(121-05-07) A Late Visit
A Late Visit
Summary: Loryn comes to check on Harry
Date: 05-07-2014
Related: None

It's a beautiful, warm summer evening that finds Angharad Tyrell taking shelter from the rain under one of the generous awnings of the Sailmaker's Manse garden. She is draped in a chair with a cup of wine, eyes slightly shut, listening to the lull of the rain. There's a bowl of black cherries on the table beside her, and occasionally the plucks one from the stem with her lips, chewing, swallowing, and hoydenishly spitting the pit out into the courtyard.

It is only in the later evening that Loryn Tyrell is allowed out out of the Hightower to do as he pleases. Now that the run of the Bear and Maiden Fair has ended and his cousin Garvin is still AWOL, it usually means a trip to the pub for some drinks. Except tonight, he makes his way to the Sailmaker's Manse where he known enough by now to be allowed entry and access to the gardens where the person he wishes to see is lingering. While the rains dampens his unruly hair somewhat, it doesn't seem to bother him as he stands there, out on the lawn, waiting to be acknowledged. Perhaps happy to just stand and stare for a moment.

Harry reaches a lazy arm over to take another cherry, opening her eyes slightly in the process. She blinks a few times upon seeing him, sitting up, a warm smile crossing her features. "You look very handsome, standing out in the rain. Like a lovelorn poet." Her smile becomes a grin. "But you should come and sit where it's dry. Lovelorn poets die of colds they fevers they get standing out in the rain."

"I've had much worse up in the North.", Loryn responds with a shrug and might just stubbornly stand out there to prove his point. But since he doesn't want to shout all over the garden all the time, he does finally approach to sit down beside her. "Hello Harry.", he greets with a little smile, "We didn't really have time to talk last night at the Holdfast what with Johanna there and the fuss around that intruder. Have you seen my brother in the meantime?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "You forget, I'm from the North. I remember what the weather's like." Harry pours him a cup of wine, offering it across to him. "No. I haven't seen Laurent." Just saying his name takes some of the light from her smile. "Have you?"

"I see him from time to time.", Loryn replies vaguely, accepting the cup of wine, "He's made me serve his friend Ser Brynden as a squire. So I'm mostly living at the Hightower now." He doesn't look too happy about that and chugs some wine to drown his woes. "While you were gone… have you thought about what I said? About making up with my brother?", he wonders quietly.

Harry looks down into her wine, smile fleeing entirely. She closes her eyes and breathes out. "Of course I have. I barely think of anything else. That's not the point." She looks at Loryn, crestfallen and wilted. "He won't have me, Loryn. Surely, if you've talked to him about it, you know that."

"I told him, he's a bloody stupid idiot.", Loryn replies, thus admitting that he did talk to his brother, then sighs. "Still, you should talk to him. Laurent would rather pull his toenails out with a rusty pincer than admit to me that I might be right. He's had some time to let these things run his dumb thick skill though. So, who knows?", he muses hopefully.

"I know," says Harry, softly. She reaches over to the small table for a cherry from the bowl, pulling the fruit from the stem with a gentle indentation of her teeth. "I'm going to talk to him. Once more. But only once. I may not be a rose, by birth, but I can no more live without the sun."

"And how's giving up on Laurent bringing the sun back?", Loryn muses, watching her eat, "You're still married to him…"

Harry swallows and spits the pit into the courtyard. She's got pretty impressive arc and distance, for a girl. "I wish you'd stop saying that, Loryn. 'Giving up on Laurent.' As though this is my fault — or my choice. It's hurtful."

"I'm trying to help.", Loryn points out with a sigh, "Just asking you to be patient. Laurent looks like an ox, stomps like an ox and has the slow brain of an ox. It'll take a while to reach the conclusion I reached ages ago. But he'll get there. And if not, I'll talk to him again." Charming, but he's pissed at his brother. "And the offer still stands.", he adds quietly, "If I can bring some sunshine into your life…"

That makes her smile. "To run away to Braavos?" She looks over at Loryn, her expression tender, and reaches for his hand. "I'll always treasure that, you know. That you even thought it. That you wanted to save me. Whatever happens."

Loryn lets her take his hand and smiles at her. "Braavos, Essos, the Summer Isles… wherever you want.", he replies, "Promise me that you remember that even though Laurent is an idiot, there are others who love you and would move the world to make you happy." Then he flushes and takes a sudden interest in the flowers that are growing in the garden. Oh lookee, that's a northern shrub, innit?

She squeezes his hand in gratitude and affection. "Thank you, Loryn," Harry whispers. She clears her throat and takes up her wine again with her free hand, having a nice, deep draught. "Sorry," she adds with a fragile smile, putting down the cup to dab at her eyes. "I didn't mean to get all maudlin and weepy."

"Hey, and here was me, trying to cheer you up, not make you cry.", Loryn replies with a little (rather insecure) chuckle. He sits stupidly, all limbs, not sure what to do with himself until he finally extends one arm to drop it rather clumsily onto her shoulders to draw her in for a little hug. Was that alright? Is she protesting? It seems alright? Yes? A boy wonders.

She doesn't protest. Quite the opposite, she wraps both arms around him and buries her face against his shoulder. She doesn't seem to cry, at least not full-out, but takes several deep, shuddery breaths. And swallows hard. Harry's a hugger.

Oooo. Loryn likes hugging. He wraps his second arm around her too, quite happy to just hold her for a while. If only his pesky nether regions wouldn't develop a life of their own that soon make him shift a little awkwardly. Perhaps he should wear iron armor next time he pays her a visit. "Maybe I should go…", he mumbles.

Harry nods, not immediately pulling back. "I don't want to get you in trouble with your Ser," she agrees, softly. Still, she breathes in deeply once more and holds him a little tighter, for a moment. "I'm always glad to see you, Lory."

"Until we're both living at Garden Isle again, I'll come and visit you here.", Loryn promises, still shifting a bit, but not letting go of the embrace either. "Ser Brynden is a decent sort, really. He said I could go visit my family - and continue acting. So… I don't mind too much, being a squire again. For now. I can still come and see you as often as you like…"

She pulls back just enough to smooth his dark, rain-damp hair, and kisses his temple. Her lashes are wet against his skin, but her cheeks are dry. "Thank you for coming. You're always welcome, wherever I am. Now go. Squires, from what I recall of my brothers, have to be up arse-crack early and get run ragged all day. You should sleep."

"Who knows if I can sleep.", Loryn mutters, rather unwilling to let her go. But finally he sighs, hovering a little in mid-move as he if considers a kiss of sorts, but instead he just breaks away from the embrace and rises to his feet. "Well, I better go then.", he says, "Whenever you want me, send a message."

"Oh, sweetheart, when would I not want you?" says Harry, smiling. "But I will. But also, just come — surprise me, sometimes." She holds on to his hand until the very last minute. "Be careful going back."

"Don't worry, I can take care of myself!", Loryn promises proudly. Famous last words. He returns her smile, then hurries off into the protective darkness of the garden and beyond, to the street.

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