(121-04-09) As the Rose Turns Part 2
As the Rose Turns, Part 2
Summary: The drama continues at Garden Isle manse.
Date: 9 April 2014
Related: continues from Part 1 and continues in Part 3

Continues from As the Rose Turns, Part 1


Grand Hall - Garden Isle Manse

The first floor's main hall is grand, open room dominated by a massive fireplace and high-arched windows facing the street, protected by heavy iron bars. The white walls and polished white marble floors make it seem airy and bright. The starkness of the walls is softened by three long tapestries, depicting fantastical hunting scenes, while the marble floor is cushioned by rich Myrish rugs.

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.

When you catch conversation before coming into a situation. Most times you say nothing. When you hear a fellow knight tell someone vaguely related to you, about fucking and asses-well normally you should yell and draw blades. However, for the ghost that is Black Jac Flowers-this does not occur. Rather appearing quietly over Abram's shoulder, the knight merely moves his hand to his belt, and hitches there as a vaguely amused look crosses his bastard features.

"Gentlemen." comes the delightfully rustic accent from the newly arrived Tyrell(sorta) before he is looking to find a chair. "Someone mind pouring' me a drink?" Apparently there is no comment being made about buggery or what could be considered an affront to another member. It's this time that Jacelyn uses to ignore the staring contest going on.

Arion eyes are blazing with anger now but when Garvin takes his hand his eyes soften as he looks to the Tyrell and smiles warmly at him. He gives the hand in his a gentle squeeze and then with renewed purpose looks to his cousin in fury not bothering to release the Tyrell Lord's hand.. "Garvin speaks the truth Cousin but it truly is none of your bussiness. I think you should leave and no I'll not be coming with you. I will stay here…" He looks to Garvin and smiles softly his eyes warm now. "Until Garvin orders me to leave I shall stay." He looks back to Abram chin raised and eyes defiant. "It is my choice where I stay and I have made it."

Tellur finally comes down from upstairs - washed, clean, and in a clean shirt, breeches, and jerkin. There is a primative small fox stitched onto one collar, and the clothing has subtle repairs here and there, but is clearly the best that Tellur has. The shirt is even a moss green, not brown. As Garvin speaks, the bastard Northener looks mild and thoughtful "Duelling is such a favoured pasttime in the South," he marvels - swords, sheathes, that sort of thing, what ho "Do you lack our violent wildlife to distract you, and so must seek a more extreme situation?"

Garvin, Arion, and Abram are sitting in chairs near the fireplace, with Lord Pansy and the young squire holding hands. Each also has a goblet of wine, and even as Jacelyn asks for wine himself, Armand the young page is hurrying into the room with another try with several goblets and another flagon of Arbor red. He pours and hands out goblets with small bows, not making eye contact with any of the lords or knights (nor even Tellur), before he scurries back to the safety of the kitchen, where the only danger is being whacked with a wooden spoon for swiping oatcakes.

"You have many choices, cousin, but this is not one," Abram answers Arion with an easy smile, taking another drink of the Arbor red, with another wordless groan of approval. "Mmm!" A hand passes across his mouth. "The reputation of our family is my business, cousin. I am your elder, you are my blood and I'll crack you over the head and carry you out if I must." A glance over his shoulder, and smiling lift of his goblet to the onrush of visitors, "Oh marvelous. An audience! Good eve, all." A chuckle and shake of his head as he looks pointedly back to Arion. "Curse me later, defy me as you will, compose spiteful lyrics to my cost in your spare time, but for this moment you may choose to gather your things and come along as a gentleman and a Florent, or you may choose to act the child, and come along as an unusually blond sack of potatos." A look aside to Jack, "That's why the Florent ears are so big: the better for our elders to drag us along by. True story." *sip of wine*

Laurent blows trough the front door to the manse, a dark look on his face. Though he throws the door open forcefully, the steps that carry him into the grand hall are heavy and slow. He wears a functional suit of hard leather armor, and a sword and dagger are worn on his baldric, as though he expected trouble in the streets. From the look of him he found none, but that fact did not soothe the tall Tyrell knight. He makes for the stairs straightaway, but the sound of familiar voices draws his steps toward the sitting area, and he slows to a stop once he can see the crowd gathered there. An odd crowd, and he stares wordlessly for the moment, settling to lean against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Garvin gulps quite a bit of wine, his face still red. Finally, he draws another deep breath and lifts his chin defiantly toward Abram. "I'm sure that won't be necessary," he says, giving Arion's hand a light squeeze, before releasing it with some reluctance, when he sees others entering the hall. "None of us wants a scandal, of course. If it is your wish that Lord Arion live in the family manse here in Oldtown, then that is where he should live." He turns to Arion then, giving his lower lip a quick bite. "It isn't as though we can't still see one another whenever we choose, is it? And we'll be spending a good deal of time together at the playhouse."

Hello, wine. Tellur is begining to work out this whole 'Going to study in the South' racket that Carolis has. It means: Get out from under the thumb of the Maester of Winterfell and let Southerners give you drinks. At least for his part, any audience seems to be predicated on the proposition that he thinks Garvin and Arion are intending to hack at each other with blades. He remains relatively quiet - he is outranked by pretty much everyone here, and as long as no one works that out before he gets some of the Arbor red, all is well. His ears do prick up at 'scandal'. With interest.

"I've another theory on them, Ser." Jacelyn says with a faint grin. "I have to say, this has been a fuckin' interesting week for me-So many bloody foxes. You would have thought we were making a den." And with that the bastard knight offers a grin back towards Abram. "I don't believe, I have your name, Ser?" A squint of his eyes follow as a new glass of the arbor red is taken from the poor page who has to be coming and going from this travesty of a conversation. "I know you a Florent-the ears.." he says with twiddly fingers nigh his own, hidden by his hair. The voice lost as wine drinking takes over, as eyes catch sight of the erstwhile Thorn by the staircase.

"Is this about where they are living or staying?" And there he turns from Abram to eye Arion. "Allow me to make this easier for you, laddie." and there the cup is set away. "You're not staying here-and your kinsman here won't drag you out, because I'll kick you out myself." And there he straightens a bit. "I don't care what either you or Lord Garvin do on your own time, but for the sake of both family's you won't remain here."

Arion scowls at Abram still quite furious but Garvin's words have him calming somewhat. He looks to the Tyrell lord and there is conflict in his eyes finally he lowers his head. He lets out a breath and then looks back up his eyes locking onto Garvin and ignoring everything and everyone else. "You are right of course…I will move out but know I'm not doing this for anyone but you." With that said he lifts Garvin's hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss upon it before he releases it and rises heading for the door with quick graceful steps not pausing to seee if anyone will follow him.

"What in the Stranger's wide arse was all this about," is Laurent's entry into the conversation, pushing away from the wall after his brief pause to approach the small, seated group. He snatches a goblet of wine off the harried servant's tray as he passes the boy, sipping at it noisily until he draws near enough to lean against the high back of Garvin's chair. His tone is surly, but not aimed at anyone in particular. The Thorn is in low spirits tonight, it seems.
<Public> Sera wonders if khanjars are acceptable. Since its not on the list I say go for it.
<Public> Rem has disconnected.

Tellur says merrily to Laurent "I do not know, sir. I think it is about dueling?"

Garvin stands then as well, biting at his lower lip as his eyes dart between Jacelyn, Tellur, and Abram, but they show only fondness when they follow Arion, and he wets his lips slowly. Laurent's voice causes him to jump slightly, and with a sheepish grin, he turns toward his cousin. "Er, Ser Abram has…that is to say, Arion and I were…but his cousin is here to…Oh piffle!" He takes a deep breath, glancing briefly at everyone, as he he screws up his courage and finally blurts, "I'm in love with Arion, and I don't care who knows!" His face reddens instantly, but the only place his gaze goes is to Arion again to see his reaction.

"Abram," the elder Florent names himself to Jacelyn, otherwise simply downing the rest of his wine as Arion and Garvin trade words and temporary good byes. As Arion rises and starts toward the door, the cheerful knight, rises to his own feet and offers, "After two days? My lord works quickly. My thanks for the wine," to Garvin. "Laurent," he greets with an easy grin, "I'd live to stay and chat, but-" A motion of one thumb indicates Arion, "I ought to catch up; I don't think he knows where we're going."

"Buggering and discretion." Jac replies, as Laurent comes closer. And then he offers a nod back to Abram. "I think I know your father." Though no hand is given towards the other knight. "Jacelyn Flowers." Whether or not, Abram knows him-or of him, doesn't seem to factor as Jac is quickly back into his cups. And there he is looking back towards Garvin as he rises. "Sit back down." this to the Pansy before he is clearing his throat. "Thank you for gathering your boy, Ser Florent." this directed to Abram, as now it is Jac who is standing. "I hope we don't have to have a talk-or come into one like this again." jovial in that.

"That's a different kind of stabbing altogether," Laurent tells Tellur with a shake of his head, his tone less enthusiastic. Then, "Love's useless as the Crone's dusty crease," he adds sourly. "Ser Abram." That's a bit more neutral, and he offers the Florent a nod. It's a greeting, a how-do-you-do, and a dismissal all in one. "See him home. I expect I'll see more of both of you around here, in the days to come. Assuming we live out the week." He adds the last as an afterthought, with a short bark of a laugh.

Arion freezes and slowly turns to face Garvin his eyes full of surprise and warmth. Its as if he can't see anything else but the Tyrell and he takes a step forward. "Do you really…love me?" He looks both stunned and elated at the same time. "Becuase I love you." He takes another step forward. "More than anything. You Garvin Tyrell are the best thing thats happened to me in my whole life." He quickly closes the distace between him and the Lord wrapping his arms around him. "Say it again for me?" He looks into those brown eyes with his pale green joy, hope and love is all visible in that gaze.

Now, Tellur mostly just looks confused, suddenly. Perhaps more wine? Perhaps more wine. And then there is another announcement - two days? Huh. "Things are _very_ different in the South," he decides, as Laurent makes some things clearer. And then there is a passionate declaration and Tellur, delicately, pinches between his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "Two _days_?" he murmurs.

"Here's hoping," Abram quips to Jacelyn in regard to future meetings. A shared laugh with Laurent on his way out and.. Arion is walking back past him, leading to a briefly comical moment of turning half around and trying to stop his steps. "Apparently I have a bit more time." A breath drawn and let out as he affirms, unlooking, "Two days."

Garvin wraps his arms around Arion, all the others in the room forgotten for the moment, as he kisses the young man lightly, just a sweet peck. "I do love you," he whispers, smiling and looking into Arion's eyes. "But they're all correct, I'm afraid. If you lived here, the whole city would know in no time, and we can't have that. Especially now, with everything happening with Dorne and all." After another, longer kiss, he releases the squire and steps back, blushing as he glances around the room again. "Well, now it's all out in the open, let's have it. Get all the doomsaying over with, tell me what a fool I am, that we both are. But then after, I don't want to hear another word about it, all right?" He downs the rest of his wine, then strides over to the page, who refills the goblet without a word.

"Godsteeth.." Which seems to be Jac's curse of the day. And he is setting down his cup rather forcefully. "Out y' bloody pair of ears." This more or less directed to the Florents, without any real wrath behind it. Eyes slide back towards where Tellur is, and there Jac's teeth grind, but once. "This is not discreet." hissed out before he is now looking at Garvin. "You have fucking guests here, Lord Cousin-be mindful." And there he is looking to the page. "Boy-take the flagon out." Which hopefully said Boy understands to do just so now.

It really cannot be discrete, especially given that the Northerner Lord's servant is just standing there, drinking wine, and watching. Tellur _almost_ looks amused, or would, if his face wouldn't fall off if he made an expression. Never mind him.

"And I love you." Arion admits softly to Garvin. He returns both kisses and smiles joyfully and then he nods slowly in understanding. "You are right of course…but I will visit you often I promise…very often." He blushes as he glances around the room but even the emabressment cannot defeat the joy and happiness written on his face. "I will see you soon then Garvin…my love." And with that he turns and starts to head for the door once again. He will glance back and offer a sweet smile to the Tyrell before he sees himself out of the Manse.

Abram's last comment is given under his breath, as he follows Arion out of the manse. Spoken with a shake of the head: "Bloody teenagers."

"The Maiden's weeping gash," Laurent swears savagely, sharing a hopeless look with Abram as he steps around the chair to come to Garvin's side. "You don't get that luxury, Cousin, any more than other men do. Less so than most." He shakes his head, craning his neck to put his face in the line of Garvin's vision, between Lord Pansy and his retreating love. "It's our triumphs that men are content to let lie. Our mistakes are repeated until we can stomach them no longer, and yet more." He looks about the room, at strange faces and serving boys, grimacing as he straightens again.

Continues in Part 3

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