(121-04-09) Discussing The Third Florent
Discussing The Third Florent
Summary: Log Summary
Date: Date of play (09/04/2014)
Related: Gossip Queen

The manse serving as home away from home to the Florents in Oldtown is not overly large, although locating Abram this morning, even given the scant number of rooms, has been difficult. The reason becomes apparent at about the typical hour of breakfast as the knight in question walks in the front door. He wears no doublet or spurs, and carries his swordbelt slung over one shoulder.

One really shouldn't ask where a grown man has been so early in the morning, but as soon as Lord Abram makes his way into the manse, one of their servants informs Sera. She makes her way down the stairs, her fingers gliding against the railing. Smiling upon spotting Abram, she tilts her chin upwards, "Good day, Cousin Abram. I was looking for you." Stepping off the last stair, she lifts her fingers off the railing, studying them absent-mindedly to see if any dust has rubbed onto them. She seems satisfied with the cleanliness for now.

Abram hangs his swordbelt on the back of a tall chair in the common room, sitting down to the long table and pulling off his gloves. A broad smile greets his cousin. "And now you've found me! How nice. Have you eaten yet, Sera?" The motion of one hand to a vacant chair across from him invites the lady to sit.

She follows him into the common room, shaking her head about breakfast, "Not yet. Although with your company I am sure my appetite will return. I can have them set it up for us, but in the mean time I was hoping to speak to you about a certain subject." She makes her way towards the offered seat, her hands slipping down behind her to tuck her dress as sits down. Sera leans back languidly, placing her elbows on the armrests while her eyes remain on Abram. "I was wondering, cousin, how you view our family. I know, it is a rather open-ended question, but please bear with me."

"By all means, I'm famished," Abram answers to the offer of breakfast. As Sera poses that last question, he leans forward, lazily resting one forearm on the tabletop, and chuckling under his breath. "Our family? LEt's say…" he muses, glancing to the rafters in thought before returning his eye to the young lady. "I am none too fond of finding the greatest days of the Florents in history books."

Her lips curve at that, but she calls one of the servants first, asking them to set their breakfast before turning back to Abram. "I agree," she murmurs, letting out a sigh. "Especially after the Tyrells sashayed themselves onto the seat. This is why I am worried about our cousin Arion. Have you met him yet? I had the pleasure yesterday."

"No, I havn't," Abram notes on the subject of Arion. "I'd heard that he had arrived in Oldtown, but for one reason or another, our paths havn't crossed yet. Just busy, I suppose," he notes with a shrug. "I understand he's to begin squiring, had thought to take him on myself if no better connections can be forged."

"Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad idea," mutters the lady, more to herself than to Abram. "The day I arrived I decided to visit the Quill and Tankard, I have always found that drunk lips produce the loosest tongues. One of the barmaids told me that she had seen Lord Garvin, a notorious…" she pauses, realizing she is stuck on trying to figure out a delicate words to describe it, "lover of, well, men." So much for poetry. "Apparently, late at night, he was seen in the company of our cousin. Both drunk and eager to continue the night away. They slipped out of the city walls only to return before the sun rose. Lord Garvin, supposedly, was barely able to sit on his saddle…" She trails off, hoping he'd catch her drift.

"Aye, the Pansy," Abram is familiar with the man. As the story unfolds, Abram exhales and leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing. "Every fmily has to turn out a few bent swords, it seems," he mutters. Another moment's musing. "You know, I'm almost amused by the notion of a Florent sticking a Tyrell up the ass, for once?"

A laughs slips out of Sera before she could catch herself, "Me too! I was actually thankful for that. I don't honestly care what we do in the privacy of our chambers, Abram, but I was hoping for more…discretion from our kin." She bites her lips thoughtfully for a heartbeat before she continues. "And then I found out that Arion has decided to move in with the Tyrells, to live with Lord Garvin under his invitation. This…this is what worried me."

"Oh that is a step too far," Abram assents to the last. "It is a profoundly troubling thing when I am more discreet than.." A shrugs and short chuckle, "Well than anyone, really." A shake of the head, "No, that won't do. The risk for embarrassment is too great."

"More discreet?" Oh that has caused her eyebrow to pop up. She puts a mental tab on that but continues on with the topic at hand. "They have already been seen together, and if I found out a day after my arrival I am sure I am not the only one who knows. Him being there is…well it's as if he is Lord Garvin's…paramour? I'm not sure what to call it. I tried speaking with him but he wouldn't listen. I hate to trouble you with this when you're supposed to be preparing for the trial, but I am not sure what to do, or if I even should do anything."

"Catamite," is the word Abram supplies in replacement of 'paramour'. A nod as she begins to apologize, and a dismissive wave of the hand, "I think I can spare an hour or two to drag Arion out of the Garden Isle by his ear. Plenty to grab hold of, you know," ah, ear-based humor. Always applicable.

"Catamite," she repeats the word, adding it to memory. "Really? That would be wonderful, but please don't be too forceful. If he sees Lord Garvin as a forbidden fruit we may never be able to tear him away from the Tyrell." Sera seems a touch more relaxed however, as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. "But the ear is also acceptable if all else fails." She grins at that before leaning forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. "So tell me, Lord Abram, what is it that you've been discreet about?"

"I will be as delicate as I can, while making certain he comes back with me." A crooked smile, "It helps that both captains of the Tyrell guard are friends of mine, which dramatically reduces the risk of being thrown out on my ass." He also leans forward, as though sharing a conspiracy at her last, "Since you asked.. once you find out?" the breath is held for a heavy heartbeat. "…Then I'll know I need to be more discreet." He winks with the words.

"Abram!" Sera protests as he denies her the juicy bit of information. "You are cruel, cousin! Luring the fox to the hen house then denying its entry is a cruel and unusual punishment." She pushes up from her seat and approaches him, moving to sit next to him and place her hands on his forearm. "Come now, you have to tell me. If I know then I will be able to deflect any future rumors I hear. I was ill-prepared when I learned of Arion's…hobby. So tell me!"

Abram laughs aloud at Sera's protest, relaxing back in his chosen chair. His cousin's latter appeal is met with a calculating look and answer of, "Well… I suspect you will have more satisfaction at the answer, as well ad a better grasp of how whispers in Oldtown flow, if you find it yourself, however-" he adds, to forestall further protest, "To get you started, I stayed last night at the Quill and Tankard."

Ooo, a crumb, she will take it gladly. Sera's lips curve upwards as she tilts her head to the side curiously. "I am starting to realize the Quill and Tankard is a tavern full of secrets. If only we had a permanent ear to listen. But, I will look out for your name, cousin. I do love a bet and I love a challenge even more." She pauses for a moment before adding as an afterthought, though the sentiment is still there, "I am glad to have you here, Abram. Your presence is a boon. Please ensure that you come back to me by the end of the Trial, however, or I will be most displeased."

"Those walls had eyes and ears and hands, the hands would gouge out the eyes, for what the ears have heard," Abram jests on the subject of the tavern. The last draws an easy smile, "I will certainly come back. I will almost certainly come back alive; you really must be more specific in your requests, my dear little Sera," he teases with a chuckle.

She can't help but laugh, "Well if you come back dead I would be a little less displeased than not at all. Alive is always preferred but well I shouldn't ask too much from the Gods." Sera then leans back, settling into her seat comfortably. "I have met your friend, Ser Laurent. I can see why you are fond of him. He is the exact opposite of every other Tyrell I've met."

"Isn't he?" Abram laughs anew at the subject of Laurent. "I've called him an honorary Florent, though if it ever stops annoying him, I'll stop saying it."

"I will be sure to put that to good use," Sera returns with a light laugh. She looks up as Eryl the servant enters, announcing that breakfast has been set up. She looks back to Abrams while standing up, smoothing out her dress as she does so. "Come on cousin, lets feast, and you can tell me all about your hunting escapades that I have missed out on during the years."

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