(122-03-04) Beauty to Brighten
Beauty to Brighten
Summary: Visenya is upset about Rhaegor; Marsei arrives to cheer her mood, with Camillo in tow, towing a gift in turn. Also, there's dragons. Be cool.
Date: 03/04/2015
Related: None

Northeastern Suite - 3 - Dragon Door Manse Starry Street
Wed Mar 04, 122 ((Wed Mar 04 15:07:07 2015))
It is a summer day. The weather is hot and fair.

From this suite's large North-facing windows one can see the manse's walled garden, the Honeywine, and the Citadel beyond. There are two sitting rooms, one very large and furnished with gracious gilded couches with elegant delicate legs and velvet cushions, positioned around the grand fireplace. A fine Myrish carpet in red and black and gold stands out against the white marble floor.

The second is a small, intimate room with padded chairs, another Myrish rug of a floral pattern, and the walls hung with tapestries. Perhaps it serves as a sewing room.

In the sleeping chamber stands a large bed, its four posts carved in the shapes of dragons, its coverlet an intricate pattern of black and red. There is a matching wardrobe and nightstand, with a simple candle-stand, and another red and black Myrish carpet warms the floor. There is yet another fireplace, albeit a smaller one.

A letter was sent to the Hightower that morning expressing a need for company and cheering up to Lady Marsei from Princess Visenya. When Marsei and Camillo arrive they will be lead through the luxurious manse up two flights of stairs to Visenya's room. Visenya is standing in front of the fire in her parlor, a fork holding a little cube of meat delicately held over the fire. On a stand next to the fire two hatchling dragons, twins that are completely identical in their steel blue scales and silver spurs and horns, are perched. When Visenya pulls the chuck of meat off of the fork and offers it to them they snap at it eagerly.

"Oh, Marsei." She greets the other woman by approaching her, and embracing her with one hand while the other continues to hold on to the long fork. Her deep amethyst colored eyes are rimmed with red as if she'd been crying earlier, and while her belted gown is downright luxurious it is a bit plain compared to her usual dramatic dress.

Along with Camillo in her entourage, Marsei travelled to the Dragon Door Manse in the accompaniment of more guards than usual, as has been the way for a couple of weeks now, making her way here something of a small parade. Now that she's inside, the guards have been left behind, assuming the lady is quite safe in Targaryen walls. She wastes no time in going to the princess, subduing what had the makings of a wary look at the young but fierce-looking little dragons in order to greet Visenya as warmly as ever — and moreso, noting her mood straight away. She returns the embrace, making sure to linger a reassuring moment longer. "Visenya, what ever is the matter?" she asks, though it's more empathy than question. "I've brought something to lift your spirits."

Camillo is a good pack mule despite not being overly large in build. Not that what he's been asked to carry is a crushing weight: he bears his burden easily enough in a sack over his back. Usually he's the type that not much can rattle, but when he looks up to see baby dragons in the room, he is obviously startled. While he says where he should be, he eyes them quite suspiciously. When Marsei mentions bringing something, he gently sets the sack down and crouches to open it.

"Do you remember how my brother Daevon is supposed to marry a Dornish Princess?" Visenya asks as she steps away from Marsei to stab at some bloody meat in a bowl on the floor next to the fire, and puts said fork over the fire to char the outside of the meat. "Well, Prince Rhaegor just came back from his trip to King's Landing and Dorne. Apparently he went to Dorne to reassure the Ruling Princess of the match and alliance. What with that mess with Wickham's Nest and the Red Rookery massacre that was the response something needs to be done to prevent war." She turns her head to look to Marsei, and her bottom lip quivers, "Oh, they mean for Rhaegor to marry her if Daevon doesn't. And here I am nearly twenty-one, far too young to still be unmarried and a maid, and my betrothed is just being given away to the Dornish!"

Marsei doesn't take her eyes off Visenya; the other woman's distress reflects right in her own eyes, illuminating her empathy so that she, too, looks pained. Without moving her gaze, she holds her hand slightly up in Camillo's direction, giving him a subtle staying, slowing gesture: the reveal can wait, for a moment. "Oh, Visenya," she exclaims, soft and shocked, "That's simply awful. Is Prince Rhaegor's position here in Oldtown not to improve relations between us and Dorne as it is? Is your brother's promise to the Dornish princess not binding?" Reddish brows pulling neatly together, she says more quietly, knowingly, "I'm sorry these things are so fickle."

Camillo keeps the sack closed on Marsei's signal and sets a knee down so he can remain beside the sack comfortably until they're ready to have it open. Perhaps he's getting to the age where he doesn't want to stand up and squat down repeatedly without good reason. He looks at the sack so as not to intrude on the emotional scene. Although he does occasionally glance at those dragons, because who could truly resist?

"My brother has shown reluctance to do his duty." Visenya says in a teary fashion. She gives up grilling the meat, and lets the little dragons pick it off of her fork before leaning it against the side of the fireplace, and strides towards her impressive collection of wine decanters on a side table. "Oh, I'm being rude and overdramatic." She forces up a pained looking smile, "Won't you have a seat?" She takes two crystal glasses from under the side table, glances to Camillo a moment in a considering fashion, and takes out a third. A good stiff Tyroshi Pear Brandy is poured into all three, and she offers one to Marsei before handing one down to the crouching Camillo, "I hope you don't mind." She says to Marsei, "If he's going to be forced to listen to my troubles he may as well get drunk while doing it." That said, she downs a good swallow of the brandy, and winces, "Not so binding that one Prince cannot replace the other, I imagine."

Marsei meets Visenya's pained smile with a kind one of her own, not at all put upon, and takes the offered brandy. She moves toward the seat, smiling again when some is offered to Camillo. "If he does not mind," she replies, sitting slowly to account for the flowing layers of her gown, all shades of soft yellow. "How does Prince Rhaegor feel about all this?" she ventures gingerly, only to lean slightly ahead with a raised finger. "Ah," she interrupts herself — and gives Visenya an opportunity to avoid answering, if she so desires. "Camillo, why don't you show Princess Visenya what we've brought? Beauty to brighten the day."

Camillo seems a little surprised to be offered brandy, but if the two noblewomen decide that this is all right, he seems to have no reason to object. He takes the glass carefully and stands, waiting until the women have tried theirs before having a small sip. He goes very easy on the stuff, perhaps knowing how much it might cost. When prompted by Marsei, he carefully sets the glass somewhere safe, then crouches down again to open the sack and carefully take the wares out to display. He dries his hand first on the cloth of the sack to be sure he will not harm the fabric with water spots.

"He is not happy about it." Visenya volunteers. "We were not just paired together randomly, you see. Prince Rhaegor decided to seek my hand after having met me. He was quite unhappy in his first marriage, and that was arranged." Still, when Camillo begins opening the bag, her attention diverts to the cloth that is revealed.

Marsei's natural cheer starts to mount as the bag is opened, but it's threatened as Visenya explains, prompting conflicted thought; she ducks her chin down slightly, although her face is still shy of being downcast. However, she takes a sip of brandy and brightens determinedly. "It's the fabric for the gowns," she says buoyantly, clearly assuming Visenya knows what she means. There's a variety of fabrics, each finer than the next. The cloth gleams in the light. "This should account for most of it, at least. It's all so lovely already; think how magical it will look with all the decorations sewn on."

Camillo subtly lifts one edge of the top bundle of folded fabric, showing off the sheen woven into it by letting it reflect the firelight. When they have had plenty of time to admire the top bundle, he sets it aside and moves to the next, careful not to let any of the bundles touch the ground.

"Oh, the gowns!" Visenya's expression brightens ever so slightly, and she takes a step closer to examine the cloth. "Silver for me and gold for you! Oh, I think I have jewels you can borrow!" She excitedly turns to walk off into another room, and soon reappears with a jewelry box. That is eagerly thrown open on top of the table in front of a couch, and she sits down to sort through it until, "Ah ha!" She holds up a hairnet studded with fire opals. "A gift from my father, but I've yet to make a gown to go with it so I haven't had a chance to wear it."

Marsei brightens more assuredly as Visenya becomes at least temporarily distracted, and sends a brief grateful smile Camillo's way although he has little to do with the fabric itself. "Oh!" She's startled by the hairnet, immediately awed and drawn like a moth to a flame — or fire opal, as the case may be. She rises from her seat to come nearer for a closer look. "The way it changes colour! Are those fire opals? I'm not sure I've seen more beautiful stones."

Camillo cycles through all the fabrics, then carefully puts them back into the sack. Once they are secured once more, he stands up and claims his drink. He eyes those dragons.

The dragons are totally lazy, and have climbed down their stand like awkward little parrots to a hammock made out of thin chains close to the fire where they sleep. One sleeps with his long sinuous neck across the other's as if they were scaly kittens. Awww.

Visenya continues to sort through her jewelry box. "They are!" She says without looking up, "Perhaps I could wear opals as well, but pale ones?" She begins pulling out various pieces, looking over them, and tsking before tossing them on the table as if they were rubbish and not worth more than a smallfolk farmer could make in five years. "I do have a moonstone circlet…"

Marsei outright stares at the dragons on and off while Visenya is occupied by rifling through the jewelry. They seem peaceful, yet she's more on wary of the creatures for the fact that they've moved from one spot to the other. Her attention is not far from Visenya, however, nor the pretty accessories; she examines the fire opal hair net herself, lifting it delicately from the table to spread it in her hand. "I would nearly feel too overwhelmed to wear such a thing, and from your father," she admits. Her face lights up all over again as she recalls, "Moonstone! Oh, I have a moonstone hairnet at home, with few pearls, if I recall. A wedding gift— I've scarcely worn it."

Camillo drinks sparingly from the cup he was given, exceedingly careful not to drink more than the nobles. But when the dragons move, he stops, scarcely blinking while he eyes them.

"Oh, he probably didn't even pick it out." Visenya says as she picks up the hairnet, "Probably tasked his latest Mistress with doing it." She turns the jewels in her hand before saying, "It's settled, then. You will wear my hairnet, and me yours. But we need coronets as well! I will need a moonish one, and you will need one for the sun." She continues turning the hairnet in her hands, "What is it like? Being married, I mean. I'm beginning to think it will never happen for me."

Marsei sits back down, although it's on the delicately upon edge, only out of a flighty excitement, as if poised to leap upon pretty gems at any moment. She sips at her brandy, taking more enjoyment in the Tyroshi beverage than wine. The alcohol warms her cheeks rather quickly. She starts to sit back as she considers Visenya's words. "It is … " she searches, tilting her head, deciding to say carefully instead, "I think it… is different, for everyone." There's a tone of apology present. "I could not compare my marriage to that of my parents, but … it also did not begin like that of Ormund and Lynesse, who seem so easily warmed by one another's company."

Camillo flickers a gaze at Marsei when Visenya asks about her marriage. Apparently that can even distract him from dragons. Actual dragons.

"I suppose it is different. My parents loathe each other, my father openly keeps Mistresses, and my mother pretends she is on her deathbed to avoid him." Visenya sighs softly, "And yet I thought I would be quite happy with Prince Rhaegor." She leans in slightly to say softer to Marsei, "You know I played with the idea of marrying into the Dornish. I may have even snuck a kiss or two from Prince Alaryn." She flushes slightly before leaning back on the couch and letting out a faint little laugh, "Seven, that man can kiss." She takes a swallow of the brandy, and wrinkles her nose slightly as it burns down her throat, "But I can't imagine marrying him like I can Rhaegor."

Marsei's eyes widen, and she touches her fingers to her lips in a shocked and rather maidenly fashion; but the small, warm smile that follows seems to bear no judgment. "I could not imagine marrying Jarvas," she admits, "because I did not know him before we were betrothed. You will be married, whether it is to Prince Rhaegor or not. You are, after all, a beautiful intelligent woman, a princess— " she glances toward the fireplace, her voice livening with humour, "and you have dragons."

On the verge of punctuating her assessment with another small sip of her drink, she thinks to look to Camillo and address the servant who's subjected to the ladies' talk. "Are you enjoying your brandy, Camillo?"

Camillo is either eavesdropping or thinking entirely about something else, since he's been standing there looking at the floor for a few minutes. But when he's addressed, he looks up. "Yes, my lady, Her Grace is very kind to share such fine spirits with me."

Visenya shakes her head softly. "I am twenty, and not yet married. My father doesn't care about me, and the Crown doesn't care about me. No one gives a damn about me. I thought my dragons would change my station, but they have not. I'm just worthless rubbish as far as they are concerned. I imagine I will remain in such a state unless I take matters into my own hands. I did take matters into my own hands with Prince Rhaegor. Now look at what may happen." Her eyes flick over to Camillo, "Do you want more?"

Marsei is pleased by Camillo's answer, beaming approvingly. She seems to take no offense to the idea of him partaking more of Visenya's hospitality; she simply goes back to sipping her own brandy, falling into thought. "Worthless rubbish?…" she repeats in bewilderment, as if the notion is utterly beyond her understanding. And ludicrous. She shakes her head. "That … that is awful, Visenya. I should not be that way," she says, pained on the other lady's behalf. "My brother Gwayne is unwed," she suggests, considering, but dismisses the idea with a gentle smile. "But we should not speak of such things so soon. Maybe there is still a chance with Prince Rhaegor. Or," a more tentative note of humour touches her voice, "…you could take my good-brother's advice and go into commodity shipment."

"Your Grace's first pouring was generous," Camillo says to Visenya, dipping his head. "I have some left, yet, before I would need any more." He certainly is not so foolish as to meddle in such a sensitive discussion.

"I met him." Visenya says of Gwayne, "I think he thinks I'm crazy." She shrugs one shoulder, as if to say 'That will happen' before she drains her own glass, and leans over the couch to take up the decanter. She offers to refill Marsei's before pouring more into her own cup. "Do you want to have the ball at the Hightower or here?" She asks in a considering tone, "Or here? And what will we serve?"

Marsei frowns, scarcely and fleetingly, making a mental note over Gwayne. She moves her glass in place to receive more brandy, although she says, "The tiniest bit, thank you." She looks about the suite as she, too, considers. "Are many events held in this manse?" she queries back. "We shall seeerve…" she lifts her glass, her voice nearly devolving into a giggle, "this!" She evens out as she goes on, "To be honest, I've thought more on gowns and dancing than all else."

Camillo is still drinking sparingly from that first glass of brandy. His eyes drift away from the noblewomen again so that he will not seem to stare.

"I haven't hosted a party since my brother Aevander went back to King's Landing." Visenya gives Marsei just a smudge more than 'the tiniest bit'. "I would like to hold it out in the gardens. I believe there is a big enough space for a dance floor. We could have things that are easy to eat. I would hate getting something on that lovely cloth."

The dragons stir in their hammock. The one on the bottom slides out from the one on top, who is still sleeping, and climbs out of the hammock. He leaps off of the stand, his wings spreading and fluttering like a chicken's, and lands on the table in front of the sofa. Visenya thoughtlessly extends a wrist to him, and he hops up on it.

"I think holding it in the gardens is a lovely idea! Ye— " The noise created by the dragon's flapping wings startles Marsei and, mid-sentence, she finds her voice frozen in her throat and her gaze utterly caught up in watching the creature's journey. As it perches on Visenya, Marsei curls her arm close to her chest, clutching her glass just under her chin. She stares in fascination, but her nervous edge is undeniable, though she tries to blink her way through it. "… we should of course hire the best … musicians," she carries on, inadvertently addressing the dragon more than Visenya.

Camillo eyes that little dragonling as it ambles and flaps its way to Visenya. He looks all the more tense to see her let it hop on her arm.

The dragonling pulls itself up Visenya's sleeve with it's silver claws and sharp needlelike black fangs. It manages to do this without causing the Princess any discomfort, and when it is on her shoulder she turns her head to nuzzle it. It lets out a happy shriek that sounds somewhat like a duckling, and nuzzles her back. Awww! It loves her! "I always hire fire eaters when I have a party, but I'm rather partial to fire!" She ignores the horror on Camillo and Marsei's face.

"Fire-eaters! They make me nervous, yet they are so exciting to watch!" Not unlike dragons. Marsei warms ever-so-slightly to the creature the more she watches it, smiling at it, but then she'll notice the gleam of a tooth or claw and cannot quite rest. She glances to Camillo to note and share his similar tension. "I did so love the contortionist at the Hightower celebration, soon after I returned home," she adds next. Her brows leap up excitably just then, her entire face all the more lively with the pink flush brought on by brandy, "Do you think all the entertainers should wear costumes?"

Camillo doesn't seem to warm in particular, but perhaps he relaxes his guard enough to sip brandy. Or else he sips it in order to calm down.

"Oh, I did as well!" Visenya scritches the dragon under it's chin. As if it were a kitten. "Although I think the dwarf knights will have to be omitted. As entertaining as they were I don't know if everyone appreciates them." She then changes the subject back to the gowns, and what sort of cut they will be, and what seamstress they will find. More brandy is drunk, and it is a stimulating evening.

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