(121-04-12) Promises, Pranks, and Punchy Drinks
Promises, Pranks and Punchy Drinks
Summary: Kesha and Keyte share all of the above in a nest of blankets after the Trial.
Date: Ehhhh… it was a few days worth of play.
Related: Trial, Kevyn ones, Visenya ones, so many ones.

It has been an extremely long day for the men and women of Oldtown, what with the Trial of the Seven and all. Absent for most the afternoon leading up to the trial, Keyte's stayed behind to see to Laurent, and she's more than a little cranky as she stomps back into the twins' quarters, swinging the door open so suddenly it barely has time to creak. With a heavy, put-upon sigh to match her scowl, enters, glancing toward the bed, expecting Kesha might be asleep.

Well, Keyte certainly didn't want Kesha to stay asleep, stomping around and flinging open doors like that, if she expected it. Luckily for her, her twin isn't asleep. Unluckily, she 's having a TORRID AFFAIR. (No). Actually, she's parked herself in a chair, bare feet on the table with the worst of manners. Wine is on the table and a glass is in her hand and she's flipping through some book. Which gets slammed and thrown across the room when Keyte just bursts in like that. The wine cup, sadly, falls to the floor and spills what little is left. "Keyte."

Of course she didn't want Kesha to stay asleep. What good would that be? Keyte flinches and ducks as books go flying, hands instinctively rising to protect her pretty face. "Kesha!" She squeaks! THROWING BOOKS. REALLY. Closing the door behind her back and slumping against it in relief, she lets go of another sigh, and mutters, "You scared me half to death."

"I scared you?" Her twin asks incredulously. With a huff, Kesha leans over to pick her cup up off the floor. The maneouver is very awkward to witness and she nearly falls over in the process, but she manages it. She pours herself some more wine, even. Taa-daa! "What are you even doing barging around and surprising people like that?"

"Uh, yes?" You scared her, Kesha. Keyte snips back, lounging against the door for a moment longer before crossing to flop dramatically onto the bed. She lifts her head, as awkward to do as that little cup-fetching maneuver she watches her twin pull off. "I had to stay and help Harry drag Laurent home," she complains. "And that stupid Sand friend of the Maiden Knight's was mouthing off at me. At Laurent, too, but at least Laurent deserved it. Ugh."

Maybe you deserved it, Keyte. Kesha certainly didn't deserve any of this, however. Her flustering and flushing dies down as she drinks more of the wine. "You did volunteer to do so. It was terribly kind of you." She was less kind, one supposes, as she is here. "Sand friend…oh, right." It takes her a moment to remember. He is not remarkable to her. "From what I saw, everyone's mouths were spending gold dragons—far beyond what they could cash, in some cases."

(She did deserve it, really. Barging in like that!!) "He sat by us at the dolphin play," Keyte explains, for Kesha's benefit in identifying Arros. She throws an arm over her head, reaching for a pillow to prop herself up. "Since he yielded to cousin Quill, I suppose he'll be honoring us with his presence for awhile. Yay us."

Kesha is just going to drink away her nerves. (Thanks a lot, Keyte). "Oh, the other fellow who was eager for your attentions." She remembers, vaguely. Enough. "Oh, oh." That explanation earns a low, woebegone moan. Yay us, indeed. "Sounds like we're back to chaperones even in our own home again. He will not be the only unwanted guest, if I remember correctly."

"I'm not leaving this room until they're gone," Keyte vows solemnly in response, fidgeting to fluff the pillow under her head. It's not fluffed enough. Stupid pillow. "… unless I have to," she amends, grudgingly. "How much of that wine have you had, Kesha?"

"I do not have enough wine for that," Kesha warns, like they can't just get servants to bring them everything until someone finally has enough of their hiding and drags them out of the room. However long that would take. It's tempting to see how long they could go, except that they probably go stir crazy before anyone missed them so badly as to force them out. "Not…enough." Maybe enough.

"Maybe have another glass, quickly," Keyte suggests, worry creeping into the edge of her tone. It's a familiar thing… she's got a confession to make.

Oh no. Kesha, who didn't look exactly pleased before, goes still for a moment and then frowns are her twin. "What did you do?" She's very supportive.

Keyte winces, rolling over onto her stomach to bury her face in her not-very-fluffed pillow. She says something, but it's muffled and rather quiet. It's something about… heaven and short meet?

Kesha lets out a long and and very pronounced sigh. She cannot hear you and you know it. Instead, she drinks some more, because clearly she was right: She hasn't had enough, if her twin is behaving like this.

Keyte mumbles into her pillow some more, well aware that her words are hardly intelligible at this point. Then, guiltily, she lifts her head to admit, "I spent the afternoon with Kevyn."

"Please tell me that is not code for something far worse," Kesha implores of her twin, head tilting to eye her worriedly out of the corners of her eyes. At least if it is, she won't rat you out to Katya? Probably.

"It's not code for what you think it might be code for," is Keyte's response, and she's wincing again. She buries her head into the pillow once more, mashing her face against it as she declares, "Ugh."

"At least there is that. I did warn you about giving into sympathetic pleas from hurt and scared boys." Just in case anyone still believed that Kesha is a caring and warm sort of person (outside of a select few, at least, and even then.)

Keyte rolls over onto her back, bringing the pillow with her in the tumble. She's going to hug the feathers in it flat. "Well I thought he was going to die," she points out, face turned aside and away from her twin. "I might've kissed him."

The pillow will survive. Or they'll have to add that to the list of things to order to thier room. Kesha is silent for a bit, drinking wine. Then she looks over at her twin again. "Mhm. Must not have been a very good kiss, since you seem unsure it even happened."

"Oh, shut up," Keyte says irritably, hugging her pillow a little tighter. "That's not even the worst bit." Staring up at the canopy over their bed that I have decided exists, she sighs again. "I told him when he was knight, he could court me."

"…was it slimy? He seems like he'd be slimy." Sorry, Kevyn. Sliminess is apparently not the worst bit, however. "Oh Keyte. What have you done?" Whereas normally this might provoke a similar protest and sarcasm, Kesha looks honestly worried, all wide-eyed and lips pressed into a thin line.

"What?!" Keyte is horrified to be asked if it was slimy, lifting her head to glare at her sister. "No! Why would you even ask that? Oh my Gods, Kesha." She lapses back against the bed, clinging desperately to the pillow. "I don't knowwwwww," whines the (slightly) older twin, sounding as worried as Kesha looks.

"It was wasn't it?" Kesha looks suddenly, and briefly, terribly amused. Even Keyte's 'no' doesn't quite dim it completely. It was slimy and you'll never convince her otherwise. Slimy Kevyn. Like a dolphin. She slumps in her seat with a sigh, then reaches for another book off the table, which she tosses at the bed Keyte is on. "What were you thinking?"

"Ah!" Keyte squeaks again as another book comes flying, wriggling about on the bed to get out of its way. "Stop it," she whines some more, sitting up and tossing her pillow in return. Take that! "It wasn't slimy," she insists, folding her arms and pouting. "I wasn't thinking, obviously. I thought he was going to die and he looked so sad until I said it. And then he didn't die." Which is a Big Problem, apparently.

"Oh I didn't even hit you stop whining." And she could have, if she really wanted to. Of course the best way to do that is get up and hit Keyte with it and that's not happening. "Of course you'd say that. You don't want anyone to know he's slimy." Just give up, Keyte. "Obviously. You cannot hinge all your plans on someone dying unless you're going to kill them yourself." How many times does she have to tell you? "Although that…did seem like a safe bet anyway, in this case," she admits.

Keyte is not going to stop whining. She might give up on the slimy thing, though. Not because it was slimy like a dolphin or anything. BECAUSE SHE IS NOT DIGNIFYING YOUR ACCUSATIONS WITH A FURTHER REACTION, KESHA. "I don't think I was the only person who thought he would die. Oh gosh, that sounds so callous — I don't mean it like that. I just… what have I done."

IT'S ALRIGHT, YOU'LL FIND SOME NICE BOY WHO ISN'T SLIMY SOMEDAY. Kesha doesn't rebuke Keyte for sounding callous. Big surprise. She does finish her cup of wine, setting it down a little hard and abruptly on the table. "You made promises you did not want to keep." Just in case you missed that. "Although everyone does that. Maybe you can convince one of the Blackmonts to marry him. Since that is going to happen to someone."

Keyte goes from looking worried to looking even more worried, eyes widening as her stomach drops. WHAT. "No, I don't want someone else to marry him," she gasps, hands darting up to paw at her flushing cheeks. "You don't think they will, do you? Marry him to a Blackmont?"

Kesha gives her twin an exceptionally flat look. She actually stays silent for a bit to let they sink in. Just the look, which is so, so flat. "You do realize that someone is going to marry him, the Seven help them."

Keyte frowns, her hands sliding down her cheeks to drop back into her lap, where she starts to wring them. "Well, yes," she supposes, though it's probably pretty obvious that she hadn't given it much thought prior. "I… suppose they will." Isn't that disappointing.

Painfully, painfully obvious. "I give up on you. Clearly you are determined to be unhappy." Although her 'giving up' seems to look exactly like her sticking around. "It could be worse, you know," Kesha points out. "You could have found yourself suddenly betrothed by decree of one of those dragons." Not the actual dragons. Those don't actually give decrees, as far as she knows.

"So either I have to marry him, or someone else will," Keyte states the obvious, looking rather more irritated than worried for a brief moment. "That's so unfair," she whines. Whiiiiiiiine. It's unfaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiirrrrrrr. "Oh Gods, like Garvin did? Seven save us all from that, a fate worser than death."

"That is usually how it works, yes." And it is an obvious sort of thing that they have grown up knowing, so Kesha has a limited amount of patience with this whining. "Oh, Keyte. What did you think was going to happen? Or did you really not bother to think at all during your slimy kisses?" Sighing, she taps at the base of her cup with a few fingers, eying it as though considering if she should have more wine. "I do think Garvin has managed to get out of that, but likely by being a exposed cock about the whole matter." Language. "Not that I can blame him considering what they were trying to attach to him."

"I thought he was going to die," repeats Keyte, rather put out about this whole business. "Not that I want him to, but I don't want to be married off to…" She pauses, blinking a bit, and concludes, "Anyone." She heaves a long, frustrated sigh, gaze darting toward the cup Kesha's contemplating. "Can I have some of your wine, please," she asks as sweetly as she can manage, which is a little closer to sulky at this stage. The roll of her eyes says all that needs saying about her opinions on Garvin and his betrothed, though she does add, "She's horrible."

"The gods are certainly laughing at you now." Unlike Kesha, who doesn't find her twin's woes very amusing at all in this case. She looks over at her and then lets out a long sigh. "Drag some blankets and pillows onto the floor. I don't want to spill on the bed." And there's a good chance one of them will spill wine. "And I'm coming over there," she explains, belatedly. Picking up the bottle in one hand and her cup in the other she stands with a grace that lasts as far as her first step, whereupon she wobbles just a bit. Oh well, no one else is here to see. "She's someone else's horrible now, I suppose."

After a long, heavy sigh of her own, Keyte tosses herself backwards to reach for pillows. It's blanket-fort time. It takes her a few tries to actually snag one, which she tugs dutifully along with the other bed linen down off the edge of the bed to meet her twin. "Thank every single God who ever was and ever will be," vows the older, her voice slightly straining as she arranges blankets into a nest. "I think I should rather enjoy being married off somewhere, were she to join our household."

This situation does seem to call for blanket forts. "It would certainly seem the time to, at the very least, take a very long vacation somewhere while we hoped she finally irritated someone enough to kill her." Kesha is a kind and compassionate soul. The nest arranged, she drops down into its softness and holds out the cup to Keyte.

Keyte settles, too, accepting the cup with a grateful smile and a small but emphatic, "Thank you." She tilts it, glancing in at the contents, before taking an experimental sip. "Do you think someone will?"

The wine has some punch to it. Meaning it's rather high proof, not that it's watered down with punch. As one does when nicking wine and getting toasted in one's rooms. "You're welcome." For all her sass, Kesha is still supportive of her twin. "What? Murder her? Probably not. Few people really want to invoke the ire of the Targaryens."

An important clarification to make: punch vs punch. Keyte's a bit surprised by the strength of it, but that doesn't stop her drawing another, longer mouthful before offering the cup back. "I suppose she doesn't really need to die. Just to wed outside our family, would be alright. Although if she's managed to command a dragon, that could be a very useful thing, don't you think?"

Trying out being an alcoholic for the night. (No). "Preferably far away. Someone should find a Stark to introduce her to or something." Kesha giggles at the thought, taking the cup from her twin and drinking once she's settled. "I don't think anyone who was clinging to the neck of one of those beasts without any dress of note only to be dumped off it can be said to command anything." She makes a falling gesture with a hand, wiggling two fingers like kicking feet. "Sploosh."

"We have a Stark," Keyte says brightly, latching on to such a great idea. "Though I'm not one hundred percent certain he doesn't have the same tastes as Garvin. Still, perhaps we ought to introduce them." She laughs freely at the little show, not even bothering to hide her amusement behind a hand or any else. "I wish we could've seen it with our very own eyes."

"…terrible ones?" Kesha ventures, knowing full well what Keyte means, though she would stand by terrible regardless. "I hope for his sake he is more discreet about those tastes." It's difficult to have a cousin who essentially is a walking, talking gay pride parade. "You would have to do it. I cannot imagine The Great Dragon Lady listening to me about anything." She scoffs, but seems amused by it. And then suddenly she's setting the wine aside and scrambling. "Oh! Yes." A book, her sketchbook, is fetched, however gangly her movements seem. She flips through quickly to present her twin with an unkind sort of caricature of a nude and fumbling Visenya on a dragon. "It's the best we can have, alas."

"Ha," says Keyte, "Yes, horrid. If we're still guessing at them, though, he's at least more discreet than our sweetest cousin." And for that, isn't everyone thankful. "I doubt she'd be particularly gracious in receiving me, anymore. I look exactly like you, and she's…" A finger twirls around her temple. "Perhaps the typical Targaryen, aye? Maybe Harry or Johanna will oblige us in introducing them both." As Kesha abandons the cup, Keyte scoops it up eagerly, helping to finish off its contents in a few quick sips. The last, she almost spits out, leaning in to better see the drawing. "Oh my Gods, Kesha," she sputters, too amused to even laugh. "That is brilliant!"

"That," Kesha says, wagging her finger at her twin, "Is a very good point." They are still guessing, so that's certainly some points in discretion. "I should claim to be you more often when I need someone's good graces." As opposed to when she's just messing with people for fun and profit. "Send them together. Power in numbers, yes?" Look, it's always worked for them. "Keyte!" She warns. Don't spit your wine! Or choke on it, either. See, this is why they are on the ground. In part. "It was a moment that needed to be memorialized." Is she a little smug? A little.

"You always have the best ideas," Keyte laughs, patting her chest with the end of her fist to help that wine settle down. "You're welcome to be me any time you like, but don't think I won't return the favour." She looks over the drawing a few moments longer, delighting in every little detail. "We ought to frame it. Display it on our walls as a tribute to her royal highness, the most uppity girl in Oldtown."

"I've never thought you wouldn't return the favor. It's not like, like I've done anything too terrible." Not in Keyte's name, anyway. Then she sighs, slouching backwards. "We frame it and one of the servants sees it and tells others and then those other tell others and eventually it gets into the Dragon Manse and some girl is whispering to Visenya that there is a hideous portrait of her on our walls. And she will go and try to fly that dragon again and it will end up crashing into our home and setting half the town on fire, because of course she doesn't fly it well and then where will we be?"

"Hmmm," Keyte's a little skeptical of what terrible things might have been done in her name, but they can't be worse than the things she gets up to herself. She attempts to take another sip of wine, but it seems she's drained the cup, so she hands it back over to her twin instead. "Well, that's a good point," says she, a little disappointed. "Maybe we ought to have it delivered to her door, anonymously."

They are certainly not worse than what Keyte has done herself. Not like Kesha has given anyone courting permission assuming they they will die and she won't have to actually deal with that situation. Taking the cup, she refills it from the bottle, then takes a sip before handing it over wordlessly. There. "Ohhh." She bursts into laughter, just imagining the scene. "Yes, yes."

It seemed like a good idea at the time, ok?! IT MADE THE EMO DISAPPEAR. THAT IS QUITE A FEAT, KESHA. Keyte accepts the cup back in turn. Teamwork. "Can you imagine the look on her face," she laughs, each syllable fit in between her giggles. "It would be perfect, serves her just so."

DOES IT SEEM LIKE THE FEAT WAS WORTH IT NOW, KEYTE? "I can imagine and yet I do not even think my imagination could do it justice. Maybe we could even blame it on whoever is out there, ah, you know the one who had been selling lewd drawings?" Kesha can't remember exactly, it's not like she's in the sort of circles that would be talking about the sort of thing with details. Much.

STOP BEING SO RIGHT ALL THE TIME, KESHA. "Ohhhh," murmurs Keyte, bobbing her head enthusiastically. Not that she knows who's been circulating those drawings, or anything about them. Ahem. "We could, yes. She'll be so mortified, hahaha! Oh, if we could only be there when she sees it."

SHE WILL, WHEN SHE'S PRETENDING TO BE YOU, KEYTE. "It would be helpful if we knew anything about who was behind the other drawings. Sign their name to it…." Kesha trail off, falling silent as her lips form a pout. "You're right. We'd miss out on the fun." Which is much less fun, but they really wouldn't be able to keep straight faces. Also being right there is bad for plausible deniability.

OH HAR HAR. WELL PLAYED, TWIN. "Oh, hmm," says Keyte with a wrinkle of her nose, as holes are found in their plan. "Well it can't be too hard to find one of those drawings," she assumes, with a thoughtful tilt of her head. She has a sip of wine, and passes the cup back. "Maybe we could somehow… watch from afar?"

"One would think, although I suppose we'd have to find the right people who would know. And not tell Katya." That's important. Kesha sighs and wiggles his bare toes as she thinks. "Like, watch from down the street? In disguise?" She added that last part. "Twins are hard to hide."

"Katya would never know," Keyte responds with utmost certainty. (Katya will probably find out. I'm sure she has her ways.) "Twins are difficult to hide," she continues on regrettably, with a lopsided frown. "Maybe we could sneak into their manse. As servants. But… pretending to be the one person?" It's an ambitious suggestion.

Katya is altogether too good at figuring out when they are up to something, she's had many years of practice. In that vein, Aevander might be suspicious as well. This works better with strangers. "One day we ought to pretend to be Targaryens, if we're ever somewhere that doesn't actually have them coming out of the woodwork." That's a horrible plan for another day. "That's ambitious," Kesha looks at her twin in surprise.

"Why? So we can scoff at little lords and ladies about how disrespectful they are?" Keyte doesn't seem to see the draw of pretending to be a Targaryen. She looks right at her twin, and shrugs. "Maybe a little," ambitious, she admits of her plan. "I doubt they'd notice us. Well… maybe Aevander might. I suppose he'd probably care too, about us antagonizing his poor, wretched sister."

"I was thinking more running around and threatening people who don't know better with dragons.." After a beat, Kesha adds, "Not that the ones who truly do have dragons aren't impressive." She is more bluntly honest than is wise at times, but she's not crazy. "He'd probably be frustrated that he know has to deal with his wretched sister in a particularly bad mood. Which, I cannot find it in me to blame him for. Imagine being related to her?"

"I imagine the ones who truly do have dragons don't need to go around reminding people of how much respect they deserve," Keyte responds rather dryly. She affects an exaggerated shudder at the mere thought of being related to Visenya. "Let's not. Poor Aevander can keep her, as far as I'm concerned." And speaking of Aevander — "I can't believe he has a squire of his own, now. That just seems silly."

"No," Kesha agrees, suddenly sounding serious. "They do not." Where did that cup go? Whatever, she's drinking some more wine to wash that down. "Agreed, let's not, the point was just a reminder it could be worse." Or something. She's lost the track of conversation just a touch. "I suppose he is a knight and they do have squires…though I have a hard time imagining him as anything but a squire, myself. Scurrying around like a shaggy blonde puppy." Which he probably would object to as a description.

Keyte's lost track of the cup too. This punchy wine has that effect. She giggles at the very apt description of young Aevander. "I don't think he's ever forgiven us for his first month at Highgarden," she almost snorts. Pretending to be the one person for quite so long is probably their greatest twin trickery ever successfully pulled off.

"He should forgive us. We taught him to be…be more observant and smarter!" Kesha declares without any humility about it at all it seems. "Besides, we were spectacular. He's clearly just upset at how wonderfully we pulled that off. Our great successes." It probably is the greatest bit of trickery to date, so they've really bee slacking off. Although their last bit got them grounded.

That last one was Keyte's fault. She'll make it up to you, I swear, twinface. <3 "Clearly we helped him to hone his skills in ways his knight never could have," she agrees most solemnly, with a firm nod. "We really ought to prank him some, now that he's here." It's their duty, isn't it? It would only be right and just and fair. "To remind him, you know. Of how much respect we deserve." She can't help but dissolve into another giggle at that last.

It's okay, no doubt Kesha will ruin something and they'll be in trouble and even. "Clearly," Kesha agrees. "What knight would teach him about such careful perception and intrigue?" Only a lot of noble ones, but still. It's not the same. "I think we would honestly let him down if we didn't try. I mean, poor Ser Aevander, without our attentions. He must feel so ignored." Poor Aevander, constantly having twins underfoot. As Keyte giggles, so she sets her twin into giggling as well.

So, they both giggle for a long moment, at the expense of Targaryens. All is right with the world, clearly. "Ignored, yes," Keyte laughs, adjusting her position in the blanket nest to something more… loungy, as she catches her breath from all the mirth. (Twins must be the bane of Aevander's life, whether they're Targs or Tyrells, one would think.) "The poor Ser. Though, it'll be difficult to prank him from outside his manse." This living arrangements thing is rather inconvenient, once again.

The Targaryens in question would say otherwise, but for the twins, the world seems a little more steady in the moment. "How horrible to be ignored. Except when one wishes, then it is the most frustrating thing." Kesha hugs a pillow to her chest, cheeks bright pink. From laughing. (and also wine, shhh). "Maybe we should send him the drawings instead. He'll appreciate that, yes?" No. No he won't.

(Wine secrets are safe here.) Keyte can't help but to snort again, trying to keep back another torrent of laughter. "No!" She exclaims loudly, repeating a little less so, "No, no. Oh, my Gods, he'd kill us. Probably laugh a little first, but then kill us. Dead. Firmly dead." But it's still ridiculously amusing, despite the apparent danger.

They can have a good laugh about it, while they are in the safety of their nest, far from actually doing anything that would bring about their own demise. "We could make a puzzle though. Send pieces to put together one by one until suddenly the last piece is the most important." This is, resoundingly, a terrible idea and Kesha is probably not serious by the way she dissolves into giggles once more.

It is a shocking idea, but one they are entitled to entertain in the comfort of their little nest. Keyte ooohs appropriately for the cleverness, bobbing her head with her trademark enthusiasm. "Yes, yes, yes," she starts, in complete contradiction to her previous 'no'. Consistency, what? "First the dragon's tail, and then its claws, its head…"

They entertain a lot more things than they actually ever put into action. Which is really for the best. If Katya thinks they are troublesome as is… Kesha looks overly pleased as her twin changes her mind, even if only to imagine the possibilities. "A wing, an arm…a naked Visenya…" What a horrible final piece of a puzzle. That is not the kind of attention that would be wanted.

Horrible/entertaining final piece. The two are interchangeable, after this much wine, right? Keyte snuggles in a little closer to her twin, shoulder-to-shoulder. "A naked Visenya," she chortles. "Maybe he wouldn't be so scandalised, really. The Targaryens are into that sort of… brother… sister… abomination…"

Completely interchangeable. Kesha is altogether proud of her idea, even though in more sober light, it would be deemed terrible. "Naked," she confirms, even if this is an exaggeration of events. "…ew. Imagine…she's already probably tried to woo him at some point. It seems she cannot catch the attention of her own twin, who is now to be married to that Dornish Princess…so she'll move on to the next best thing."

"Oh, gross," Keyte's features twist in disgust, her shoulders curling inward with repulsion. "The Maiden's Knight's always seemed alright to me. Maybe the crazy only extends to girls in their family."

Kesha smiles smugly like she scored some point in making Keyte so revolted. It backfires, though, since she had to think about it too, if only for a moment. "Maybe," she muses thoughtfully. Then she reaches out to press a hand to Keyte's cheek in what is probably supposed to be an affectionate pet, but is a little more of a drunken smoosh. "Thank you for not being crazy."

Yeah, ew. Let's not dwell on those thoughts, Kesha. Keyte's still looking entirely grossed out over here, her nose crinkled well before the smoosh of her twin's hand. Though, that's nose-crinkle-worthy, too. "Ugh," she groans, though she'll let her twin (and only her twin) smoosh her face as she likes. "You're welcome. Thank you for not smelling like horses, tonight." Because sometimes you do, twin. And that's ok, but it's better when you don't.

"Don't you ugh at me," Kesha complains, because her smooshing is going unappreciated. It's a loving smoosh, Keyte, gods. So ungrateful. "I was trying to be nice and then you're all horses." Though that's totally true, sometimes she does smell like horses.

"I just ughed at you," Keyte retorts defiantly, STILL LETTING YOU SMOOSH HER FACE KESHA. GODS. SO UNGRATEFUL. "But, fine. Thank you for not being crazy, too. And for keeping my secrets. And for being so pretty. And a great drawer. Drawer? Drawer-er? Drawress. For crying out loud, artist is the word I mean."

WELL SHE IS NOT GOING TO SMOOSH YOUR FACE ANYMORE SINCE YOU ARE SO UNGRATEFUL, KEYTE. Kesha will smooth the pillow instead. "You are just calling my pretty because we have the same face," she points out, though the struggle for words makes her giggle shortly. "Artist! But I have to keep your secrets." Which reminds her. "What are you going to tell Katya about that thing you did with the promise?"

"We do? Oh, we do. Well, I guess I'm pretty too, then," supposes Keyte entirely innocently, smiling prettily now that her face isn't being smooshed. SO THERE. Her expression quickly changes, though, as one of said secrets is brought back up. Keyte sighs dramatically, tipping her head back to face the ceiling. "Do I haaaaave to," she whines, putting on a heavy-bottom-lipped pout. "We didn't tell her about Brockholst, and that's worked out fine so far?"

"Ugh," now says Kesha, mirroring her twin's face back at her, although with less smooshing. WAY TO COMPLIMENT YOURSELF. "What are you going to do? Secretly court the slimy dolphin?" If she can't smoosh your face she'll pat your leg. There, there. "Even if you are quiet, you know he is going to tell everyone. And probably more. You know how men are, telling tall tales."

WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SO RIGHT, KESHA. UGH. Keyte frowns deeply, an expression that suits her ill. "He's not slimy," she protests, much as she did earlier. "And… and… he would not! He wouldn't, I'm sure. Would he? No. No! He's not like that," … it is clear that she's trying, very valiantly, to convince herself.

BECAUSE SOMEONE HAS TO BE. "He seems perfectly happy to be called the Dolphinbane and have highly exaggerated plays made about him, so I don't know why you would think you were safe." In truth, Kevyn is probably more trustworthy than many others, if not particularly exceptional. But he's absolutely not going to keep that a secret. "Everyone," Kesha repeats. "Imagine if Katya hears the news second-hand."

"Well he sort of is the Dolphinbane," Keyte defends her would-be suitor weakly. "Well, fine. Gods. You'll hold my hand while we tell her, won't you?" The bat of her lashes is extremely cartoonish. OBLIGE HER, KESHA THE ALWAYS RIGHT.

"That's like being the fishbane. Who wants to be that?" Kesha rolls her eyes, but nods her head with a sloppy, drunken loll. "Ugh, fine, yes. I will hold your hand when you tell her." Of course she will. She's just going to be annoyed for a minute or three that she has to because of this situation Keyte's gotten into in the first place.

"It is not!" Look, the mess is here, it's queer, get used to it. Keyte's got at least some interest in the (not)slimy squire to be defending him amongst it all. "Good," she says, voice small, sneaking an arm around her twin. "Let's sleep in the nest tonight." Pleeeeeease.

"Ugh, next you're going to be all moon-eyed and betrothed to him." Kesha wrinkles her nose at her twin, for all that she doesn't try to squirm away from that sneaking arm. "That's a…good idea. Then we don't have..to move. Mhm." That seems like way too much work at the moment.

"Maybe," Keyte finally admits, hopefully close enough to passing out that it will be — forgotten. Or at least not argued over. She snuuuuuuggles, Kesha. Give in to the snuuuuuuggles. And the nesty goodness. (Man that was good wine.)

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