(121-04-21) Wet Welcome
Wet Welcome
Summary: On a rainy day, in the gardens of the White Stone Manse, Darius meets a new useful member to the Martell household.
Date: Date of play (21/04/2014)
Related: None

This manse has a large walled garden behind. The tall stone walls have a heavy double oak-and-iron gate leading into the alley behind. It's quite solid, though there is a little door in it that one might open to look out. Near that gate is a stable, a kennels, and a mews. These utilitarian areas are separated from the garden proper by a low stone wall with a gate-less entry. It's thickly growing with clematis vines bearing pale purple flowers.

The garden proper has white stone paths and is planted with flowerbeds and flowering trees. Most of the blooms are white and pale blushing pink shades. Near the house is a tall cherry tree that frequently bears a profusion of sweet fruit.

At the center of the garden is a large seven-sided fountain of white marble, filling the air with the sound of its splashing water. Tiny silvery fish live in it.

This cursed weather so far north. In the morning there should be sun to go with the heat. Not this sickening, and sticky-and the rain which pours out into the lush Gardens kept behind white stone walls, only adds a bit of the chill to the otherwise warm day. Despite the heat, and odd cooling factor of water, Darius sits outside under the overhang from the Manse, watching the water go down in it's drips and drops. An empty chair flanks him, as well as a small table where a flagon of wine and cups have been arranged.

Quietly, the Black Viper of Dorne, broods, much like an adder waiting for the right time to come out of his hole. To the side of him, a young Page stands present, looking further into the garden where two other boys are playing, in said rain. A flick of eyes and Darius offers his own smirk to the young man. "Go." he says with a flick of his wrist. "I can pour my own wine."

There's a bit of a commotion from the beyond the wall of the garden where the stables are located - loud enough to break anyone's Byronic sulk. The neighing of horses, and a women's harsh snap of words in Trade Tongue, can be heard, prompting several attendants rush to the yard. The rude woman in question is astride a young filly while pulling an older mare behind her by the reigns, and all three are not happy with the weather. A few more curses ring out before order is restored and the horses are settled, allowing Flanna to finally stalk through the entry towards the garden, clad in a heavy hooded cloak that covers most of her features. She pauses when she notes the boys, her glance flicking to Darius next and, more importantly, the wine on his table. It's been a long ride, and licking her lips, the Dornish woman stops lingering in the rain to duck under the overhang. "Hello," she murmurs in greeting, pushing her hood back to run fingers through her damp curls.

The commotion is enough to draw anyone's attention, even if briefly. Though the boys as they splash in the fountain and wrestle as young squires are wont, they are no match for raised voices. A turn of his head and Darius does look off towards the direction of the stables, before he is back to watching the children at play. "Josua!" a harsh bark, as a boy holds another's head down. The look given is enough to disuade that sort of rough housing, but then-they are back to it. Leaning into his chair, the Yronwood crosses one leg before reaching for his wine. Taking a sip he turns, only when the cloaked woman speaks upon her arrival.


Returned, as eyes scan over what he can of her personage. Body, face-what can be gleaned and what is hidden. There's a faint motion to the wine. "Was that your tongue, baiting barbs with our stablemaster?" he asks quietly before he is looking back to the boys. Apparently there's no open invitation to sit-but he won't deny her it, either.

Just as much as he sizes her up, Flanna's gaze, too, gauges the rank and nobility of the man sitting before her - though there's no indication in her expression of whether she judges him above or below her own status. There's an empty seat and an empty cup; those are invitation enough, and she settles gracefully on the chair across from him, glance going to the boys at play briefly before returning to the wine. Rather than answer his question, the woman reaches over to pick up that tempting flagon and pour herself a generous portion. "Are those your boys?"

"Yes." Darius replies back with a faint smile, which almost tinges on full out fondness. "They are mine, in that I am their knight, and they are my page and two of my squires respectively. New ones being brought on in order for my House and Family to keep ties with others. But then, who would not want to squire for the Black Viper?" he asks rhetorically, before chuckling. And there he turns his head back over to her. "Pull back your hood, further-please." he says before he is taking another sip of his own drink.

"One of them is a Fowler, another is from Hellholt…" he trails before he is looking back to the girl in front (well to the side) of him.

"Have you come a long way?"

Flanna's glance idly returns the boys messing about in the rain again as she listens, cup held in her hand but not quite reaching her lips when his title registers. Her gaze snaps back to him, and she raises a brow, then follows by raising her cup as well - as if congratulating him on being the Black Viper - before she takes a sip. No, she does not lower her hood as requested, but reaches into her cloak with a free hand to pull out a letter instead. "A long way, yes…From Sunspear this time-" likely alluding that she's well traveled. "And this, Ser Knight, would be a letter from my father to you." The letter, addressed personally to him, is set neatly on the table between them. Should he read it, he'd get a quick summary of the girl's acknowledged bastard status to Quentyn Martell, her talents as a linguist and cryptographer, and the added line of her likely being quite useful to Darius in that regard.

"Your father? I know many fathers, girl. And likely all would like to think their daughters useful to me in some way." A smirk there, but then he is taking the letter as offered before setting aside his drink. Eyes narrow slightly at the seal, before he is opening it with a forceful pop of wax. Eyes scan the paper before he is looking back towards Flanna, but briefly. "Ah." said after a moment. "Your father has many daughters.." he adds carefully before setting the letter on the table in favor of his cup. "And all of those skills are quite needed here. You will find that in Oldtown, many cultures collide and with it comes some various forms of intrigue..and troubles." A tilt of his head and then he looks back to the bastard. "Tell me, Flanna." he asks quietly, so as their conversation does not carry further. The rain helps.

"How do you see yourself being useful to me?"

His smirk is met with a neutral expression as the girl takes another mouthful of wine, then waits quietly for him to read the letter. "My father has many bastards," she corrects him just as quietly, and follows with another good swallow of wine - the girl is not shy about her fondness for drink. "And I don't," she responds to the question of usefulness. "But I am not my father, nor do I presume to know what's in his head when he sent me here." Perhaps there's a little petulance creeping into her tone towards the end, confirmed by the half-shrug that punctuates the statement.

There's a soft clicking of tongue to follow, and echo in his cup as Darius takes another drink. "You do not do yourself service. I know, what I know of you. You visit a brothel." And he will see how she answers. "Most would take you and see you in their bed. Which-I am not ruling out." Amused, but his tone doesn't betray it. Instead, the Yronwood looks back. "You know who I am, yes?" Likely if she knows any tales of him-then she would know of him. "So I would have you think-beyond whatever your father would use you for, how would I use you?" A sip there and he reaches for the flagon. "Think."

There's little to no reaction to the brothel comment, Flanna appears unconcerned about that stigma attached to her reputation. Her expression firms, however, when he pushes it with talk of men taking her to bed. "I know of the Black Viper," she begins steadily enough after draining her cup and placing it carefully on the table. "And I also know that poison is a weapon favored by women." Standing up, she pulls her cloak around her, and raises her hood. "Should you need to contact my father, or any of the Martells, in a discreet fashion - call on me. Otherwise, I believe my father may have exaggerated the claim of usefulness in his letter."

A laugh is what comes from Darius, before he is pouring another cup. With hers refilled he motions back to the seat. "Girl." Instead of Flanna. "You will need a thicker skin than that, if you are to survive here in Oldtown." A nod there as his hand stills. "And Poison is the weapon of those who know, that in war everything this considered legal." A raise of his brow there before he is leaning back in his seat-allowing his dark eyes to stare at her face. "I will likely have need, very soon. For instance, does your Father know about the state of things here-or my Aunt?"

"Flanna," she insists, brows knitting in a faint scowl as she regards him for a moment of silence before finally sitting down again. This time her posture is less relaxed, her back stiff and shoulders tense - and she doesn't reach for the refilled glass of wine. "They know enough to send me here immediately upon my return to Sunspear after a long trip. Without much explanation or a proper briefing on my father's part, and without giving me enough time to visit my mother first," she says - probably the reason for her earlier petulant tone. Her mother the whore - she treats it as common knowledge and there's little shame of that fact in her expression, which is still somewhat flushed with anger.

"You will have time enough to see your whore mother, once this game is through." Darius states, before he is looking back to Flanna. There's no malice or unkindness given in tone. It is simple fact for the Yronwood to state. His fingers trail lazily at the cup's stem before he is looking back as fingers keep their feather light strokes to metal. "So they do." he adds, with his free hand coming up to pluck along his beard. "And indeed, your skills will be needed, as I shall need a go between, and likely my beloved cousin will as well." he lets that settle before he is looking back over now, with lone eye to Flanna. "Tell me, Flanna, do you know what all has occured here? Or am I the first to brief you on the state of our position in Oldtown?"

Flanna's glance dips briefly to watch him play with the cup, then settles on his face again. A slight head of the shake is given first, and she follows with, "They've told me nothing, and I'm not sure why they haven't - either to get me here as soon as possible, or out of Sunspear as soon as possible." Probably both from the look on her face. But her anger is slowly dissipating, to be replaced with a measure of curiosity that she can't help, and she leans towards him a little in interest. "What's been happening happening here?"

"Allow me then to inform you." And there he looks back to her, a nod given before he is sipping from his cup once more. Darius in the breadth of time holds for but a moment, as he allows a servant to pass by, and his voice lowers. "This is no secret. In recent times a raid was conducted on Wickham's Nest here in the Reach. It has been said Dorne is responsible-mainly House Blackmont. House Blackmont denies this-and the Westerosi of course would not abide our answer. And so another raid was conducted-by Westerosi knights on the Red Rookery." And there he wets his lips and throat with more wine.

"Ser Arnau Blackmont laid charges down on the Reachmen, particularly those thought to have been present, such as Ser Laurent Tyrell, known as the Knight of Thorns, Ser Quillian Oakheart." and there a scowl shows. "Known as the Blackrood. Ser Brynden Hightower, Ser Abram Florent, and two Cockshaws. Which makes sense as the Cockshaws own Wickham's Nest." A glance is given back at a squeal from the boys, but there's no motion from the Black Viper. "A Trial of the Seven was fought-and Dorne lost." A tic there at his eyes. "We lost a lot." he adds in quietly. "Ser Osric Dayne fell, and all of our champions were beaten." A pause and there his tone hides veiled disgust as Darius continues, "None of theirs fell or surrendered." He looks back towards Flanna, full in the face.

"So, we have a game to play. A long game of Cyvasse."

Flanna takes this in without interrupting, sitting back in her seat to think on it for a few beats before looking to him again. "Were those responsible for the original raid on Wickham's Nest found out?" She's not offering a solution, but more of that curiosity as she tries to get the whole picture. "And it seems to me the matter is settled after the trial was lost by our champions. What other move are you proposing in this," she hesitates for a pause, then continues, "-game?"

Darius shakes his head. "They were not, but we do not believe they were Dornishmen. I might not know Lord Blackmont well, but-I doubt he would raid when peace was finally achieved not too long ago." A shrug there. "But raids happen all the time." he allows before he is looking back. "In that way it is, but we believe there are others who were involved either directly or indirectly that still need to face justice." A raise of his head. "To put it plainly, we are tired of the Dornish here being fucked in the ass."

As for her other question there is a shrug. "We will see. Right now, we wait for Princess Ellia to return from Dorne."

Flanna nods, then lets out a resigned sigh as she picks up the refilled cup and takes a good drink. If the coarse language offended her, she doesn't show it. "I suppose my father was right in sending me here immediately. This has the potential of escalating into quite a mess." Her eyes meet his over the rim, and she lowers the cup to her lap before speaking again. "And where were you in all this? The Black Viper would've been difficult to beat as a champion," she adds, opting to couch her offensive question with a bit of flattery.

"I was in Yronwood." Darius says with a look over. Apparently Flattery doesn't play well to the audience. "I was summoned to Sunspear, and by the time I left to find Lord Blackmont, the trial had already neared- We got into the Red Mountains and were held up by Westerosi knights-everything played out and I arrived in the aftermath." And with that he sighs, now moving to rise. "Indeed, he was correct to send you. And so- we will see how it plays out." And with that he glances once to the girl, before looking to the boys. "Alright, inside-and change. You will have your Maester's courses-and I have let you slack enough." he adds, before turning to head inside. "See that your things are placed where appropriate. And take your time to learn the city. It will come in handy."

Flanna nods again, accepting his answer at face value, and looks to the boys when he addresses them next. Their reaction gets a small smile from her, which disappears in the next instant when he turns to talk to her again. "I will, thank you," she says before draining the cup and standing herself. Fixing her hood, she pulls her cloak more firmly around her against the rain, and looks ready to depart the Manse - too eager to explore the city despite the bad weather. With a last nod to him, the girl heads the other way.

(feel free to tag the log with character names of those involved!)

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License