're not meant to do that," she accuses him, smiling despite herself.

Kevyn blinks and looks rather frog-eyed when he's shoved. He's fairly easy to push. He doesn't get too handsy. The gesture was impulsive, and he seems too surprised at himself for doing it to really process her reaction. Though he does flush and mutter, "Err…yes, quite right. Umm…" He half-turns, in search of escape routes. "I should get back to the Quill. Before they miss you. Back at your manse. Not at the Quill. But…you should get back there, as well, before you're missed."

Keyte laughs again, her own nervousness easily mistaken for some kind of superiority. Especially after that shove. (Sorry.) (Not sorry. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING KEVYN.) "You should," she agrees about getting back to the Quill. "And I should." Get back home. "But…" Her tongue parts her lips, caught between her teeth as she smiles again. "You should come visit me." Are her lashes batting? Yes, they are. "Won't you? I wouldn't have to sneak out, and my cousins wouldn't mind."

SO NOT SORRY.

NOT VERY SORRY.

"Yes, I'm leaving now," Kevyn says, beginning to back away. He doesn't trip over his own feet, but it's a near thing. "Umm…what…?" The invitation to come visit her stops him short. And plainly confuses him, a lot. "Umm…all right. That is, I will." He sounds pleased enough about the idea. Albeit, very very confused. "I'll…umm…see you later then." And off he goes. Quickly.

Yes. Leave. Now! Commoner Keyte grabs fistfuls of her floury plain cloth skirt, grinning at Kevyn as he backs away. "Well you'd better," she threatens after him, hardly able to keep from laughing. "I'll be so cross if you don't! See you," she ducks her head to let out her laughter. "Later."

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