(121-05-23) Targaryens Grow On Trees
Targaryens Grow On Trees
Summary: Elionys visits the White Stone Manse by an unusual way.
Date: Date of play (23/05/2014)
Related: The Rise and Fall of Lady Blackmont

Walled Garden - White Stone Manse Starry Street
Fri May 23, 121 ((Fri May 23 17:40:50 2014))
It is a summer evening. The weather is warm and overcast.

This manse has a large walled garden behind. The tall stone walls have 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 a stable, a kennels, and a mews. These utilitarian areas are separated from the garden proper by a low stone wall with a gateless entry. It's thickly growing with clematis vines bearing pale purple flowers.

The garden proper has white stone paths and is planted with flowerbeds and flowering trees. Most of the blooms are white and pale blushing pink shades. Near the house is a tall cherry tree that frequently bears a profusion of sweet fruit.

At the center of the garden is a large seven-sided fountain of white marble, filling the air with the sound of its splashing water. Tiny silvery fish live in it.

It's not the largest garden to be found in Oldtown, but it is large enough with the white stonework and collumns of the mans giving way to bleached stone paths through the plant life which is a mix of both local and foreign specimens like a dash of homes for the various Dornish that reside in the manse itself. It is quiet now and nearly empty, perhaps owing to the overcast skies that do not serve to draw people out of doors so easily. At least one person is out and about, though, walking the paths around the large fountain and beyond, straying from them on occasion as well. Arnau Blackmont walks with a slow, steady step, like an easy stroll except that his posture is straight shouldered, hands clasped behind his back. Except when he gestures occasionally, seemingly talking to himself as he goes. Or singing, perhaps, quietly. He takes a break from all of this, to stand near one of the fruit-bearing trees along the wall, examining a low-hanging branch.

Though he can't see it, it's just as quiet in the garden on the other side of the wall, the pathway that leads through the plants and trees empty, save for one figure. Or rather, that one figure was on the path, but now she's carefully making her way up a decently sized tree along that helps to provide privacy from the neighboring manse. It might be the rustling of the leaves, or the way the branches way that he notices on this otherwise still day, and if not that, once high enough, the flash of that pale, silvery-blonde hair as Elionys crests the wall and looks down into the garden beyond.

Those trees are much appreciated for their many advantages. Providing beauty, shade, fruit…as well as a little extra privacy and buffering that the stone walls alone do not quite provide. Certainly some nights the neighbors must be grateful for it. No one likes a loud party next door — especially if it is one they have not been invited to. There are no parties now, just lone people enjoying an early evening, the sun only just beginning to set. "Put him in the long boat..," Arnau mutter-sings under his breath, which would probably sound nice if he weren't trying to whisper, idly pulling some cherries off the tree and eating a couple before dropping the seeds to the ground. "…'til he's sober."

Elionys carefully balances on the branch, looking down into the garden for too long to not be called snooping, even if it's relatively innocent snooping. She leeeeans forward slightly in an attempt to hear those quietly sung words without much success, finally going so far that she sets one foot against the wall itself to keep from falling. Finally, "Hello," is offered with some cheer.

Somewhere nearby, a leaf flutters to the ground, removed untimely from a branch by groping, balancing hands. But it is not as though leaves are unusual in a garden. They are all up in the trees. People, however, are far more unusual to find in the trees. "Pull out…" Arnau cuts off, startled by the greeting from above, one hand immediately going to a dagger at his belt as he steps forward and looks up to see…oh. Though his hand remains on the pommel of the weapon, the touch is considerably relaxed. "I know there are many of you, but I did not expect that you truly grew on trees," he says drolly, stepping closer and looking up. Hello.

One hand parts from the branch, held up palm forward as though to show she's not any sort of threat. "There are a lot of us, aren't there?" asks Elionys with visible amusement as she pushes forward off the branch so that her other foot joins the first, and she's left balancing atop the wall, one hand still clutching the branch that's now behind her. "I am probably the only one in the trees, though," she adds, "Lucky for you."

"Tchhhhhhh. So so very lax of a place considered a fortress for the Dornish in Westeros, no? And to think, I only came into this house in the front of the door." A lilting accent carries a voice tinged with dry amusement as a Dornishman clad in bright colors steps from the house into the garden now. Parizad Uller's purple cloak flaps a little as he takes a few steps in, clearing the distance across one of the stone paths. He is weaponless, likely a habit he has picked up being in this building. If only when visiting this building. He is also alone. "Is this the vanguard of the Westerosi? Then perhaps this house is doomed. Perhaps we are all doomed, no?"

She's not any sort of obvious threat. Though Arnau isn't yelling for the guards or anything either. One, because yelling for guards to help you with a young girl would be really embarrassing. Two, because this looks a little too ridiculous to be threatening. "Despite your inclinations to marry one another, there are," he replies, low and clear, a dry amusement shifting along the words like sand. "Yes, I am a man defined by how lucky he is." Dry, dry, dry. This is only accentuated by the look he throws over his shoulder at another approaching, to whom he answers approximately none of the questions posed. His chest rises and falls in a sigh.

"It would be a little bit difficult for you to take the route I did," Elionys admits to Parizad, glancing over her shoulder into the garden at her back. "First you would have to get into the garden, and then be left alone long enough to do something like climb a tree." The smile that she gives the man in the purple cloak dims somewhat as her gaze goes back to Arnau. "We do not always do that, and those that do… they can have children," she says, carefully, not mentioning the fact that some of those children are deformed, or mad, or both. It's a mess, really. "You're Yael's husband, aren't you? Lord Blackmont?"

"Difficult?" Parizad considers this statement a moment as he takes in the unfolding situation. Both Elionys and Arnau. Both of whom he has encountered before, and both who might in fact remember him. And then he smiles a particularly vulpine smile as his disturbingly clean boots press against the stone path. "First you get three eunuchs to dress up as maids. Then they will — do what is necessary to make sure the guards are indisposed. A signal will be sent, then the gate opens. Oh, I cannot tell these stories that well. "Then climb the trees, and then, well, there you have it." He waves an imperious wave towards Elionys, backhanded. "One Targaryen Princess climbing over a wall is not that different, although of no concern to me. It is good to see you again, Blood of the Dragon and Blood of Maelys."

Arnau now gets his full attention. "I see you in good health, Lord of House Blackmont. Do you reside in this place?" Before waiting for the Dornishman to follow up, he hastily explains, "Princess Ellia and I have come to an, mm, accord of sorts. I wish friendship with House Martell, and the oath she had me swear shall be sufficient." Yes, he's all smiles, this one.

"That is the point of marriage, is it not?" Says the childless Arnau Blackmont, but he is of course only replying to the Targaryen in the tree for her comment. It's a strange way to hold a conversation, him standing in the grassy area looking up to hold one with Elionys from beneath her, and possibly a little indecent, though he does not think of that himself. His answer for her question is far more direct and simple. "I am." The mildly infamous Lord Blackmont to some. "I am," he further says to Parizad after a pause, this time in answer to both his health and his residency at the manse. It is very succinct. "Sufficient to keep you from breaking whatever oath you swore to her, you mean?"

"If you think that maids are enough to distract the guards in this household, it's possible you've only encountered very bad guards," Elionys suggests to Parizad. "I'm sure that it might work in some other houses here, but probably not this one." She hopes. She may have to test the theory later. "And it is different if I'm climbing the wall, as the side I'm coming from belongs to my family, which makes it all rather easier for me." She pauses, considering the (once?) exiled Dornishman, "It's good to see you again as well." The potential for indecency in the conversation is at least somewhat mitigated by the length of her gown, at least it is for now, that may change somewhat should she attempt to climb down. "I don't think we've met properly," this she says to Arnau, and it's followed again by a smile. "I'm Elionys." She leaves off the surname, as that is rather obvious.

"I have seen some very sad, sad guards in my days. Princess. One should never overestimate the ability of an armsman, whatever he may claim his allegiance is." Parizad says, crossing his arms as he takes a few steps and leans one open hand against a tree, watching the whole exchange unfold with a certain bemusement. "Which is a very long way of saying I have seen some very bad guards in my years." He trails off in a peal of soft laughter. "But I salute your greeting."

He wears a relaxed smile as he stares down his hawklike nose, and then tilts his head at Arnau. "This is an amusing thing. Kill hundreds of men in war, you are awarded gold and riches. Kill an armed man in a duel, and men cry like babies. If you are suggesting I would break a blood oath I forgive the fact that you know very little of me, or the men who follow my Path. There is a power in that sort of thing, and I will have you know that the oath I swore extends to those under House Martell's hospitality or protection." The men of the Hellholt have a reputation for being half-mad, and the way he carries himself does nothing to banish said rumors. "I hope your Lady Wife with the good Myrish Tongue shares your good health. She is charming and you are blessed, my Lord.."

"Arnau," he supplies of his own first name, though he seems for a moment tempted to say the whole thing before he refrains and just supplies the missing piece. "Although I do not know if this fits the definition of a proper meeting, still," he points out, literally pointing upwards at her and the tree. It's not a rebuff, though it may sound like it, a subtle smile crinkling the corners of his eyes for the scene. "You are only award gold and riches from war if you win it," he points out dryly to Parizad, looking unimpressed. "How gracious of you," he says flatly to the man forgiving him for assuming an exile who keeps the company of Maelys might break his word. Lord Blackmont does not seem any more at ease, whatever the other claims. "I would not have it be any other way," is said of his wife's heath with a smile that is quick and sharp. "That is what they say of me — lucky and blessed."

"I suppose that's true," Elionys allows with a faint frown and brief crinkling of her brow. Yes, there is likely to be some testing on this later. Poor guards. "No, this isn't the most proper way to meet, is it?" She follows this with a laugh, looking down at Arnau with a smile. "But it's nice to meet you, all the same." She leans foward just slightly, eyeing the distance between her perch and the ground below. "Do you mind if I come down?" Provided she can make it down without falling. It's only after she asks that she looks around their side of the wall for a tree that might be sturdy enough to support her on this proposed climb into the Dornish side of the wall.

"You look at me like I invented the enterprise of warfare and I am truly wounded, m'lord." While Parizad still smiles, it's held from its previous expression. He remains by his chosen tree and starts examining the nails of his free hand, bending downwards to obtain a sharp rock and beginning to clean them with a series of clean swipes. "I would hope it is not any other way either." The Uller man is all smiles, as he looks between Arnau and Elionys.

"What is proper in a land where up is down and left is right? And — do not do one thing or another on my account. I am merely a sinister sort of guest in this place."

"Yes. It is better than the previous circumstances, even as you are in a tree." Arnau does not exactly project a lot of warmth into that, but given that the previous circumstances involved some hard words and a challenge laid, he might be forgiven. Although by the same token, he's certainly more friendly (by his standards of it) than before. "You have my permission to enter the grounds, princess," he allows, mouth skewing a touch wry for the unusual entrance. If he lingers beneath the tree, well, he is possibly a little concerned for Elionys being able to descend with as much ease as she ascended. No one praises dragons for their ability to land. A bland look is cast over at Parizad. He is not a man given to smiles. "I would have thought you would be flattered." It's doubtful he meant to flatter. He certainly doesn't correct the other man as he declares himself a sinister sort of guest.

"To hear my uncle speak, you and he might have," Elionys says of the purple cloaked man and warfare. She releases the branch and carefully balances without any handhold, seeming steady and comfortable enough as she shuffles down a few feet, nearer a sturdy branch on their side of the wall. "This is better circumstances, isn't it?" she asks, pausing to heave a soft sigh. "I don't imagine that went as anyone wanted it to." Now is when their respective positions might be looked on as inappropriate, and why climbing trees in dresses is generally a bad idea, or one of the reasons that it is. With the hand not clutching the branch, she lifts the hem of her skirt enough that her boots won't catch on it as she makes the short jump from the wall to the branch that she hopes is sturdy enough to hold her.

Unlike a certain class of Dornish, Parizad Uller neither comments on nor makes visual note of any potential wardrobe mishaps Elionys might endure as he continues to inspect his nails with the rock. "Indeed - those were things that might have/ happened, Dragonsblooded Princess. But they were a long time ago, and a man can grow weary of such things." He looks over at the Targaryen girl with a cool-eyed smirk, still attending them, before bounding away from the tree and taking a few steps deeper towards Arnau.

"Oh, it is easy to flatter one such as myself, no? I feel as though I have lost a sort of — common ground with my countrymen and this troubles me."

"Please do not fall and injure yourself, Princess. I do not imagine the circumstances would remain better if I were to return you to your family harmed," Arnau advises as he watches Elionys climb down with a sharp, green eyed gaze that is more interested in her wellfare than her wardrobe. "I doubt greatly it would be believed an accident." The Dornish do have something of a reputation, deserved or not, and the Blackmonts especially — enough to at least make people wonder. There is a brief glance spared to Parizad, sensing the other man approaching suddenly after idly leaning against his own tree. "Being exiled will do that," he says of losing common ground with one's countrymen.

That little jump is successful, balance maintained on the branch that does, for the time being, hold Elionys' weight. "I suppose if anything can make one weary if they overindulge in it," she points out once safely on the branch, head angling down as she searches for her next step. "Don't worry, my lord, I have no plans on doing that." She pauses, then looks around to Arnau with a grin. "I suppose no one plans those sorts of things, do they? Don't worry, this isn't my first time climbing trees, and I almost never fall." Almost never. That's reassuring, right?

"It's a hard life." Parizad admits to Arnau with good cheer. "As will being stuffed in a box, with nothing to do until your captors let you free." He finishes buffing his nails and throws the rock away with a lazy swipe. "Fortunately I am neither of this things, no?" He looks again from Dornish Lord to Targaryen princess and has naught but a muted smile. "So this is what they have you do here, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?"

Arnau has his mouth open to tell Elionys just that when she beats him to it. He closes his mouth, expression a little slanted before he speaks again. Ahem. "People do not plan to fall, no," he agrees and is not the sort of person who would imagine doing so deliberately just for attention. If he looks wary of the tree and her ability to get to the ground safely still, don't take it too much to heart. She did say almost never. "Perhaps," he non-commitally replies to Parizad, eyes still pointed upwards. Briefly, he looks at the other Dornish man, brows twitching. "I do not know what you mean."

Elionys seems fairly capable in this whole tree climbing endeavor, or at the very least, not terribly afraid, which really is half the battle with these sorts of things. The trouble arises when she reaches a branch that is still some distnace from the ground, a few feet higher than she is tall, and there she lingers for the present. "This is what who has who do?" she asks, canting her head as she looks through the branches at Parizad. "This isn't what I usually do, but it seemed like a good idea earlier, and look, now I've found myself company." Even if she's stuck in a tree.

"The first thing one must know in war, is to understand you know nothing. Because somebody planted a tree where it cannot be seen." Parizad seems highly amused at the Targaryen's antics, even if he offers no immediate help. "There are no good ideas. Only brilliant ideas. Always remember that. I imagine your blood to be fearless and I see no reason to let something as trivial as a tree get in the way of that." He furrows his cloak about his shoulders as he does walk closer.

""I imagine you would not. As a sitting Lord. And I mean no disrespect." To Arnau now, with that brilliant half-smile. "I see you have this matter in hand, no?"

"You are offering a lot of…advice for someone who knows nothing," Arnau drawls with a bored sort of expression, pointing out the contradiction Parazad's advice as well as some of the ignorance his words reveal.

"The people who know the least offer the most advice," Elionys remarks in a thoughtless sort of way that suggests it's something she's been told more than once. She shuffle sideways down the branch, toward the trunk, but that really only serves to get her closer to the trunk and offers little in the way branches that will help her get down. Hmph. "I might need some help," she admits, sounding sheepish.

"Well, I see you can function well, then." Parizad's rhetorical feathers ruffle. "Hhmmph. These were merely issues of warfare, of which, I know a small thing about. If Gold was involved, it would only signify a measure of success." The man's broad shoulders rise and fall in a pointed shrug. "But I would imagine a man as, mmm…successful in the matters of warfare as the Lord Blackmont would be in no need of encouragement and assistance, and as a result, I would offer none." The smile on his face never, ever, ever fades. "I will leave you to assisting his poor Princess in her infiltration of this dastardly camp."

If Elionys offered a phrase that offended him, he does not take it. Then again, he already named her as an associate of his former comrade. "Princess Elionys. It is a pleasure to have seen you navigate this little maze. Perhaps this will make Princess Ellia be more wary of potential threats from those less — pleasant than yourself, no?"

"Which is it, then? A small thing, or nothing? Even you seem unsure of what you know." There is a deliberate blandness to Arnau's expression as he replies to Parizad, as though he has no feathers to ruffle, irregardless of the truth. He would perhaps be a mountain if he could and not a man. Sharply do his green eyes flick a glance towards the other Dornish man, forgetting Elionys for a second and one might think the remarks on success have found a mark, if maybe not the one they sought He smiles, but it is not a friendly smile, cutting and a little haughty. "And as you seem a man who knows only how to assist himself, I would expect nothing less." He does not turn his back on Parizad — whatever the man promised he is not taking that risk — but he does turn away and offer Elionys a hand finally. "Since I have been given permission by the mighty, wise warlord who has graced us with his company…let me help you down, Princess."

"Is she afraid of my family?" asks Elionys as she looks up from the unhelpful branches to Parizad, brows a few shades darker than her hair creeping up. While the men are occupied with their exchange, she places one hand against the trunk and the other on a lower, slender branch, slowly lowering so that rather than standing, she's sitting on the thicker bough with her legs dangling over the side. Her hand angles down at the one that's offered up at her, while the grips the lower, thinner branch. It's hard to say whether or not she intended to jump, or if she slipped, but not startled sound passes her lips as she falls toward the ground.

"No. In fact, she advised me to bring no Westerosi in except for Prince Maelys." Parizad says to Elionys, matter-of-factly. "Who is a gracious host, I must add. Whatever his thoughts on Myrish crossbowmen are. Tcch. I never understood that. Even if it worked. The pikemen were so much higher quality. So no, with that advisement, I can safely say she trusted at least one of your family enough to admit them, and with an impending marriage, I am sure to see Princess Mariya's intended stomping around here, even though I had not seen this knight for myself." He provides a sort of hapless shrug, even still smiling at the girl as Arnau helps her down.

"Well, Lord Arnau. It is a small thing, but enough, I would be certain." Unarmed or no, he does still not seem ill-at-ease. Although his final response towards Lord Blackmont is a touch defiant. "Perhaps my assistance would be applied carefully in the future. Should this Quillian Oakheart imagine some slight by the Dornish, I am sure you would have the matter well in hand, mm?" He turns on his heel, chuckling. And his back is actually turned towards Arnau. Unarmed, again. "The Lord of Light defends us all, Lord Arnau. Even you, should you only choose to hear his calls. I would embrace you as a comrade one day, and we will make these brigands scream for their souls."

Though Arnau is armed, it is only by a dagger, and not a thing he pays much mind to as Parizad speaks. His words are considerably more succinct than the other man's. "Well in hand. More than your Prince Maelys, certainly," replies the Lord Blackmont, stiff backed and straight shoulders, not out of tension, but just as is his way, like the mountains from whence he came. "I have no need of a god of fanaticals. The ones I hunt have no souls." The tone of his statement says 'you are dismissed'. It is a regal gesture that is somewhat ruined by an actual princess losing grip on her perch and falling out of the tree to the surprise of them both. He had expected her to take his hand, as a guide, not jump (or fall) and for a moment he is startled to somewhat comedic effect, dark brows lifted over wider eyes before he steps forward to catch Elionys — and not as gracefully as he may have wished, mouth pressed into a flat line. "Mmf."

If Elionys had planned to make any sort of reply to Parizad, it's completely forgotten as she goes toppling out of the tree. Rather than hit the ground, she finds herself rather awkwardly caught by the Lord Blackmont, which is far preferrable to hitting the ground, not that the distance was like to kill her, but at the very least, it would have left bruises. There is a moment where her hands go to Arnau's shoulders, holding tight to him before she releases a flustered little laugh. "I'm sorry. I-… that was an accident." She pauses a moment. "Next time I'll pick a better tree." Or, you know, pay a visit the normal way.

"It was a good enough tree because it did what it needed to do." Parizad's observation comes flatly, with some small bit of dry humor. "And now the great assault on the Manse of House Martell begins. Forgive my faithless and self-serving nature for fleeing this scene of carnage, yet I figure that Lord Arnau Blackmont has the matter well in hand." The strange Dornishman narrates, with an even stranger dialect, as he glances behind his shoulder, giving his purple cloak a little flip.

"Maybe Maelys should have fought for the Reach. I hear they pay better. A terrible truth about Sellswords, mm?"

The look he shoots the man as 'fanaticals' is mentioned is just met with a glimmer of disappointment. "You mistake me. The Lord of Light cares not for the blind follower. But the mysic, and the men who question are always welcome."

With that cheery delivery, he bounds out, but not without a gracious smile to both Arnau and Elionys. "As they say — the night is young. And dark. And full of terrors. I should see to all of it."

It's insulting, really, how little attention Arnau pays the strange Dornishman who flips his cloak as he marches away. "Perhaps he should have. They would have been too busy fighting each other, then," he says of Maelys with a flat expression over Elionys and at the other's back. If he is afraid of the terrors in the dark, he does not look it, stony-face and staring at the entrance-way into the manse for a couple seconds before he shakes his head. "Perhaps you know on the door next time?" He suggests to the Targaryen, carefully setting her feet down on the ground with ease. Whatever may be said about the Dornish and their ways, he does not take advantage of the situation, however improper it has looked at times. "The garden may not be occupied with welcoming faces should you decide to spy on us again, Princess." There is a subtle humor there, hard to read.

"Thank you," Elionys says again as she's set on her feet, both hands smoothing the gown that is slightly disheveled from the fall, though it's easy to right. "I didn't mean to spy," she admits, glancing back at the tree. "That wasn't truly the plan." There is a pause. "Not when I started, at least. I was just seeing how easy it would have been for Yael to climb over here, I suppose. She tried to. Did she tell you?" she asks, the corners of her mouth curling up into a fond little smile for the Dornishwoman. "She didn't know that you all were so close, and I didn't know that she didn't know it. We were going to climb over here right before you all came to get her," she admits.

"Did she?" Arnau's dark brows rise a little towards his hair as he cants his head towards Elionys, the humor more easy to read on his features this time, there at the corners of his eyes or in the minor curve of his lips. As she continues to explain there is a little twinkle in his green eyes, perhaps for imagining his wife trying to climb over the wall. He chuckles, a quiet noise like a distance echo in a cave, then says, "She had said she did not know how close the Dornish people were." It is not quite the same as saying one was trying to climb for freedom. "Hmm, I am uncertain if my timing was very good or very poor, in that case." It's not something he sounds like he intends to ponder over much. What is done is done.

"Yes," Elionys replies with a quiet laugh and subtle shake of her head. "She didn't understand why Daevon wished her to stay, and to be honest, I didn't either. So," she makes an open handed gesture. "I'm not sure if it was or not. Could you have imagined the surprise of us both coming over the wall? Ah, but I am glad she was able to leave, either way. Not that I didn't enjoy her company, I did, very much, but it's a special sort of misery, being trapped somewhere you don't wish to be."

"Nor do I understand, aside from a mistrust of my people, or perhaps too much value in his own." He does not qualify such a statement with 'no offense', though given that Elionys has just witnessed him giving a lot of offense, it's clear enough that isn't his intent with those words. "I prefer to imagine the surprise of your family's face that she, and you, had gone. I would hope that you would be greeted here graciously by mien own rather than at the point of a spear." He was absent from the manse for a time, waiting to be ransomed, but his people were still here. Arnau inclines his head towards her in agreement. "That it is, princess. She suffered too much of that."

"It could have been either," Elionys admits with a slight shake of her head. "If I am honest, I think it was misguided good intentions on his part, rather than anything underhanded. Daevon doesn't do underhanded very well. Either way, it was unfair to do to Yael, especially after what she went through before." She pauses, glancing the way of the manse, then back again. "Is she well? I've not been able to see too much of her since she left."

"The answer, when presented with two options, is usually some amount of both." There is a certain amount of general wisdom in that, meaning 'few things are absolutes'. "It was unfair," Arnau says, voice a little hard though his anger is not aimed at Elionys personally. "Sometimes I think my brother was right to challenge Ser Daevon, or that perhaps I should have, for what he put my wife through. Good intentions do not excuse poor choices." He glances at the wall, in the direction of the Targaryen manse, as if still considering marching over there with a sword. What he says is, "She is well. Would you like me to send a servant for her? You may see for yourself before you must be returned."

"No, it doesn't excuse his poor choices," Elionys agrees at once, and it's followed by a soft sigh. "I am sorry for it, if that means anything. I'm sorry that she suffered more than she already had." She glances down at her hands for a few moments, making no comment on whether or not duels should have happened. "I would very much like to see her, if she is accepting visitors now."

No words are forthcoming in accepting the apology, perhaps because Arnau feels it is not she who would need to seek his forgiveness. Though his does not in acknowledgement of what she has said. Close enough. "I will let her know who has come to call." So does the Lord Blackmont step away a moment, a few paces towards the doorway to the manse proper, summoning a servant whom he speaks to for a few moments, with more instructions than a simple 'find the Lady Yael and tell her Elionys Targaryen has come to call on her'. In the meantime, a few others will pull a table into the garden proper and set it with refreshments for the time this wall climbing guest will be a guest of the manse.

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