(122-04-05) So Last Season
So Last Season
Summary: Common shopping goals, errands, and confusion come together in Oldtown Square.
Date: 05/04/2015
Related: None

Oldtown Square


This is a small cobblestone market square, packed with people from all walks of life in Oldtown. Food vendors offer sizzling, toothsome-smelling dishes, and peddlers offering every sort of thing one can possibly buy with coin line the cobbled walkways, with carpets, weapons, wines, scrolls, armor, cloth, tools, cookware, and myriads of cheap trinkets sure to please.

There is a general babble of voices and chatter as the city folk try to negotiate with the sharp street vendors of Oldtown, and the occasional scuffle as the City Watch snatch up pickpockets and cutpurses from the crowd.

There are some worn stone benches here and there, and grassy swards for the smallfolk to gather upon. In the center of the square stand a set of four heavy wooden pillories, where wrongdoers are frequently held fast for public punishment.

Lady Marsei's outing began at Hightower Square, but when she tired of shopping the sparkling wares for sale in the safe and tidy place, she convinced her guard as well as her present basket-carrier, Camillo, to the more bustling and diverse realm of Oldtown Square. The Hightower guard is slightly on edge, to take the noblewoman in the midst of smallfolk and cutpurses — a glimmering target in pink-and-gold, and with the servant's basket already loaded down with expensive bolts of fabric and who-knows-what in small pouches. For the most part, Marsei herself is rapt by fawning over trinkets she doesn't need and food the Hightower is already well-stocked with and is, besides, far from her job to obtain. It's a hot day in the city; the crowd comes and goes around them in pressing waves. "Do they sell fabrics here too, do you think?"

The best fabrics stall is pretty much hidden from view, crowded by three young men and a middle-aged woman who are argueing with each other and with the merchant, who's spread out several nice colorful fabrics for their perusal. One of the three young man is Loryn Tyrell, who is strongly favoring something in deep blue and silver, which his companion dismisses noisily as "so last season."

"Yes, my lady," Camillo opines. "I have seen them sold here, on occasion." He, too, quietly keeps an eye out for pickpockets, keeping his outer elbow cocked out to keep anyone from comfortably sidling in too close. "There," he says, indicating the stall where Loryn is shopping. It is a stall not far from a woodworker's, who sells a familiar box or two among his goods.

Marsei puts a smidgen of height in her step, stretching ever-so-slightly upwards to see ahead of her around shoulders taller than her. Her gaze travels past the woodworker's stall, hitches, and carries on. "Is that— " her words hitch as well, in distraction. " — Loryn Tyrell?" But the familiar boxes are not forgotten; as she maneuvers toward the fabric seller and the hotly contested fabric, she gestures casually — albeit curiously — toward the wookworker's stall. "Look, Camillo, your lovely box."

The argument at the fabric stall rages on for a while, sometimes seeming to be resolved, someone makes a remark that starts them off again. But finally decisions are made and some fabric is being wrapped. Loryn counts out some money, then turns away with a big sigh of relief. He mutters something that rhymes with banker, before adding more loudly. "I could use a drink now. Who's with me?" He looks around and brightens a little when he spots the young Hightower lady nearby.

"I believe it is, my lady," Camillo says of the Tyrell's identity, then glances at the woodworker's stall when Marsei draws attention to that. he looks the boxes over. "Yes, I suppose that fellow makes any number of them," he allows quietly.

"How empty they seem, without jewelry — or a bird to call one home," Marsei remarks, and though it's said mostly in passing, something does cause her attention to linger on the woodworker and his wares. She's not interested in buying anything from him, however; she moves on. She's all smiles, her typical combination of bright and polite, upon confirming that she has, indeed, spotted Loryn as he emerges from the fabric debate relatively unscathed. "Good day, Ser Loryn! Not too much trouble with your shopping, I hope?"

Dalt walks into the square, as usual wearing his shield on his back, and his sword on his hip. He keeps his hand on the hilt, though, keeping it pressed in place as he moves through the square.

The man stops at a few stalls, and exchanges a few coins for some food, which he then finally puts both hands on, and begins to eat as he walks. He takes a deep breath of the Oldtown air, and just moves around the place quietly.

Loryn smiles when the lady approaches and offers her a bow. "Lady Marsei, a pleasure for sore eyes as usual. What brings you to this part of town?" At the question of the fabric, he pulls a face. "It's for our play. Actors have very particular ideas of what becomes them on stage… and seamstresses very firm ideas of what is possible and what not."

"I suppose they do," Camillo agrees quietly with Marsei. When they approach Loryn, he steps back a little to give them more room to speak at their leisure.

Having been out and about for a while, Brynden is making his way through the square. Walking alone, he's carrying something with him, as he starts making his way in the general direction of the Hightower, although it's quite slow.

The lady welcomes the bow properly with a nod of her head that dips into the slightest curtsy. "Shopping, as you. I think it would be exciting to shop for a play!" she replies optimistically, despite the constraints apparently placed upon Loryn by actors and the seamstress. "Are these fabrics fine?" She looks past the Tyrell to the stand of fabric he's left. Transfixed by the fabrics, drifting that way, she does not quite notice Brynden just yet, nor anyone else.

"Not too fine.", Loryn replies, looking back to where the seamstress and the other two young guys are now emerging victorious with their wrapped bundles of fabric, "There is a lot of wear and tear on stage, so we shouldn't waste money on too expensive stuff. It just has to look somewhat expensive, but needs to be sturdy. I did not know you had an interest in the stage, Mylady.", he remarks with a little smile. He does notice Bryden though, having squired for the man for a while and should he look his way, he will offer him a nod. Strangers and commoners are not noticed though.

Camillo keeps quiet while his social betters converse, glancing at the fabric Loryn has purchased and what remains at the stall.

Pausing as he looks around, Brynden offers a nod in return as he sees Loryn's nod, and a smile as he sees Marsei as well. Making his way over in their direction, offering a nod to Camillo as well.

"I enjoy a good act," Marsei is happy to reply. "What story is more fantastical than on the stage. I'm still quite looking forward to your play!" She seems to assume she'll be invited; given who the play is said to be about — a certain princess with dragons who happens to be her friend — it might be a given. She tries to suppress her look of disappointment as she looks over the fabric peddler's wares that are not as fine as what she has already obtained, but she nevertheless moves in close enough to speak to him quietly, expressing what it is she's trying to find. As the man lays out a few samples, all white, she seems to be reminded of something and looks over her shoulder, "Do you need anything while we're out, Camillo— oh!" She spies Brynden, smiling wide. "It seems a good day to be in the city."

Oh, the Hightowers will be invited no matter what. "The play is progressing well.", Loryn assures her, his eyes drifting to Camillo when the man is addressed His brow arches. "I had no idea he was in your employ, Mylady."

"No, my lady," Camillo replies, lowering his head a little in thanks at her kindness to ask. His clothes, while quite dull, seem in good repair, so there is surely little else a man like him would want to purchase. He nods respectfully Brynden's way. Then to Loryn: "The Hightowers have been so good as to employ me."

Brynden smiles, "It seems like many people have decided that it is a good day for that, yes," he replies. "I hope you are all enjoying your days?"

"I am!" Marsei answers, her buoyant self. "Are you well yourself, coz?" She's distracted by Loryn's comment about Camillo, however, and gives the Tyrell an inquisitive look, pleasant eyes slightly narrowed and her fabric perusal delayed. "Are you surprised?" she asks, poised politely, casually, with a clear note of confusion — and curiosity, indicating Camillo with her gaze.

"A little bit, yes.", Loryn admits, his own smile warm and genuine, "It is very kind of you though and I hope he shall serve you well. Now if you excuse me, I will need to proceed home, I have to have some very serious words with my dear cousin." His sudden frown doesn't bode well for poor Janei. He bows deeply to Marsei and Brynden, then heads out.

Camillo lets his gaze wander a bit as Loryn says that he finds it surprising that the Hightowers should have hired him. He keeps his face carefully blank, but is probably embarrassed.

"Quite well, thank you," Brynden replies, looking around for a few moments. "Needed to get an errand done, so I figured it was good to get it done right away." Pausing for a few moments as he sees Loryn head off, looking a bit surprised. "I wonder what that was all about…"

Marsei sees Loryn off with a warm, allowing smile, but watches him leave with the same inquistive look that struck her a moment ago. "Hmm," she seems to agree thoughtfully. "It was odd. Don't you think?" She asides to Brynden, her face touched by a small sympathetic frown as she watches Camillo. "I don't see why he should be surprised, Camillo," she remarks; even in refuting Loryn in his absence, her voice is gentle. There's question in her tone, as well, but she does not push it.

"Nor do I, my lady," Camillo says, looking to Marsei. The uncertainty of /why/ Loryn should have said that seems to bother him more than his worthiness being called into question, but perhaps both are vexing to him. "Perhaps he remembers when I was new to the city and lacking work. I suppose I did not cut a respectable figure."

Brynden nods in agreement with Marsei. "Quite odd." A brief pause, before he looks over to Camillo as well, nodding a little bit. "I'm sure he did not mean anything in particular with it," he offers to the man. "As long as I've known him, Loryn's been… Well, different from his older brother."

"Well! I suppose it's no matter. It's us you serve, not the Tyrells, and we're happy to have you," Marsei says blithely, still a bit suspicious toward the absent knight but pleasantly eager to get back to shopping and chatting — more noble ventures. She turns and offers the vendor an apology for her delay. She bypasses the fabrics that have been woven in an attempt to resemble the more expensive varieties already in her basket, favouring a simple length of white made purposefully thin and almost sheer. "Isn't it his brother who's the different one, if I recall," she comments — more good-naturedly than it might be from some mouths — while she assesses the fabric.

"I am glad to hear it, my lady," Camillo says humbly, offering Brynden a nod of thanks for his willingness to ignore the matter, as well.

"True. His brother is a bit different from many others. Still a good man, though." Brynden looks a bit thoughtful as he speaks, before he smiles. "So, what are you shopping for today, cousin?"

As if to answer, Marsei gingerly holds up the fabric to watch how the sunlight streams softly through it. "I don't think this will do for my gowns, but I think it would look nice for my lady's maids, don't you?" She asks — well, anyone who will listen, though given her company of Brynden, Camillo, and a stern-faced guard, she may be asking for fashion advice from herself. The fabric vendor is more than willing to blindly and enthusiastically agree, however.

Camillo bobs his head gently at the question, whether he knows anything about fabric or not. "They must be pleased to work for a lady who considers their liveries with such good taste," he says quietly.

Brynden smiles, nodding a little as he hears this. "While I'm no expert on such things as fashion, I would think you are right. It would look nice for your maids." Smiling, he nods in agreement with Camillo now.

"They should look nice and have some nice things to their name, and I should like their fashions to compliment mine," Marsei states lightly, as if it should be obvious, still giving the fabric a going-over. She decides upon it, as well as a generous length, and the man goes about tidily wrapping it up. Marsei turns to smile at Brynden and Camillo gratefully — for taking her seriously, more than their agreements. "I think I'm done now," she announces with a nod to Camillo, whose basket will soon be made more heavy by the fabric vendor, then addresses Brynden, "Are you headed home, cousin?"

Camillo nods, seeing to it that the fabric is loaded into the basket so that it will not catch or be in any danger of stains.

"That was the plan, yes," Brynden replies, with another smile. "I have gotten that little errand done, so it should be time to head back home."

Marsei takes a brief moment to assure the man is paid properly before standing at Brynden's side. Her guard readies at a distance on the other side. "Then we will walk home together," she decides cheerfully.

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