(121-05-18) Farewell Fete
Farewell Fete
Summary: Visenya throws a party to wish Aevander well on his voyage to King's Landing
Date: May 18, 2014
Related: Some?

If anyone has the part before Aevander arrives, please add it!

Walled Garden - Dragon Door Manse — Starry Street

The Dragon Door Manse has a large walled garden behind. The tall stone walls have iron spikes topping them to prevent climbers, and 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 the stables, with an attached mews on one side and kennels on the other. There's a small paddock for the horses behind the stables, and in front of it a space for training at arms, with a simple pell as well as a more complex practice dummy that can pivot when struck. These utilitarian areas are separated from the rest by a lower, and gateless, wall. Orange trumpet-creeper grows over it in most places.

Between this wall and the garden is a great fire pit, ringed in glossy black stones, each cut to interlock with the next and engraved with the image of a dragon. They're all in slightly different poses.

Nearer to the Manse is the garden proper. Its has winding stone paths and is planted thickly in flowers and trees. Most of the blooms range in colour from fire-orange to blood red. Deep purples are also included in the garden's otherwise limited palette. The pride of the plantings is an enormous flowering quince tree, some thirty feet tall — not large for a tree, but vast for one of its type. Clearly it has been pruned for generations to take on this form, single-trunked, with its branches curving up and then down in a fountain shape. Each of them nearly touches the ground and is heavy with bright red-orange flowers. One can step through them to stand hidden under the umbrella of blossoms, shaded and cool.

Most of Oldtown's grand manses have a fountain at the center of their gardens. Here there are only a few small ones, here and there along the paths. At the center there is, instead, a black stone pavilion, standing in the open and unshaded by any trees. It is seven-sided, with arched doorways on its East and West walls. It is otherwise glazed, including its domed roof. The glass is black and clear and red, pieced together to form the three-headed dragon sigil of House Targaryen. The image is repeated on the floor inside, in red jasper set into the black marble. The pavilion houses long curved benches of that same black stone. It gets tremendously hot inside.

Torches have been lit and lanterns have been hung in the ornamental trees of this garden, illuminating it so guests don't trip and fall. Numerous chairs and tables have been arranged in the garden to allow guests places to rest and chat while they eat the fine delicacies that have been laid out or refresh themselves with fine wines and other spirits.

Dancing has been set up in the great black pavilion in the middle of the garden, and musicians play popular court songs made for dancing.

Outside of the pavilion there is a troupe of acrobats who perform contortions and tumbles to mystify the crowd. Occasionally one of the mummers will take a drink out of a bottle before spitting it out over a flaming baton, and he follows this up by gobbling up the flames on the baton. All in all it's a rather showy affair.

"Ser." Visenya addresses the unknown Northerner with a pretty, polite smile. "I do not believe we have been acquainted. Princess Visenya Targaryen." As if she needs the Princess or Targaryen part; her silvery hair and amethyst purple eyes mark her as a very obvious dragon. She catches Harrold's nod, and she offers the Valeman a slow blooming smile. Veronica gets a longer look as she sweeps her eyes over the woman's clothing and hair. "Oh. How pretty." She takes a step towards Veronia, undoubtably expecting Tellur to trail along. "Your comb. It's fantastic."

Tellur bows low, now certain that the Princess' attention is on him, and then he says "I am of little consequence, but here to give apology for Lord Carolis Stark for the moment, as he has been unavoidably detained. I am Tellur Snow, recognised of House Stark." No 'Ser'. No _nothing_. But the man seems calm, and resolute, not so much confident as resolved and attentative. He turns and walks as the lady's attention moves, his limp more noticable as he navigates. A smile to Veronica and her pretty appearance, clearly meant to be courtly, and once more showing that the man has impressive eyeteeth.

Veronica rises with lovely precision as she's addressed by the princess, smiling demurely, lashes low. "Thank you, Your Grace. It was a gift from our good generous King Viserys, years ago, when I was just a girl. My most treasured possession, to be sure. Yet there is no ornament that could cause any woman to outshine you, tonight, Princess."

Into this dazzling display of fire breathers, acrobats, dancing and revelry steps, a bit belatedly, Aevander Targaryen. He's in his usual black shirt and breeches with a dark red jerkin over top, and his brows lift in quiet surprise at the transformation his sister as made to the garden. "Goodness," he muses with a soft smile, "this is quite a to do." He seeks out Visenya, walking over to her as she speaks with Tellur and Veronica. "Sister… this is quite… well. It's very impressive. Thank you, dearest." He looks then to those in Visenya's company. "Hello," he greets with a warm smile, "Tellur Snow, is it? And Mistress Veronica, welcome and thank you both for coming."

"Lord Carolis won't be coming? Oh, how sad. He's great fun." Visenya says to Tellur with a slight pout. She smiles prettily at Veronica, "Nonsense. You're far prettier than I am. I will be pleased with a distant second tonight-Oh, Aevander! There you are." She leans over to put a quick peck on her brother's cheek. "Do you like it? I was afraid the mummers would be a bit much, but they fit perfectly here."

Over by the pavilion, Keyte is still searching for a dance partner. Some lord who looks vaguely like her sister's late husband offers, but she politely declines with an apologetic curtsy. Sorry.

"Just so, Lord," Tellur says to Aevander. There is the slightest of twitches as the gardens fill up with more noble folk, but the man seems determined not to flee "I am hoping he will be here," he cannot help but grin suddenly at the Dragon Princess "I should hate to cause a diplomatic incident with my manners. Gods knows they nearly started wars back in Winterfell. What more might they do here?"

Veronica seems perfectly poised to engage in a pleasant debate with the princess about who's the prettier, but just as glad when the guest of honor arrives on the scene. She dips another deep curtsy to Aevander. "Your Grace. It's an honor to be here. All of Oldtown regrets your leaving, but how happy King's Landing will be to receive you." Standing again, she steps back slightly, giving the nobility space.

Aevander tilts his cheek for that peck Visenya offers. "You truly went all out," he replies, glancing over his shoulder as one of the acrobats exhales a plume of fire. "Thank you." Tellur gets a chuckle. "I am sure, Master Snow, that we will be able to avoid any diplomatic incidents togther. Just don't, you know, smash a chair over anyone's head, and you'll do fine." Veronica gets a small bow for her curtsy. "I thank you for your generous words, mistress. I shall miss Oldtown, but I must go where my family deems me most useful. For now, that appears to be King's Landing. Though… I hope perhaps a dance, before I am gone?"

Harrold gives the pavilion a brief glance, but it seems that he is not quite ready to give dancing a try, particularly not with a glass of wine so full still in his hand. Instead, once the guest of honor seems to appear, he makes his way toward that cluster, taking another drink from said glass along the way. Once standing near them, his dark features exhibit a smile, given first in silent reply to the similar gesture the princess offered him earlier. Bowing his head more deeply for the royal pair, he greets, "Good evening Prince, Princess. And to you as well, of course Mistress Veronica, and Master…" His voice trails off at the end as he looks toward Tellur a moment.

Igdahn dislikes parties, on the whole. Still, as she is recovered from her most recent illness, it is proper for her to go out to a social function every now and again, and this one is very apt to that purpose; she will say farewell to her cousin. For once, she is not veiled, and, her facial features being thus exposed to the eyes of all and sundry, she grows pale, avoids eye contact, her eyes lowered shyly, her hands folded before her. The spectacle of the firebreathers overwhelms her senses a mite, and she finds herself a place to sit, her eyes watering faintly with overstimulation.

Quietly and rather unobtrusively, a lone and rather unexpected figure emerges in the garden for a proper garden party. Decked out in what would clearly be finery for his kind, the dark velvet-and-wool clad man with a black raven-feathered cape slung across his shoulders proceeds outside with his hands tucked behind his back. He looks, well, tired. But alert. And cheery enough, given the slight half-smile which seems firmly planted upon his features.

Veronica smiles warmly at Aevander. "Nothing would please me more, Your Grace." She dips a curtsy — just as graceful but not quite so deep — for Ser Harrold as he joins the little group. "Ser Harrold," she inclines her head, "what a pleasure to see you."

Visenya spots Harrold as he approaches, and favors the unknown man with another slow blooming smile that indicates she is glad he decided to join them. She splits from her brother's side to take a step towards the handsome Valeknight, and offers him her hand. Something she certainly did not do with Tellur, "I don't think we've been properly introduced, Ser. Princess Visenya Targaryen."

"Ser Harrold," Aevander greets once Visenya gives the man a name. "Welcome." He smiles faintly as his sister offers her hand, regarding the two for a moment before looking back at Veronica. Brows lifted slightly, he offers the Flower of Oldtown his own hand, with the intent to lead her out on the dance floor if she is willing.

And precisely who could refuse so handsome a prince? Veronica sets her cup aside, barely touched, on the tray of a passing servant, placing her hand in Aevander's, her smile sweet and dimpled with delight. It seems the dancing has begun!

"No, Highness, we have not. Surely I would remember such a striking lady as yourself. I am Ser Harrold Arryn of the Eyrie, and it is a pleasure to meet you," the Vale knight introduces himself to Visenya as he takes her hand and dips his head to briefly kiss her knuckles. Releasing her hand, he goes on to address the prince as well, smiling pleasantly before Aevander takes to the dance floor, "Thank you, my Prince. Its an honor to make your acquaintance, and a shame that it comes so shortly before your departure." For Veronica, as she departs, he adds, "Likewise, and enjoy."

It's a quiet and curious presence that Riderch Blackwood casts here, lingering on the edges of this little gathering as — oh, wait. He's looking for food. Never mind. It's just a man wanting to get his at a feast. It's the kind of thing anyone can understand, really. He pensively eyes a row of chicken legs before plucking it from its tray and inespecting it. With his teeth.

Aevander smiles warmly as his invitation is accepted, and he leads Veronica onto the dance floor. "The Flower of Oldtown arrived alone?" he queries with a lift of his brows. "Have all the men of the great houses become blind?"

"And how does an Arryn of the Eyrie find his way to Oldtown?" Visenya asks Harrold after he rises from kissing her hands. She casts a glance towards the Pavillion longingly as Aevander leads Veronica in that direction.

Veronica laughs, lowering her lashes and blushing delicately as she faces the prince, dipping a curtsy to begin the dance. "Most of them arrived tonight with their lady wives," she replies, casting Aevander an impish glance. "For which I blame you, Your Grace. If all the ladies did not so pine for one last moment in your presence, there might have been a lord or two left for me."

No! Chicken first, dance afterwards. This celebration is classy enough to have dampened towels which removes the residue from his hands. That should make Riderch's life a little — easier. He still lurks over in the area where the food is. To his credit, he does not stare blankly or without expression, and is not wearing a pillowcase or disguised as a Dornishman. There may be hope for the man yet.

Ser Harrold's charcoal gray eyes follow the princess' glance toward the pavilion, taking a sip from his glass of wine as she speaks. Her question has an easy enough answer, it would seem, "My mother was a Hightower before her marriage, Princess, so my brother, his wife and I have come to look in on family holdings that were a part of her dowry, as well as visit our kin here." The tall knight of the Vale then sets down his glass, about half full now, and gives the pavilion another look. "Would you care to dance, Highness? Or are you waiting for someone?" he asks her once his attention returns to settle on Visenya more fully.

By the dancefloor, it seems Keyte might have actually given up on finding someone to take a twirl with her, peering around distractedly. She takes a few steps backwards, not at all looking where she's going, as she scans the crowd.

Aevaner laughs, shaking his head. "If there are ladies that moon over me, mistress, I've yet to hear of them." He offers the small bow that starts the dance and then falls into the steps of it, gracefully enough, and la la la this is vague because I know nothing about Westeros dancing. But, Aevander! He does this thing!

Elionys is late to the party, but that's because she had to take the time to go upstairs and change, which may have been left until the very last minute.

Oops. Rather than the cheery colors of earlier, she wears gown in more somber shades, black Dornish silk is cut modestly in the front, the high neckline dipping barely low enough to show her collarbone. The loose things is gathered at the waist with a band made up of many silver chains, interspersed with the occasional sparkling gem. It's the back of the gown that is truly impressive though, the whole thing open, not to expose bare back, or at least not much of it, but rather an intricate webwork of silvery beading that goes from the base of her neck all the way to the small of her back. Along with that she wears a simple silver necklace with a birds nest pendant.

She takes a few steps into the garden, gaze sweeping those that are present, along with the decoration and the entertainment. If she can, she'll catch Visenya's eye and give the hostess of the party a quick smile.

One Tyrell girl has been visible in the garden this long while…but weren't there two? Perhaps people just assume they had mis-seen Keyte's arrival earlier. And then where there was one, suddenly there are two again. Kesha bounds through the party proper, around a few people with barely an excuse me for nearly tripping a lady and running into a lord. Her dress flares out behind her prettily, sky blues with a golden-vined bodice that shows off a lot of skin down her arms and back. Braided hair is pined together with a similar motif of golden leaves. She stops when she gets to her twin. "It's done," she whispers in Keyte's ear with a flash of a smile.

"Oh, so you are related to the Hightowers." Visenya says in a smalltalkish way while watching the dancing in the pavilion. When Harrold asks her if she'd like to dance she smiles, but quickly turns her head down to hide her smile. "Well, even if I were I suppose the night is young." That said, she holds her hand out at her side for Harrold to take and lead her out to the dance floor. She is momentarily distracted by Elionys, and lifts her free hand to give her a quick wave.

Having already eaten his fill, Riderch Blackwood moves on to a table with a fine spread of beverages. Dornish strongwine, cider (that was definitely /not/ brewed by the Quill and Tankard, because the Targaryens probably own better cider presses), Some sort of distilled liquor that might be brandy, Arbor red, oh! Red Fork Honeywine. He grabs a cup and pours himself a draught of this familiar beverage, turning about and eyeing — Oh, it's the Tyrell twins. He hasn't noticed anyone else just yet. He half-smiles into his cup, but for now is clearly content to be a wallflower.

"Funny," says Veronica, following the prince's (totally expert) lead through the dance, her posture exquisite, steps elegant and precise, "I'd think that if you'd been going about with your ears stopped up and chanting nonsense, someone would have marked it." But then again — Targaryens. She flashes him a warm smile on a turn. "I can think of no other way you'd have missed your teeming admiration society."

Keyte slips an arm into her twins, linking them together in pure innocence as she receives the whispered news. She does not look smug and if you ask why she does she will tell you doesn't. "Oh, yay," she says, flashing a devious smile at Kesha. "Good work. Shall we get something to eat?"

Aevander laughs again, shaking his head. "Your tongue is as honeyed as they say, mistress," Aevander replies, "but I think we have this backwards. I believe I'm meant to be plying you with flattery, am I not? And here I… uh…" his words, and for a brief moment his steps, come to a stop as his gaze happens to land on Elionys in her dark, dornish-inspired gown. He stares a beat too long before looking away and back to his dance partner. "Forgive me, Mistress, what was I saying?"

They are the most innocent ladies ever. Like graceful baby deer. All freckles and big eyes. "Please," Kesha says to Keyte, smiling brightly. "It…Dancing and mingling is such hard work you know." With linked arms, she tugs at her twin, presumable towards tables where food is set out for guests. "Have you yet bid farewell to our young dragon?"

Harrold nods in answer to the princess' question before taking her hand when offered. Leading her toward the pavilion, he glances at her in those brief moments where he is not watching where he is walking and tells her, "Yes, related to the Hightowers, though I have not found time just yet to catch up with my cousins yet. Getting settled and apprising myself of the situation with our holdings has taken up more time than I expected." He, too, gives Elionys a brief look and bow of his head when she makes her way into the gardens, but soon finds himself under the pavilion with Visenya. Here, he turns to face her directly, and bows before beginning the dance, his feet finding the steps come easily enough.

Despite being late, Mariya enters the walled garden without a thought. In her tow is her lady's maid - Embry. As they enter into the garden, she glances around for people that she may know before moving to a more neutral ground to gather her surroundings. To Embry, she grins, "You shouldn't feel the need to stay right by me. If you'd like to explore feel free." There are the few people that she knows on sight that she nods to in polite greeting before making for the refreshments. "Of course, if you'd like to stay by me, that is fine as well."

The Flower of Oldtown's vibrant blue eyes follow those of the distracted prince, lingering on Elionys, studying the lovely, somber princess at some length. She looks back up at her dance partner, her expression soft, perhaps even kind. "Nothing important, Your Grace." On a turn that brings them closer together, Veronica speaks for Aevander's ears alone.

Veronica whispers: Is she not coming with you?

It's one of those moments where Riderch's face is carefully buried in his cup, even as he spies some familiar, and semi-familiar faces. OH LOOK A DORNISH PRINCESS! And a Northern Bastard! Who do we say hi to?

The least surprising arrival though has to be Elionys herself, who he /does/ look at pointedly. It's a muted glance he gives her but for a moment he just raises his cup into the air, without a word. But the gesture sort of speaks for itself. Still, not the guest of honor, Blackwood's eyes drift towards Aevander and Veronica as they dance.

There surely can't be a more singularly overwhelmed girl in the garden than the Dornish princess's lady's maid, can there? Her beginnings so humble, Embry feels five thousand leagues out of place — the garden of the Targaryen manse! Yet she's of the Reach rather than Dorne and here she is beside the princess. The diminutive girl — an an indistinct age beyond childhood and below twenty years, and barely taller than the princess herself — so far sticks close to Mariya, trying and not failing, at least, to play her role with grace and not stare too openly with her big, washing-water coloured eyes. Her dress is dark like the Martell's, but not nearly so fine, and tailored to more local standards; her hair, intricate and well-crafted by the same hand that styled Mariya's. "Thank you, your grace." She's smiling as takes it all in, attentive to the crowd as though searching for a face. "I expect they'll think I'm lost, if I go wandering in a place like this."

"Not yet," Keyte responds, glancing over her shoulder to the dancefloor as she and Kesha make for the food. "He's dancing. — Oh, look! Hello, Ser." Riderch. Smiiiiile. "You look much better than last we saw you! How is your nose?"

Elionys gaze drifts to the pavilion with the dancers, lingering there only a moment before it moves on, and on to the table with refreshments. It's in the direction of the latter that she wanders, smiling at Riderch politely along the way. The Tyrell twins are also given a smile, the same reserved, polite thing that others are given along the way.

"Perhaps that is for the best. I heard rumor that Lord Ormund is still ill?" Visenya takes place in line for a reel with Harrold, and sinks downwards gracefully into a low curtsey for the beginning of the dance, and stands upright to clap. She puts her hands on Harrold's shoulders to be lifted, as per the steps. "You know I don't know if I've really met any of the Hightowers myself, and I've been here for a few months."

Aevander is, indeed dancing, with the elegant Flower of Oldtown. He listens as she murmurs in his ear and then he smiles softly, wistfully, and shakes his head in reply before replying in kind.

Aevander whispers, "No, mistress. She has but recently come from King's Landing." to Veronica.

Veronica tilts her head to catch Aevander's reply, smiling softly and lowering her lashes as they dance. She shakes her head, and speaks near his ear as they come close again.

Veronica whispers: Sweet prince, does that matter?

"Your face is much improved this day, ser," Kesha comments on the heels of Keyte's greeting and question with a cheerful smile for Riderch. It's an expression that further gets transferred over to Elionys, along with a wave because she's in a good mood. "Don't moon," she advises to the Blackwood in a hiss of a whisper. She's helpful!

And there's a sigh on Blackwood's part as he hides his face in his cup again. But Elionys does get a smile in return. He's not mustering up anything resembling enough courage to talk to her at this point. No. Rather, he steps away from the refreshment table just for a step as he clears his throat and — Oh, HI KEYTE TYRELL. The Lady is given a flat glance. "Lady K —!" It's always a gamble with them. I'm afraid the Maesters told me it will have to be cut off and replaced with a hook. I've no idea what I will ever do." He says to her, probably sounding a lot less witty than he actually /thinks/ he does.

Oh, wait, and it's Kesha. No wonder the man always tries to avoid them in pairs. The other twin gets a look, one with a flat arched eyebrow. "I have no idea what you are talking about. But, Hello, Lady."

Daevon's been told that he must be here, and so he is, although his entrance is a quiet thing devoid of any sort of announcement. He's been told that he must dress up, and what he must wear and so his clothing's absolutely exquisite, the height of fashion and frippery, all red and black finery that washes out his complexion and makes him seem even paler than usual. He's been told that he must smile and so he's at least not frowning although that smile itself does not touch his lips as he arrives late, looking around at those gathered. It's an appearance he's been asked to make and so he is here, uncertain and already wondering if this is enough of one or if he can just as easily slip out as he entered.

Aevander smiles faintly as he and Veronica take their turn around the dance floor. Taking the next moment they step close to murmur his reply.

Aevander whispers, "It's a complicated situation, mistress. Sufficed to say, I am leaving and she cannot." to Veronica.

"— eyte," finishes the older of the twins, helpfully. Keyte! She laughs brightly for his hook joke, clinging to her twin. "Oh, that would be rather a sight, wouldn't it? On the upside, you could just hang your face over the side of a boat to fish." She laughs again, amused by her own retort. Ha ha. Ha. She, too, waves to Elionys, bubbly and enthusiastic. "Princess! Oh, hello! How lovely to see you again!"

"Yes, I heard the same, myself. A pity, that. I had been hoping to catch up with Ser Brynden at some point soon, though…unless something unfortunate has befallen him as well?" Ser Harrold asks Visenya, just before her hands find his shoulders and he lifts her with ease as called for by the dance. Lowering her smoothly to her feet again as well, he continues to move with practiced grace, a pleased smile on his dark features as his gaze follows her movement. Nodding slightly when she speaks of her time in the city, he goes on to add, "I've only been here just over a month, myself. I'd forgotten, since the last time I was here during a summer, how hot it can get here."

Veronica turns beneath Aevander's arm, stepping out and in again, her hand finding his shoulder and her eyes, his. There's another whisper, quite the tender thing.

Veronica whispers: I am sorry for your heart, Your Grace. I wish it peace, with all of mine.

With a grin, Mariya tells Embry, "I doubt they would think such a thing." With a grin, she starts to make her way toward the twins and Riderch - the group of people that she knows who are not dancing. "Hello Lady—" realizing she does not know which ladies are which and recovers by correcting, "My ladies. I hope I'm not intruding?" She glances at Riderch with a smile. As Daevon enters, she smiles and gives a small wave to her Targaryen betrothed.

Elionys is lucky enough to hear Keyte as she completes the name, so that when the greeting is given in her direction, at least she knows which twin she's talking to. "Hello," she sing-songs back, smiling. "It's lovely to see you again," she adds, picking up only a drink from the table before taking a few steps in the Tyrell Twin's direction.

Aevander smiles again as the dance comes to its conclusion. He offers Veronica another bow. "My thanks, mistress. For the dance and for your very kind words. Much as I would adore more of your company, I had best make myself available to other guests. Courtesy… and all that."

Embry falls easily in steps slightly behind Mariya and to the side, an appropriate place for a lady's maid. She stays rather still a the princess pauses to greet the other nobles, but she doesn't strike a somber figure by any means; a rather youthful glow's fighting to escape her little face as she watches the people talk and dance. Searching as she is, the slightest glimpse of another Targaryen catches her attention until she can be at least more than half sure that it's Daevon; confirmed on Mariya's wave, she goes back to staring slightly dazed-eyed at the Tyrell twins.

A comely blush brought on by activity visible under the lamplight of the pavilion comes over her cheeks as she dances with Harrold. When he lowers her to her feet she does the proper footwork with a practiced grace as she speaks, "I believe Lord Brynden and Lord Olyvar have been doing the majority of the administrative work. However, Lord Gwayne is acting Lord Hightower while Lord Ormund is not well." She curtseys neatly when the music ends, and claps for the musicians. "Ah, it's Princess Mariya. Excuse me, Ser Harrold?"

It's relief on his face as Daevon spots Mariya, and then a smile. The wave is returned with a nod of greeting, but it's the wine that Daevon decides to pay his respects to first, finding himself a glass.

At least when the Twins are together, it's very easy to greet them. No guessing, just say hello to both! "Yes, good, keep doing that," Kesha advises as Riderch claims to have no idea what she means. As Elionys approaches she does not wave again, but says, "Hello Princess, you are looking lovely this evening. Unusually eye-catching, I imagine people will say."

Veronica dips another low curtsy to the Targaryen prince in parting. "Not at all," she says, smiling. "I could not have been more honored than to lead the dance with you, Your Grace. Please, see to your guests with as light and glad a heart as you've made mine."

The Dornish princess and her servant receive a fair raise of Riderch's cup as it is tilted in the air. "Hail, Princess Mariya Nymeros." He says cautiously. There's something in his eyes that suddenly flashes, maybe it's a bit of a glint of abashment as he says this to her but it's gone before one can comment. He's read a book at least /once/.

Kesha gets a pointed /look from the Riverlander now but nothing further is stated as she speaks to Elionys. He already said hello to her, after all. He just remains a watchful sentinel in the refreshment area.

"Princess Mariya!" Keyte is just so pleased with how this party is going, all of a sudden. "What lovely company we find ourselves in, Kesha. Are you enjoying the party, Princesses?"

The Vale knight's dark eyes glint with enjoyment as he sees the flush on the cheeks of the princess with whom he dances. Listening to her speak of who has been running the city while Lord Ormund has been ill, he then responds, "I see. I remember them, somewhat, from my previous visits here. I just happen to know Ser Brynden a little better, and there is no need yet for me to bother whomever is busy with the running of the city." As the dance comes to an end, Harrold bows to Visenya in turn. "Thank you for the dance, Highness, and of course. Perhaps we will get a chance to speak again later in the evening," he replies when she excuses herself.

Aevander steps away from the dance floor for a time, looking around at the gathering guests. It's towards a pair of Tyrells, a dorish-dressed cousin and a Blackwood minus a feather in his cloak that he drifts next, offering a smile and a bow. "Lady Keyte, Lady Kesha," he greets without hesitation. Either he can tell the difference or he can just bluff really well. Elionys gets a longer look and a soft smile. "Cousin. The dornish style suits you vey, very well."

"Unusually so?" asks Elionys as she looks down at herself, brows furrowed as her gaze lifts again. "Do you think?" The question is asked, and chasing it is a sip of wine. Drinking, it solves all the problems. Riderch is given only another glance, but then her attention moves over to Aevander. "Cousin," she greets, smiling that quiet, polite smile again. "Thank you. I had it made up recently, and I thought this was a good place to wear it."

Some people are wonderfully drunk. Some people have been enjoying the party from a different part of the garden and now as others seem to be filtering about mingling and meeting. What first heralds this dragon's appearance is the disappearance of some poor flushed serving girl, followed by man dressed down in black with crimson brocade. Clasped in his hand is a chalice of fine make, of which the silver haired fox is currently drinking as if it were water.

Licking his lips, Aerys Brightfyre takes time to let his glazed violet eyes sweep in the guests here to either bid his grand-something or other farewell. Or likely gawk at other members of the house.

It may be that Riderch has a box of replacement feathers sitting in a safe place at home. Or it may have been true, he's never had to pluck one off. Whatever the case, his weird brand of vanity has been compromised, but for once, his remaining feathers have not been too ruffled. He raises his cup to Aevander in a manner that could be described as cautious, but nevertheless, he raises it, and smiles a composed smile at the man all the same. And then just goes for his cup, taking a drink. He takes a step to one side afterwards, clearing his throat a bit and going for a refill.

"Thank you, Ser Harrold. You proved an apt partner." Visenya says this in almost a tease, "Perhaps we will dance again tonight?" With one last smile that brings a little dimple to her cheeks she departs the pavilion, and heads towards a servant. The pair speak briefly before she drifts over to the Dornish Princess.

"Good evening, my ladies, Ser Riderch, Princess Elionys," Mariya greets as she approaches the group. She has yet to pick up a glass for herself but she will surely do so at some point. As Embry is right beside her, she introduces her young maid, "This is Embry of Oldtown," she smiles, giving her lady's maid a grin. "And Mariya Martell is a fine greeting for now, Ser Riderch," she laughs. "I do not believe we have been Nymeros for quire a while." At Keyte's question, she responds, "Quite well, Lady Keyte." Luckily, she said the other twin's name in the greeting. She attempts to do her best at remembering which is which before she casts a smile over to Daevon, attempting to keep some sort of tabs on him. As the man of honor approaches them, she grins. "I must say, this is a lovely party in your honor, Ser Aevander."

Stepping down from the dance floor, Veronica deftly procures a cup of wine from a passing tray, pausing to quench her thirst. Her folding fan snaps open and she works the air with it gently, cooling the flush of her skin. Time for another circuit of the party, more to see and be seen by. She keeps an eye on Prince Aevander, however, and his lovely, Dornish-garbed cousin.

Daevon's watching, wining, and wallflowering. The glass in hand he sips from it and finds a quiet spot where he can stand. He's here to be seen but seems disinclined to be at all social.

Mariya's servant appears flustered to be acknowledges and dips into a neat, if hurried, curtsey toward— toward, well, anyone who looks at her. Including to Riderch, who — for his naming of Mariya — earns an additional little smile that tries not to look too amused. Though Embry briefly glances at the ample refreshments, she spends her time judiciously memorizing which Tyrell twin was addressed as Keyte.

"The Ancestors remain." Riderch states succintly to Mariya. "But Princess Mariya works just as well and is easier to say." This is said to the Dornish girl with a polite flash of his teeth in another smile. And it's off to raid the Red Fork Honeywine. As one does. He gives a passing glance to Elionys again as he does so but it does not linger overlong. You know when you're at the Cake House, and you're looking at someone but don't want them to know you're looking? It's like that. Totally.

Keyte's in turquoise, Kesha in sky blue, both very similar gowns threaded with golden accents, though. For anyone trying to commit their differences to memory, that's about the entirety of them! "Ser Aevander," Keyte greets, always pleased when someone can tell her apart from her twin. She curtsies, just a shallow thing. "Oh, and Embry. How lovely to meet you." Goodness, the Tyrell girls are verily swamped tonight, aren't they? "I hope you're all packed and ready to travel, ser?" This, to the guest of honor.

My goodness, aren't the Twins suddenly popular. (Or more likely, the food and refreshments tables are and they just happen to be there). "Good evening, good evening. What lovely company, indeed," Kesha agrees with her twin, greeting those who have appeared. Good luck everyone figuring out who is who. If you're lucky, you caught what Keyte said a moment ago. "It is quite a lovely send-off, isn't it?" And speaking off the man being sent off in such a fashion… "Ser Aevander. This is a much more suitable circumstance for meeting, don't you think? And yet, still not entirely a happy one, for all the dancing and festiveness."

As the Dornish princess introduces her servant towards Daevon, Aerys is looking over back to where he thought he saw Elionys for a moment. "They bring small folk to these things?" Veronica doesn't count, she's totally classy. Still the Prince doesn't say much more as he blinks-eyes catching sight of bother Kesha and Keyte. Now he looks down to his cup and both eyebrows raise, before he is moving again, though likely backwards and more towards the direction of where the Blackwood heir has placed himself.

Aevander nods to Riderch, but having no glass (woe!), be can lift nothing in return. "Ser Riderch," he greets, perfectly affably. "Ah, and Princess Mariya, thank you very kindly. I'm glad you've come. Hello, mistress Embry, welcome. Brother," this last for Daevon, of course, and he quirks a faint smile as he looks over his sibling's frippery. "You look very fine, this evening." For Keyte's question he shakes his head. "Not quite, but nearly. There's still a week left until I depart, so the situation's not entirely hopeless." Kesha gets a soft chuckle and a small nod. "Indeed, my lady. Partings are always rather bittersweet, are they not?" Glancing to Elionys, he adds, "If they have any sweetness about them at all."

"You as well, Lady Keyte," Embry answers from her background spot, entirely pleasant except that her voice rings so utterly smallfolk and a grain of hoarseness runs through its youth. She stifles a cringe for it, clinging to the skirt of her gown ever since her curtseying. "And Lady Kesha. Ser Aevander!" And everyone, ever, there are so very many nobles in finery everywhere her head turns.

"Princess Mariya, how lovely to see you again," Elionys' greets the Dornish Royal with a warm smile, gaze sliding over to Embry briefly to give the young woman a nod. "Good to meet you, Embry of Oldtown." With the greeting given, she's back to her glass for another drink of wine, barely tasting the substance as she listens, glancing around the assembled group. "That means there's still time to talk him out of it," she advises Kesha, though the faint smile vanishes as she glances over at Aevander again. "I'm sure the sweet will be found once you're in King's Landing and settled. They've probably got plans for you." Which could be good, or bad. Maybe you should be afraid, cos.

Visenya pauses on her path towards Mariya once she spots the servant she previously spoke to dash out of the Manse with a small slim box. The box is handed over to her by a rather red-faced, out-of-breath servant. Box in hand she approaches the assembled. "Princess Mariya." She greets with a gentle smile, "I had hoped to run into you. The party is in Aevander's honor, but I don't think he'll mind if I give you this. It's not much. Just a small present to celebrate your betrothal to my twin." She extends the thin wooden box for Mariya to take.

Tellur has finally stopped working his way up and down the sweets, and now he brings himself back over to the main group. Well. Groups. The man is looking around here and there a little worriedly, as if hoping to spot someone. Tellur is cleaned up and well presented - tonight - with a grey doublet showing House Stark's direwolf precisely on the front. He is limping still, a little, but then probably half the Northrons are anyway.

Aevander is always afraid. No, wait, that's not right. "I expect they do," he agrees for Elionys's words, be they support or warning, "and I am sure, with time, King's Landing will begin to feel like home. But there are friends here that are irreplaceable." As Visenya arrives with a box for Mariya, he shakes his head. "I wouldn't mind in the least. Please," he lifts a hand in a small gesture for Mariya to accept his sister's offering.

Daevon's not within talking distance of Mariya et al. He's here, making his appearance but that doesn't mean he needs to look like he's enjoying himself, does it? Wait, yes it does, part of the instructions. He takes a sip of his wine and then another and gravitates towards the sweets. He's yet to meet the acquaintance of any dessert he did not like, and so he starts working his way through them, offering Tellur a nod of greeting.

Well, he's already edging his way down to the edge of the refreshment area. Riderch's topped off his cup and finds himself a large, semi-comfortable rock to sit upon. It looks like one of those things that were placed here in a conscious attempt to landscape. He catches Aerys with a turn of his head, his eyebrow arching in an unfamiliar manner. Tellur though is recognized and he also shoots the Northern Bastard a generous arch of his eyebrow in greeting. And nods. Into his cup.

"Uh huh," Kesha says, looking between Aevander and Elionys. "How bitter or sweet leaving is depends on where one is departing to, I suppose. Or what one is leaving behind, in equal measure." The Tyrell lady greets folks somewhat haphazardly, giving the important people preferential treatment and being polite and sociable and all that.

"I would like that," Harrold responds to Visenya as she departs, watching her for a moment before turning to make his way toward the refreshment tables, himself. He finds a glass of Arbor red to replace his previous glass of wine and a chicken leg to join it. Taking a moment to enjoy food and drink, he turns his attention toward the gathering about the Dornish princess and her betrothed, watching with interest.

"I am sorry that you will not be staying in Oldtown," she tells Aevender with a sad smile, but she allows the others to speak without adding more. Hearing some of the discussion from Aerys, she shoots him a bit of a look, but does not respond to his comment of her lady's maid - who she she has brought happily to the party. That looks into a happy smile when it lands on Elionys. "Good evening Princess Elionys," she smiles. "It is good to see you again. The last we met you seemed a bit pale, I'm glad you are looking well." Then, however, Visenya is approaching with a box. "Oh!" Straightening, she takes it from the Targaryen Princess. "My goodness. Thank you, Princess Visenya." Seeing as Daevon is standing against a wall and nowhere close, she gestures for him, hoping he will take part in the opening of the box. Or at the least, see the contents once she does so.

Have you ever seen a drunk Targaryen? Specially one that in these instances are usually holding with better tact and graces then what Aerys is throwing out. Instead, the Knight backs into the table where some refreshments are held, and there's a subtle shake in the man. Turning his head, Aerys looks back and deposits his empty glass, looking then to snag up a freshened one before he is clearing his throat. "Bloody gods.." he murmurs into the rim of his glass before sip-of whatever he's taken. Clearly he is well lubricated enough, and thus not phased by looks of dornes.

Daevon peels away from the desserts and does as Mariya requests, offering another nod of greeting, the desserts abandoned. His smile for Mariya is as genuine as his glare for Aevander. Someone's not happy and doing a terrible job of hiding that fact.

So the people that Tellur knows here are…the Prince Daevon and Wildling Smacker Riderch. Tellur quirks his lips, and then he inclines his head politely to the man he helped murder people with, before he moves towards the Prince "You've an appetite for the tourney, your Highness," he says to him, by way of making smalltalk.

Although Embry is more enamoured with the sight of Princess Visenya — nodding a bow to her though she doesn't truly expect to be noticed — she watches the gift pass hands with restrained curiosity, peeking from her distance without intruding. Despite all her attentiveness, she's missed the comment of Aerys; small favours.

"I'm sure that it will," Elionys agrees with Aevander, even if she doesn't sound particularly happy about doing so. More wine is consumed. "I was feeling a bit off that day, but I am much better now, thank you, Princess," she replies, managing another smile for Mariya. "I am glad to see you finally released, it must be nice not to be captive in the manse. As lovely as it is, any place you aren't allowed to leave begins to feel very stifling." This she says with some experience, glancing to the side as Riderch slips away from the group. A quick look is shot the way of her uncle, brows creeping up slightly.

Riderch's arm swipes through the air as he eyes the drunk Targaryen. He's loaded. What could /possibly/ go wrong? Other than just about anything. He gestures the man over to an area by the rocks. "It'll clear your head! Pr—" Of course, he doesn't know the man from anything and isn't quite sure what to call him. He remains crouched there, people-watching. Tellur and Daevon are peered at as well. The refreshment table crowd. He looks a little like one of those ravens who gave up their feathers to adorn his cloak. Minus one, of course.

Carolis arrives late, but he does turn up, and he's in his finest. The colors are dark, all stormy, steely greys and blues. He's got a small wooden box tucked under one arm, and he's unarmed save for the bodyguard who is gods-know-where. Maybe the lordling is being handed off to Tellur or something. He pauses to look around, just taking it all in.

Perhaps overwhelmed by the sudden influx of people nearby, Keyte dips a curtsy to the lot of them and excuses herself politely. (More likely she thinks she's spotted a Cockshaw amongst the guests, but anyway.)

Well what the heck is Daevon glaring at Aevander for? It's not like he's the one who suggested Daevon come join them just so he could be miserable in a corner all night. How is that fun for anyone? The older, darker-haired sibling arches his brows at his glaring brother before looking around, in earnest, for some sort of tray drifting by with alcohol upon it. Not spying one, but spying where the drinks are, Aevander offers a bow and takes a step back. "Please excuse me for just a moment." Social lubrication badly desired.

Daevon glares at Aevander. He glaaaaares. And then his brother is walking away and that glare turns into a scowl, before he catches himself. Betrothed. Box. Smile. He smiles at Mariya, at Visenya and it's easier for that smile to touch his eyes once Aevander's out of line of sight.

Smalltalk bombed. Right. Noting the glare Daevon has for his brother, Tellur decides that retreat is a better idea. He spots Carolis and heads on over to be his usual surly shadow. Everyone needs a guard. Especially one considerably less ept in fighting than the guy they are guarding.

the arm swipe is something that Aerys does catch and he turns his head, and there now the much elder gentleman clearly takes in the be feathered knight. A quirk of a smile before he takes another sip. "Prince." Aerys finishes for him before his free hand is offered over. Don't worry he doesn't expect someone to kiss it. "Or rather, Ser. Ser Aerys Targaryen." Or Aerys Brightfyre-Aerys the Burnt Dragon-whichever moniker one has heard bandied about at the tournaments. "Your sigil is familiar-or rather colure and feathers." A tap at the corner of his mouth with his cup. "Who do I have the pleasure to be speaking to?"

Visenya does notice Embry. She gives the girl a little smile at the courtesy, and turns her attention back to Mariya as she prepares to open the box. Is Daevon in a bad mood? She pays no heed. Aerys drunk and stumbling about? No, he's just clumsy. Her attention is on Mariya as she opens the box. Inside is a gold necklace with wide flat segments of gold intricately molded into swirling designs. A ruby the size of a fat grape dangles at the pinnacle of the necklace. When worn the gold necklace will rest on the collarbone, and the ruby will fall into the decollage.

As Carolis enters, there's a sort of wild LOOKITMELOOKITME wave towards the Northerner, including after he's been approached by Tellur indicating the fact that he's sitting on a rock with a large vessel of what appears to be a regional honeywine. It goes to your head quicker. The rock is next to a firepit too which makes for a nice, cozy spot. He's also got a fairly drunk Targaryen he's entertaining, but it's very clear that right now, the more the merrier in his little spot.

Glancing up at the drunk Aerys, Blackwood blinks inquisitively. "Aha. I did not know the name or face but reputation. There are better seats here. Looks like you could use one, Ser. And I'm —" He slowly glances about the little party, seeing who's looking, who's listening. "Ser Riderch Blackwood of Raventree Hall." This is delivered like it's some kind of secret.

Aevander finds the wine and pours himself a cup of the arbor red. Which is promptly dispatched in a trio of gulps. Probably nobody noticed. He pours a second cup, sipping it more gingerly and exhaling a soft breath out.

"SER RIDERCH BLACKWOOD" Aerys, has lost control of the volume of his voice. Instead the prince now seems overly amused by this, and now he is turning and looking for where his niece is standing-he knows he spotted a backless something or other somewhere. And then, there's Aevander-as there should be, after all this is his party. Unlike other men in such a situation, there is no braying laugh to follow up on the amused smirk that slipped past his drunken finesse of social grace.

"My, my, well this is delicious." he adds before he is nodding to the knight. "You Ser, must have the balls-THE BALLS I SAY to be here." And there he grins. "Well, welcome..I will say this for this little soiree, there's good drinks." And to that he does a small toast and imbibes. "I daresay you won't miss him, will you?"

Carolis smiles as Tellur approaches. He does not share the man's surliness. He claps the man on the arm in an idle, amiable greeting as he continues to look around. The waving catches his attention, and he waves back with a delighted laugh. "The entertainment is here," he tells Tellur, the shoulder-nudges him toward Ser Riderch. Hopefully Tellur wanted to go there, because they're going there now.

"I am glad as well." Mariya grins at Elionys. "Thank you for visiting me, though. It was one of the bright spots of my stay." Though, seeing as she has a gift to open, Mariya quickly spends most of her attention focused on that. She does not notice the glare of Daevon to Aevander or how Aerys takes her own look. Instead, she opens the lid and gasps at what she sees. The necklace is a lovely sight to behold and without warning, the Dornish Princess lunges forward in an attempt to grasp Visenya in a hug. "Oh, thank you!" she laughs. "It's lovely!"

Daevon's smile is warm, genuine at Mariya's joy of the gift. "It's lovely." He says with a smile.

With a funeral look, Tellur obeys. It may be a sign that they are getting on better, master and servant, because he does not look as though someone made him choke on a live eel. He moves towards the Loud Prince and the Punchin' Blackwood, saying to Carolis as he does so "I was told people were hoping you would be here - apparently your entertainment value is high. My Lord."

Elionys' eyes go back to her uncle, her very, very drunk uncle, and stare. Oh dear. It's only when Mariya addresses her again that her gaze drags away from her inebriated uncle to the Princess again. "I was glad to, I'm only sorry that I wasn't able to do so again," she says, stepping nearer to try and catch a glimpse of whatever is in the box. "Oh, that is lovely," she agrees, drawing back a few paces.

Who what? Aevander lifts his head as Riderch's name is bellowed by someone, and a quick look around identifies the man himself sitting on a rock near where he stands, as well as Aerys being very loud. Very, very loud. He stays where he is for the moment, taking small sips of wine, and regarding the pair quietly.

As he finishes the chicken leg he picked up, and is in the process of cleaning his fingers, Harrold's focus is pulled by the impromptu announcement that Aerys makes of the name of the man he is speaking with. The Vale knight does not recognize the speaker, but the name mentioned so loudly does seem ring a bell, at least. His dark gaze then strays to Aevander as well, but does not linger on the guest of honor; instead, he drinks deeply to finish that glass of Arbor red.

In the midst of admiring the jewelry, Embry's her shoulders jolt in instinctive response to the loud Targaryen somewhere else in the garden. Rather than skittering off as seems to be her ingrained instinct, she straightens them after the fact, lifting her head a bit higher and more proper and smiling— Mariya's response to Visenya is easily contagious. "Should you like me to try it on you, Princess Mariya?"

Having done her circuit of the house and grounds — at least those parts where revelers have spilt out, tucked themselves away in corners, and the like — Veronica returns to the garden, settling like a handful of crimson petals on a bench beneath a tree. She sips her wine — who knows how many cups, at this point, but she looks nothing more than slightly flushed. That might very well be the heat still lingers from the day, even now that the sun is many hours gone. She snaps open her fan to idly work the air, creating a bit of breeze against her bare neck.

The look on the Riverlander's face flickers through a shocking variety of about eight different expressions, all flashed at Aerys. At first he doesn't process. And then he does. It's mirth, humor, horror, embarassment, diplomacy, a pure wince, mirth again, and finally ends on a mixture of embarassment and just a resigned expression. "I am just here, Ser. It's all right. I am just here." He says, with a look towards the man as he quietly lifts his own cup. "There are a lot of worse places men like us could be, hmm?"

Oh look, HI CAROLIS. "Oh. This is Ser Aerys Targaryen. Aaaaaand —" he gestures towards the lordling, "Lord Carolis Stark, and his man, Tellur Snow." He yells to them. He's also /pointedly/ avoiding the refreshment area. Because obvious reasons.

Visenya seems surprised by the hug, and she is still for a moment before her arms relax, and she hugs Mariya back. "I know, isn't it fabulous?! I about kept it for myself when I saw it. You're lucky my greed didn't get the best of me!" She draws back, and claps her hands together excitedly. "Yes, try it on!" Aerys loudness gains her attention, and she winces slightly before looking back to Mariya. Then she notices Elionys, "Oh, cousin! You look so pretty."

"Indeed you are. And you know what is not here? Gods damned chicken. I swear I've enough drink in me that I could eat every fucking chicken in this place." Aerys says this at a bit more of a moderate and normal vocal tone. Another sip of wine, before he is looking in. "Oh this is bloody rubbish." And like that he flings out his cup and it's contents in the direction of poor Tellur's face, before he is turning to catch sight of said man-and of course-Lord Carolis Stark.


<FS3> Carolis rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Aerys rolls THROWIN DRANKS: Success.
<FS3> Tellur rolls Self Control: Failure.

Elionys' eyes widen with some small measure of surprise as she look at Visenya, but after a moment a tentative smile appears. "Thank you, Cousin. You look as beautiful as ever," she offers in return, tone bordering on warm. …and then a drink is thrown, and her already widened eyes go as round as saucers. She drinks in a deep breath and lowers her head, looking at the glass in her own hand, which isn't thrown, it is instead emptied in a couple of quick gulps. With that, she turns away from the group long enough to fetch herself a second drink. It is necessary.

Well, then. Splash goes the drink. Aevander's eyes widen. Well, at least it just hit some poor schlub of a Snow and not anybody important. That would have been embarrassing.

<FS3> Carolis rolls Reaction: Failure.

Tellur's reaction is very predictable for anyone who has ever spent time around him, well, ever. The surly man has several moods (irritated, angry, furious, murderous and kind to animals) and the Targ is not an animal. The Snow balls his fists up and there is a rising noise being generated from him that sounds like a snarl soon to resolve into some sort of comment. Eventually to resolve. It is hovering somewhere between 'wolverine' and 'boar' right now, though, fair enough, Aerys _is_ royalty. This is why kicking has not yet started.

Pulling away from Visenya, Mariya eagerly shows the gift to the others in the group with a wide smile. "It is so beautiful, Princess, Visenya. Thank you. Sincerely. I am certainly glad that you did not keep it for yourself, though I would not have blamed you." As the box is shown over toward Daevon, the Martell Princess smiles. "It's lovely, don't you think?" she asks her betrothed with a happy smile before adding, "Yes, thank you, Embry, let's!" Holding out the box with the necklace, she allows her to put the necklace about her neck. As she does so, she smiles at Elionys. "I am glad that you are feeling better. And do not worry. We now may visit each other at our own Manses without the fear of anyone looking over our shoulder."

"There /is/ actually - a plate of it unless I took the las—" The son of the sitting Lord of House Blackwood opens his mouth and closes it. It has been a week. A long, long week for Riderch Blackwood, and he would normally draw in a breath of tension or horror. But this is it for him, truly. He just watches with a slightly open mouth as Aerys goes 'Over the Wall', as one might say. And now — Our Watch has ended.

The Riverlord just sighs as this unfolds, before staring into his cup. One might note a slightly apologetic look towards the Northerners and probably a futile gesture to get them to sit down somewhere near him but the thing about futile gestures is their…futility.

"They sometimes do that. Don't they?" Riderch finally fumbles through a belt pouch and produces a rag. Poor Snow may be a nobody, but he has a poor Rivers who's also a nobody and would likely do the same for him. Unless he was /really/ asking for it.

Veronica's jaw drops just for an instant, parting her lips midway to an tryst with her cup. She stares at the thrown drink and the wet Snow, making a soft, choked sound which she quickly kills with wine. "Well," she murmurs, dimples giving away her amusement despite the mild composure of her other features. "It's now officially a party."

As wine is thrown, and tempers seem to flare, Harrold begins to move in the direction of where the Northmen are standing near the Riverlander and the Targaryen. The Vale knight keeps an alert eye on what is taking place, and does not approach close enough to interfere just yet, stopping short enough that if there is some manner of trouble, he will be near enough to help intervene should it become necessary.

<FS3> Aevander rolls Herding Cats: Great Success.

The snarl is enough to catch Aerys' drunken attention and he is sifting his look to the wine splashed man with his snarling. Yes we can discuss snarling as much as we snarling want. "Something in your throat son? If so-go see a Maester. Poxies have been known to wreck havock-more so than any wild political plays in court." A sniff there-apparently drunken indifference serving it's point that the Prince cannot believe anyone can not love him. A look is given Carolis before he tries to drink from his emptied cup and then peers down, almost confusedly. "I say-I think my drink jumped from my glass. I wonder where it went." Actual confusion there as now he is looking by his boots-and over to Riderch before shrugging and snorting into a laugh.

Embry stands behind the Dornish princess, neatly clutching either end of the offered necklace to settle it perfectly where it's meant to lay and reach the clasps toward one another neatly at the back of Mariya's neck. It's a comfortable task; this royalty, at least, she has become more at home around. The delicate clasping is only threatened by her tiny jump when a stir is caused by the thrown drink. "Oh— "

Elionys drinks in a deep breath, flashing Mariya a quick smile as she begins to move. "I look forward to it, Princess," she remarks, but then she's off, moving toward her intoxicated uncle, and the soggy, angry Snow. "The drinks are crafty like that, Uncle Aerys," she says, his name spoken loudly enough to try and grab his attention.

<FS3> Embry rolls Reaction: Good Success.

Visenya's eyes widen in horror as Aerys casually tosses that drink backwards into Tellur's face. "Oh dear." She says in a high-pitched, fast voice. "Oh dear! Excuse me. Keep it on, Princess! I want to see it!" That said, she gathers up the skirt of her gown and dashes over to where Aerys, Riderch, and the Stark men are. Moving quickly, she plants herself between Tellur and Aerys, "Ser Aerys!" She smiles until her face feels like it may break. "Did you not like your drink?" She puts a hand on the older Targaryen's shoulder, "…I know there's a fine vintage of Dornish red here somewhere. Perhaps I can help you find it?" And get him away from the angry Snow.

The last of Aevander's second glass is drained, he sucks in a soft breath, refills a fresh one and then moves to interject himself between Aerys and Tellur Snow. "Cousin," he says to Aerys first, "there you are. Here, have a drink, yours seems to be empty, and won't you sit? Visenya, you'll keep Ser Aerys company for a spell, won't you, dearest?" He gestures towards one of the tables a few steps away. He leaves the mopping up of Tellur Snow to Riderch before he says to the northern bastard, "Well, that was a bit of a mess, wasn't it? Come, one of our servants will show you to a room where you can wash your face and replace your shirt."

<FS3> Aerys rolls Recognition: Success.
<FS3> Riderch rolls Carousing: Good Success.

As Tellur roars and there is a flurry of movement all around the young Stark, he blinks away the wine clinging to his lashes, and he tugs from one sleeve a clean, folded kerchief. This is why dark colors will never go out of style. A dab here, a dab there, and one won't even notice the stain. Seriously, he could mow through an orphanage with an axe in this jerkin, you'd never know it. He sweeps his fingers through his hair, dislodging a few more droplets of the stuff, and he offers Aerys a warm smile. "I don't think it was that bad, Your Grace. Might I have some in a glass?"

It's as though Riderch is a broken record, as he hands the rag off to Tellur. It's a clean rag, at least, as he repeats the exact same words towards Aerys as the Targaryen Knight just rolled up into propiety's manse and put his boots up all over the divan. "They sometimes do that. Don't they?" He asks. It's a little bit dry and surprisingly well-timed. He shoots the Northerners a look of nonplussed sympathy while again pointing at the rock as he works on his cup.

The interjection is a…good thing. Not that Tellur seems inclined to be quite stupid enough to start punching anyone here, but the reaction was automatic. He has a rag, and a rock is being pointed at, and then Carolis is staying quiet. Whatever it is? Tellur strangles it down, wiping the wine off himself, then nods and goes to follow the indicated servant out.

There's a blink and Aerys stares down at Aevander a bit confusedly. "What are you talking about my boy- You never call your father, cousin. Go and fetch your mother. I think there's another Arryn out here, and I dare say I saw his col-" And then there's Elionys coming in-and someone has him by the shoulder. It's as if one were to watch a bunch of finely stained glass windows break about them. A blink is given towards Aevander for a second, before he is looking over to Visenya.

Another sweep of eyes and he spots poor Tellur covered in what was his wine with Carolis moping it up. A look down and there's a laugh as he tries to shrug off hands, but in doing so he stumbles forward a few steps, dropping and breaking the glass he was holding. Clearing his throat the Prince looks down for a moment-though there is no discerning look of shame. Instead he holds a neutral then cool look at nothing in particular.

"Well." A cough. "If you will all excuse me.." A nod given to Aevander. "Sorry-" said softly. "For ruining your party. Good luck and all.." A hand out as he stabilizes himself-before Aevander turns away..And then he is moving to walk out with as much drunken dignity as he can.

Perhaps Veronica is moved to pity, watching Aevander herd cats during what should be a more pleasant send-off… but whatever the case, there's only so much entertainment one can take without mucking in. She takes a tray of drinks from a somewhat startled — deer frozen in the sights, it seems — servant, and swans over to the Northmen, the Prince of Cups, and the Riverlander, as well. "Gentlemen." She hands a cup to Carolis, first, since he asked so nicely for one.

The glass splashed in Tellur's face is acknowledged belatedly. Mariya was excitedly examining her new jewelry and helping Embry place it on her. By the time she realizes what is happening Visenya is off to deal with the matter and the necklace is about her neck. She straightens, but sees that the matter is taken care of. "Thank you, Embry," she grins at the woman, distractedly, putting an absently placed a hand on the jewel that now rests below her collar bone. Now that it is about her neck, she glances at those gathered around: "What do you think?"

Daevon remains with Mariya, but he's watching the goings on, distracted. It's only at Mariya's question that he looks away, to study both her and the necklace. "It's beautiful." He says. "You're beautiful."

As Tellur is mopped up, the Riverlord sighs as he watches Aerys go. There's a screwed-up grin that paints half of itself on Riderch Blackwood's face as he greets Veronica in turn. "Hello." He says simply, trying to gauge exactly who she is. For now, he leaves it at that. And — Oh look, as he gets to the bottom of his cup, the crafty fellow produces a flask which he'd already filled. For now, he refills his own cup first and leaves it upon the ground with the leftovers for other takers. Because a Lazy Knight is the Best Knight.

With the matter handled, Elionys leaves the herding of her uncle to Visenya, and instead turns to move after Aevander to help, well… probably nowhere in truth, but she still tags along when her cousin makes an effort to comfort poor soggy Tellur.

Well that was… Aevander blinks slowly as he looks over at Aerys as the man seems to come back to this time and place and begins to excuse himself. "Someone had best go with him," he murmurs to Visenya and Elionys if the latter has moved in close enough. He watches Veronica swan in with charm and refreshments for the northmen and riverlander, and he offers the Flower a silent nod of thanks for her assistance.

Tellur is placid enough about going to clean himself up. Sanity prevailed! Or he is not really in the mood to insult his betters in a room full of people with pointy things.

"I'll go." Visenya volunteers. She trails after the drunken Burnt Dragon, her arms held outwards behind him as if to catch him if he falls. A useless measure as if the man falls backwards he's more likely to knock over the slender Princess and squish her than be caught by her.

Carolis tucks the kerchief back into his sleeve, and he inclines his head to Veronica, flashing her a wry smile as he says, "Thank you. I'm afraid my man may need something a bit stronger before the night is through." He winks at the woman, then looks toward the man in question. Tellur isn't stabbing anyone. That's good. He addresses Riderch, but it's the bastard he keeps an eye on. "So what kind of fun is everyone else having?" Because getting dowsed with wine like this? It's part of the festivities, right?

"It's wonderful, your grace," Embry says, coming around to admire the jewelry properly and smiling bright and happy to not be involved with anything going on elsewhere in the garden. "I've never seen such a ruby. The red near the black of your gown, it could be Targaryen." Such a mention prompts the girl to glance nearly bashfully at her princess's betrothed, who she curtseys to, now she has a chance. "Ser Daevon."

Veronica smiles at Riderch, warm and wide — and why not wry, too? There's a dash of that. The situation calls for it. "Hello, Ser Riderch." When Tellur has more-or-less righted himself, she offers him a full cup in exchange for the soiled cloth. Where else are you gonna get that kind of deal, Snow? "I'll work on finding something stronger, if you like," she tells the Northman, "but have this in the meantime."

"Thank you," Aevander murmurs to Visenya as she offers to see their cousin safely sorted for the night. He glances over at Elionys, brows raised and expression wry. "This is still going more smoothly than I'd imagine," he confesses with a twitch of a smile.

"Rationing. There was a time when Donal Fenn and I rode all the way to the Neck. We had a dozen men with us." Riderch finally speaks, watching the mayhem unfold with curious detachment. "We lost our pack horse, we had to go without." The Riverlord shrugs a little as he talks to the two Northerners after watching Aerys shuffle off. Or get shuffled off. "Riding with that many men when the ale runs out is a bad prospect. So we stopped in this little village —" He doesn't finish telling Carolis this story, which seems to be a trend in their interactions. "Never mind. The point I was trying to make is — sometimes less is more."

With that, he gives them both one further glance and lolls his head towards Veronica. "I suppose my introduction was resounding, wasn't it?" After all that nonsense about rationing he just swills his refill.

"My lady, I really am fine," Tellur says, once he is returned, mopped up. He is edgy though, a little jittery. And well aware he is being watched by Carolis. Which might have something to do with his sudden attack of politeness "This is, ah. Good wine." He cannot quite help but add "Externally, as well as internally." A dry swallow and a smile at Carolis. And Riderch, for that matter "Good to see you again, My Lord."

<FS3> Visenya rolls Mind: Failure.

"Good night, uncle," Elionys calls after Aerys as he todders out of the garden, sighing just a little bit. It's not until Aevander speaks that her gaze moves from the door and back to her cousin. "I suppose it has," she agrees, reluctantly giving him a smile, even if it's a small one. "But it's not over yet, so let's not get too complacent."

Damn it, Blackwood, just when Carolis starts getting into the tale. Carolis' brow knits, and then he shakes his head and laughs quietly. "All right, but what happened in the village? Bide a moment." This time he interrupts before the man is even speaking again, and he looks around. "Is there any chance I might meet the Prince who's leaving? By introduction rather than by taste in beverage, if it's all the same?"

Daevon smiles at Embry, offering a nod in response to her curtsy. The glaring at his brother's at least stopped now, even if there's still no smiles, mostly just sadness.

"Mistress," Veronica corrects Tellur, kindly, setting her purloined tray of drinks aside. If no one will have them? She's not at all proud. She downs one in a few swallows and takes up another. "The prince who's currently leaving the party, or the prince who's leaving Oldtown, and is therefore the reason for the party?" she wonders of Carolis.

Visenya wanders back outside after several minutes, possibly after handing Aerys off to a servant. She heads towards the refreshment table, and picks up a glass of wine. Her hands tremor slightly, and slips out of her hand. CRASH. Another broken glass.

"Mmm," Aevander hums in agreement. "Suppose we'd best go make formal greeting and apologies, eh, cos?" He offers Elionys his arm before stepping over to Riderch, Tellur, Carolis and Veronica. "You are refreshed, I hop, master Snow?" he asks of Tellur. Looking over at his companion he asks, "And, you must be Lord Carolis Stark, then? I'm Ser Aevander Targaryen. Thank you for coming, this evening, and I apologize for the, ah, mishap. There was no great harm done, I hope?" And then there's another *CRASH* and Aevander winces, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he sucks a slow breath in through his nose, opens his eyes and smiles politely. "Please excuse me."

Daevon hears the crash and he's immediately leaving Mariya and Embry and heading over to his twin. "Visenya."

"Thank you, Embry," Mariya, tells her lady's maid straightening. At Daevon's compliment, the Martell princess smiles at the Targaryen. "You're too kind. It's a lovely gift." As Visenya is about dealing with the rest of the party, she remains and attempts to stay out of the way. It is hard to miss Daevon's melancholy and she raises an eyebrow. "Are you okay?" she asks her betrothed softly?

For some reason, Carolis is shot a weird grin, folllowed by a cackle on Riderch's part. He doesn't answer the man's question, though, at all, just hides his face in his cup. He does tack on a little bit to the story. "Well, there was a brewer, and an old woman the locals said was a witch. You get that a lot in those parts, though." Another snippet of a story. It's how you keep 'em hooked!

To Tellur now. "It's good to see you both. It's even better when nobody is bloody trying to /kill/ us." He finally offers cheerily. But he's hitting his cup pretty fast, and and he starts to hit bottom. He finally looks up at Aevander and then gestures towards Lord Stark. Back to Aevander. "There he is." At this point though, a /real/ answer is not needed.

"Thank you, Embry," Mariya, tells her lady's maid straightening. At Daevon's compliment, the Martell princess smiles at the Targaryen. "You're too kind. It's a lovely gift." As Visenya is about dealing with the rest of the party, she remains and attempts to stay out of the way. It is hard to miss Daevon's melancholy and she raises an eyebrow. However, he is away to assist Visenya and she allows him to go with a nod, attempting to follow. Unable to to figure out how to help, she stays on the sidelines.

As this goes on, Riderch is a master of non-stealth as he tries to purloin another one from Veronica's tray. Just because. He winces a little at the sound of the crash though.

Elionys smiles up at Aevander before sliding her arm around the one that he offers. "Suppose we ought to," she replies following alongside him as he goes to greet the Northmen. She flinches slightly at the sound of breaking glass, twisting around just enough to shoot a look back at the refreshment table, and the source of the sound, and once it's spotted, she leans in to murmur a few quiet words to Aevander.

Elionys whispers: She will be fine, let the others see to her. You're the guest of honor, not everyone's keeper.

"Mistress, my apologies," says Tellur, and _he_ will take one of the glasses there. A glance over at Visenya, and then back at Carolis and Blackwood, because clearly THEY can help with how strange this event is. Then he is being apologised to. By a Prince. There is a twitch, and he says hastily "Very refreshed. And, of course, excused, yes -" Hmm. Daevon is dashing as well. Finally he just seems to give up entirely and he says to Riderch "Do you know any other stories of magic? Ser Malcolm was asking about them."

Embry's head turns this way and that, quickly falling on the right route to note where the glass has fallen; this time from Visenya's hand. She shuffles in beside Mariya on those sidelines after Daevon's moved to see to his sister. "How lovely of Princess Visenya to give you a gift like that," she compliments with an undertone of awe. Much quieter, "I hope she's all right— ?"

"The one who…" Carolis is about to tell Veronica which Prince he means, and then there is the Prince in question. "This one," he says. Then he smiles at Aevander and bows, low and with great respect. "No harm done at all, Your Grace. It's an honor to meet you. I've heard great things." At the crash, and Aevander excusing himself, Lord Carolis says quickly, "Here, I brought you a little something for your travels." He offers the wooden box to the Prince, hopefully before he can escape.

Aevander leans in a little to listen to Elionys's quiet murmur. He exhales softly. "I think I'm both," he murmurs with a wry smile, "but… very well." More to the little group at large, he offers, "It seems my brother has the matter in hand." For now. "Oh, I…" he blinks in surprise as the box is offer and he accepts it gently. "Thank you, my lord. You're very kind."

Visenya takes in a deep breath, and says softly to herself, "…This isn't happening now. This isn't going to happen now…" Another deep breath follows, and soon enough she's hyperventilating. Daevon's arm is grabbed as he approaches, "…can't breathe…" She lets out a sound of despair, "I need my tea…"

Just to be contrary, Veronica reclaims the tray right out from under Riderch's reach, leaving him sneakily bereft. The drinks are summarily offered over to Tellur.

"Sometimes when you are out at night and look sideways, following the Old Road to Redleaf Watch — things look different. You can see what things looked like a long, long time ago. Long before the Andals." Riderch lets Carolis pay his respects as he entertains Master Snow. He shoots Veronica a petulant glance, sidewise. But he does finish sort of answering Tellur's question. "There are a lot of things that come to mind when you're out there at night. Sometimes I feel like there are great bones that reach out of the earth and threaten to drag you in. That road has seen so, so much…." This is a long-winded way of answering the Bastard's question with what would have been a simple 'yes.' Which is effectively what it is. "There is supposed to be an old woman who lives there too, who is in fact suppose to be a witch. I've never seen her, but I know men and women who" He smiles more tightly now "/swear/ they have seen her. Talked with her, even. But these stories have been around for hundreds of years."

"Visenya, it's been such a lovely party," Daevon says, his words as soft as his expression now and he moves so he's blocking her from view from most of the party, so they can't see her distress. "You've truly outdone yourself. Everyone's having such a lovely time. Let's go inside though? It's been an exhausting day and you've done so much to make sure everything runs smoothly.."

At this point, Riderch has hit fill #3. He's still more or less composed.

Daevon's tone is soft, soothing, gentle. It's not so much the words themselves as his voice he tries to use to calm her. Warm and filled with love and admiration for his twin, and just that touch of concern.

More alcohol. And Tellur's temper. These things can _only_ end well. He collects himself another drink, and then offers another to Riderch, from the tray. "Yes?" he says, and then his eyes widen in delight, but he finally says "I'm curious, though - what powers is this witch supposed to have? We all hear so many stories coming out of places. Powers of foresight, of weather knowledge…"

As Mariya approaches in attempt to help both Visenya and Daevon she pauses on the sidelines. With a glance toward Embry, she nods. "Yes, it was quite a lovely gift." Allowing Daevon to tend to his sister, she starts to back away. "I am sure I will thank her for it later." Glancing at the twins, she nods. "I am sure they will be alright," she tells her maid as she leads her slightly away from the sight.

Veronica hands the tray off to a servant, done playing serving wench for the time being. She looks gently amused at the folktale and its telling, settling to sit on a convenient bench between the North and the Riverlands.

Carolis grins broadly at Aevander, and the slightly wine-dampened Stark looks almost sheepish. "It's nothing, Your Grace." He inclines his head to Elionys, then. "Princess, you're looking lovely." He then whispers to them both, with a nod toward Riderch, "He's got the best stories." He's sparing with his wine, small but appreciative sips.

"Immortality," Aevander offers of Riderch's witch, "if only through our tales." He glances over toward Visenya again, relaxing a little as Daevon seems to be taking charge of the matter. He looks back to his present company. His brows lift for Carolis's whisper and he asks back, mock-whispering himself "Has he? But how can you be sure, until you've compared his to all the others in Westeros?"

Elionys gives Aevander's arm a gentle squeeze as she looks ahead, but even as she does, she leans in to speak with him quietly. "I'm always right, you should learn to listen to me more," she teases, and then grins at Carolis. "My Lord, I am so happy you decided to stop by." The whisper from Carolis has her sliding a look over to Riderch, then nodding in answer. "He does. So many of them. Isn't he fascinating to speak with?"

"You don't think it's been a disaster? What with the wine being splashed in the face and such? Oh, I just wanted Aevander to have a nice time before he left…" Visenya takes in a few more gulps of air. "It's fine. I'm fine. Everything's going to be fine, but I can't leave. I'm the /hostess/ dammit." That said, she takes in a few more breaths, "I'm fine. My nerves are just a bit frayed. I'll have some wine and I'll be fine."

Daevon smiles at Visenya. "Oh no, certainly not. People expect such things. They'd have been disappointed if there hadn't been some sort of upset. And you dealt with that so admirably. You smoothed it over, no one got into any sort of fight." He shakes his head. "Not more wine, just some tea." One of the servants should already be off, getting some "That'll help more. Have you seen how beautiful Mariya looks with her necklace. That was such a lovely thing you did for her."

"Most of them have questionable endings. Which is probably why I do what I do with them." Riderch caught that, as he empties the last of his flask into the cup and drinks another large sip. He gives Carolis one of his sly grins and then finishes with a shake of his head. Back to Tellur. Or at least he would, and his face curiously screws up, looking up at Aevander. "That's the same. Well, one of the same ones." But finishing Tellur's answer, "The one near Redleaf Watch — she's been said to mend the wounded as well. And give people warnings of their future. Apparently this is very bad." He shrugs, nonplussed. "As I said, I've never met a witch there." His smile is polite and is transferred momentarily towards Elionys, giving her a quick glance. He looks about to say something in response to her but immediately shrugs.

He finally just focuses on Master Snow and caps it off. "I think the lesson with both these stories and the Witch is simple — nobody really wants to hear their own ending."

For his part, Tellur, if not relaxed, does not seem to think the party is at all ruined. It is hardly the fault of the Targaryens that the traditional Northerner party entertainment of: brawl and swear vengeance has not occurred. He then tilts his head a little, animal-like, as Riderch speaks, and then he polishes off his own drink, and he says "Eh, I can mend the wounded, but not by magic. There's a learning to it, and it's a bitter one - that some things do not heal." He adds "Surely that depends on the ending - but having seen battle now, I'm not sure I want to leave people so much _mess_ to clean up."

"I certainly would not," opines Veronica, sipping the wine she's finally claimed as her own. "Know my own ending, that is. I find the idea of predestination rather unsettling. It's not written in stone until someone's gone and looked at it, I think. Dreadful thing to do to someone."

Carolis considers Aevander's words, and he blinks a few times. "Then I have my work cut out for me. I'll tell Tellur we leave in the morning." He rubs at his chin, purses his lips, then says, "Or concede that you have a point, Your Grace. His stories are fun to listen to, at any rate. I can't wait to see what he does with our battle against the Wildings." He seems to be quite content, at ease, even. Maybe a wine bath is just the thing to break the tension. "It's true," he adds to no one in particular with a gesture toward Tellur with his cup. "He kept me from bleeding out on the field. Now you know who to blame." Then Aevander looks at the gift, and Carolis almost seems distracted by his response. He glances down at the box, then to Aevander's face, and that smile comes back again full force. "Of course, Your Grace. It's my pleasure."

Visenya's breathing begins to return to normal. "No. I haven't seen it. I should go look at it." She closes her eyes, and takes several measured breaths while murmuring words to herself. She finally opens her eyes, and says in a stronger voice, "I need to see the necklace on her, and I need to be entertaining. Let's go look at it?'

"And some things can fester."Riderch says towards Tellur as he holds the cup to his face. "But I think we are /all/ right here. The ending /is/ always the same. Fortunately for the luckiest of us, there is a lot of time in the middle." A grin flickers on his features lightly behind the cup.

"You and me both, Mistress." He observes, on the subject of prophecy and the like.

The servant arrives with Visenya's tea, offering her the steaming cup. Daevon's words remain soft. "Visenya, look around. Everyone's already being entertained. Your party is an exceptional success. Your Guest of honour looks pleased, and your guests aren't fighting eachother. The food and wine are flowing freely." He looks for Mariya, finally, beckoning her over.

One of the twins - turquoise gowned, for those who remember which one that was - pops back into the party, from gods-only-know where. She's a little pink-cheeked under her freckles, maybe she was dancing. It is her forte. She pops up nearby the drinks, collecting one of the lighter, more thirst-quenching alcoholic ones as she glances about for a familiar face to bother.

Glancing over her shoulder, as she's done more than once out of curiosity toward Visenya and Daevon, Embry then inches closer to Mariya's to note, "Look, your grace, I think she's come around."

Tellur says to Carolis "I know that my act of healing on you has certainly gotten me in trouble with many fathers and husbands…" He quirks his lips, more than a little tipsy now, and he tries to focus, and then says Riderch "Mmm, that's true. Anyway, who'd want to outlive everything, past their family and their world. Tell me one thing, though. Ser Malcolm's been after me to speak of Northern legends to him - I know a few, but not enough. He wanted to know about the Forest Children, and C…Lord Cat there told him a little. They are all Wargs, yes?"

<FS3> Riderch rolls History: Success.

Though Mariya had previous backed away, when Daevon beckons her, she glances toward Embry and then moves forward. "Yes, it does look like she has." Then, she moves forward toward the pair and twins with a smile. "Princess Visenya. I did not manage to give you proper thanks for the necklace." Other than the hug, of course. At the mention of it, she puts a hand up to the jewel at her throat now. "It's lovely. Thank you." Glancing about she asks, "Can I help you with anything?"

Veronica chuckles, unfolding herself gracefully from her bench. "As tempting as it is to succumb to drunk history and philosophy," she says, smoothing her gown, "I should probably call the evening done, for me." She smiles pleasantly at the gentlefolk in her company. "Good night, Lords and Sers and Snows, Princes and Princesses. It is my delight, as ever, to be in your company." She kisses a hand to the gathering.

Aevander is quiet, content to listen as the Northerners discuss their lore. As Veronica offers her farewells, Aevander smiles. "A pleasant night to you, mistress. Thank you for enriching this celebration with your company." To Carolis he says, thoughtfully, "I've only a week left in Oldtown, my lord, but I'd be pleased if you might visit me one of those days, for lunch or for tea. If you enjoy literature, I would find it very fine to keep the company of a fellow avid reader for a few hours. Do you play cyvasse?"

Visenya takes the steaming up from the servant, and blows across the top before she has a sip. She winces slightly at the bitter taste, and her nose crinkles slightly, but she manages to get down another sip. When Mariya approaches she looks over the necklace, "I knew it would look striking on you. Good with your coloring." Her voice isn't as vibrant as it was earlier, but she's managing. A weak smile is given, "I think I'll be alright. Targaryen nerves." She manages a rather off-color joke with a sudden grin, however, that partially lights up her face, "What we get for having sibling-parents and such."

Carolis raises his cup and tells Tellur, "How glad I am that the pleasure of my company is worth more to you than whatever they've offered." He inclines his head then to Veronica and says, "Mistress, I thank you for the wine and the vessel it came in." Aevander's words seem to be a summoning charm for that bright-eyed smile. "Not well, Your Grace," he says. "Perhaps you would be willing to teach me? I imagine at the very least it may provide some entertainment for you before you go."

Daevon's distracted a moment as he catches sight of Aevander and Carolis. A slight smile touches his lips, genuine, warm. And then he looks back to Visenya. The joke just gets an awkward look from him.

It's right by Aevander that the turquoise-gowned twin surfaces next, sidling up stealthily as the lightfooted girls have tended to do for years upon years. She clears her throat, lifting her glass to the ser, ready to intrude on his conversation when the inspiration strikes her. Hello, lads!

Elionys is quiet, listening, observing, her purple-hued gaze tracking after the courtesan as she makes her way out, though she offers no words to the parting woman. She draws a breath and looks around, gaze coming to rest on the Tyrell twin that appears on Aevander's other side. "Hello." She uses no name. Again. Tricksy twins.

"Lady Keyte," Aevander greets the girl in turquoise, "Hello again. What horrible mischief have you been up to?" Carolis gets a small chuckle and a nod. "I expect I can manage to teach you. I taught Daevon the basics, under threat and bribery. I imagine a willing pupil will be far easier."

"It does," Mariya grins at Visenya, speaking of the necklace. "It's such a lovely gift. Thank you. I will treasure it. This has been a lovely party. Thank you for the invitation. I fear that I must return to the White Stone Manse. But, this has been a lovely party." The wine in someone else's face only adds to the retell value of the party. "I hope I will see you soon." To Embry, she says, "Feel free to stay and tell me of any other events that may happen."

Glancing into the fire a bit, Riderch entertains the Snow's question. He's /slightly/ informal with the Bastard here, but — The heir has probably gotten used to having his own Bastard around the house and let's face it, everyone needs their own house bastard.

"It will come as a disappointment, but I do not have a long and wide list of stories about what the Children of the Forest were said to do at my disposal and all I know is probably what you know. But —

" He gestures with an upturned hand after watching Veronica depart and takes another deep drink. His cheeks have a bit of a glow to them now. "Nothing ever dies without its passing leaving a mark. The Children were here first. And they worshipped the great Weirwood Trees which they used to — 'peer into the spine of the world' the story I'm remembering said."

Tellur's got him wound up now so he's just telling the story whether or not anyone's really paying a whole lot of attention. "And then we came. The First Men. The Weirwoods were cut down, and our people made war upon them. And then there was a great peace, where the Children taught the First Men what they new of things — weirwoods, other things I am not familiar with. And then the Andals came. And they conquered the Raven Kings, the Horse Lords, the Grey King —I think the Gardener in the Reach. I do not know all their names. But they were all conquered or just swept away.

And then King Aegon came. But you know this as well as I." Silently cursing the departure of Veronica an her magical tray of too many drinks, he just nurses his for the time being.

"Oh! Hello!" The Tyrell girl is cheerful enough, but is it a ruse? That smile is a touch overbright, as she leans about Aevander to beam it at Elionys. She narrows her eyes at the man between them as he names her, just cynical enough in the thin flutter of lashes to provoke question. "Mischief? You mistake me, ser, of course. I was simply looking for the lizards, to admire my handiwork once more."

Tellur laughs, brilliantly, as Carolis speaks, and the noise rings out a bit like a jackal. And then he says "Well, who knows. Perhaps one of them will one day offer me something better." Not that he seems to mean it. He tilts his head, his lips a little quirked, and then he says "I don't know many of their names - though I know of King Aegon. To be truthful, I was merely asking silly things - nothing more." He glances up at those who are coming close, and then he says "And I was curious. So the Children taught the First Men to change their shapes? Well…"

"I'm glad you like it." Visenya says to Mariya, "And thank you for coming. I look forward to when we are good sisters." She watches as Mariya and Embry depart, and swallows down more of her tea. "I do get a glass of wine after this." She informs Daevon, "I haven't had any wine all night. Oh look. That Riverlander is telling stories." You know. THAT Riverlander. The one Aevander punched in the nose. She releases Daevon's armm and drifts over towards the men, and settles down into a seat to finish sipping her tea.

Daevon smiles at Visenya. "Certainly, to wash away the taste." He walks with Visenya, after saying his goodbyes to Mariya. "Have you had a chance to dance, at least?"

"Than my company?" Carolis asks Tellur in a tone that implies a 'not blood likely' ought to be tacked on to the end of it. He keeps an ear on the story, but of ancient history, he offers no interruption to Riderch's telling of it. "For the whole of this week, Your Grace, I will be happily at your disposal." He then bows to Keyte. "Lady Trouble," he says.

"He accuses everyone of that," Elionys informs Keyte, only having any clue as to who she is because of what Aevander says. Assuming he's right. "I'm sure he thinks I'm up to something just standing here, but that's what comes from suspicious minds," she tells the Tyrell gravely.

"I'm pretty sure the majority of the lizards have returned to the wild, save the one Elionys kept. But I think she's taken the wings off, since." He falls quiet to listen to Riderch's stories and Tellur's queries, and Visenya, when she arrives, gets a small, warm smile. "Hello, dearest. All's well?" And then, he laughs as Carolis names Keyte 'lady Trouble'. "There, you see? I'm not being preposterous, others know your antics as well." Smirking over at Elionys, he adds, "You're not up to something, just standing there?"

"I don't know that they taught them /that/. Unless you count Hoarsebane. He's clearly one of my ancestors in the shape of a Raven." Riderch is momentarily all chuckles here as he makes his way to the bottom of the cup now. "There's an idea. One of my blood with actual feathers. He just says all the right things." This is delivere to Tellur and he just falls silent now. "I don't know. I said this the other night, out by the Weirwood." He coughs all of a sudden, it's a dry, throat-clearing thing. "We have one Weirwood, and it is dead. But even dead it refuses to go away." He thumps the sigil on his chest. "I like to think these old histories are like that. Digging up old bones." The Riverlander's starting to make a little less sense here which would indicate the honeywine is taking effect. For what it's worth, if he is tipsy, he is a genial sort of tipsy, here. He's even made nice with Aevander, it would seem, or at least the two men can tolerate each others' presence without open hostility.

The Tyrell girl shrugs to Elionys, shoulders lifting with a helpless look. It's certainly not her fault he's so suspicious. (It has nothing to do with years of pranking. Nothing at all.) She sips serenely on her wine, arching dark brows at the address from Carolis and hiding her smile behind her cup, for a brief moment, before curtsying. "Lord of the Books," she returns in greeting, head canted. Aside to Aevander, she snips, "Oh, psh."

"House Gardner?" Visenya asks as she sits down. "House Gardner died out in the field of fire. They say The Black Dread roasted King Mern in his own armor. The Tyrells were stewards to the Gardners, and it was a Tyrell who surrendered Highgarden to King Aegon, and that's why the Tyrells rule the Reach now." She casts a look to Aevander, as if confirming that she is correct. "I believe House Gardner and the Ironborn King in Harrenhall's line were the only lines to be wiped out in the Conquest." She casts another look to Aevander, and nods, "All is well."

Tellur hears the word 'dance' and pales. No one wants to see Tellur dance. He glances up at the Prince and gives him a quick, respectful wave, his expression relaxed now. He has entirely forgotten the wine incident, and he says "Who, perhaps, is Lady Trouble? Sounds like a good person to know." And then he nods to Riderch, and he says "Ahh, well, perhaps that is one of the things they kept for themselves, and no one else. But yes, perhaps you are a raven in truth, Riderch! I do miss mine." He winces, a little "She was very smart, and was terribly useful for all sorts of things I shouldn't have gotten her to do." Another sip of wine, and he says to Riderch "So I hope you're retelling your battle as a picture of you with black wings on a raven as a steed." He looks at Visenya, curious himself now, and he tilts his head "It's all very interesting, but then, I like heraldry, and stories of beasts in particular."

Elionys exchanges an innocent look with the Tyrell girl, she clearly has nothing to do with this paranoia either. Certainly not. "Lord of Books?" This greeting is repeated as she turns to look at Carolis, amused. "Are you the bookish sort, then?" When Visenya arrives, she turns around just enough to offer her cousin a smile. "I hope that you're enjoying yourself too? It's been a lovely party."

Daevon follows in Visenya's wake, back to being quiet again.

Eonn appears in the manse's doorway and stands there, looking out.

"How nice of you to remind us," the Tyrell girl says rather dryly in response to the history lesson of her House from Visenya, chasing her smile with a healthy drink from her cup.

Carolis's brows lift as he's named in turn, and Keyte's moniker does seem to please him. He bows to her again, being now Lord of the Books. To Aevander, he says, "I hope it goes without saying that you're of course welcome at Weirwood Manse, our humble abode, though I will take any reason to come visit here. It is a delight to be surrounded by such beauty." He inclines his head to Elionys, and again to Visenya as she approaches. Perhaps a glance toward Daevon as well, but it's to offer him a smile! And innocent smile. To the Elionys, he says, "I'd like to think I am, my lady. The Maester of Winterfell advised that I come here to study. He said my mind was wasted at home. He is getting on in years, though, and you know what they say about the mind starting to go."

"Oh psh indeed," Aevander smirks, "your reputation precedes you now." For Visenya's rendition of history, he nods, and nods again for all being well. "That's good," he says of both. "I think I had best step away for a bit and say hello to some of the other guests. Thank you all for coming. Master Snow, sorry to hear of the loss of your raven. Lord Carolis, visit tomorrow at tea, perhaps? Though I would enjoy seeing your manse, especially if it truly has a weirwood. Ser Riderch, thank you for your tales. Elionys, you look truly ravishing, tonight. And sister, thank you for a beautiful party. I could not have wished for better." He offers a bow to everyone present before slipping away into the crowd.

Eonn steps away from the doorway and out across the garden, avoiding the major groups of people.

"Well, if you can come take a look at mine and maybe keep Jorah Rivers from teaching the bird the Lower Tongues, there might be some decent recompense your way. If Lord Carolis doesn't mind lending out your services." Riderch comments to Tellur wryly. "Hoaresbane. Heh. I can't remember how we decided on his name." He chuckles, deep in his cup.

Visenya's interjection does draw a large nod. "The Gardners were one of the old families from before who claimed descent from long ago. Like so many of the bloodlines that cling to this land. Stubbornly. The Gardners just made some — well, unfortunate choices, didn't they?" It's fairly matter-of-fact, but before someone can go and accuse him of insulting Targaryen conquest, he goes off on what is probably a familiar tangent now. "And good old Harren the Black." He makes a little gesture, like something going up in a puff of smoke. Poof! He /does/ have a bird named as a foe of this ancient enemy, after all.

"I wish I could have seen what our ancestors were like. King Aegn's great Dragons, Edmyn Tully and my ancestors taking up their banners in great war-bands in the rise against the Ironborn." Wait, wow, he is really getting into this. And then he falls silent all of a sudden, canting his head at Aevander. It's a curious nod he gives the Prince as he departs, but it is indeed one. Now he just remains silent. Where was he? He waves a hand, remaining silent for a bit as he looks around for a refill. Something stops him though, and he peers at his empty cup's depths.

"Lord Carolis has the most novel idea for hatching my dragon's eggs. He seems to be rather intelligent." Visenya smiles somewhat lethargically. Whatever was in her tea seems to have made her drowsy and docile. She smiles lazily to Keyte. Or Kesha. Whoever, "Oh, I was telling Ser Rid-Uh-Raven? I'm sure you're quite aware of it." She finishes off the cup with another crinkle of the nose at the contents, and sets it down. Elionys gets another lazy smile, "I'm just sad I didn't get to see more of the fire breathers before they packed up." She sighs wistfully, "I do love fire." Riderch, or rather, Ser Raven, earns a smirk, "I'd say thinking you can face down a land army against dragons could be called a poor choice." A servant comes round with freshly filled cups, and she snags one off of the tray to wash the bitter taste out of her mouth.

Elionys looks first to Aevander, smiling at him as her arm slips away, allowing him to wander away unhindered to mingle with other guests. "You've come to the right place, then," she tells Carolis. Which he knows. Obviously, but she says it anyway, a faint smile chasing the remark. A glance is shot in Riderch's direction, but rather than particpate in the conversation on the realm and it's history, she draws back a few paces, looking back to Visenya. "I'm sure they would gladly come back and perform for you again. A private show for the house," she suggests, but it's a suggestion given as she prepares to slip away, eventually vanishing into the house, rather than lingering in the garden.

Daevon's watching his sister, concerned, mostly to ensure she doesn't get herself into trouble. He's not a great one for parties and so he's back on the fringes once more.

"The world's full of people who make foolish and questionable decisions for all sorts of reasons. Some of them are noble. Some of them are just —." Riderch doesn't really have much of an explanation for it. Smirking a bit, he slowly gets to his feet. He looks a little lightheaded. "If you excuse me, I think I'm probably in need of a walk. I think it is one of those sorts of nights and I did — not expect to be gone this long." Understatement time.

Tellur glances up at Eonn, and lifts a hand to him, but he is a little drunk now, and he laughs at Riderch "Once they know it, Lord, there's little that can be done, though you can fill up their minds with other words and reward those so that they speak in a more palatable way. If it truly bothers you, though, I can probably get them to stop." He leans back, amiable now "His brother's given me one of their dogs - not quite a Bolton beast, but I'll have her just as fearsome before I'm finished. Oh, Lady? Wait, how does someone hatch a dragon egg?" Tellur wonders. The Bastard is easily distracted - but worse, drunk? Is acting as though everyone is a friend. This is he, when not sober. "Lord Carolis _is_ very ineligible. Intelligble."

Eonn circles around to stand near Daevon. He lifts a hand in response to Tellur's greeting, but stays quite silent.

Carolis waves his cup vaguely to Riderch and says, "The truth is, Ser Riderch, that Tellur Snow is being modest when he claims to be my servant. My brother has stolen him away and made him a trainer for His Lordship's hounds and horses. As such, you'll have to take it up with my brother's hounds." Visenya's words get a crooked smile from him. "I would be intelligent if it were to work, my lady. Your words do me too much credit." Tellur gets a sidelong glance as he 'praises' him. Then, to Elionys, "I'm afraid I've found the company more interesting than the books of late. The Maester will be disappointed." Go on, see how much Carol cares about the Maester's disappointment. "It was good to see you again, Ser Riderch," he says to the departing knight.

The smile Daevon gives Eonn is a soft, warm thing. He's wearing a new outfit, all black and red that leaves him washed out, ghostly. It's as fashionable as it is impractical. He asks, quietly. "Have you tried the food? It's very good. As is the wine."

"Oh yes," Kesha/Keyte assures, "Some dragons never let us kneelers forget." She drinks down the rest of her cup in time to trade for a fresh one as the tray comes around, lifting it in toast to the gathered. "To the great King Aegon, whom stories say was kind to those who now oversee his realm." Perhaps that pink-cheekedness was not from dancing, after all. She drinks to her own toast, of course, inquiring delightedly of Tellur, "The Lord of Books is ineligible?" Her eyes flit over to who he's waved at, noting Eonn, but the twin offers naught but a smile. "Oh, Ser Riderch, you're leaving?"

Eonn smiles back at Daevon and bows his head. "Not yet, my prince," he says. "I was, mmm, keeping out of the way. So to speak. How are you?"

"I'm sure I can think of /some/ offer. I can be persuasive. Sometimes. Maybe." Riderch admits to Carolis, offering the man a quick, bemused, but altogether tired grin that may be a tad tipsy. It's a skill one has — sometimes you have to know when to /stop/ drinking before the good times go sour. "Hail Lord Wolf, and be ever wary." It's a fond statement that he makes towards the Northern Lord. "Master Snow." Tellur too. It's that magical time of the evening when the round of goodbyes is delivered. At another time, the Tyrell twin and her comment on history might earn more of an interesting response, but the night is dark and full of sleepiness. "Yes, Lady…Tyrell." NOT GONNA FALL FOR IT TWINS. Hie smiles faintly. "I think it is time I go darken my own doorstep. Oh, the goodbyes continue.

Tellur lifts a hand as Carolis speaks, and laughs, and says "Yes, though it's the mews I'll be getting my grubby hands on soon. They're disorganised. It's easier to train birds by…" Oh dear. Even Tellur can tell he is soon to vere into boring, and he waves a hand drunkenly to say good night to Riderch. Then he leans in to Keyte intently "He's the most blatant bachelor in the city. Wait. What?" He grins at being called Master, and he relaxes back now. He might have to be pried out of here.

"Keeping out of the way," Daevon echoes, watching and listening to the goings on.

Eonn nods to Daevon. "Good idea," he says. "I might have to sneak after some food, though."

"Heat. Intense heat." Visenya says with a shrug. "The manner in which the eggs are hatched are varied, but they all involve fire, and lots of it." Visenya has a swallow of wine, and swirls it about in her mouth. She glances to Keyte/Kesha, "I was just reciting history. Sometimes, people make regrettable choices, as Ser…Riderch said. They make mistakes because they think someone they love has been hurt or embarrassed. It seems those choices can /never/ be forgiven no matter how hard one tries to be nice and make amends. Doesn't it?" She lets out a little huff before looking back to Carolis, "Even if it doesn't work it's quite a creative idea. I'm sure no one has ever tried it before."

"Let me accompany you," Daevon smiles, walking over towards the savouries.

"That's right," Carolis says, though whether it's to the departing Riderch or Tellur isn't clear. "Master of Hounds. And ravens and horses. I don't think he'll have much luck with the cat. They don't take well to training." He smiles a little, then finishes off his wine. Finally. The one cup has lasted him all evening. He mouths the words 'blatant bachelor' with some amusement and shakes his head. "I would love nothing more than to see if it would work," he tells Visenya. "To have a hand in something so…" He has to think for the right word. "Profound." Eh, it'll do. "Of course if it blows up the building and sets fire to the city, I have no idea whose idiot idea it was and you've never met me."

"Oh, is that so?" Keyte — it is Keyte? — shares conspiratorially with Tellur, drawn from her sourness to glance over the Lord of Books with renewed interest. Hmmm. She lingers a moment in that look, before smiling over the rim of her cup to Visenya once more. "Oh, of course," she agrees. "I suppose those people don't find it very difficult to apologise for such things. Or find the need to recite pertinent parts of history at parties. Are your dragons about to hatch, Princess?" She flutters her lashes, and sips again.

Eonn stays at Daevon's side, to go over to the food. He seems quite interested, really. He does say he's always hungry. He looks it now.

Tellur says "Errr, well, I shouldn't really comment about regretable choices, being a bastard…" Cough cough. He says to Carolis "Is…what is the idea?"

There's a bit of a grimace on Riderch's part as he catches some of the conversation going on around him. Rather than lingering further he purses his lips, narrows his eyes, and makes his way around towards the Manse's exit for some fresh air. "Thank you for the hospitality. This was — unexpected. And in a pleasant way." He pauses a moment. "That is not exactly a common thing, these days." A half-smile flickers back on to his face, and he drifts on out. His walk is even mostly steady. That's something.

Riderch goes into the manse.

"I recited it in response to Ser Riderch's question. I didn't realize I would be attacked for saying something so topical." Visenya retorts with a look of mild irritation. "I forget that some people can be sensitive about things that happened literally a hundred years ago. And I'm working out how to hatch them now. And once I do I might even let you have a look at them because dragons are the bestest thing ever." She tosses back her glass of wine, and holds it up for a refill. Yep. That's obviously what she needs now. "Buildings? Goodness, buildings can be rebuilt."

Tellur tries to clear his head a little, refocusing on Visenya. Something about all of this is making him uncertain, suddenly. As if he is realising that he is in a dragon's den, drunk, and kicked back. He struggles up to his feet suddenly, and he says, clearly seeking a distraction that will not upset anyone "Perhaps dancing…"

Carolis looks uncertain about telling Tellur about his idea. After all, if it burns down half the city, there will be witnesses who heard it here first. "It's quite simple, really." That's his idea, Tellur. Tellur realizes he's in a dragon's den. Carolis realizes he's surrounded by astonishingly pretty women. He glances between them, perhaps assessing how close they are to a fight erupting. "I wouldn't mind a dance, but I'll defer to you, ladies."

Eonn manages to gather quite a plateload before slipping off under that big quince tree with the food.

"Oh yes, we're oversensitive," retorts Keyte in kind, unwisely downing the rest of her drink. "If it happened so long ago, why do you and your kin take such pains to remind us of our subservience, great Princess? When your dragons hatch, I hope they regard you the same way you regard the rest of us — inferior, disposable. It's a wonder the smallborn girls cry after your dresses, when you stand here and call their homes and possibly their lives replaceable." She huffs and almighty hmph. HMPH. "You are insufferable, and I say that as a lady of House Tyrell — gods only know the benchmark is set rather high, in my home." And on that note, she turns to go. Where? Who knows. NOT HERE.

Eonn stops just before he reaches the tree, and turns to look towards Keyte and Visenya. Slowly, he sets his plate down. One of those cats that follows him about so much starts to pick at it, but he pays it no mind, instead starting towards Visenya.

Visenya stands up, and shouts to the departing Keyte/Kesha. "Yeah, well YOU'RE MEAN! You're mean, and you just think I'm insufferable because you think you're special, and you think everyone should have to KISS YOUR ARSE BECAUSE THE TRUTH IS YOU'RE JUST AS MUCH OF A SNOB AS I AM!" And then her face crumples, and a few fat tears slide down her face. "Everyone is mean to me, and they always get away with it, but when I'm mean it's oh Visenya's crazy! Visenya's just mean and crazy!"

Tellur shoots Carolis a half-panicked look. HELP WHAT DO I DO?! He clears his throat and then he says nervously "Carol!" It is mostly a hiss "Offer the pretty girl a _dance_!" THAT WILL FIX IT ALL.

"Ooooh," Keyte smoulders, turning on her heels just as quickly as she'd tried to leave. "Nobody needs kiss my — heavens, I won't say it, that's so foul!! We could have been friends, we should have been allies, but you rub it in my face how much better you are, every time we meet. I'm sure you're VERY LOVELY, I WISH I'D BEEN AROUND TO SEE IT SOMETIME!" The girls have gotten a bit out of hand, thankyou wine. Keyte's red and flushed and balling fists at her side, and she seethes with gritted teeth so obviously in Visenya's direction, trying to sum up the courage to turn again and go.

Eonn moves to stand at Visenya's side. "My princess," he says.

Carolis winces as the disagreement escalates. Okay, maybe the idea of them breaking out in a fight isn't as inexplicably appealing as it was at first thought. "My ladies…" So quietly spoken, probably unheard. Tellur offers his advice, and he just gives the man a Look. "Tellur, perhaps you could escort the lovely lady to some refreshment." Stuff some starch in her, boy, that'll sober her up. He then looks to Visenya and Eonn, then to Elionys. In a low tone, he says, "I don't think you're crazy, Princess. I think you're brilliant."

Tellur stands, waveringly, but then he is moving off to Keyte, and he offers her his arm. He is not a very large man, but even drunk, he is a very intent one, the sort of intent that comes with not blinking quiiiite enough "My Lady, as someone who's usual response to everything is a punch, let us go there - to the sweet table. Because at the very least, someone needs to eat the head off that confection." He gestures to the lizard formed out of glittering sugar.

"How do I rub it in your face?!" Visenya yells back, and then slurps down more wine. She's swaying a bit as she yells. "You take everything I say, and you twist it around into me being this horrible person! I explain something historical to Ser Riderch, and suddenly I'm trying to remind you of your place! I say OUR building are replaceable, and suddenly I don't care about smallfolk! No matter what I do I'm horrible! Nevermind how mean you've been to me! Nevermind that you start fights with me! I can't do anything to please you, and no matter how hard I try to apologize and make amends with you you just think I'm horrible so it doesn't really matter." She finishes off her cup of wine, "I'm fine, Eonn." Carolis gets a grateful look, "Thank you."

"You came to my home, and as my cousin insulted you I stood up for you," Keyte snarls back at Visenya, before Tellur's offering his arm, interjecting. She glances to the man, so tall, and somewhat imposing this close up. Huh. "I'm not hungry," says the Tyrell, "And I'm certainly not staying to weather more of this. When you apologise sincerely, it doesn't look like you've sand in your underclothes." This last, she directs again toward poor Visenya. "You're not crazy — to call you crazy would mean you weren't sincere when you're so smug. Perhaps try being nice for once, actually nice." She stops, looks again to Tellur, and huffs once more, defeated. "I can see myself out," says the girl with sagging shoulders, seemingly realising all of a sudden just what she's done. Oops.

"If I didn't think you were my equal I wouldn't be embarrassing myself right now with this shouted exchange! And I didn't know you defended me to your cousin!" Visenya deflates then, and a few more tears slips down her cheeks, and she says in a softer, broken voice, "So thank you. I really thought you all just sat around and said horrible things about me." And then she stops shouting. "I'm hungry." She says suddenly, "I could eat everything, really." She snuffles back more tears, and staggers towards one of the food tables to eat her feelings.

Carolis gives Tellur a small shrug. You did your best, man, and you may live to tell the tale. He looks around for Daevon then, relying on the quaint Starkian notion that family is always a good thing. "Would you mind company, Princess?" he asks. He's got some feelings to eat, too. Namely hunger. What. That lizard thing sounded delicious.

Eonn looks bemused. He shrugs, as if to himself, and goes back to where he left his plate. He doesn't seem to worry about the cat, just picks up the food and ducks between the branches of the quince tree.

Tellur says to Keyte "Yes, but do you actually _want_ to, or would you prefer company?" Tellur's sort of imposing is less that of a bulky, muscled knight, and more like that of a sinewy wolf. Which is. Not reassuring, really, at all. He adds, more gently "It is no trouble at all."

"Well I don't mind," Keyte lies through her teeth, glancing over to Visenya again for the other girl's thanks. Her smile is thin, one of those 'oh well, we're misunderstood' kind of things. Perhaps they can talk on it later. "You probably want to stay and dance and things," she tells Tellur, rather resigned. "It's fine, I'm sure my sister will be outside, or at home, or… somewhere."

"There certainly is enough room for both of us, isn't there?" Visenya says absently to Carolis as she rather deliberately slices into a nice bloody haunch of roast beef. SAW SAW SAW. "Do you want some of this?" She's trying very hard not to look in Keyte's direction now, and is still snuffling back tears. Instead, she slaps the carved piece of roast beef onto her plate.

Carolis regards the slab of beef, and it takes no small portion of his willpower not to say hell yeah I want some. He glances to Tellur and Keyte (or is it Kesha?) and hesitates, though. He steels himself, licks his lips, and says, "I will join you in a moment, Princess, I should see to my man first." He doesn't even think about the reassuring squeeze on the arm he gives her. The gesture just comes naturally. He gives the beef a glance. Soon, precious. Soon. Then he steps away toward Tellur and the Tyrell lady.

Tellur watches Eonn move, thoughtfully - the man has him curious. But then he says to the woman "I can't dance, I fear. Actually, I can't dance, sing, play instruments, speak prettily, interpret, do embroidery, or anything like that." He adds "I can swear a lot, though, and I am very good at being shot by Wildlings."

"Oh," says Keyte, rather flat. "I don't swear," as has just been seen, in rather shouty overtones. "I suppose I don't mind if you do, though. Everyone seems to, at some point. I… have never been shot by a Wildling, either. I'm sorry, but I can't stay here." There's an apologetic shake of her head, and she curtsies politely to Tellur, adding in a smaller voice, "Thank you for your kindness," before turning to go. Really go, this time.

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