(121-05-13) About Amadys
About Amadys
Summary: A few hours after Amadys Baratheon departs Foxearth, Abram asks Valerity about the visit
Date: Date of play (14/05/2014)
Related: Congratulations Gone Amiss, In Vino Valeritas, One Way to Skin a Cat

Amadys Baratheon had withdrawn in some haste two hours previously. Abram had returned to the house after some time spent tending his favorite raptors in the mews, and has gone in search of his betrothed following a very colorful chat with his cousin. Idly whistling to himself as he walks through the manse, the knight had started with his (their?) chambers and then moved downstairs.

Valerity is in the garden, spending time with Tyrell, who she's been studiously spoiling out of being any good for hunting. She's stretched out on the grass, propped up on her elbows, dandling a daisy in front of the very attentive hound. Slowly, slowly she advances the bloom on the little dog, then… BOOP! On the nose! Ty yaps and jumps into the air, bark bark barking and running around in omg circles as though this hasn't happened just the same a dozen or more times in a row. Valerity grins and props her chin in her hand, watching Ty have his inexplicable fit of paroxysmal joy. However repetitive, the game is clearly in no danger of boring either of them.

Abram leans on the doorframe as he spots Valerity. Arms crossed, head carried at a lazy angle, he watches the daisy game with a low chuckle. "You will spoil him beyond any hope of redemption," he points out, seeming amused by the observation. Stepping his weight off the doorframe, his wandering steps bear the Florent toward the Florent-to-be.

"'Beyond any hope of redemption' is the state in which I live, Florent," replies Valerity, rolling to her bare feet — her slippers are around here somewhere, but she's in no hurry to find them — and brushing off her gown. "It's nice to have my things there, too."

"Well then, at least you're stranded in entertaining company, Florent," Abram returns with a light chuckle and jaunty half-bow as he steps unhurriedly nearer to the slipper-less Valerity. "Sera has calmed down enough to tell me she spoke to you over harshly," he relates, idly. "What happened? Did some whelp of a Baratheon truly walk into my house and insult the two of you?"

"Mm. That's something along the lines of what I told the whelp of a Baratheon," says Valerity, stepping to meet Abram in equally unhurried manner, whereupon she offers him her hand, wrist bend and palm down, as though for kissing or dancing. "Marriage is a barbaric institution… so one might as well find a tribe of like-minded barbarians." As for what Amadys Baratheon really did… "It's a little more complicated than that."

Abram slips his hand beneath hers, his eyes holding on hers as he slowly bends over the lady's hand and presses a smiling kiss to each of her four fingers, before languidly standing upright. "Do tell. I have time. Is Sera right that he means to undermine us?"

Valerity melts a bit — one, two, three… four — for each kiss. The question, though, makes her laugh. "Abram," she says, indulgently, "you've met him, haven't you?" She quirks her dark eyebrows. "Do you really think he could?"

"I havn't met him, actually," Abram grins back at her as, hand still beneath hers, he starts slowly stepping in a circle, turning her around in the steps of a very slow dance. "And I know he couldn't, I simply asked if he intended to try." His lip keeps that daring curve, manner wholly relaxed, despite the topic.

"I don't think so," says Valerity, following the dance, keeping his eyes. "I don't think he has the confidence to try."

"Oh good, such folk don't often take failure very gracefully," Abram returns with a small chuckle silently stirring his throat. He delays his circling long enough for a short bow, before reversing the direction of his circle. "Sera feels insulted by him. Do you?"

Valerity dips a graceful, straight-backed curtsy for his bow, then once more follows his head. "No," she says, simply and certainly. "But I am older, and I have a thicker hide." Tyrell gambols over, having finished mauling his nemesis the daisy, and decides he wants to dance, too. Be play bows and wags his backside before prancing around them in a circle.

"Sera is a very canny young lady; she is about as clever as it is possible for a teenaged girl to be," Abram notes dryly. "Still, if not on your behalf, I'll need words with the boy for her sake. Would you prefer he be left in one piece?" A grin to the ground as Ty joins the festivities.

"We are all too clever, by half, at that age," opines Valerity, stepping in and turning slow, so his arm curls around her. "I would prefer him in one piece, yes. He's just a boy, and a wounded one, at that."

Abram slowly wraps his arm around the lady's waist as he steps behind her, drawing subtly closer with each step, until he has crossed fully behind her, speaking quietly into the ear on her other side. "I'll do what I can, then. So long as he isn't too insolent, all should be well." His free hand settles on Valerity's near hip, closing the lady into a loose embrace as he stands behind her. "Anything further I should know?"

Valerity lids her eyes as he lingers close, speaking in her ear, and tips her head to give him better access. "We drank together and told each other secrets," she replies, softly. "He tried to kiss my neck and I laughed at him. Then he passed out." She turns her head to look upon her new-betrothed lord. "And there you have our sordid history."

"Don't much care," Abram comments to the sordid history. "You, I'm not worried about," his lips stir against Valerity's ear, until she turns to face him. The Florent grins a bit at the turn. "I'm curious what he was trying to do. Even fools have to have a reason for offering such a provocation.. though it is like to be a foolish reason."

"You're giving him too much credit, I think," says Valerity, with uncommon gentleness. "He's been nursing a hurt and decided to change in, thrashing his antlers. Or perhaps he'd just heard. It's all been rather recent, this business of dueling and brides changing hands."

"Am I?" Abram notes with a wry tilt to his words. "Perhaps. If he is fascinated with you, I can imagine he might do something so foolish. If he still nursed the delusion you might be his." A deeper grin, as he trails a thumb fondly over the contour of her cheek. "You, my darling.. are entirely too kind." Worst. Ice Queen. Ever.

"Tell me that again, later, when your favorite cousin begins her two days privy-bound with the trots," sighs Valerity, bending to pick up Tyrell, who is begging piteously for attention.

Abram's brows go up and his smile deepens with a twist toward the incredulous. "What did you do?" he wonders, teetering on the edge of a laugh.

Valerity snorts, softly, dimples deep as she kisses Ty on the head. "Nothing." A beat. "But I should have, the little chit." A glance at her husband to be. "You're right. I'm far too nice."

Abram raises a hand to scratch at Ty between the ears, glancing down and then back up at his grinning intended. "You have a tender spot for fools and children, I think. For which I ought to be grateful, dwelling as often among the former, as I do," he quips. "I'm also grateful for your patience, my Lady."

"Fools and children?" groans Valerity, pulling a face and twitching her shoulders in a delicate shudder. "Gods, don't say that of me where anyone can hear you." Bleaugh.

Abram laughs aloud, merrily. "Oh, I won't." Leaning over the excitable little hound in Valerity's arms, to give his intended a swift and firm kiss, he draws back to note, "I'll be back in a few hours, my Lady. Tyrell-" a glance down to the hound, who is given another tussle of the ears, "Be good."

Tyrell squirms and flails his tongue out like a frog to give kisses. Valerity snorts with laughter, keeping her face away from the hound and setting him back on the ground. "Remember what I said!" she exhorts Abram, as he departs. One piece. Preferably.


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