(121-05-15) It's Not What You Think
It's Not What You Think
Summary: No really, it's not.
Date: Date of play (15/05/2014)
Related: Keyte/Kevyn ones.

Well. The last time Keyte and Kevyn were in the same place at the same time, it ended rather awkwardly, didn't it? FINE, and all. It's been some weeks since then, some several, eventful weeks as far as House Tyrell goes. Maybe Kevyn might think she's forgotten him. Spoiler alert: she hasn't. The older of the Tyrell twins sends an invitation, in her very own fancy handwriting on a musky-scented piece of parchment: Please join me at the Garden Isle, at your leisure — I have something for you.

(It's not what you think.)

Keyte mopes around in the garden, because it's pretty out here, and a nice place to wait for a guest. She's dressed impeccably as usual, turquoise and gold brocade fitted around her like a glove, arms bare and wrists ringed in gold bracelets that clink prettily. Her skirt of swishy chiffon sweeps over matching brocade slippers. She flops onto a bench with a long sigh, and lacking for a clock, looks up toward the sky. Ho-hum.

Kevyn probably doesn't think it's that. His hopes are rarely that high.

He's not sure what it is, truth be told, as he crosses over to Garden Isle. His horse is left with the groom at the stables, and he shows off the invitation and asks a servant where Keyte is. Said servant escorts him to the Tyrell lady without much delay, though who knows if it's less delay than Keyte wants. He comes to a stop when he sees her, flopping so prettily on the bench. It's a beat before he clears his throat, to announce his presence. "Keyte. Err…my Lady Keyte. How…how does the day find you?" Not FINE hopefully.

She is rather finicky about all these things, isn't she? Whatever this something is, it's in a little blue box that just so happens to match her dress, tied with a pretty white ribbon. Keyte settles the thing in her lap, only to scoop it back up again as Kevyn approaches and she comes to her feet, polite. She clings to the little box, nerves tugging at her smile as she greets in kind, "Ser Kevyn. My day is…" A deep breath. "Infinitely brighter for your calling, of course. You look very handsome, would you like… some wine?"

"It is?" The infinitely brighter part makes Kevyn beam. It's an expression that continues to make him look rather foolish. "Umm, mine is as well. I mean, not by my presence. But by yours. It's infinitely brighter, that is." He moves on. "I spoke to your good cousin Ser Laurent and…what's that?" He means the box, in theory. "Oh, thank you. You do, too. I mean, you don't look handsome, but you look very lovely."

Oh, her charming is working. Brilliant! Keyte relaxes a measure, giggling girlishly at his response. "Well, thankyou," she breathes on a laugh, flopsing back down upon the bench with her precious little present still in hand. Only a touch more serious, she continues, "Oh, you did? Speak with Laurent?"

In all fairness, Kevyn is not the most difficult charm target. So it's questionable how much of an achievement this is.

"Err, yes, I did. Speak to him, that is." He approaches the bench, half moves to sit, but then just kind of fumblingly straightens up again. Like he's waiting for an invitation. "About doing some work for him, since I'll be staying in Oldtown. My family's even investing in a manse property, not far from the tourney grounds."

Way to burst the bubble, Kevyn. Thanks.

"Oh! That all sounds… I'm so relieved." A little unsure because he's not sitting with her, Keyte practically pleads, "Won't you sit with me? I… well, I thought I should apologise. After yelling at you last time you visited, it wasn't my finest moment. I didn't… well, I didn't mean to be unkind, and… I'm so pleased you spoke with Laurent, and… oh." The more she talks, the more she seems to be stumbling over her words, the barest hint of pink creeping into her cheeks. As if she's only suddenly remembered it, she thrusts out the little blue box to Kevyn. "I got you this."

Once the little white ribbon is untied, the box has a lid, and inside it rests a golden cloak-pin. It's an eagle in flight, enameled in black, the feathers of his wingspan detailed in Cockshaw silver, red, and gold.

Kevyn practically falls down on the bench next to her when she asks him to sit. "Yes! Umm, certainly, my lady. I will." And indeed, already has. "He spoke to me, actually, if you want the truth of it. Said he needed someone to standin for him at the Hightower court and other such functions when he couldn't attend. I'm not sure I'll be doing much more than delivering his wishes but…I like the idea of it, I must admit. And I'm honored to be able to serve your family. Thank you." For the present, which he opens eagerly. The pin makes him blink. Whatever he was expecting - likely he didn't know what to expect - this is more than that. "My lady, this is very fine. I…I thank you."

Keyte holds her breath waiting, her gray-blue eyes hanging expectantly on Kevyn for his reaction. "Really? You like it? I thought… well, the eagle at the sept, and… if you don't like it, it's really alright." She's saying all this with a shake of her head, glancing to her lap as she trails off, where her hands have clasped together quite tightly. "Um. I'm really sorry. For yelling, and generally being a horribly crazy person. I hope you'll forgive me."

"No, no! I like it very much. Would you…would you do me the honor of pinning it on me?" She can stick it anywhere she likes. He doesn't specify. "So…you aren't angry at me, then?" He sounds a little confused, but relieved. "Oh, grand. I didn't think you were crazy. I…I didn't know what you were, really, but I would never think you crazy."

Keyte sighs, her shoulders heaving up and down in palpable relief. When she looks up, it's with that winning smile of hers, and grateful blue eyes. "I'm definitely not angry," she replies, leaving off the 'anymore' part of that sentence as she reaches for the pin. "I would understand if you did think me crazy, though," she continues, brushing fingers along Kevyn's collar innocently as she looks for the right place to fasten the eagle, studiously avoiding eye contact now. "I suppose I was just a little bit… well. Things have been changing so fast of late, and it's somewhat unsettling, but shouting was unseemly. I think the guards might have had a laugh at my expense that day. Hold still?" So she can pin.

Kevyn does hold still. He'll try not to give her a reason to stab him with that pin. "Aye. Changing. That's an understatement." He sounds like he more than agrees with that. "You said…before the trial, you said that if…well, that perhaps someday I could court you properly. I don't know how your family would take the idea, I mean, I surely haven't asked them yet, but…I would, maybe, like to talk to my family about it, and then your family…at some point."

Good lad. Keyte fastens the eagle gently, taking great care not to stick him in the chest with the pin. "There," she says, admiring it for a moment before flicking her eyes up. Her smile starts to dull as he speaks of courting and talking to families about it, and she worries at the inside of her lip with her teeth. "Yes, I know," sighs the Tyrell girl, folding her hands back into her lap as she gathers the rest of her words. "I don't want you to think that I don't want that," Keyte begins, "But the idea of… getting married, and… leaving Kesha behind, and all that goes with that… it's rather terrifying, to be quite honest. You're very handsome, and brave, Kevyn, and I couldn't want for a better husband but… if you could just… take your time? I'd… appreciate if this didn't have to be another thing that's changing so fast."

Kevyn puffs up his chest some, admiring the pin himself. "Who'd you have make this? It's quite…" Whatever it's 'quite', he trails off and sputters some. "I…I mean…I was figuring it'd take awhile. Those things do, as I understand it. Though some seem to do things different in Oldtown." So many insta-marriages. "Maybe it's all the foreign influences." He frowns. He doesn't approve. "But…well, I could take a year, to learn more of what it means to hold the knighthood, and to serve Ser Laurent and my own kin here in the city and…well, do you think you might feel different at the end of that time?"

"One of the seamstresses recommended a finesmith for it," Keyte answers, a little dismissively. Handwave. She manages to settle her eyes upon Kevyn for the entirety of his reply, nodding and sharing in his frown about all those foreign influences et cetera. Her eyes wander off thoughtfully, and she gives some real consideration to his question. "I might," she concludes, still erring on the side of non-committal. (Sorry, Kevyn.) "You might, too, you know. In any case, I'm glad you're not leaving Oldtown just yet. We have a shadowcat to hunt down, don't you remember?"

"I…might. I don't think I will, though," Kevyn says. His face falls some. Still, he doesn't argue with her. He chuckles about hunting a shadowcat. Because she's joking. Plainly. Hopefully. Maybe. "I won't speak on the matter to my family, then. Or yours. As you say, I'll be in Oldtown for a time."

Joking, right. Or is she? Keyte's smiling either way, probably just pleased in that bratty way that children are when they've gotten their own way. Her brattiness is at least tempered by a healthy dose of thankfulness, and she qualifies, "Just not yet. Maybe not in a whole years time, but just… not yet. I…" Apparently not sure what else to say, she shuffles along the bench to be a little closer with her smile, instead. Hello, handsome.



"All right. Not yet…" Kevyn doesn't seem sure what else to say just then, but his grin returns when she shuffles closer to him. He shifts some to scoot just a bit nearer to her as well. "Your…err…did I mention you looked very pretty today?"

"You did," Keyte sing-songs softly, batting her lashes and tilting her head, smile growing encouragingly. "But you can tell me again, please? I like to hear you say it."

"You look…umm…" Kevyn flushes a bit. He's at least managing to look at her while talking, though. And he mostly avoid gawking at her chest. Mostly. "…you look lovely, Lady Keyte. But, then, you always look lovely. Even when you were dressed as a peasant girl."

Mostly, huh. MY FACE IS UP HERE. Keyte's too busy being flattered and fluttering her lashes some more to really notice any of that, actually. "Yes," she agrees, "I know. I think I might borrow that dress again sometime soon, and go exploring up the river some." She taps her cheek mock-thoughtfully, eyes darting away and back again to Kevyn. "You don't happen to know any knights who'd like to accompany me? Just, there might be shadowcats and I don't have a sword, see."

"Knights? Well I…oh!" It suddenly dawns on Kevyn. "I could! I mean, if you want, my lady. I…I would protect you from shadowcats, my oath on it." He's very serious about it.

Keyte laughs brightly, such contrast to that serious. "Would you? I'd be oh so very grateful, Ser." All shining eyes and mock-grave is she, and still for a moment before springing up from her place and offering her hand to Kevyn. "Come, let's go inside and find some wine, hmm? I'm thirsty, and maybe there's lemon-cakes for afternoon tea."

"Wine? Oh, yes! Let's!" Kevyn is very enthusiastic about this. More than he probably should be, all things considered, but since it doesn't appear she's going to yell at him again this time, he'll enjoy her company awhile longer.

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