(122-06-22) Playing with Fire
Playing with Fire…
Summary: The fourteenth nameday of Princess Xavia Targaryen was greatly enjoyed by all in attendance. It came with a stirring light show few in Oldtown were likely to miss that evening.
Date: (22/06/2015)
Related: Coming Soon


The evening is cool, somewhat overcast. The manse has been decorated in whites, creams, and metallics: cream and white fabrics wind round the bannister and are hung in swags from the walls, beautifully complementing the rosewood furnishings and the black-and-red coat of arms where it can be seen. The marble the manse is constructed from provides the white backdrop against which white-clothed revelers will be seen, almost spectral in their lack of color, white-on-white against the walls. Music can be heard from the garden, where a white canopy has been erected to shelter at least the musicians and /some/ of the space out there. And tendrils of delicious food aromas issue forth from the Sitting Room, where foods have been chosen primarily in black, white, and red: white cream, red berries, black currants, blackened fowl, boiled eggs filled with black fish roe, red rare meats, lovely white cakes provided by Prince Dhraegon…plenty is laid out, and there is seating throughout the room where people might enjoy it. White wines and clear spirits are liberally supplied by servants in black-and-red livery, along with strawberry wine, a fine ale, and a smokey whiskey. Don't spill anything.

The Garden is allowed to be its multihued self, which will surely set off all the largely monochromatic outfits to great advantage. The gathering twilight is dispelled somewhat by torches already lit. They also keep the insect situation to a minimum.

Lord Clovis Tyrell is in attendance for the time being, he might likely slip away at some point soon to assure the /show/ was going to go off without a hitch. The blonde young man looks becoming in his white Dornish tunic, the subtle gold of Tyrell roses catch the light from torches as he lingers near the doorway which went from the Manse to the Gardens. He has a silver goblet in his hand and he sips it between the use of a broad, cherry survey of the decorations.

Dhraegon drifts about the garden all in white pearls and embroidery, with his hair up in elaborate braids. He has cakes on his plate and is eyeing them with a longing best suited to a bride groom gazing at his bride on the wedding night, though not yet partaking of them.

Peri is quiet, coming in with Flox instead of with Dhraegon, her hands resting infront of her. She lowers a piece of silk from off her hair once she's in the garden, attaching it back to the jewelry pieces on her shoulders to act as more cape flounce. Her movements are small, denying views of her feet. She sets gifts on the table provided for them, she moves toward Dhraegon. She squints and whispers a soft "No." at Dhraegon, patting his shoulder once gently. She looks a little nervous.

Jurian is not precisely arriving /late/ to his own party, but he isn't the first guest to move out to the garden. Now that a few people have been shown through, however, he moves in, a silver goblet in hand. He corrects as much as possible for his limp, wearing quite a satisfied expression as he takes in the effect of the decor and the guests who are so nicely attired. He spots Clovis right away and heads in his direction. "Well, Lord Clovis. How fine the Tyrell roses look on the white ground."

Clovis looks down at his own tunic with a passing grin at the compliment. "Why thank you, Prince Jurian, I was rather pleased myself when it arrived last week. Exactly as I had pictured it." He takes another sip of his wine before gesturing out at the garden with mild wave of his arm. "So much splendour here tonight though. My roses are the least of it just this once…" A soft polite laugh.

Dhraegon gives Peri a shy smile, "I wore the pins. Did you see? Have you seen my sweet snowdrop about?" He drops his voice face scrunching in worry, "No what?" He spots Jurian and hails him, "See? I am properly groomed as I promised!" Flox, a small, non-descript, middle aged man with a long suffering look, now dressed in white tinged subtly with gray for the occation, winces. He is stationed a few steps behind Prince Dhraegon and a little to the side where he might intervene at need. The large prince eyes Clovis, "Which one are you?"

Jurian lifts a hand in greeting to Dhraegon. "Uncle," he says fondly. "You glow with nobility. Thank you for enriching our little gathering with your presence. May I introduce Lord Clovis Tyrell, recently returned from Dorne, where he studied the art of dance. He is to grace the Whimsy with his art before long." He smiles at Clovis. "How kind of you to say."

Peri is gentle, taking Dhraegon's arm for now, giving Flox a smile. She looks a bit like a professional cat herder. She gives Clovis a light curtsy before bowing to Jurian politely. She returns to holding Dhraegon's arm "I have not seen your beloved, but until she shows up, I will act as your companion. When she arrives, I will head off." she whispers in a soft tone. "Dear prince." she is otherwise quiet, afterall, she hasn't been asked anything.

Indeed, Lady Marsei Hightower is in attendance, a recent entry through to the garden; her walk is drifting, seeming enamoured by all the visuals around her. Her red hair has been braided and looped prettily up, not a bit hanging loose, tiny small flowers and pearls embedded throughout. Her white attire against her already fair skin brings out her usually shy freckles, while her gown itself is undecorated, not by jewels, or even embroidery; its white is pure, the beauty is in its design, fitted to the grace of its owner with curving lines where the panels fit together. The neckline is straight, below her collarbones, longer than average before curving upward to her shoulders, leaving a hint of them bare to the cool evening air. The gown's sleeves are long and dagged, diverting into two pieces that flow lightly with a combination of partially sheer fabric, rather than hang heavily; the gown similarly flows behind Marsei as she walks the garden. She spots Dhraegon, not a difficult task, and heads his way with a bright smile that extends to all those near him before she even reaches them.

Clovis is the genial sort, prone to big smiles and a lilted sort of speech. He inclines his head to Dhraegon with a passing grin as he inclined the cup in the silent shadow of a toast. "I adore the feathers and pearls. Bold choice." There is no sarcasm or judgement from the foppish Tyrell just an honest sort of pride for his love of the finer things. He turns the warm, polite, smile on the approaching Hightower as she moves to join them.

Dhraegon gives Lord clovis a big goofy smile and says in the stilted tones of a child reciting a memorised speech, "Hello I am Prince Dhraegon targaryen it is nice to meet you." he repeats "Clovis" quietly to himself five or six times with an air of extreme consentration. "This is Mistress Peri. She was very brave and generous during the recent plague. I love flowers!" Then his gives a vagueing unhinged sounding titter and stuffs a cake in his mouth. Then he spots his intended and his face lights up with genuine delight, "Lily of my heart! I have cakes!" He offers her the small mound of delicacies, a sacrifice indeed.

Jurian assumes an air of polite interest while Peri is introduced, but one can tell he sees her differently from nobles. But he does say, "Welcome to our celebration, please enjoy yourself freely." He looks up when Dhraegon hails Marsei, eyes a little wide. "The Lady Marsei," he says. "How fine you look in white."

Peri yields Dhraegon's arm to Marsei "I believe- yes you've spotted her yourself Prince Dhraegon" she murmurs, to Dhraegon, keeping an eye on Clovis and Jurian. She takes a napkin out of her blouse, daubbing Dhrae's mouth before he can make a mess of himself or Marsei. SHe bows her head again, quietly now, trying not to crowd the nobles as much as not make too big of a fuss. She closes her eyes for a long moment "I am gratitude filled for the invitation to attend and do hope if you have need of me, that much like your kin you will call upon me if ill or injured, Prince Jurian." she offers, voice gentle. She gets quiet when the nobles are talking. She's likely waiting for Dhraegon to get suitably distracted so she can slink off.

"My sweet Prince Dhraegon," Marsei greets the tall, fancifully decorated, delighted Targaryen with sincere fondness, delighted in a more composed fashion; she touches the edge of Dhraegon's plate and his hand with delicate fingers, carefully taking one. "They are beautiful," she compliments the dessert and her betrothed alike before she smiles more specifically to Clovis and Jurian than she could from afar. "Prince Jurian, how kind you are. I think everyone looks so flattering this evening," she says, looking around the garden. "Lord Clovis, I remember," she goes on, and then to Peri, she gives a curious look— with just as sincere a smile. "Miss Peri, is that right? Oh, I hope I've gotten it right. Your fashion is so marvelous," she expresses, admiring the tattoo patterns and trying not to ask every question right this moment.

Lord Clovis on the other hand doesn't show quite as much derision toward Peri, there is no subtle distaste at her station as he quite simply remarks, "Well met, Mistress Peri…" A curious turn in his brow at the sight of Peri tending to the older Targaryen's face crumbs. He does not draw attention to the Prince's condition but instead looks around over his shoulders, "I was prepared to do some tricks for your cousin before I have to dash off to check on the real entertainment." Those words were spoken in a soft aside to Jurian and his head swivels around again to face the small group.

"Lady Hightower, Princes, if it pleases… I could just do some tricks for those here before I must away…" Clovis finishes the wine in his silver goblet and hands it to a passing servant before flexing his hands.

Indeed, Dhraegon's lips were bedecked with crumbs and cream, so Peri's ministrations came none too soon. Dhraegon sumbits to the cleaning with the air of a man used to having others clean his mouth and hands when they are sticky. He eagerly tells Marsei, "I picked one of each flavor for you!" his face falls, "But I ate one. I am sorry my Snowdrop…. Mistress Peri is from Essos!" He looks at Clovis with real interest now, "Do you have puppets? Or marionettes? Young Loryn has a theater but no puppets."

Peri smiles at Marsei "I can only thank the tailor for understanding that standard cuts of gowns for Westeros are a bit uncomfortable for me, my lady. I am Peri, yes. It is lovely to meet someone who makes Prince Dhraegon so genuinely happy." she breathes out, extending her hands to Marsei, intending a squeeze and knuckle kiss if allowed. She blinks "Ah Yes, I spent many years in Lys, It is true."

Jurian shrugs at Clovis, quietly saying, "I'm only half-sure she'll be here at all." Then he steps back and makes room for Clovis to provide a little entertainment for the rest. He looks expectant.

Marsei extends one elegant hand to the Essosi woman, the other taken by the cake — on the subject of the desserts, she gives Dhraegon a wholly forgiving smile for eating one. "Lys," she repeats with some surprise, "I admit I find some of the dress of Essos— " A pause; she recovers gently, "shocking, but it is lovely, and those patterns," she tells Peri, noting the tattoos. She settles in by Dhraegon's side, gexpectent toward Clovis, all cheer. "I love watching tricks."

"No, alas, no puppets." Lord Clovis laughed without being cruel, he seems a bit suprised but wholly tickled by the notion of puppets. "I think you might like this though…." Clovis whips out his left hand and he keeps talking as he does it so the words distract and illusion insists the purple silk scarf appears right from mid air. "I really should look into puppets though. So much craftmanship, such an art…" The scarf is laying flat in his hand and he wiggle the right one above his palm. The scarf seems to grow as the shape of a sphere grows unseen, right from his palm, under the scarf. He whips off the scarf after a beat and in his hand is a glass ball. He is able to slide the sphere to and over the tips of his fingers several times before stopping only to longer be holding the sphere. He looks up and turns in a small circle as he searches for the crystal ball with animated confusion.

Peri squeezes Marsei's hand, kissing it once gently. She's quiet, watching Clovis. She smiles a bit "The fashion here favors a slender body, and I'm afraid I've never been terribly slender, Lady Marsei." she offers with a very soft smile. She's gentle, releasing, turning to watch Clovis. She isn't noisy or fussy, instead standing very politely.

Dhraegon blushes faintly, "Mistress Peri suggested I should try Dornish style clothes as they do such nice things in silk, but I do not think I would look good sleeveless and I should hate to lose my pockets." He adresses the sister of the Queen with what sounds like real reverance, "You are so elegant and lovely, My Clemetis, that you overshadow all the other flowers in the garden." He watches Clovis' performance wide wide eyed innocent fascination. "I like puppets, but not the one that is always hitting people and getting hanged." he hovers close by marsei, holding the plate where she might easily sample more of the cakes without taking her eyes from the performance.

Jurian keeps his eyes on the Tyrell's clever fingers, a larger circle growing round them as other people turn to watch the sleight of hand. There are some pleased murmurs. He looks to Dhraegon, eyes widening slightly at the idea of him in Dornish fashion. "Uncle, the classic style suits you so much better," he says smoothly.

Clovis moves with controlled motions that keep the ball out of sight when it needs to be hidden. As he turns around comically in search of the sphere those who are present see it stalled on his collar where it sits with neigh impossible precision between his shoulder blades. A bit of laughter erupts from the crowd and he turns back around with a coy smirk on his face. The clear sphere sliding down his bare left arm only to be immediately traded off to the right hand- via the back of his hand. He turns in a circle contact juggling like that as he kept the sphere from falling for several long minutes.

Peri chuckles faintly at Dhraegon "Not all Dornish garb is the same, and most of them have sleeves and pockets." she offers with a chuckle "I could find a picture book of them if you ever decide you wish to look." she offers honestly. Jurian's face causes her to frown and just look down at her feet. She seems to get a bit uncomfortable.

Marsei smiles to Peri, not keeping her eyes long from Clovis. "I think we favour modesty over boldness," she replies quietly, casual, taking no particular stance for either side. She watches the Tyrell's illusion with easy joy. Her eyes are keen, her mind clever, but she doesn't seem to have a single intent to try to figure out how the trick is done — at least, she shan't until later; in the moment, she's happy to watch Clovis put on a show, nibbling here and there on her cake. Without looking down, she bows her head a little, simply modest rather than deferential. "You flatter me as always, my prince," she tells Dhraegon, with the aside, "Almost anything can be fitted with pockets … but I think your style suits you," she seems to agree with essentially all angles on the topic of Dhraegon's fashion.

Eonn slips out of the barn and moves to stand near the gate that separates the formal garden from the utilitarian area where the stable and kennels are.

Dhraegon looks worried everytime the sphere seems in danger of dropping and he giggles and squeals along with the crowd at the saves. He bass voice contrasts with his childlike demeanor and delivery, "I like picture books!" He must have noticed Peri's discomfort though as he gently pats her arm, though he nos agreement with Marsei on the subject of modesty. "It is true. I am not much of a one for… for things like I saw at Visenya's last party." He looks distressed at the memory and instinctively moves so that he is almost touching marsei as if for protection. Her statement that his style suits him wins her one of his brightest smiles and the most delicate brush of his lips to the top of her head, a touch light as a butterfly's wings. Then he is waving to the other red head, just arrived.

Jurian doesn't seem to notice Peri's distress, since he's entirely focused on what Clovis is doing. For now, at least, things seem so much more wholesome than Visenya's party, although alcohol is flowing freely. "Uncle, I am going to make a contribution to the Whimsy in hope of seeing many more such entertainments there," he comments.

After the performance goes on for a time without heading for disaster Clovis executes one final pitch. He pulls his arm back and in reality the sphere falls away when he pretends to chuck it. Had he thrown the ball? It seems he had pitched the ball right over the wall. A few seconds later a white dove comes and lands on the distant outer wall across the garden. He bows to the crowd and gesture to the dove with a sweep of his arm. "Now if you'll all excuse me. I need to assure that the rest of my gifts are arriving on time." He says this to the crowd and as he passes Jurian he pauses and mutters, "Maybe see if you can find her? The wind is in the west, time's now. I'll be back after I run down to the harbour." He gives Jurian a passing pat on the shoulder as he snuck away through the crowd… a wine glass is picked up in his exit.

A faint tension threatens Marsei's smile over mention of Visenya's party (it was, technically, her party too, though she was less responsible for certain aspects), and she lays a hand at his elbow, comforting and proper at once, smiling up at him. The grand finale of the performing Tyrell's act has her eyes wide and sparkling; she gives a gentle little gasp upon seeing the dove, nearly hopping on her toes. "A dove! Do you see? Oh, but where did it come from!"

Eonn looks at the bird. He smiles vaguely.

A single light drifting out across the harbour sky where no light should be.

The single light is soon joined by others in an arresting silent departure. The slow moving lights are being swept away on the seaward breeze. They are charming and soon more folks will notice as the sky becomes peppered with paper lanterns in the distance. The illusion of hundreds of will o wisps heading slowly out to sea. A light show had been promised and in the sky one was delivered by the simple magic of paper lanterns and little candles. The slow moving stars number the hundreds and they twinkle softly like nothing seen before."

Peri slips from Dhraegon's arm, moving to settle into a seat, giving Eonn a wave. She adjusts her gown just a little so it isn't out of hand.

Dhraegon beams at Jurian, "I think young Loryn takes commisions for plays." From Dhraegon's expression as he gazes at Marsei, he clearly considers her another victim of his young kinswoman's party planing and not the author of his shock. Delicately, he sets one of his huge pudgy hands over her slender one on his elbow, and flashes her a reasuring and rather sheepish smile. then he is following her gaze to the dove, "white wings!"

Jurian listens to what Clovis is saying to him and gives him a pat on the back in acknowledgement. He gives a brief bow to Peri, Marsei, and Dhraegon. "If you'll excuse me just a moment, I'm going to hunt our young guest of honor." He heads off, abbreviated cape fluttering slightly.

Xavia is inside watching the sky diligently from a window hidden in a small alcove away from the hustle of the party she she is one of the first to notice….

It starts very slowly and only the most alert amoung the revelers might notice at first…

A single light drifting out across the harbour sky where no light should be.

The single light is soon joined by others in an arresting silent departure. The slow moving lights are being swept away on the seaward breeze. They are charming and soon more folks will notice as the sky becomes peppered with paper lanterns in the distance. The illusion of hundreds of will o wisps heading slowly out to sea. A light show had been promised and in the sky one was delivered by the simple magic of paper lanterns and little candles. The slow moving stars number the hundreds and they twinkle softly like nothing seen before.

Eonn lifts his hand in response to Peri's wave, now watching her rather than the dove.

Peri is watching the lights, her expression curiously. Her legs folding as she stands back over, moving to Eonn to greet him, warmly, gracefully swaying as she moves. She is actually starring at the lights "How have you been? Do you think while they watch we could help ourselves to the food and wine?" she asks, half teasing Eonn as she sneaks a moment to squeeze his hand.

Ser Culler Hightower is a man of middling height with pale skin and carrot red hair combed over his head. His features have a cherubic quality that contrast with the callouses on his hands and the scars on his toned body. These boyish looks attractive to some have a tendency to give an air of naivety. His thick lips are often upturned in an unsettling mischievous smile. He seems to be of only medium build, though he walks with the balanced gait of a highly trained combatant. As for his clothing he wears black leathers entwined with chain to allow for maximal mobility. He has twin Essossian machetes of half sword length holstered on his thighs and a much larger broad sword across his back. All the swords seems to be of the most elite manufacture.

Marsei was still bemused and pleased by the dove, after nodding to Prince Jurian's departure; she takes the time between socializing to sample more of the cakes, unaware what new dazzling show is in store. "How interesting that— …" she begins to Dhraegon in conversation and trails off, hushed by the glimmer in the sky. She takes a step back as if spooked at first, but she's quickly wondrously mystified, taking in a breath and smiling with innocent awe. "They're so beautiful," she says, almost reverent.

"I do not think they'd stop us," Eonn tells Peri, looking up now. "Are you not a guest?"

Dhraegon stares wide eyed at the light display, "It is a shame little keli isn't here to see it…." He keeps step with Marsei, stepping back when she does so as not to be seperated.

Jurian is about to go into the house when he realizes people are looking at their promised show. He hesitates, since he probably /should/ find his young cousin, being that things are ostensibly in her honor. But then he gives up his mission, turning back to look out at the sky and see the spectacle.


Peri smiles a bit "I am, I was invited by Prince Dhraegon, but I'm not positive he ensured it was acceptable to invite me." she offers with a chuckle, leaning against Eonn, gently leading him towards the plates of meat and foods, taking a goblet of wine with a grin.

A girl with a tall red tiara and hair white as snow comes out of the manse before Jurian got much of a chance to look for her, she is smiling and moves with a haunting pace to her slow gait. The girl's gaze is turned on the paper lanterns in the distance. Princess Xavia stands out in an instant because her dress is blood red and black in a sea of white. She stalks past the guests in silence and for once she is not noticed before something else in the room, the lanterns pull focus from her regardless of the red, her face looks pleased. It is not until she has climbed a bench and craned her neck to the sky might anyone finally spot the frail youth. "But you told me you could not give me the stars." This is a breathless sort of awe to herself, but clearly intended to someone else.

Eonn looks shabby, as he always does, and dusty, though he doesn't always look that way. He collects a wine glass as if he's allowed it, though, and has a long swallow before he looks over the foods. "When did you get here?"

It is this time that Ser Culler Hightower chooses to enter the event - without most of his entourage. He does have the strange face painted beautiful warrior woman Jax with him. He is rarely without his best friend and 'bodyguard'. Bowing to the princess the knight goes over to his sister - watching her watching the candles. No doubt he has seen similar spectacles before - as he is not as impressed.

"I…" The Hightower lady is so purely enchanted by the light show that she nearly forgets to finish her thought to Dhraegon, despite her intention. "… I met Keli," yet remains slightly uncertain about who she is, a bit of question in her voice. "I think … many will see the lights, tonight." All of her words are hushed in honour of the twinkling lights, as if they demand it. Certainly, she goes respectfully quiet once she gets a glimpse of the striking red-and-black princess … Marsei is tranquil in her watch, until she notices Culler, too. She seems, quietly, startled.

Dhraegon's own often inappropriately loud voice is currently hushed as well, "I am fond of her as I would be for a daughter…." As always when Marsei is about, he keeps track of her gaze. "That is the Princess Xavia." He bends to murmer something to his intended. His sensative gaze catches her startlement and he gives the arriving noble a quizzical look.

Jurian hasn't done much looking for Xavia. He's been enjoying the show for himself. He glances away from them when he hears her voice, however. "Ah. Cousin. Are you pleased?" he asks quietly.

A servant who knows him slips Eonn a drink. No one takes much notice of him yet, given the twin spectacles of the floating lights and the Princess in red.

Peri is quiet for a long time, thinking "At the time it was set to arrive." she moves her hair over her shoulder, plucking out a few white blooms from her curls to neatly arrange in Eonn's beard for him, taking a layer or two of her capelet off to pin carefully to his shoulders. He is wearing white now… "You know you were supposed to wear white, right?" She glances at the Hightower, since she doesn't know him she continues having a quiet conversation with Eonn.

"I wasn't invited," says Eonn, amused. He doesn't mind Peri putting white flowers into his red beard, or the little white cape over his black-clad shoulders, but he's still hardly dressed in white. "What for?" He drinks more wine, and takes a slice of roasted aurochs.

Culler winks at his sister and places an arm around his bodyguard. She is lovely but as many might attest far deadlier than Culler could ever be. A poisonous flower. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure Prince," he says to Dhraegon, "I am Ser Culler Hightower."

Davyn comes out of the manse.

The petite princess Xavia is about five foot one but she is still standing on a stone bench. She turns to face Jurian and when she looks down at him the nystagmus in her eyes is readily apparent from all the ambient light in the garden. Her pales silvery violet eyes shift with a rapid disconnected manner that made her a rather chilling conversation partner. She puts out a hand that he may take in just long enough for her to hop down off the bench smoothly. "I am most pleased." And yes, this night of her party, she is more full of smiles than she has been for years. "I want a glass of wine…" She looks back to the slow moving stars again, adding softly, "I love my slow moving stars."

Marsei looks up briefly to Dhraegon and smiles a little to let him know she understands his whisper. She looks then more properly to Culler, tipping her chin up. "My brother," she adds to the introduction. They do look rather strikingly alike, and similar in age; they could nearly be twins, yet Marsei does not seem quite as easily warm toward this sibling as some others — though nor is she rude, by any means. "Culler, this is Prince Dhraegon, my betrothed."

Davyn slips in from the front of the house, head down but eyes up as he darts a look around the gathering here. Given that he's not on any guest list, for sure, he's keeping a low profile. He could almost be just some other household servant boy save for the fact that he doesn't actually belong here at the household. Small details, those.

Dhraegon has a plate of cakes and his other hand is over the Lady Marsei's. There is something about his posture that suggests both reverance and protectiveness of his bright haired companion. He is rather fancifully dressed in pearls and damask with rather elabrate braides and pins and flowers in his long white hair. He is old enough to be the father of intended. He gives Culler a vacant smile, giggling a little. His eyes are such a pale lavander as to be almost colourless. He says in the stilted tones of a child saying a memorized speech, "I am Prince Dhraegon targaryen. It is nice to meet you." His deep bass voice contrasting with his childlike manner.

Eonn stands beside Peri, eating meat and drinking wine and looking as if he rather doesn't belong. He doesn't seem disturbed about that, though. Just hungry.

Jurian helps Xavia down from the bench and summons a servant with a snap of fingers to get her a glass of wine. "/Good/," he says quietly but emphatically. "Remember who gave them to you in the future." He smiles. "Now. I'm going to call for a game of snapdragon. You may join us or not, as you wish." This is all pitched just for her to hear, but a moment later, he steps toward the center of the garden. "Honored guests," he begins, eye briefly distracted by Eonn in his not-really-white ensemble. But no time to deal with that now: "I would like to thank you on behalf of my whole family for celebrating with us m-my dear cousin Xavia's nameday, and my own arrival to this fine city. I hope you are pleased with our stars over the sea, but we have more to entertain you tonight. I propose a game, for those who wish to play, of Snapdragon." He makes a gesture and some servants bring out a small table, a bottle, and a basket of dried fruit. "Those who do not wish to participate, please enjoy the evening, as well as the food in the sitting room." The servants place the fruits into the bowl and pour the contents of the bottlewhich smell like strong spiritson top. One sets it alight, low blue flame dancing eerily across the surface of the liquid.

Davyn spots Peri at some point, eyes lighting up with recognition. Anyone who spared more than a glance at him would notice that he's somewhat injured, a gash on his left forearm that he's got his right hand pressed again. The arm, and his hand, are sticky with blood, marking it a bad cut but clearly nothing life-endangering. As he approaches the woman he pays more attention to her companion, Eonn, and then more specifically to the food he has in hand. The Peri mission looks about to be put on hold in lieu of seeking out food.

"Trust, I forget very little." A glass of wine is delivered to Princess Xavia and she holds in a slightly immature two handed manner as she watches the game of Snapdragon being set up for her nameday. Her grin is still double wide and a pink flush has risen in her milkwhite skin from just a few sips of wine. "Who will go first?" Her voice doesn't boom and the girl in the blood red dress is only heard because she can't be ignored.

Peri is curious "What is snap dragon?" she asks, cautiously towards Eonn. She sort of glances at Dhraegon, and the child and his companionships. Her expression gets serious as she spots Davyn, gently taking his arm with one of her hands, gesturing at the nearest servant "Cloth with cold water, and bandages and a bit of strong strong spirit please." she coos, glancing at Xavia, squatting down to calmly pet Davyn "Hello there dear." she whispers, given she's dressed in pure white, the blood is a bit of a concern.

Eonn looks down at the boy with faint interest and no surprise. He hands the kid the slice of roast he was eating, tearing off the bitten chunk with his teeth and keeping that for himself.

Davyn is not, incidentally, in white. He's in green. Part of not being on the guest list means that he didn't get the notice about the color theme. "Peri, Peri, Peri, I fell onto a cart," he explains. Then there is food offered, and that decides it: Eonn is officially an okay person. He quits putting pressure on his wound to make a grab for the meat. "Hey thanks. You a knight?"

In the midst of introductions, strings of Marsei's attention are pulled in various directions, but pulled the strongest to the center of the garden for Jurian's speech and the small, striking princess having her nameday. Her eyes widen at the flames more than they did the lights, more worry in them than awe. She leans in slightly toward Dhraegon. "Have you heard of this game?"

Dhraegon looks to the flaming bowl and then worriedly at marsei's elegant and elaborate hair style, "One bobs for fruit among the flames…." He does lead his lady closer to the Princess in red, "Princess Xavia, may I bresent Lady Marsei Fossaway, formerly hightower, my intended."

"You may have the honor if you wish, cousin, or you may have me do it, to demonstrate," Jurian says, smiling. That is quiet, but he raises his voice for all to hear: "It is a simple game. One at a time, players move forward and pluck a fruit from the bowl using only their mouths. If you shut your mouth around the fruit, the flame will go out, but you must be careful in your approach lest you be singed. Play at your own risk!"

Eonn smiles at Davyn and says, "No. I'm a sellsword. There's probably a Knight around here somewhere, if you need a proper one."

"I think perhaps I should finish this first glass of wine to raise my confidence." The Princess Xavia abides to her cousin as she takes another sip with a subtle drunken smirk hiding behind the rim of her cup. She motions for him to go first, watching out of the corner of her vision at the fire even as she withdrew her glass and turned to face her Uncle. She keeps a placidly polite expression as she softly remarks, "So glad you could make to my party. I hope you are both enjoying yourselves?"

"Oh," Davyn says to Eonn, and shrugs. Chewing on meat, he at least swallows before he talks, now and then glancing down at his injured arm to make sure it's still there and all. "You look like a knight, 'cause you got fancy armor." The fact that it's mismatched doesn't seem to register with the boy. "I don't need one. Hey, do you know how come they have those spikes on top of the walls here?"

"That seems…" Like something that makes Marsei nervous at the very thought of, given the uncertain stare she casts in the game's direction on her way to being introduced to the guest of honour, especially as Jurian goes on to explain the finer details. All worry vanishes with the brightness of her smile toward Xavia. "Princess Xavia, an honour, truly. It has been a wonderful party so far," she says with sincerity, enthusiasm only contained by just the right amount of politeness. "The lights were one of the most beautiful things I have seen."

Peri 's fingers take the clean cloth and the alcohol from the servant, cleaning the little boy up with careful, gentle fingers. She inspects the injury to see if it is going to need stitches. "Go get my basket from the tiny room I keep things in when I am here." she orders at a servant, she pauses "To keep little stray cats like you out. Big cats like Eonn know tricks to get over them." she clucks at Davyn, teasingly. She holds the formerly clean towel on the injury, carefully, patiently waiting for the servant to come back. She does not look phased by the rather literal interpretation of house words at the party.

"To stop people from climbing over," Eonn replies to Davyn, matter-of-factly. Peri's explaination makes him smile. "Come," he tells her, "Let's sit the lad down out of the way, at least."

Davyn tries not to bleed on Peri. He's thoughtful like that. Now and then his attention strays toward the other talk of lighting things on fire, because fire is always good, but he mostly stays focused on the two he's nearest, Peri and Eonn. So far he tolerates Peri's tending well enough. Nothing sharp has been poked into him yet. "You know how to get over the spikes?" he asks Eonn, with obvious interest. "Other houses have them too. They're a pain."

Culler merely watches proceedings - content to wallflower through the game of Snapdragon. Acknowledging the princess again and quietly talking to his exotic companion.

Dhraegon smiles gently on his beloved, "It would be a shame to spoil your petals." he doesn't seem at all alarmed at the party being invaded by a grubby boy, and given his fondness for the waif Keli, that likely isn't surprising.

Jurian has short hair and dragon's blood, so the danger is rather minimal for him. He leans down, plucks out an apricot with his teeth, closes his mouth around it, then smiles, revealing it still in his teeth to show that it isn't on fire and hasn't burned him. Then he sucks it back in and chews it. "Cousin, you shall choose the order from here out. Only the willing, but at /your/ pleasure. I'll be right back." He cuts his eyes toward Eonn and Davyn, the chromatic ruiners of his chosen aesthetic. He moves over closer to that group, and hisses, "Take him /inside/. No one who is dressed improperly is to come back out here." Hopefully the rest of the party is distracted with the fun. Jurian is trying not to make a scene, but anger flashes in his eyes.

"Yes," Princess Xavia agrees in gentle return to Lady Marsei's appraisal of the lights. "Me as well, they were a suprise…" She turns to watch Jurian takes his turn and she sips her wine. "It was Jurian's gift to me. Apparently one of the Tyrell's Import traders helped him come by the magic… that was all I knew…" She doesn't go on to explain she'd been having visions of slow moving stars for weeks because of the event at hand.

Even now the cluster of lights in the distance is little more than one hazy ball way out on the horizon slowly being swallowed by distance and time.

A man of average to tall height and a medium to unassuming build lingers near Princess Xavia. He has been there abouts the whole time but his all white ensemble and surreptitiously worn sword make Ser Auraine something of an afterthought in the noble crowd. Princess Xavia reels around to look for her Guardsman with a giggle, "Auraine you're next." The strawberry blonde Knight laughs but puts on a good show of his turn- only losing half an eyebrow in his success. "Anyone else? I'll go last! Any takers?"

Davyn still hasn't really picked up on the fact that everyone else is in white. He does know that his clothes are… well, grubbier than other people's, though. Scowling, he looks down the length of himself at his faded green tunic, and mumbles something to himself, something about a 'perfectly good tunic' and 'fancy shmancy'. He doesn't say anything directly to Jurian, though, and avoids looking in the man's direction entirely. Instead, he looks to Peri and Eonn.

Marsei gives a small shake of her head — meaning to count herself out — as she watches the game, planting a hand delicately on the horizontal neckline of her dress. "Will you go, Dhraegon?"

Peri hefts the child up in her arms with a grunt. ".. Very well your grace." she offers, she looks to be getting annoyed herself. "I'm sorry child, You are injured and likely so sore." she rubs her nose against the child's cheek. "I was so hoping to play the games and dance with Prince Dhraegon as I did promise him, do give him my condolences that I can not honor my promise, grace?" she asks towards Jurian, she looks somewhere between upset and annoyed. She starts inside, her foot movements less graceful, her bare tatooed feet showing.

Dhraegon looks between the bowl and Marsei, eyes searching for a clue as to what might best pleased his lady. his long hair with it's elaborate braids and flamable feathers are not best suited to this sort of game.

Eonn gets hissed at by a Prince. He nods, shrugs, and refills his wine-glass. Then he grabs another handful of the roast and starts after Peri, saying, "Here, under the quince," and gestures at the big tree. True enough — nobody could see them under there, at least.

"Very well," Jurian says to Peri, pursing his lips slightly. He seems done with them immediately, not even paying attention to where they go, as long as the improper apparel is out of sight. He returns to Xavia's side, lifting his chin, "Your lady should hold your hair for you, Uncle."

Dhraegon adds, "Flox? Let mistress Peri use my room if she needs one for the clid." Flox peels away from his Prince to escort them and deflect any trouble within.

Davyn squirms a bit. Undignified, being toted about, but a problem of being small. Unfortunately for Peri, by carrying him she's probably getting some of his blood smeared on that pristine white fabric, because the boy's still bleeding. "I can walk, Peri, it's my arm hurt, not my leg," he complains, but not too forcefully. Once they've put a few steps between themselves and Jurian he complains to Peri and Eonn both, petulantly. "I'm dressed properly. Some people don't have fancy clothes, I only got one tunic."

Culler folds his arms, "Well if there is another round I'll be sure to give it a go." He turns to Jaq'lin or Jax as she is known, "How about you?" he asks. She merely rolls her eyes. She being the more sensible of the two evidently.

Auraine comes back over to Princess Xavia and she reaches up, barely able to brush the missing brow with one thumb as she mused, "I would think it harder to burn Waters." She teases the bastard she'd known since she was a girl and finishes her glass of wine before setting it down indifferently on a nearby stone bench. "That is a brilliant idea." The Princess alightly as Jurian proposes the hair holding idea. Xavia removes her tiara and hands it to Auraine, adding, "Come along, you'll hold my hair."

He follows her to the fire and she looks excited to stick her face in the flames as only a Targaryen could be excited. Aurain takes a loose grip on her lank, long white hair and she leans over the fire. What happens next, happens swiftly, in seconds, the Princess faints and Auraine saves her life. Auraine's once gentle grip on her hair is true and she jerks forward so her nose just brushes the flames. Her guardsman pulls her back by the hair catching the passed out Princess in his arms.

Dhraegon's pale eyes linger on his lady's face and then he shakes his head no to taking a turn himself, "Snow Drop? Would you like wine? I know you are not used to our games…. I am at your service, as always." At the commotion the Princess' collapse is likely causing he attempts to turn his future bride away lest she be distressed by potentially burning hair.

Jurian grimaces briefly at the princess's faint, but then gives a tight smile and holds up both hands. "Please, do not be alarmed," he councils. "My cousin unfortunately will experience these spells. She will be seen to, and we will continue the game until she rejoins us." He points out Culler. "You, I heard you say you'd take a turn."

Peri drags Davyn and Eonn in to bleed up the manse. Maybe break things. You know, just poor folk things.

She makes a soft, indecisive sound under her breath, smiling respectfully at the other Targaryens. Hearing the newly re-familiarized voice of her brother, she turns his way, smiling at his agreement to the game, and for a split second she appears nostalgic. Every thought is quite blown away as Princess Xavia takes to Snapdragon, however; Marsei gasps, her instinct to get nearer the fallen girl rather than be turned away. She's only slightly quelled by Jurian's assurances. "Do you think she'll truly be all right?" she asks Dhraegon. "How lucky she had that guardsman. And her hair — I had never seen such pale hair, even among Targaryens," Marsei remarks quietly, although it is in nothing but tones of worry and compliment.

Culler raises a crimson brow at the princesses plight. "What a lousy thing to happen to her on her own nameday," he remarks. "I hope she is okay." Shrugging he goes along with Jurian's apparent plan to keep the festivities rolling. Rolling up a sleeve Culler makes a snatch for a raisin. His attempt is a fail - he obtains the raisin but has a flaming wrist as well. However Culler having fought as a sellsword at one time had to scrape burning pitch off himself. He eyes the flaming wrist for an uncomfortably long period of time before patting it out. Adding to the drama of the moment.

Dhraegon nods, "She is well cared for. I think it will be fine. we do not burn as easily as out hair and her guard will tend her. Some of us are… fragile, but we endure."

Jurian looks very interestednot alarmedwhen Culler catches himself on fire, but claps his approval when he puts himself out. "Well done," he commends the man, looking at him thoughtfully. "Who will be next?" Completely ignoring his poor collapsed cousin, now.

Marsei watches in some suspense as Culler is aflame, but has more confidence in his ability to come through the game intact. Still, tensed shoulders fall in relief when her brother, however wayward, ceases being on fire. Her hands come together to clap for his success, but she does not quite have the festive spirit toward the traditional game. "I think watching this almost makes me more nervous than watching a tourney," she admits.

The Princess Xavia's eyes flutter open rather suddenly and she shoos away Auraine with more annoyance than thanks at her saviour. It was his job and he'd caught her countless times before. She rubs the tip of her nose crossing her shiver pale eyes in the process. The girl calmly finds her bearings and seems unconcerned by anyone nervous on her behalf. "Get me another glass of wine." This is said in a familiar deadpan to Auraine and she turns to look for the game and Jurian, "Did I win?"

Dhraegon lifts his hand from her hand, and very lightly brushes marseis cheek with his fingerips, shuddering, "All those horses and blood…. We can go in if you like…."

Jurian smiles smoothly at his cousin as if she hadn't just fainted. "Not yet," he says. "The Hightower Lord got one, too, but he caught his sleeve aflame in the process. I think you'll have to go again while I solicit other volunteers. Come now, friends, it isn't as dangerous as it looks."

Marsei opens her mouth to repeat Dhraegon's words back to him in question, but does not; instead, she looks carefully at his face, squeezing his hand empathetically. "Would you like to go inside, my prince? Yes, let's, if you like."

"Actually it was my wrist Prince Jurian I believe that was aflame. I think on the whole it makes the princess winner by default at least," remarks Culler. The roguish knight has a lopsided smile which he levels at the princess apparently none the worse for wear despite his experience.

Ser Auraine returns with another glass of wine for Xavia and she takes a long sip before setting that down where her empty had been not long ago. "I want to try again." And her Guardsman seems to know better than to argue with the stubborn princess because he follows her back to the fire bowl. On her way back she hears the pity win tossed her way and offers a wry simpering smile back at Culler. "I want to win properly." The girl does laugh though as she dips her face in the flames and this time she comes up with a currant! She takes it in her hand and raises it high to show off her prize before eating it. "That's better." And her moonish skin is dusted with a soft charred look but not actually burned in the process of the game. Her hair, as well, is untouched.

Dhraegon kisses he top of marsei's head in the barely touching her way he has, "My Lily of the Valley, it is like a lance to the heart to see you distressed. I would… I would not want to cause you a moment's grief." He is at a large party, cold sober and trying his very best not to… publically Dhraegon. It is the best he can do really. "Please…. please command me so I will know what to do." he looks utterly lost for a momment, but Xavia catching her currant, he pauses to cheer heartily before turning back to Marsei. He whispers in some distress, Please command me…."

Jurian grins at Culler. "Fair enough," he allows, then looks to Marsei. "Will you really go inside without trying it for yourself, Lady Marsei? Surely a lady with flame-colored hair doesn't fear a little fire?" He turns and claps for his cousin's triumph.

"You needn't worry, sweet Dhraegon; it is nothing, a passing bit of nerves, that's all. I see the princess is well now. Are you? You are doing so well." Smiling, she very briefly touches his jaw, there and gone. "May I command you to eat the last of the cakes?" she encourages, stepping a bit forward to address Jurian, then. "I have not the blood of the dragon or the boldness of my brother," she says — simply confident in knowing herself, not shameful, though she does dip her red head humbly after the fact. "And my dress, besides…" she adds, considering what Culler did to his wrist; her sleeves are all hanging, loose fabric.

Dhraegon beams at her, all delight again and happily starts gobbling cakes, "I would hold your sleeves if you liked…."

Davyn returns with a bandaged arm, no Peri or Eonn in sight, and a borrowed white robe that is appropriately sized. Now he fits in with the color theme, at least. Really, he's only here to stage a small-scale raid on the party food, if allowed, and eavesdrop until he grows bored or is kicked out. Mostly it's about the food, though.

Jurian smiles at that refusal and comes to clasp one of Marsei's hands. "I would not risk ruining your beautiful dress," he agrees. "Go and enjoy some food," he says, expression including Dhraegon. "Uncle, you are a lucky man," he adds. He briefly eyes Davyn returning to the party, but does not object to his presence.

Princess Xavia is the quiet sort so she goes back to the bench now that she had won her turn and sets to work sipping on her glass of wine again. If no one approached her she might sit there in silent solitude with a spaced out little grin on face as she watched the party take its course around her…

Dhraegon looks Jurian in the eyes, and says through a mouthful of crumbs, "I am the luckiest of men, far beyond any deserving of mine." He gives the party crasher a smile and a wave. To Marsei he says, "Peri showed me some dance steps…."

Dhraegon adds, turning to Xavia. "I have gotten you a present, though I do not know if it suits…." He offers the petite Princess a small rectangular gift wrapped in red silk. Inside can be found a beautifully illuminated book of landscapes, plants, and butterflies from the isle of naath, known as the Butterfly Isle.

Marsei smiles her gratitude, although it is a larger part respect, politeness. "You are an excellent host, Prince Jurian, how lucky Princess Xavia is to have her nameday so soon after your arrival." She reaches for Dhraegon's elbow, prepared to head inside where food — and possibly dancing — awaits, but shan't go in without moving past Xavia's bench to remark, "I am glad your beautiful hair is untouched, my princess. A blessed nameday!"

Davyn helps himself to some of the cooked meat, and one of the cakes, stocking up a sizable pile of food in the crook of his injured arm. He manages not to drop any as he goes to find a seat, which happens to be on the other end of the bench where Xavia sits. "Hi," he says to the older girl — or younger woman, as it may be. "I'm Davyn." He unloads his armful of food on the bench between the two.

Jurian smiles tightly at Dhraegon, then gives them both a respectful bow of his head. "The party is the better for your presence."

Princess Xavia is first pulled from her vacant gaze by Marsei and she looks up with a wane, slightly tired, smile as she called back, "So kind. Thank you again for coming to the party. I can not wait to read my new book, Uncle." She is watching guests make their exit and so the approach of Davyn flies just south of her radar. The Princess scoots farther away from his food pile as he introduces himself and she sneers down at younger child with distaste. "Ew."

Davyn looks neither surprised nor offended by that reaction from Xavia. There might be a bit of an eye roll in response. Then he stuffs some cake in his mouth, chews a bit, and opens his mouth as if purposefully showing the half-chewed goopy food off to Xavia. If she is going to eww at him, why, he'll just live up to expectations.

She has a sympathetic gag reflex and that makes her gullet rise audibly. Xavia keeps down her own cake but just jumps to her feet and beelines for the manse, Ser Auraine would see that no one follows her shy of family.

Eonn has arrived.

Davyn looks quite pleased with himself by that reaction from Xavia. He remains triumphantly perched on the bench, hurriedly eating what food he can as the party does seem to be winding down. This time, he chews and swallows before opening his mouth, and calling over to Eonn. "They still have food."
Peri comes out of the manse.
Peri has arrived.

Eonn comes out, dressed all in white. It may be a matter of the letter rather than the spirit in this case, though — he's barefoot, and wearing a dressing gown. It's white silk, though. Definitely white. And he is too tall for it.

Peri is just a little twitchy as Eonn pulls her hand, she's clearly had quite a bit of liquid courage because she's not as graceful on her feet now. Her dress is still pulled in a way that her feet are showing.

The Princess is gone now and she took the book from her Uncle with her when she fled past Eonn and Peri in her swift departure from Davyn's antics.

A number of people are moving into the house, but some are circulating to the garden again with food. The party is perhaps dwindling slightly, but still going.

Eonn leads Peri back to the table with the food, chuckling to her, "He's gone, it seems. I didn't have bothered?"

Dhraegon gives Davyn a deeply disapointed look, but does not comment. Seeing Eonn and Peri, he gives them one of his big friendly smiles. Eonn gets raised eyebrows at his choice of garment, but no comment for him. having loss sight of his Intended he looks rather lost and gives Peri a pleading look.

Davyn spies Peri too, and says, "I thought you were going with Eonn to the stables." But that's neither here nor there. He is finishing up his meat and cake, alternately. "I have to find someplace to sleep, I better go. I can't go back to the kitchen tonight because I got in trouble because, um, I forget."

Peri 's fingers tangle and hold on Eonn's. She gets pink at Davyn ".. In a white silk gown made of nearly twenty yards of silk?" she asks, "You may stay at the baths, but keep your arm dry." she mumbles softly "We'll talk in the morning." she drops her voice quieter "Don't eat my honey near the bed."

Eonn grins at Dhraegon, and actually winks at him, taking another glass of wine, since somehow Peri ended up with his previous one.

"Okay, Peri," Davyn says. "I won't." Having finished much of the food, he palms a bit of meat for later. It's not like anyone would want him putting it back after his grubby hands have been all over it. To Dhraegon, he says, "This was a good party." There. The party has the Davyn Seal of Approval, very much coveted, no doubt.

Dhraegon looks at Eonn's wine with a longing generally reserved for cakes. He says absently to Davyn, "Next time perhaps a little more patience with the nameday girl."

"What happened? asks Eonn, before taking a deep swallow.

Peri pets Davyn gently, taking Eonn's hand and setting her goblet down. She doesn't let him nick another goblet quite yet, instead she's somewhat dragging the poor waif of a man into a dance. "I was promised dancing and cake. I got cake." she mumbles at Eonn, hiccuping softly. Yes. She is a bit drunk.

Davyn says, defensively, "But she ew'ed at me, all I did was tell her my name!" He explains a bit more to Eonn. "I just sat down and said hi and my name, and she went 'ew'." He conveniently leaves out the rest of the matter. "I was being /nice/."

Eonn grins. "She's a /princess/," he says. And then tries to drain his cup before Peri can drag him far.

Dhraegon says quietly, "You showed her your chewed food and made her gag." He watches Eonn drink like a man dying of thirst, but does not reach for a cup, "I stayed for my dance, Peri…."

Peri lets Eonn go without warning, eyes getting THAT look to them as she snaps her fingers "Child. Sweet, sweet little child. Do not lie to me or I'll make your arse as red as the Lannister's banner." her finger goes up in a point "I will care for you as long as you wish and I will pay you fairly and clothe you and educate you, but you should not ever dare to lie to me." She is starring daggers at poor Davyn. "Do you understand?" She asks, popping a stag coin out of her bust line to hold up with her free hand "You will write an apology to that princess tomorrow morning before you eat your morning meal and I will approve it before you may eat. Then you may have eggs, bacon and bread." she peers at Dhraegon giving him a smile "M'bein a mother jussa second uncle." she focuses on Davyn, bending down to kiss his forehead.

Eonn looks a little startled to be let go. He watches Peri with raised brows.

Davyn shrinks back a little under the scolding, and looks suitable chagrined. There is a small protest that dies out before he even gets the first word out and he just slumps down, looking glum. "I'm sorry," he says. He squirms a little. "I can't write, though, so I can get someone to help me if I say the words?"

Dhraegon giggles at Peri's slurred comment to hi and very gently pats her shoulder, watching the parenting with some bemusement.

Peri is soft, rubbing Davyn's cheeks "stop pouting. You must not be rude to them and I will help you write, but they must be your words." She hugs Davyn gently, rubbing his nose "Go grab a cake and go to the baths and cuddle in on my sofa for the night." she murmurs, petting Davyn, eying Dhraegon "Can you believe it, Eonn is trying to lure me under the tree to feed me bits of meat and try to tame me?" she offers, warmly, teasing Eonn.

"Bites?" says Eonn, taking the moment to refill his wine-cup and give Davyn a sympathetic look. The kid gets a wink, too. It's funny, on a face that's made to look so stern, but not unpleasant at all.

Davyn is notably more subdued as he shuffles off, to go claim a cake (or two) on his way out. Lucky for him Xavia is nowhere to be seen and he is able to make a clean getaway. The white robe gets left with some household servant on his way out.

Dhraegon shakes his head, giggling, "I do not think you can be tamed… Your petals really are particularly nice tonight." hefidgets, hand reaching towards a goblet and withdrawing again, over and over.

Peri smiles "Uncle. You shouldn't have that. How about some sweetened lime water?" she asks, smiling warmly and offering her hands to Dhraegon gently. "also that dance. we should have it."

Eonn sits on the edge of the food table and swills wine and eats stuffed mushrooms and other remaining morsels of the evenings offerings.

Dhraegon is clearly not sure whether to be relieved or whistful, "It is very hard not drinking…. I want to be a good husband to her. I… very much want to drink until my head spins and stick my face and fire and dance until I fall over and then drink under a bush until my head and the garden are empty." he looks embarrassed, "that is not what a good husband would do though."

Peri considers a moment "If I was married, I would not be angry at my husband for getting that drunk if he found out he was going to be a father?" she offers "Or other very happy news." she offers, stealing the cup to sip "Good thing I'm a terrible mother." she jokes "But I'm far drunker than I've been in quite a time and my son has a nursemaid to ensure I don't do anything stupid." she admits.

"Maybe she doesn't want her husband to be so good in just that way," says Eonn. "Is the Prince to be a father?"

Dhraegon's voice is quiet, not pitched to carry, "She hasn't asked me not to drink, but I worry. He first husband was a drinker and I want to make her smile, not worry. It is… hard to stop. It's been hard not to drink since… the pillow fort." He shakes his head, "We are not married yet and whether I become a father or not is and always will be her choice. I'll not pressure her one way or another, not on my life." he blushes and looks down, "I truly am fond of her. I know that's… unconventional."

Peri snorts! "Not by me, Eonn." she waves a hand "That is a good way to go about it, Dhraegon. You don't want the pain that comes with disappointing yourself." she offers, rubbing his face gently, like a child.

"I didn't think so," Eonn laughs.

Loryn comes out of the manse.

Dhraegon giggles and beeps Peri's nose, "I know I am sober, but we could still spin around really fast until we fall down?" In his ridiculously elaborate white clothes and with that fancy hair.

Peri makes a face at Dhrae "Augh." she scrunches her face strangely at being nose beeped, as if no one has done that before. "If you do that, I'll ruin both of our outfits." she warns with a frown "It'll upset my uh delicate constitution."

Eonn is wearing a white dressing-gown, not the fancy white clothes one was supposed to wear to this thing. He's sitting on the edge of the food table, drinking wine and eating what remains on the trays.

Loryn has been partying his little heart out. He's been here and there and sometimes gone, but finally he makes his way to the host to thank him and offer his goodbyes. "Lord Dragon!", he addresses him, not entirely sober anymore.

Dhraegon giggles and beeps her nose again, "It is weird being sober when you are drunk." And then he is flinging his arms around loryn to hug him, "Loryn! Come play snap dragon with me! I will hold your hair if you hold mine!"

Peri is usually the sober one, when her nose is beeped she play bites at Dhraegon's hand! "Rr! I'll getchu!" omf omf. She isn't real biting but this definantly isn't sober behavior for her. She eyes the game "I want to play but it might hurt my mouf." she eyes Eonn "And if I burn my tongue how will I give all the kisses to people I love?"

Loryn blinks a little when he's hugged, but he automatically hugs back, trying to steady them both. "Er, no, I'm done playing for the day… I was come to say my goodbyes… and I don't even know that game.", he admits

Eonn gets up off the table and refils his wine-glass, then comes over towards Peri, holding out his hand, "Don't burn your mouth before you spoil your dress," he says.

Dhraegon grins at Loryn, "You bob for dried fruit in a bowl of strong spirits! It is very fun!" He pats Peri again, "Are you sure it is a good idea in your good silks?"

Peri eyes Eonn "Gimme your dressing gown so I don't ruin my gown?" she asks, spinning to face Eonn quick enough that the skirt circles out high enough to show all the way up to over her knees. She eyes Loryn "Your cousin stared at mah tits in the gardens by the sept the other day. He's cheeky." she offers with a goofy grin.

Eonn has managed to get himself drunk, by the look of him, and he laughs and starts to take off the dressing gown. He's barefoot, and not wearing anything underneath the gown, either.

"My cousin?", Loryn wonders. Since he has plenty. "Ah but they're nice to look at.", he concedes. When Dhraegon explains the game, he shakes his head. "That sounds fun but unfortunately I do need to go home, Mylord…. I'm… sleepy." Drunk-sleepy. But his eyes still widen when he sees Eonn strip.

Arriving fashionably late to the party, Andyrs has opted for a greyish-cream cassock today, the effect of the fine cloth and velvet trim is slightly ruined by the heavy leather bag he lugs with him. This is quickly handed off to a servant (traded for a tumbler of strong amber liquid at that) as the bastard Maester stalks through the area… just in time to see Eonn strip down, "Well, I /was/ worried I had missed it /all/."

Dhraegon squeaks as so much flesh is flashed at once and looks away, trying to hide his blushes in Loryn's shoulder. At least he's not staring like a Tyrell.

Peri blinks at Loryn and leans to kiss his cheek and lean to whisper something in his ear. She hums, loosening some hidden ties for her gown, looking like she intends to trade her princess worthy gown. She blinks "Unnnncle why are you upset? S'just Eonn. He catches crabbies like that!" she leans to peck Dhrae's cheek. "Eoonnnn Keep it on. Apparently we can't trade and no one wants t'see your fishin' lure." she hiccups out, pouting a little bit.

Eonn stops with the robe still half on, or at least, hanging on one arm. He's got a lot of scars on his back and upper chest and shoulders; whip-marks. "Can't trade? Yours won't fit me?" He laughs.

Loryn looks a little bit disappointed when Eonn stops mid-strip. He's a Tyrell, he may stare at a bit of nice manflesh! Even when it comes with marks. But he quickly rallies and gets to his feet. "Ah well. I must be on my way. Thank you for the most entertaining evening, Mylord.", he tells Dhraegon, "When your servants find my jacket, have it sent to Garden Isle, yes?"

Dhraegon is blushing to his ears and clinging to loryn lest his face hiding post escape, "You'll sleep better with a bit of brandy and I don;'t like playing alone… Just… just tell me when it is safe to look."

The scarecrow-maester cocks an eyebrow, Andyrs lurking in the periphery a respectable distance from the quote-unquote proper Targaryan. He watches the goings on with great interest, sipping from his tumbler and enjoying himself to no end.

"It's safe, Mylord.", Loryn assures Dhraegon, "Trust me, there are ruder statues all over town that Mr Eonn's… fishing rod." He pats the man's shoulder before wriggling free, and offers Peri a deep bow which includes a good look at her assets before finally staggering out of the garden, past the maesterly newcomer who gets a distracted frown because Loryn doesn't like not knowing people in Oldtown.

Peri eyes Eonn "I guess nobody wants to let us trade." she begins sniffling and makes a face "An I even losst mosta the baby weight." she flops down, causing her dress to rush upwards, too billowy to show anything indecent really. She eyes Eonn and wolf whistles at him. "S'nothin' wrong with you Eonn, dearest."

Eonn shakes his head, and ties the robe closed around his waist again, hiding his fishing tackle. He's forgotten that he had one arm out of the sleeve, though, so now he's wearing the thing like some sort of awkward toga. "This is what happens when people don't drink," he says.

Dhraegon sighs, "I don't mind you trading, just… behind a bush maybe?" He spots the Maester now he is no longer hiding from the nudity. he asks, "Want to play snapdragon with us?"

Peri Takes off the belt of her dress, sitting it in her lap. "Going behind a bush implies we're doin' somethin' untoward. I may not be a lady but behin' the bushes is for pissants and iron men!" she complains a little bit. She eyes Eonn and pats her lap making goofy faces at him.

"Under the quince tree," Eonn suggests again, stepping over to Peri and offering her his hand.

All robes and smiles, the redheaded maester nods in response to the frown. Andyrs takes a half-step closer to Dhraegon now hes free, "My lord," he says, bowing deeply enough that his locks fall free, "That is the very reason I am here. Well, not to play, but my brot-.." the man clears his throat again. "My lord Jurian bid me make sure that the games do not become flames, as it were," the scarecrow corrects himself, his head bobbing birdlike, "Maester Andyrs, I am at your service." he adds as introduction. The other two get a look from the redhead, but it is quickly followed by a shrug, "I daresay they have nothing we have not seen before, my lord."

Peri stands up slowly "I dunno getting this thing off is a pain and… what if I'm in the mood to go swimmin'?" she asks towards Eonn. Without the belt, she's chubby looking. "I got alllll the things you seen before but better." she offers in some variety of drunken smug state. She is if nothing else aware of the fact she is hotter than the game of snap dragon "I wanted to play but Uncle Dhraegon doesn' wan me to maester An.. Andr.. Andrys? Andrys!" she announces triumphantly.

Dhraegon sighs and starts edging towards the wine again, "I… really am not good at being sober at parties. "Oh, are you kin?" He gives the Maester a big goofy grin and attempts to hug him. He gives him a wide eyed look, "Are you sure? I…would rather not see people without their petals." He has a deep bass voice, but a childlike way of speaking. He whispers a little too loudly, "Did you know women have neither pistiol or stamen? They showed me a picture. it was terrifying!"

"Swimming?" says Eonn. "Later."

Theres a half-second where the scarecrow tenses up at the hug, but it melts away in an instant, Andyrs nodding again to Dhraegon, "After.. after a fashion," he says, smiling his slightly-too-wide smile, "..That is true, they lack root and nodule, but the nectar of the blossom is ambrosia." the maester manages, after a moment to craft the analogy. "This one," he continues, waving a slender-fingered hand at Peri, "is no doubt spoken of in hushed tones among connoisseurs, if her foilage is any indication."
Its only then, in fact, that he deigns to respond to Peri, "I think you are quite tipsy enough, little flower, you would only burn your petals off."

Dhraegon shudders and lets go, edging away from the Maester quickly in alarm, rather crablike. Then he is in full flight back into the mansion, searching either for his own sweet flower or perhaps a really big bottle of brandy. It is hard to tell.

Peri is taller than Andrys so being called little flower causes rambunctious laughter as she's dragged under Eonn's tree, her arms picking him up to spin him around twice. She doesn't really mind people knowing Eonn is her friend.

Dhraegon goes into the manse.

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