(122-02-25) Art From the Horse's Mouth
Players:
Janei..Dhraegon..Leandro..Camillo..Eonn..Loryn..

The square is crowded, vendors stalls are interspised with campaign tents set up for demonstration judging events, such as Lady's needlepoint, fine painting, fine carving, jewelry, armour, weaponry, and various food events, etc…. The square is packed. Luckily, they are holding the animal events at the tourney grounds, as the competing scents of cooking and packed humanity are already rather intense and there is really no room for ought else. There is a small stage set up in front of the Bawdy Bard where musicians take their turns playing for shoppers and judges. Prince Dhraegon, flox, and four guards instead of the usual two squeeze through the crowds, Flox taking notes for Dhraegon who is wearing a judges, shoulder to waist ribbon.

Janei can be found in the find painting tent, overseeing a Tyrell servant setting up a painting of the Mother looking over a cityscape of Oldtown.

Dhraegon and his entourage pop into the clearer space of the tent. The Prince's face is a bit flushed, so he's likely already been sampling the brewery contestants, but he seems to have what passes for his wits about him. The painting tent is divided into two categories: one for smallfolk professionals, and the other for noble dabblers, likely at the insistence of some of the nobles. Dhraegon spoots a familiar back and bounds over there. "you are competing?"

Janei can be found in the find painting tent, overseeing a Tyrell servant setting up a painting of the Mother looking over a cityscape of Oldtown.

Dhraegon and his entourage pop into the clearer space of the tent. The Prince's face is a bit flushed, so he's likely already been sampling the brewery contestants, but he seems to have what passes for his wits about him. The painting tent is divided into two categories: one for smallfolk professionals, and the other for noble dabblers, likely at the insistence of some of the nobles. Dhraegon spots a familiar back and bounds over there. "You are competing?" <re>'

Janei turns around quickly as she hears the voice, and smiles, "Prince Dhraegon! Yes, I'm competing. I've been getting this painting ready for weeks. Almost didn't finish in time."

Dhraegon giggles, "I will be careful not to touch it then. tell me about your painting. I love the story part."

Eonn slips in from The Shambles, pausing in the mouth of the wynd for a moment before stepping in to the crowd.

Amongst the many, many paintings of the mother, there's one that may stand out, for rather than portraying her in her entireity there's one in which there's just a pair of exquisite feet. Well not just feet, there's the luscious curves of shapely calves as well, although nothing quite reaching the point of being a knee, let alone a glimpse of thigh. But oh those feet, sensual, proud feet, perhaps the sexiest of feet that have ever been drawn. Strong feet, for all that they're smooth skinned perfection, with their gleaming nails each more perfect than the last. Such beautiful feet, surrounded in an almost glowing light. And what is that, lurking in the shadows beneath them? Just shadows, surely, or is that a shape to them, a figure in maester robes, crushed below, worshipping? No… surely it's just a pool of shadow, some trick on how the darkness plays beneath those oh so beautiful feet.

Janei smiles up to Dhraegon, and says, "Well, there's not too much of a story. There is the Mother, in the sky, looking over Oldtown like a mother watches a sleeping baby."

Dhraegon catches a glimpse of the foot fetishist view of the Mother and double takes, his expression confused and curious in a way that suggests he has no idea at all why a man might pain such a thing. He innocently pops out with, "Wasn't the canvass large enough? What an odd place to start. If it were too small would not the painter start at the head?" He turns back to Janei's painting which he studies with the seriousness of a Maester translating an ancient text. "Cities don't grow on bushes either…." As if that makes sense. "Did you model her on anyone?"

Eonn doesn't look at the paintings, at least not yet. He slips through the crowds, watching people.

Leandro's trouble, always. Oh his name may not be on any of the paintings, but that's yet to stop him showing up to run his experts eye over everything and find them lacking. "Is the mother's head the most important part of her then?" he asks Dhraegon.

Janei glances to that other painting as well, giggling a little, but to Leandro's question she comments, " I think it'd be her hands." Then, remembering Dhraegon's question, she answers, " One of the cooks at Garden Isle, she sort of takes care of everybody."

The crowd is jolly and well mixed. Dolphin bread, cakes, and the like are much in evidence. It's been a deadly year and people are in the mood to forget and lose themselves in the pleasures of the festival. Here there is music, laughter, good food and drink.

The Prince is startled by the Maester's question, "The head is the most important part of anyone, I would think, Goddess or not. Or hands as the Lady Janei says, for doing. Or the heart. Thinking, doing, feeling, are those not what makes a person? Is there… Scripture otherwise?"

Eonn spots Dhraegon and pauses to watch the big prince for a time.

"Hands, clever indeed," Leandro replies to Janei. "And less gruesome than drawing head or heart." He looks at Dhraegon, weighing up his question. "Is it? But is a Goddess the same as a person? The Seven are not."

Eonn starts through the crowd towards Dhraegon and the others.

Janei looks between Dhraegon and Leandro, listening curiously but not offering much and the way of comment no, as the theology goes perhaps a little over her head.

Dhraegon lowers his eyes, "I am no Septon, Maester. I leave that to the clergy to explain."

"Prince Dhraegon, Lady Janei," says Eonn, when he gets nearer.

"You are an art critic though?" Leandro says. "Do you know much of composition, technique, which of these are technically more masterful than the others? Or merely what appeals to your own personal taste? I suppose this is the mother's festival though, and as such we should do as mothers would and award a prize to all participants, even the ugliest of ones? A mother loves all of her children, after all, especially when they're drawing pictures of her. I'm going to go judge the wine." And with that decided he saunters off.

Dhraegon's face falls, like that of a chastened child, "I am much better at the flowers, food, and drink judging…." His eyes look rather watery.

Janei smiles as she looks up to the new arrival, and says, "Hello." She looks back to Leandro and blinks at his words, and then says to Dhraegon, "Don't mind him, Prince Dhraegon. Some people are just plain grumpy, I guess."

Eonn raises his eyebrows as he watches the Maester go, then shrugs.

"If you'd like my opinion, as an expert in art and the greatest painter Oldtown has ever known, I'd say that one," Leandro points to Janei's picture. "Is the winner. There's a quaint sort of charm to it, the composition is pleasing to the eye and there's a good use of colour. But most importantly, this is the mother's festival, and I believe that one would please her most. It's painted with love by one of her children." He does his best not to gag as he says that last line, but he does pull something of a face as if those words are difficult. "And you should burn that one." He glances to the feet one. "It's positively obscene." And that said off he goes.

Dhraegon gives Eonn a smile in search of a sheep dog, "Hello, Eonn of Rills. I… might not have been myself when last we talked. I do talk a great deal of nonsense about flowers if they let me." He nods at Leandro's advice about Janei's painting and signals Flox to write it down. he looks confused by the obscene comment, "It is obscene? But there is no kissing in it. I don't understand." he wrinkles his nose, "It is very weird."

Eonn tilts his head to one side and looks at the 'obscene' painting. He shrugs.

Janei blinks at Leandro's next words, and says, "Thank you, and… I'm sorry I called you grumpy." She looks a bit embarrassed, but happy at the same time over the praise of her painting.

Dhraegon gently squeezes Janei's shoulder, still peering at the Foot painting. "Eonn of Rills, can you explain?"

"Explain what?" asks Eonn. "The painting?"

Janei comments, "I think he wants to know why it's obscene." Something she, perhaps, hasn't quite figured out either, though she doesn't admit it.

"I can't imagine," says Eonn. "Maybe feet are obscene to him?" He shrugs again.

Dhraegon nods, still confused. "I didn't know…. Why… why would anyone…?"

The square is crowded, vendors stalls are interspersed with campaign tents set up for demonstration judging events, such as Lady's needlepoint, fine painting, fine carving, jewelry, armour, weaponry, and various food events, etc…. The square is packed. Luckily, they are holding the animal events at the tourney grounds, as the competing scents of cooking and packed humanity are already rather intense and there is really no room for ought else. There is a small stage set up in front of the Bawdy Bard where musicians take their turns playing for shoppers and judges. Prince Dhraegon, Flox, and four guards instead of the usual are in the Art tent with Lady Janei and Eonn of Rills. The crowd is jolly and well mixed. Dolphin bread, cakes, and the like are much in evidence. It's been a deadly year and people are in the mood to forget and lose themselves in the pleasures of the festival. Here there is music, laughter, good food and drink.

Amongst the many, many paintings of the mother, there's one that may stand out, for rather than portraying her in her entirety there's one in which there's just a pair of exquisite feet. Well not just feet, there's the luscious curves of shapely calves as well, although nothing quite reaching the point of being a knee, let alone a glimpse of thigh. But oh those feet, sensual, proud feet, perhaps the sexiest of feet that have ever been drawn. Strong feet, for all that they're smooth skinned perfection, with their gleaming nails each more perfect than the last. Such beautiful feet, surrounded in an almost glowing light. And what is that, lurking in the shadows beneath them? Just shadows, surely, or is that a shape to them, a figure in maester robes, crushed below, worshipping? No… surely it's just a pool of shadow, some trick on how the darkness plays beneath those oh so beautiful feet.

Lady Janei's painting shows the Mother, in the sky, looking over Oldtown like a mother watches a sleeping baby.

Eonn shrugs. "Some people think feet are ungodly, I suppose," he says.

Dhraegon looks dubious, "I.. have not a head for Theology. That Measter was a strange one, wasn't he? I… I know I'm not the best choice for judging art, but they've picked people with various specialties so there is at least one expert in each category and I really do love flowers. And Cakes. And Wine and Ale and…." he trails off, blushing.

Eonn laughs softly. "I think you know what is pretty, my Prince," he says. "And that ought to be enough to judge paintings. Forget him, and buy me a cake."

Though he by no means carries any extra weight, Camillo appears to enjoy food. Festival food in particular. Or perhaps it's the observance of the festival he can most afford to buy. He has in his hand a pastry made of putting batter into a two-sided dolphin-shaped mold and injecting a custard or fruit filling into the middle. He is eating it as he wanders, with no evident purpose, eyeing the various handicrafts though he doesn't appear to be a connoisseur of any of them in particular.

Dhraegon brightens, "Let us all have cakes! And Pastries! And wine! That is a clever thought Eonn…. Wait, Master Camillo, what do you think is the most important part of the Mother?"

Eonn smiles at Dhraegon. "That's what I'm here for," he says. He doesn't specify if it's cakes and wine or clever thoughts that he means.

Camillo looks startled to be addressed by Dhraegon, and lifts his head from whatever craft he was examining. "I—Mercy, your grace," he blurts. By which he presumably means that the most important aspect of the Mother is her capacity for mercy, not that he begs mercy from Dhraegon.

Janei nods in agreement with Eonn's statements about Dhraegon's judging, "You can tell a good painting from a bad one, even if you might not know why." She looks back to Camillo and giggles, "I think he means body-part."

Dhraegon smiles brightly at Camillo, "Oh! That's a good one! Mercy! Very clever! Can you tell us why this painting is naughty then? A Maester said we ought to burn it!"

Eonn shakes his head and laughs softly, almost inaudibly.

"Oh," Camillo says to Janei's explanation, looking completely bewildered that he should be asked which of the Mother's /body parts/ is most important. He looks up at the painting indicated, then squints a bit. Finally, after some moments' thought, he shakes his head. "I cannot tell, your grace: they just look like feet to me. But…I find the knowledge of Maesters to be very mysterious."

Dhraegon giggles, "I find Measters mysterious just generally, though I do like Maester Garth. I wish he would visit like he used too. He has interesting textures and is really fun to drink with…."

Eonn looks about, then down at Janei.

Camillo frowns at the painting again. "Surely there are more…scandalous parts one could choose to paint," he hazards.

Dhraegon looks at Camillo with some curiosity as if in hopes of more explanation.

Eonn smiles dryly as the young noble runs off.

Camillo hadn't expected that kind of a look from Dhraegon after saying such a thing. He chews on that dolphin pastry to stall. "Well. That is. The Mother symbolizing fertility," he prompts.

Dhraegon still doesn't seem to have caught on, "Which is why a lot of the paintings have plants and fruit and things. I got that part."

"He means it would be obscene if it was a painting of her cunny," says Eonn, amiably. "What's the filling in that pastry?"

Camillo stops chewing for a second at Eonn's blunt intervention, but then he goes on chewing, nodding once. Eonn's not entirely wrong. He swallows. "Custard."

Dhraegon is now giving Eonn a blankly curious look that suggest he has never heard that particular word before. But then there is talk of pastry, "Oh! I love custard. Where did you get that one? I'll buy us all some!"

"I want one with mushroom and sausage," says Eonn. "But custard would do."

Camillo would perhaps feel honor-bound to explain it to the prince were he not immediately distracted. He turns and points in the direction of the stall he got it from. "They had other fillings. Some were savory."

You say, "We could get both! I like sausages too!"

Eonn smiles at Dhraegon. "That would be. Good, my prince. Very good. Did you see the dolphins?"

Camillo looks between Eonn and Dhraegon for a moment. Then he chews on the beheaded dolphin pastry. "It is a festival, after all. Surely whatever one wants can be found somewhere."

Dhraegon is bounding towards the stall, "I did! We threw fish at them off the side of the boat! Lady Janei got splashed! I got to ride Rose there and back again! It was very dignified!" He orders them each a sausage one and a custard one, plus and extra custard one himself. he seems oblivious to any innuendo that might be applied to the situation, but his enthusiastic method of eating the dolphin shaped sausage pastry is rather…. apt to raise questions and eyebrows.

Camillo doesn't follow. He's probably counting himself lucky to escape the conversation.

Eonn follows after Dhraegon, smiling. His long legs let him almost keep up, just striding.

Dhraegon sighs happily, "Food is my favorite thing."

Eonn laughs, accepting a sausage pasty. He says, "Are you quite sure about that?" before he bites into it.

Loryn comes from Oldtown Street to the West.

Dhraegon licks the grease from his fingers before putting a dolphin pastry to his lips to suck out the custard ewith much the same obliviousness to subtext. he thinks it over. "you are right, I like drinking best, but food is a close second. I'd be drunk all the time if Flox let me."

Eonn raises his eyebrows, smiling. "Why won't he let you?" he asks.

The square is crowded, vendors stalls are interspersed with campaign tents set up for demonstration judging events, such as Lady's needlepoint, fine painting, fine carving, jewelry, armour, weaponry, and various food events, etc…. The square is packed. Luckily, they are holding the animal events at the tourney grounds, as the competing scents of cooking and packed humanity are already rather intense and there is really no room for ought else. There is a small stage set up in front of the Bawdy Bard where musicians take their turns playing for shoppers and judges. The crowd is jolly and well mixed. Dolphin bread, cakes, and the like are much in evidence. It's been a deadly year and people are in the mood to forget and lose themselves in the pleasures of the festival. Here there is music, laughter, good food and drink.

Flox glares at Eonn. Dhraegon giggles, "He says it is not good for me and i can't just live on cakes either."

"He's right about the cakes," says Eonn, casting an amused look at Flox.

Dhraegon sighs and rolls his eyes, munching the pastry shell, "What if I do not want to live forever?"

Eonn eats his sausage-filled dolphin with evident pleasure, pausing between bites to say to Dhraegon, "Nobody does."

Loryn has been partying through the last days (really!) and is now found wandering through the crowded square with a bunch of theatre friends. The Tyrell is dressed down, not his usual flashy self, perhaps just wanting to be part of the regular crowd for the day after judging stuff earlier. The lads look fairly drunk and even a bit green around the gills. Booze, food, noise and packed humanity not making for a good mix. One of them halts, bends over… and chucks up, the wine-sodden contents of his stomach almost splashing on poor Eonn's feet. Oops.

Dhraegon leaps backwards, eyes wide, thumping heavily into a surprised Targaryen guard, "I… am not sure I want the second custard pastry after all." He gives Eonn a different flavour of startled look, "They don't? I thought it was just me."

Eonn steps back away from the vomiting man, looking mildly annoyed. "No," he says. "All men die. You forgot this?"

This friends jeer the lad who couldn't hold his wine, though Loryn at least looks mildly embarrassed when he recognizes the Targaryen and his companion. "Er, sorry…. been a long day., he mumbles, watching the unfortunate one stumble away from the thick of the crowd to catch his breath somewhere.

Dhraegon shakes his head, "No, I meant I thought most people wanted to live forever even though they don't." Then he is recognizing the Tyrell, "Loryn!" he squeals and tries to hug the poor youth. want a pastry? There was a weird foot painting and the Maester said Lady Janei's paining was best! What is a cunny?" The Prince is a bit flushed and has likely been at the ale samples.

"Ah," says Eonn, "They might. But they are silly." He finishes off his pastry, licks his fingertips, and goes on, "I don't want to." Loryn gets a nod of greeting and a, "My lord."

Loryn gets hugged! "No no, no more pastries for me.", he declines hurriedly, "In fact I'm on my way home… I feel… a little… unwell.", the Tyrell admits and looks like he might void the contents of his stomach anytime soon as well. He does step back and pats Eonn on the shoulder. "You explain what a cunny is, mate.", he suggests.

Dhraegon giggles happily. There has been pastry, ale, and hugs. All is right with the world.

Eonn's armoured shoulder is hard as steel. "The sex part of a woman," he tells Dhraegon amiably.

Dhraegon looks alarmed, but then he works it out, "The… the furrow where the seeds go? I still think it would be better if they grew on bushes even if we did have to set guards day and night for insects and ravens…."

Loryn quirks a brow at that rather prosaic explanation. "Oh you northrons.", he grumbles and shakes his head, "I'd rather call it the gateway to paradise. But I should be on my way. If I see just one more dolphin, I'm so… ugh."

Eonn grins at Loryn and laughs. "Yes," he tells Dhraegon. "The furrow."

Dhraegon giggles at Loryn's comments and eyes him speculatively.

One of Loryn's friends grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him off to god knows where. "Sorry… gotta be on my way…", he manages hurriedly and disappears amid the throng again.

Eonn watches the Tyrell go, and smiles. He shakes his head to Dhraegon. "Are you still afraid of me?" he asks.

Loryn goes West down the Oldtown Street.

Dhraegon gives Loryn a friendly wave and turns back to Eonn, "Was I afraid of you? I don't remember."

Eonn nods. "Good, then," he says. "No need to be. Are you ill? No more pastries?"

You say, "I think I should maybe sit somewhere quiet for a bit before sampling more things to judge."

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