(121-05-03) The Rise and Fall of Lady Blackmont
The Rise and Fall of Lady Blackmont
Summary: Elionys goes in search of Yael and finds her in an unusual place.
Date: 05-21-2014
Related: The Return of Lady Blackmont, among others

It's been a hot day, which led to a hot evening, even with the sun hanging so low on the horizon, but at least it's clear, and there's a gentle, if warm, breeze. Elionys is outside, as she so often is in the evenings, wandering around the garden in search of the Dornish guest that she was told was last seen out here. She makes it most of the way along the path through the garden, then finally gives up discreetly looking just call, "Yael?" Though at least she has the sense to not call very loud.

It hangs on one's skin, that heat, clinging and lingering in rivults of sweat that persist despite the gentle breeze. The center of the gardens and its twists and gazebo do not reveal the Dornish Lady. Instaed, Yael finds herself perched in a tree near the wall at the side opposite of the Dornes manse. The height marks her as half way up, all that she would need to do is make her way over to freedom. The familiar voice, causes her to pause as she clings like some great golden cat. "Up here, Elionys," she says with a gritted sigh.

Up here. That isn't the response that Elionys was expecting, bemused gaze lifting in search of the Dornishwoman. "What are yo—" she starts, but as one of the guards pokes his head out the door to the manse, she goes quiet and instead truges through whatever greenery is in the way so that she's standing just beneath the tree to which Yael clings. "What are you doing up there?" she asks in a carrying whisper.

Yael's brows lift in a flicker of dark amusement, hands still on the branch and dark hair tumbling over her shoulders in a wavey manse. "It seemed… time to to leave," she murmurs once the danger has passed, dark eyes cutting towards the manse in suspicion. "There are too many things here that speak ill for my present state and purpose."

"Why didn't you ask for help?" asks Elionys, shoulders shaking with sudden, silent laughter as she looks up at the Dornishwoman. "Where do you think you're going, anyway?" she asks, glancing at the wall. "I didn't know you knew anyone over there."

"I have a suspicion your family, Ser Aevander, would quite prefer if I was otherwise to both living and here," Yael counters, mouth thinning in warning as she tilts her head with elegant hauter. Except for the part where she is in a tree. That kills the impact a little bit. "If I can escape over, well…" Looking towards the wall, she lifts her shoulders in a delicate shrug. "I would manage. You said that others beyond my husband came to Oldtown."

"I don't think that Aevander would want to hurt you," Elionys replies quietly, stepping over a shrub so she's closer to the tree, and more out of sight of the windows that overlook the garden. "But, I only meant…" A hand lifts to gesture to the opposite side of the garden. "Your family and friends are over that wall, not this one."

"I think he'd prefer the problem to be solved. Death is a simple solution." There is a quivering to the branch that says so much more than the stilling of Yael's body. A leaf drifts down gently, brushing past Elionys's hair. "My family is… where," she says through gritted teeth, looking down at her friend with eyes like a storm.

"They live just over that wall, there," Elionys answers with a second gesture, looking abruptly worried as her gaze goes from the distant wall and back up to her tree-clinging friend. "The house they keep in Oldtown. Did you not-… I thought you knew."

The tang of blood bites at Yael's tongue, mouth thinning to little more than a scar. "No," she says coolly. "I did not."

Elionys' mouth falls open, but for one uncertain moment, nothing comes out. That she didn't know may be plain to see by the rather horrified look writ across her face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. If I'd know you didn't know," she starts to babble, but manages to cut herself off. "Get down, I'll have someone get us a ladder. A proper ladder, and we can both go over the wall to see your family."

The branch continues to quiver with the tension from Yael's hands biting into the wood. Leaves fall slowly as snow, sailing aimlessly down towards Elionys in an almost idyllic fashion. "I would not have remained here," Yael bites, emotion swimming in her voice as she forces her eyes away. The offer of her friend causes her to blink, dark lashes fluttering open as she looks down at the pale Targaryen woman. "You'll help me…?"

One of the falling leaves catches in her pale hair, a hand lifting to brush it aside as she continues to look up at her friend. "Yes, of course," Elionys answers her at once. "Yes. There… it seems foolish for them to keep you here, there seems no reason for it. You have people here, and you have done nothing wrong to deserve being kept from them."

The certain answer softens some of the crags of Yael's features, smoothing them to an almost friendly expression. "Reasonable… Apart from you has been my struggle there last days, neither means nor motive seem it." Pausing, she dips her head in a trembling nod. "I will aceept your help." Soon as she gets down from this tree. Scooting backwards, she tests the limb she has placed herself out upon.

"Then we are agreed on the matter," Elionys lifts a hand, fingers curling in an inviting gesture, the sort you might make when waving a friend over, rather than coaxing them out of a tree. "We can clean up a bit, change, and the ladder will be out here waiting for us once we're done, then we'll make our escape." Apparently she intends on going with Yael.

"Very well," Yael says in a husk which turns into a slow smile at her pale friend's gesture. The fact that Elionys has decided to come with is just meant with simple acceptance. Turning her attention on what she is doing, she shfits backward on the branch — which protests the movement with a sudden, sharp crack. It sends her plummeting in a tossle of skirts down towards the garden grounds with a gritted shriek. And towards Elionys.

Now that the matter seems settled, Elionys just remains there so near to the branch on which Yael perches in order to hide. Which seemed like a great idea at the time, but as the branch gives way with that alarming snap, she's left looking up at her rapidly approaching friend with wide eyes. There is only a second or so in which to consider whether or not she wants to help, or leap out of the way, but before she can act, time is up and she finds herself suddenly collapsing to the ground beneath her new, Dornish friend. Oof.

Her new, rather heavy, Dornish friend ends up tangled with her as bits of wood lay scattered across the ground and the branch itself swings precariously above. It is still attached but barely. Groaning softly, Yael looks down at Elionys and tries to ignore the way her friend's pale elbow has ended up embedded in her side. "Are you okay?" She wonders breathily.

There's a sort of wheezy gasp as Elionys hits the ground beneath her new, rather heavy friend, and while her elbow is digging at Yael's side, a rock is digging at her back. She's also being squished by her friend, but these things happen. To some people. Apparently they are those people. It takes a good few beats before she's able to suck in a breath again and croak out a quiet, "Yes." Or something close enough to be taken as cofirmation.

Gingerly wincing, Yael slowly removes some of her weight from directly on top of Elionys and props herself up on her elbows. This, of course, leaves her lingering over top, dark hair tickling her friend's shoulders and ridden with small leaves. "I am sorry. I did not mean…" Trailing off, she shakes her head.

It's a few beats more before Elionys is able to draw a proper breath, that effort assisted greatly as Yael shifts some of her weight off of the willowy Targaryen. One hand lifts to flop in a pale attempt at patting her friend, which lands somewhat awkwardly against the Dornishwoman's side. "An accident," she assures, turning her head away a moment to reveal the copious amount of debris now tangled in her pale hair. "Well, we definitely have to clean up before going over now," she manages, a short-lived smile appearing.

They are a study in contrasts, wrapped up in each other, between pale and silvery as the moon and bronzed and cut with shadows like the light from the sun. Where Elionys is willowy, Yael is all weighted curves. "An accident," she swears with an utterance of Myrish following her words. The tone saying precisely how polite it likely was. "We certainly do." She shifts further off the Princess, rising to her feet and offering a hand.

"I know," Elionys replies with a breathy laugh, though the attempt makes her cringe just a little. "I know it was." When Yael gets up, she remains on the ground, but when the hand is offered, it's accepted and she slowly peels up from the ground. "Next time you want to jump on me," both hands reaching back to try and sweep away leaves and dirt, and missing most of it, "Don't do so from quite so high."

Laughing throatily, Yael reaches out to gently pick away a number of the leaves from Elionys's fine, silvery hair with a delicate touch. Her hand slides down to cup her fair friend's cheek, smile low and intimate. "I shall remember that," she promises, smoothing her fingers over the skin, dark eyes dancing with honest mirth. A call comes out from the garden, "Lady Blackmont!" It stiffens her shoulders, hands falling free of skin to curl fiercly in her dirty skirts. "I suppose I ought seen why I am so bid…"

Elionys' laughter is quiet, her own eyes bright with amusement to match that in Yael's darker gaze. "Please do," she begins, seeming just about to say more when the call rings out. Her gaze jumps away, not that she can see the source of it from their current position, but she makes the attempt anyway. "All right. Come up to my room as soon as you're done? I'll find a servant on the way up and see about finding a ladder, then we can get ready to go," she says, grinning suddenly at Yael. "And then we can make our escape," she conspires, having no idea their plan will never quite get that far. "I almost wish I could see their confusion when they realize you're not here," she laments, adjusting her dress so it doesn't look quite so rumpled before she'll make the treck back through the brush and into the house to put their doomed plan into action.

"I'll join you," Yael says certainly, linking her arm through her friends. "Whatever they might have to say to me, they can say to the both of us." Her decision is made, her skirts given a final toss before they head towards the house.

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