(121-05-30) Northern Delights: A Soiree at Garden Isle
Northern Delights: A Soiree at Garden Isle
Summary: Loryn Tyrell hosts a soiree in which the North presents its culture, food and music to the South. A cultural exchange if you will.
Date: 30/05/2014
Related: None

Garden Isle has opened its doors to host a soiree aimed to introduce Northern culture to the southerners of Oldtown. Two cooks have been supplied by the Starks and the Mormonts to come up with northern cuisine, which seems to consist on heavy gloopy stews and roasted meats mostly. Kegs of northern ale have been brought in as well. The table is set buffet-style for everyone to help himself as they wish and there are furs on the walls and on the chairs to imitate the cold north. Which is perhaps not a good idea in the heat of Oldtown, but open doors and windows are at least creating a draught. The evening is young yet and the first guests have arrived, mostly driven by the prospect of free food and booze, less by curiosity about another culture. The host of the evening, young Loryn Tyrell, has dressed himself in northern drab clothes for the evening, a far cry from his usual Tyrell gold and green. He is presently receiving a pair of knights, loyal bannermen to his house.

Dhraegon arrives in a carriage with a rather nodescript and harried little man who heards him into the Manse. Dhraegon himself stares at the surroundings rather blankly, mouth slightly open. He is announced as Prince Dhraegon Targaryen. The little man stays at his elbow.

Loryn looks a little surprised when he hears a Targaryen announced - a look changing to relief when he realizes it's not one of those Targaryens he's right now really busy avoiding. He excuses himself from the knights and heads over to greet the stranger. "Your Highness, what a honour to see you here. Welcome! I hope you will enjoy our little soiree. I am Lord Loryn Tyrell." He bows slightly with the introduction.

Andolin did not, in this heat, subject himself to northern dress, though he as usual has stuck to the usual Stark colors of grey and white. His manner is fairly casual, relaxed, and he finds Loryn without much difficulty, and he waits long enough for Loryn to greet the knights before sending a smile toward the Tyrell. "Well, you've certainly put some time into this."

Dhraegon peers at Loryn, blinking, then gives him a bright friendly smile. His speech is a little slow and very careful, as if he is reading a script. His voice is very deep. He smells of some expensive wood and resin cologne. "It is nice to meet you. I am just arrived in the city and Flox told me there was a party." He guestures to the fussy little man at his elbow, "This is Flox." He turns his innocently friendly smile at Andolin and waits for an introduction.

"Indeed, it's a little attempt to introduce northern culture to the south… a little… cultural exchange, shall we say? So the seven kingdoms learn to understand each other a little better.", he tries to explain and smiles brightly when Andolin appears by their side. "Andy, meet Prince Dhraegon Targaryen who's honoring us with his presence here. This is Lord Andolin Stark of Winterfell. We borrowed one of your cooks for this.", he explains to Andy, nodding towards the table laden with food.

"I heard," Andolin agrees with a nod. "They were packing up some things to bring over this morning." At the introduction, he offers an easy smile over to the Targaryen. "A pleasure, Your Grace."

Brynden steps in a little slowly now, looking around for a few brief moments. Keeping silent as he watches the decorations at the moment.

Dhraegon nods wisely, "It is good when people get along. I like making friends." He mouths their names several times silently, his brow furrowing as he makes the effort to remember them. A small, harried looking non-descript little man is always at his elbow. Prince Dhraegon's speech is a little slow and very careful, as if he is reading a script. His voice is very deep. "You are from the North, Lord Andolin? I would like to see snow sometime."

A servant appears by their elbows, offering mugs of ale on a tray for them all, including Dhraegon's companion. Loryn takes a mug for himself and while he lets the Stark and the Targaryen chat, he spots Brynden arrive and smiles. "Ser Brynden, you've come!", he says, looking delighted as he heads over, "Please help yourself to some food from the table and there's kegs of actual northern ale.", he explains, "And come meet Prince Dhraegon and my friend, Lord Andolin Stark…"

"Well, there is certainly a lot of it up there," Andolin offers to Dhraegon with a little grin. "And yes, I've only been here for a little while, now. Still getting used to this heat." He glances over as Loryn heads over to Brynden, offering the knight a bit of a smile as well. He's distracted by the ale, though, which he certainly takes. Booze is awesome.

A few heads turn and a few eyes widen in surprise at the latest arrival. Lord Arion Florent strides in with his head held high and glances around the room as if expecting something. He soaks up the attention with the ease and grace of a well practiced drama king not minding the whispers and stares he seems to get. He winds his way though the room heading straight for where the booze is kept. The young lord is dressed in his usual neat and fashionable manner and he seems to be in fairly good spirits at the moment. He takes a tankard of ale for himself and sniffs it warily before taking a slow sip his eyes wandering over the other guests idly.

Both Prince Dhraegon and his minder take mugs of ale. Dhraegon quaffs from his cheerfully enough. Flox takes a polite sip of his. Dhraegon drifts after Lord Loryn, smiling his too big, friendly smile at the new comers. His speech is a little slow and very careful, as if he is reading a script. His voice is very deep. "I like heat."

Brynden smiles at Loryn as he hears the man. "I'm only able to be here for a little while, though. I have to head out at some point to catch up with the group going hunting." Words spoken a bit softly, before he offers a brief grin now. "I trust you have enough things happening to keep you out of trouble while we're away?" Nodding a bit again as he follows after Loryn back towards the others.

"I'm sure we'll be fine.", Loryn assures Brynden with a big smile, "I'm sorry I can't go hunting with you today. Have you met Prince Dhraegon yet?", he asks, doing the introductions again. "Your Grace, this is my mentor, Ser Brynden Hightower, I'm his squire at present." Then he gets distracted by the latest arrival and squints. "Fuck me, is that Arion?", he asks Andolin quietly, "I had no idea he was back?" Leaving the group behind, he heads over to greet the drama q… king. "Arion, hey! When did you get back to Oldtown? It's good to see you, man!", he greets the young Florent and opens his arms for a hug.

Andolin clearly has no idea who Arion is, as Loryn's question only earns a bit of a blink and a look over toward the Florent. He sends a wry smile back toward Dhraegon, though. "Have you been in Oldtown long?" Brynden gets a bit of a smile and a nod, too, as he approaches.

Arion is about the try the ale when Loryn makes his way over. The tankard is quickly placed on a table so Arion can hug Loryn. The blonde Florent practically flings himself into those arms and hugs the younger man tightly with a bright smile. "Loryn! Its so good to see you! I actually just arrived back in town very recently…like late yesterday evening in fact. You would not beleive how boring it is at Brightwater Keep these days. I almost went mad from not having anything fun to do. I hope Oldtown hasn't gotten boring since I've been gone?" He releases the Tyrell and steps back to a more polite distance.

Dhraegon quaffs more ale, "I am just arrived in Town today." His eyes go wide, "Oh! It is a pleasure to meet you Ser Bryndon. I have been sent to marry your kinswoman. I think." He looks a query to his minder. Flox supplies "Lady Adelais Hightower, Your Grace." Dhraegon nods enthusiastically, "Lady Adelais Hightower." he gives a confused look to Lord Loryn at his response to Lord Arion.

A small band is taking a stage that has obviously been prepared for them, nothing more than a small raised dais in a corner. They have a fiddle, a pipe and a drum between them and start making music - northern tunes obviously, loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to wreck conversations in the room.

Brynden nods a little, "it's okay, Loryn." A brief pauise, before he offers a momentary smile to Dhraegon now. "Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Prince Dhraegon," he offers, with a brief smile. "Welcome to Oldtown." Looking around at the various others present now, as well as offering a nod to Andolin as well.

Loryn holds Arion a moment longer than strictly necessary, apparently struggling with some words. "We'll have a chat later, you and me, alright?", he suggests softly, "I'm hosting this thing, so I have to greet people and everything, but we have so much to catch up on. But for now, drink and have fun, alright? It's a cultural soiree, see, a chance to introduce people here to the delights of the North. Borrowed a cook from the Starks and all, and I managed to find that band, they just arrived from the north as well. Good to see you, man.", he smiles and it's genuine.

Dhraegon smiles even wider at Brynden, "Thank you for your welcome." His foot taps arhythmically, presumably in response to the music. He appears completely baffled by Lord Loryn and Lord Arion's interaction. A small, harried looking non-descript little man is always at his elbow. Prince Dhraegon's speech is a little slow and very careful, as if he is reading a script. His voice is very deep. "What sort of dancing do they do in the North, Lord Andolin? Do they have cakes?" This last question seems to be of urgent importance to the Prince."

The entrance of Lady Mormont and the women from Bear Island must be a slight let down. They are dressed in dresses and gowns instead of chainmail. One of the women does carry the Valyrian bastard sword Longclaw in her arms. The precious sword is unsheathed, and sat down on a table for all who would like a chance to see the Valyrian blade.

The sword's wielder, Lady Maera Mormont, wanders over to the refreshment table for a vintage of ice wine common in the southern reaches of the North. She lightly sips the almost sickeningly sweet wine and surveys the crowd.

Arion nods to Loryn. "Alright we will talk later then. We do have alot to catch up on." Arion smiles faintly. "But for now I will mingle and enjoy the party as you seem to have done a very good job arranging it." He smiles a bit brighter and reaches for his tankard of ale. He takes a slow sip and makes a face his nose wrinkling. "Of course even the most delightful of events cannot make ale taste any better."

The Valyrian blade draws curious onlookers like a honey pot draws flies. Among them is Loryn himself once Arion has gone to mingle. The young Tyrell takes a look at the blade as well, then hurries to greet Maera. "Lady Maera, how wonderful of you to come - and to bring Longclaw. It truly is a sight to behold. Perhaps you'd like to explain its history to our guests? A part of northern culture? I'll ask the band to pause and help themselves to a drink…"

Brynden smiles a little as he listens now, looking between the others. A pause as he spots the lady with the sword, before he offers her a polite nod.

Carolis arrives dressed like a Northron. Over a slate grey wool shirt is a long tunic of soft brown leather with a high collar and studded belt. Sheathed there is a dagger bound with a peace tie; it's just for show, particularly the bone and leather hilt with a snarling head of a dire wolf on the pommel. He insinuates himself amidst the gathering, and the first order of business is to snag a few pieces of Northron shortbread. Mmm, nothing tastes as homey as butter and sugar.

"No. No I really wouldn't." Maera offers Loryn a slow little smile before she sips from her cup of wine. "My women are here. We've come to be gawked at along with Longclaw. I think that's more than enough." Another sip is taken, "How is it then, Lord Loryn?"

"Of course they do," Andolin says with a grin, but then he's distracted by his cousin's arrival. "Carolis! Have you met Prince Dhraegon Targaryen? He's just arrived in town." Yes, let's shove all those kind of questions neatly off into his more bookish cousin.

Dhraegon spots the shortbread and bustles over there, now someone has drawn his attention to it. Apparently he is someone for whom food is a stronger draw than weapons. His minder bustles after him, and tugs his sleeve as he gets close to the table. His face falls as Flox holds up two fingers. Dhraegon nods, pouting a little. He addresses Lord Carolis with a delivery reminiscent of a child reciting rehersed pleasantries. "Greetings, I am Prince Dhraegon Targaryen. It is nice to meet you." More eagerly, "What sort of cakes are these?"

Ah, Lady Maera, I had not taken you for such a cynic.", Loryn smiles at the Mormont lady, "It is an occasion for us southrons to experience northern culture, music and food. In due course, others will be able to introduce their local customs to us. A mutual exchange, I'd say…" He watches Carolis arrive and go straight for the food with a chuckle. "See? Your northern brethren are glad to encounter some things from home here. Please do enjoy yourself.", he urges, before he goes over to greet Carolis. "Hey man, good to see you!" He then leans in to whisper something into the young Stark's ear.

Carolis gives Andolin some side-eye. Yeah, he knows what you're doing, there. Loryn's whisper catches his attention. He smiles at the Tyrell and casts a glance to the stage. "Of course," he tells him. "Whenever you like." Then there is a Targaryen approaching, and he stands up a little taller and wipes away a few crumbs. Flox is given an amused look, and then he bows to Dhraegon and says, "Lord Carolis Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace." Looking to the plate of glorious baked bounty, he says, "It's shortbread, Your Grace. Would you like to try some?"

Dhraegon eagerly reaches for the shortbread at Lord Carolis' invitation. Flox gives Dhraegon a look, and he meakly only takes two. He munches happily enough on one of them between sips of ale. Flox gives Lord Carolis a roll of his eyes and a martyred look. Prince Dhraegon talks through a full mouth, "It is nice to meet you Lord carolis Stark. Shortbread." He mouths Lord Carolis' name and the word "shortbread" several times to fix them in his memory, his brow furrowing with concentration as he does so. "What other foods would you suggest? I have never been to the North."

Brynden waits around for a moment longer, before he starts heading towards the exit, after offering another nod and a smile in Loryn's direction now.

Loryn nods a goodbye, accompanied by a warm smile to Brynden, before he focuses his attention on finding a servant with fresh mugs of ale. He is definitely not drunk enough yet to enjoy the evening as much as he should.

Poor Flox. Carolis offers him a tight-lipped smile that is not without sympathy. He gestures for Dhraegon to follow him down the table of Northron goodies. "Let's see. Here, try this." He offers the Targaryen a sugary confection made with dense sweet cream, sugar, and nuts with bits of dried fruit in it. The kicker is the dash of honeyed spirits. "This will keep you warm in the Winter," he claims. Cream and sugar seem to be a theme here.

The party seems already to be in full swing, but that does not keep a Tully heir from joining even if he is late. Thadeus casts a curious glance about the Grand Hall as he enters, clad in a fine doublet and breeches in the red and blue of his house. He is of rather tall stature, an impressive fellow, so to speak, the features of his face handsome, even though looking a touch bored at the moment. The man in his company is one of his Riverlands retainers, and just now, the Bull Fish turns to say something to the man that is drowned more or less in the chatter of those present. There may be something in his grey-blue eyes, a glint of confidence, that becomes a heir of one of the Greater Houses.

Dhraegon washes down the second piece of shortbread with the rest of his ale. He starts to snake out his hand for a third, but Flox clears his throat, and he droops, clearly disappointed at not being allowed to have all of them. He brightens as Lord Carolis leads him down the table. His speech is a little slow and very careful, as if he is reading a script. His voice is very deep. He smells of some expensive wood and resin cologne. A small, harried looking non-descript little man is always at his elbow. The Decadent creamy sweet brings back his sunny smile instantly, "What is it called, Lord Carolis?" He is scarfing it down delightedly before the answer comes. "This is better than jam cakes!" Cream dribbles down his chin. Flox takes out a handkerchief and wipes Prince Draeghon's face. Prince Dhraegon submits this impatiently.

Loryn had gone to talk to two elderly ladies who've parked themselves in a corner with confectionary-laden plates and wine, happy to munch, watch and gossip. When one of the dames pinches his cheek, Loryn quickly retreats and almost bumps into a servant who alerts him to the newest arrival. The Tully heir. Who would have thunk. Loryn inhales deeply and heads over to greet the man with a warm smile. "Lord Thadeus Tully, what a pleasant surprise! Do join us. Help yourself to some northern food and drink and enjoy some northern music.", he invites .

The Tully turns and studies the Tyrell for a moment, smiling as he hears the greeting. "I am perphaps as surprised as you, my lord," he replies, a bit cryptically perhaps. "To be honest, I heard of this by accident really, thought I could drop by to pay the Garden Isle Manse a visit." He casts another glance about the place, frowning a bit, as if he were searching for someone in particular. "Where is Lord Garvin? I was expecting to see him here?" And then a glance back at Loryn. "You were…?" The Riverlands retainer has already gone to fetch some ale or wine for Thadeus, whatever is available. A cup of ale is handed to the Bull Fish and he takes a good sip. "Ah,… was quite thirsty, to be honest. So." He shrugs and shoots Loryn a glance, waiting for some kind of introduction obviously.

Carolis artfully fails to notice Flox tidying up the Prince. Nope, he did not see that because it didn't happen and besides he was looking at a plate of lamb pies the whole time. Hmm, those can be messy. What else is there. "Ah, here, you might like these," he tells the Prince, and he bypasses the pies instead for savory scones with onions and melted cheese baked right onto it. The greatest danger here is crumbs. "If you ever come to the North, you'll have to attend one of our feasts," he says. Hey, Cregan, can an insane Targaryen come visit? Cool, thanks.

Dhraegon starts to reach for another cream thing. Flox clears his throat. Prince Draegon lunges excitedly at the cheesey scone things instead, "I like cheese! This food is delicious, Lord Carolis! I don't know why they say Northern food is all boiled! This is wonderful!" He makes short of the cheese thing. Flox dusts the crumbs off the front of the Prince's tunic. He beams happily at Lord Carolis, "Let's be friends!" The massive man attempts to give Lord Carolis a bear hug to Flox's utter horror.

Oops. "I'm Lord Loryn Tyrell.", he introduces himself to the Tully, "I am… well, this is my residence now, I suppose.", he realizes. Fancy that. "Lord Garvin is my cousin, he has been re-called to Highgarden. Can I help you perhaps? But please, help yourself to some food and drink first, I need to make an announcement first." He watches Carolis stuff the Targaryen with food, smiles, and heads to the little stage where the band is just finishing a number. He claps his hands until he has at least -some- attention of people in the room. "Welcome everyone to this little soiree and introduction to the North. It's quite a turn-out, thank you all!", he smiles brightly. Oh yes, he does love being on a stage, "Now we have a special treat for you, as Lord Carolis Stark will offer us a few ballads of the North -!" He points to the young man - who just so happens to be hugged by a Targaryen - and invites him up the stage.

Carolis is being hugged. He's being hugged because he's not going to insult House Targaryen by refusing a token of, uh, friendship. He's a lithe little bastard (okay, nobleborn) though, and he's able to at least manage the assau—friendliness. Not the hair! Let's not get poked with the brooch fashioned after the insignia of House Stark. Pat pat pat. "Ah, all… right, then. Yes, we should be friends, of course." Pat pat pat. Loryn gets a ohthankthegods look over Dhraegon's shoulder, and Carolis peels himself free with a combination of sheer bonelessness, squirming, and a careful application of deadweighting, like a cat slipping free of a toddler. "I'm afraid I'm needed on the stage, Prince Dhraegon, but perhaps we can speak again later." He hastens to the stage.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Loryn Tyrell." is all Thadeus can manage before the Tyrell hurries off, and so he watches the lad pensively from afar as he takes the stage for his announcement. "Pretty young lad," he remarks rather casually to his companion. "I doubt he has even earned his spurs yet." A faint smirk there, as he takes another sip from the cup, emptying it, before handing it to his retainer for a refill. So far the Tully seems more interested in drink not food. The Northerner heading for the stage will have him raise one of his brows in curiosity.

Dhraegon beams happily as his new friend escapes. He keeps joyfully muching cheesey things and quaffing ale as he watches this new entertainment. Clearly Oldtown is going to be fun! Poor Flox guards the desserts and periodically duss his Prince for crumbs.

"Ladies and Lords - I give you Lord Carolis Stark!" Loryn welcomes the young lord to the stage amid a big round of applause from the party crowd. A few girls are already going dreamy eyed at the sight of the young wolf. "Stage is yours, my friend. Break a leg!", he whispers in passing, patting Carolis' shoulder before he leaves him to it, returning to pick up the abandoned conversation with the Tully. "Sorry about that, but I had to get him there right in that small window of time between being too sober and anxious and too drunk and unable to sing prettily.", he explains to Thadeus.

Carolis dusts a few crumbs off his tunic before he takes the stage. He looks awfully damned Northron in his native garb. It seems to suit him better, somehow. As he's announced, he gives a small shake of his head. Southrons and their fanfare. He claps Loryn on the shoulder affectionately in turn, though. "You're raising a high bar," he accuses with a crooked smile. When he looks out over the gathering, he doesn't look particularly nervous. "This is a song sung for men donning the black before they head out for the Wall. It's an old song, not sung so much anymore." Not since the Night Watch became a depository for unwanted bastards, excess heirs, and criminals. He keeps that little bit to himself, though. "It was meant to honor their sacrifice for the good of the North."

"Hmm," Thadeus smiles as he receives his refilled cup from his retainer. "Ale and wine can have an encouraging effect? I wasn't aware of that." He shoots a glance at Loryn and shrugs. "No offense was taken, my lord of Tyrell. I am just… a bit surprised to find such a young fellow as you hosting this festivity?" Then he lets his gaze drift, lingering a tad on the Mormont, not too long perhaps, as her rather masculine air may not suffice to attract his attention sufficiently. "Weren't there any ladies invited?", he inquires, looking a touch astonished, as his grey-blue gaze drifts back towards Loryn.

It had not been planned as a sausage-fest. "There's Lady Maera Mormont", Loryn suggests and nods to the lady who brought other ladies along, "I also expected to see her younger sister Ulyka here and of course my own dear goodsister Angharad. And my own sister and cousins. I guess they are hiding somewhere from where they can watch the young men, gossip and giggle.", he sighs. The comment on his age goes almost ignored, until he finally shrugs. "I love the stage, I love a good show and this is not very different, is it, Mylord? I took over my cousin's theatre, the Whimsy. I hope to win Lord Carolis for my next show. He does sing like an angel.", he sighs and turns his attention to the Stark on stage to listen attentively.

Dhraegon chugs a third mug of ale and to Flox's great alarm grabs another off a tray before Flox can stop him. The red faced Dragon wanders towards his host and the Tully, "You have a theater? Do they do puppets? I like puppets!" Flox nudges him. He recites his greeting to the Tully, "I am Prince Dhraegon Targaryen. Pleased to meet you."

"If you know this one, do sing along," Carolis says, because this old, obscure song is going to be a favorite hit down South. "Most of our songs are meant to be sung together." The band starts the song, playing in unison a single note drawn out and unwavering. Then Lord Carolis Stark begins to sing. He's got a set of pipes on him, and he can project like he was born to this. His voice is bright and clear, with just enough roughness to give it depth.

Each verse comes from a point of view. The first is a mother saying fare thee well, my boy, as you wander the night, be not feared in the darkness, my heart is your light. The second verse is from the man going to the Watch, telling his mother not to cry, and that her legacy to his childless future will be the lessons she's instilled in him. The third verse is his father, and the fourth the Watchman's response to him, much like it was to his mother. The last two verses are the people of the North wishing him well.5r The words are simple enough it doesn't take more than a verse or two to pick up the gist of it, so it really isn't that hard to sing along.

A sigh and a shrug. This the reaction to Loryn mentioning the Mormont. "She doesn't really catch the eye, Lord Loryn," Thadeus replies, eyes narrowing a touch. "And hiding? Why by the Seven should ladies be hiding?" He shakes his head. Then looking back at the Tyrell, curiosity in his gaze. "You speak as if you already know a great deal about women, my lord." The news about the theatre makes him raise his brows. "Indeed? I heard Lord Garvin speak about the theatre once, at the Quill and Tankard. I still have not managed to see any of the performances…"

When the Targaryen approaches, the Tully offers a polite bow. "Prince Dhreagon. I am Lord Thadeus Tully, heir to Riverrun. Betrothed to Princess Cerys Targaryen. In waht way are oyou related to her, if i may ask?" Straightening, Thadeus will study the man attentively, yet with a polite smile. Targaryens can tend to be fickle, and they clearly need to be treated with due respect, especially if one is to marry into their family.

Hearing the song, the Tully cannot help but be impressed, and he will applaud once the Northron lord has finished.

"No, we do not have puppets ourselves, although there's always visiting groups and performers, so perhaps we'll have some puppeteers soon that will be to your liking.", Loryn tells Dhraegon politely, "I'm just working on my first play. The casting is in place and I have a story and some dialogue, but it's all still rather rough around the edges." He then falls silent to listen to the song, picking up the verse quickly so he can sing along. Soon enough most of those present are singing along actually, having a merry old time until at last a cheer goes up.

The last verse is from the perspective of the Watchman upon his death. It's a solemnly sung thing, bidding his mother and father not to cry over him, because he lived their light all of his days. Oddly, it's not a bummer. Carolis' voice gives it an air of pride and honor; the man dies with purpose in the service of his kingdom.
The applause, when it comes, gets a crooked smile from lordling, and he bows. The awkwardness is minimal, though he hasn't really sung to an audience quite like this before. Another bow, and a wave before he heads off the stage. Phew. Lived through that. Now where is the booze.

Dhraegon bobbs his head out of time with the music and watching Lord Carolis sing, mouth open in fascination. He picks up the refrain and sings along in a passably good bass voice, despite his lack of rhythym with the physical bit. he claps loudly and enthusiastically at the end. After he says, "They just call me Uncle Dhraegon. It's so hard to keep track of who is related to whom in what exact way. I am betrothed to…Lady Adelais Hightower?" He checks with Flox, who nods confirmation. Prince Draegon looks relieved to have gotten it right.

The song will tempt even the Tully to join in, his voice a pleasant but not very trained baritone. Seemingly in good spirits, and indulging in such as he empties his second cup of ale, Thadeus will applaud once Carolis is done. "Who would have thought these Northerners can sing…?" He muses. "With all their hard winters and staying inside and stuff…" He shoots the Targaryen a glance, catching the remark about betrothals. "My congratulations then," he replies to Dhraegon with a polite smile. His gaze dropping to his cup next. Which is empty again.

Carolis meanders up to the conversing noblemen, and on his way he's acquired a tankard of a strong, stout ale. Catching the tail end of the Tully's words, he says amiably, "Singing is important, my Lord. When Winter seems endless and the howling of the wind is so constant it could drive a soul mad, raising your voices in a song to bolster the spirits drowns it out. It reminds you that you're not alone in the darkness."

Dhraegon claps waaay too long. He beams guilelessly at the Tully, "My congratulations to you! Welcome to the family!" His delivery is even slower and more labored as he tries to enunciate clearly. He quaffs yet more ale, red faced and cheerfully bellows, "Encore! Encore! Play us something to dance to!" Then Lord Carolis is there and he tries to throw a massive arm around his shoulder as if they were old friends, "A song and a drink to lift spirits in the dark of Winter! Shal we toast to music?"

<FS3> Dhraegon rolls Brawl: Failure.
<FS3> Carolis rolls Reaction: Success.

When Carolis approaches, the Tully will incline his head. "Lord Carolis Stark. You may have a point there. Yet I feel there are other ways to remind me… I am not alone in the dark of night." A smirk spreads across his features, that diminishes a touch when his gaze shifts to Dhraegon. "Well, in fact I am looking forward to, when that is no longer the case, Lord Dhraegon." Added a bit hastily, perhaps? That smirk returns, however, and seeing the Targaryen is already far into the cups, he will do his best to catch up with him. "More ale!" And a servant appproaches for a refill.

The hugging! Why the hugging. Carolis bears the arm slung around him, though. He can manage this, keep himself from getting crushed, nudge the Targaryen here and there subtly to establish at least the illusion of boundaries. "Maybe later," he tells the Prince, "I'll sing something we call mouth music. You can dance to it." Thadeus gets a crooked grin in turn. "Well, yes, music isn't the only distraction from the cold and the wind." He raises his tankard then, either to music or distractions, who can say.

Dhraegon's blank look in response to Thadeus suggests that he lost the thread of the conversation already, likely at the bottom of his ale mug. He echoes the Tully with a bull like bellow of "More ale!" Flox looks like he is having a major headache at this point and gives lord Carolis a sympathetic look. He thunks Lord Carolis' mug hard, and downs the rest of his ale, holding it out for more as the servant comes to fil the Knight's tankard. Volume control? What's that? "Mouth Music? Sounds interesting! What is it like?"

"Mouth music…", the Tully muses, clearly relaxed now after the first cups of ale are had already, before he shakes his head. "Is it…nah…" More headsheakes follow, as the cup is refilled. "True.", this the reply to Carolis, a grin offered to the crooked smile of the Northerner. "To… distractions then. From the perils of weather and season, from solitude.", Thadeus says, raising his cup again. Clearly versed in the art of bringing out toasts.

The blank stare of the Targ may be noted, but, Seven Hells, they are here to enjoy themselves, right? "To betrothals, Prince Dhraegon." And to those highly anticipated nights of being lonesome no more.

Carolis takes a long gulp of his ale. One does not simply teetotal and a Northronesque gathering. After he lowers the tankard, he says brightly, "You see, sometimes you want to dance but no one's got an instrument. Sometimes they're hard to come by. So you get a couple people together to sing songs that have a brisk tempo while the others clap their hands or beat their fists on a table. Then the dancers have music." He sings a little bit a tune. The words aren't terribly deep and their interspersed with sounds that mean nothing, but they keep the beat. The song appears to be about a wedding and the different food they have there. Are their cakes, yes there's cakes, are their cakes, so many cakes there are here. Carolis takes another drink, then adds, "The important part is the tempo."

Dhraegon lifts his cup to toast distractions and betrothals, grinning widely. "To Marriage!" He has friends and ale and there were cakes! All is good in the best of all possible worlds! Thunk! Thunk! Chug! More quietly, but alas, loud enough to carry, "What exactly happens on the wedding night? I've always wondered…" He squeeses poor Lord Carolis in delight, "That is the best song ever! Cakes! Mouth Music!"

Thadeus listens to what Carolis has to say about mouth music, and the following demonstartion, soon clapping along to the song. Cakes however do not attract his attention thus far. But ale. More ale is had. "To marriage!", he echoes, raising his cup in the toast Dhraegon brings out. Then downs the ale, and chuckles. "Don't tell me you have no idea, my lord?" Shooting the Targ an incredulous look. "You must be jesting."

Carolis shakes his head at the mention of marriage. Brrrr. He's young yet, though. He just kind of goes with the arm around his shoulder. Dhraegon is apparently his best buddy now. He take another gulp of ale, and he gives Flox a glance. This one's on you, man. He's not going to explain it. Instead, he says, patting Dhraegon's shoulder, "You'll work it out, I'm sure."

Dhraegon looks at Thaddeus all lavander eyed innocence. "There is a party and cakes and dancing. Then they go to their chambers so I don't see what happens next. It must be a great secret." He nodes his greying head wisely. Flox is pretending to be terribly inteested in the contents of his mug and in no way helps. Dhraegon beams happily at carolis in response to the patting, "you can call me Uncle Dhrae! I like you!"

Thadeus glances at Carolis, then at Dhraegon. "Um. How old are you again…?", the Tully inquires. "It's no great secret," he continues, choosing to offer some enlightenment then. "More a way of letting nature have its course. The less you think of it the better…" An encouraging smile is shot towards the Targaryen. And there he takes another sip of ale.

Carolis laughs quietly, his shoulders trembling, as Flox won't field this one either. "I can loan you a book," he tells Dhraegon. "It'll be very educational. It has pictures." He pats the Targaryen again, and then he says, "Uncle Dhrae, will you forgive me if I slip away for a moment? I am going to find my cousin and force him to mingle." He offers Thadeus a warm smile. "It was wonderful to meet you, Lord Thadeus. I hope that when Lord Loryn has a soiree to celebrate the Riverlands, you'll come and tell me everything about it."

Dhraegon wrinkles his brow trying to remember, "I'm not sure…." Flox shrugs, not having any clear idea of his master's age. "Probably fifty?" He looks hopefully around as if someone mught know his exact age. "Thee is jam cake for my birthday. I like jam cake." He looks relieved, "A book with pictures would be helpful. I would hate to dispoint the Lady. I hope she is nice." Flox comes to help disentangle Uncle Dhrae from the encumbered stark, "Come, My Prince. You've had a long day and there will be more cake at the manse." Prince Dhraevon bellows, "Cake!" with obvious glee, and starts shambling after Flox like a drunken bear, "It was nice to meet you both!"

"It has indeed been nice.", Thadeus replies when both suddenly move away from him. He was just trying to help! "I will gladly offer you information on the attractions of the Riverlands, Lord Carolis. You know,… we have some nice songs there, as well." His gaze shifting to the 50 year old (?) Targaryen then. "A book can be helpful," he affirms. "But it it not necessary." The look he gives Dhraegon is slightly bewildered. "Rest well!" he calls after the Targaryen as he departs. Now left with a half empty cup of ale. And a retainer to give it a refill.

Carolis flashes Thadeus a broad grin, his eyes bright and merry. "Then you must teach me them when we meet again," he says. "Which I hope will be soon." And then he goes to find his cousin, who will not get out of mingling, not on his watch.

Dhraegon gives them a sunny gormless grin and a cheerful wave as poor Flox herds him away.

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