(121-04-18) Wakey, Wakey!
Wakey, Wakey!
Summary: Harry makes sure Loryn doesn't oversleep for his big debut.
Date: 18/04/2014
Related: Related Logs

The morning sun rises early over Oldtown, waking a great many people in the process. Not Loryn Tyrell however, who's been assigned a small guest room for the time being and is still asleep, sprawled all over the bed. He isn't wearing a shred of clothing, but a light sheet of cotton covers at least some part of him, including his modesty. The window is open, allowing the morning breeze in to make the curtains flutter, but the young Tyrell is still dead to the world.

Neither, it seems, does Lady Angharad's knocking — though she's not given to pounding on doors the way her husband sometimes does. So she opens the door and pokes in her head, blinking at the young lord's state of almost complete nudity. She puts a hand over her mouth and smothers a laugh, blushing just a little, mischief in her eyes. She glances behind her at the hall, then slips inside and shuts the door. Very quietly, she creeps over to the bed and leans down to… shout, "HURRY, LORYN, YOU'VE MISSED YOUR CUE!"

Way to make a young guy jump out of his skin! "SEVEN!", Loryn gasps, rolling around onto his back, his eyes still squeezed shut against the bright daylight. He lifts an arm to cover his eyes even more, not realizing that the cloth has slipped off, exposing the rest of him as well. "My head hurts… What's the time?", he groans.

Harry laughs, sitting on the edge of his bed and offering a large mug of hot, black tea. "Well into midday, sweeting. You've missed breakfast and were courting missing lunch, as well. This should help your head."

Ew. The smell of the tea makes Loryn shudder a little, but when Harry tells him it's midday already, he makes an effort to sit up. "I… can't be late…", he groans and opens his eyes at last, realizing that he's in the buff. He blushes and quickly scrabbles for the cloth, succeeding in creating a big ball of cotton that covers his lap. "Uh… thank you, I suppose…."

"Drink. The tea. We don't want you puking on the maiden fair — that's not what the bear's supposed to be licking from her hair." Harry smirks, standing and walking over to push the shutters wider, brightening the room JUST that painful bit more. "You suppose? Then I suppose I'll just let you sleep through your next call."

Loryn winces at the increasing daylight. "Ow, my head." But he does take the tea cup at last and takes a little probing sip. "Ew, gross… what is this?", he complains. "And there's still some time. Could you tell the servants to heat water for a bath for me? I think a bath is -just- the thing for me now…"

"There's tea in the tea," says Harry, helpfully. As for the bath, "Already done. Though," she opens the armoire and tosses Loryn a robe, "you might want to be wearing something when they arrive."

"This isn't normal tea. It's gross.", Loryn insists but takes another sip, this one a bit more tea. Then he has to set the cup down to catch the robe (or rather pull it from his head, where it has landed) and struggles to put it on while remaining seated on his comfortable bed. But finally the task is done and he takes the mug again. "You're sweet.", he comments almost offhandedly. "Do you have sisters?"

Harry smiles, looking legitimately pleased at the compliment, however off-hand. "Alas, no," she says, blushing a bit as she briskly sets things to rights in the room. Boots paired and placed against the wall. Clothes in a basket for the laundry. "They broke the mold when they made me, and ran from it screaming. Five brothers, though, all of whom I miss dearly."

"A cousin then, perhaps?", Loryn asks hopefully, recovering enough by now to sit straight in bed, his back resting against the wall while he drinks more of the tea. "Although the redhead isn't bad either. But do me a favour, yes? Tell Laurent there is absolutely no need for him to find me a betrothal. Please?"

"Oh?" asks Harry with merry interest. "What redhead's this?" She comes to sit on the edge of the bed again, smirking at his request. "Darling, you're terribly young and — don't raise the same concerns someone like Garvin does. I don't think there's a hurry, but in case there's some opportunity for the family…" she shrugs. "It's not a terrible thing."

"Yes, well, that's why I'm saying, tell Laurent there's no rush. And I'm most certainly not going to be scandalous like Garvin. While I love my cousin very much I do think the way he acts is not good for the Tyrell family name. I'd hate for us to become the laughing stock of Oldtown, for we are high above that." For a moment he actually sounds very mature and shrewd, unlike his usual ways, but soon enough a rosy blush spreads over his pale hungover face. "The Lady Sera… I think she's rather fetching."

"We are, indeed," says Harry, leaning in to kiss Loryn's forehead, all approval. She blinks at the name of the redhead, though. "Lady Sera… Florent?" She laughs, grinning ruefully. "Gods help us." Then, explaining quickly, "Not that I know the lady — I'm sure she's lovely — but traditionally, darling, the Florents hate us. They think they should have Highgarden — and the Reach — due to some claim of descendency, blah blah et cetera. They've been stomping their feet about it for generations."

"But then an union would be the best way to finally bring peace to the Reach?", Loryn suggests hopefully, conveniently forgetting that he is not the Tyrell heir. "She is quite spirited, which I like in a girl. And she's as embarrassed about Arion and Garvin as I am. So we have already established common ground."

Harry smiles indulgently. "I certainly think that bringing the Florents into the fold is a lovely idea, and if a bond of true affection and friendship grows between you — so be it. I'd champion that with Laurent happily. But — " she taps the tip of Loryn's nose, " — be canny and clever, not dewy and naive, and don't let her lead you around by your cock. If she truly bears the traditional Florent grudge, she might try to use your good will and lead you on."

"I'm young, but I'm not stupid, goodsister.", Loryn declares full of confidence, "I'll befriend her first. Make her like me and love me and depend on me. You'll see! If nobody is sending me a gorgeous young lady from the North like they did for my brother, the lucky bastard, she'll do just fine." Just then there is a knock on the door and a servant announces that a bathtub has been filled with hot water for Mylord in the bigger room next door.

She laughs again at the flattery, standing and smoothing her dress. "Hush. You'll turn my head and then what will your brother say, when you have his wife pining for you with all the rest of the girls?" Harry smirks, then turns to acknowledge the servant that arrives. "Thank you, Astrid." She brushes a lock of hair back from her forehead and sweeps off to follow the servant out. "Come down after your bath, sweeting. There's lunch in the garden."

"I wouldn't want to risk Laurent killing me.", Loryn promises her, albeit with a little wistful look, before he slips out and into the next room to take a bath that will make him wake up and stop smelling like a public gutter.


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