(122-07-17) Of Kites and Feet
Of Kites and Feet
Summary: A Kite and Toy Boat Party in honor of Prince Dhraegon's Nameday takes an inappropriate turn.
Date: Date of play (17/07/122)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-07-15-of-kites-and-feet
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-07-18-dhraegon-s-nameday-garden-party
http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:122-07-19-dhraegon-s-nameday-games
Players:
Dhraegon..Jurian..Siyu..Flox..

Quiet Pool - Honey Road The Reach

A couple of miles from the city there is a little wood, and at its Northern edge is a soft green meadow. Here a still pool is formed in the river by a big boulder embedded into the bank, a stone perhaps representing the furthest trickling trailing edge of the Uplands. It is worn smooth by the ages and large enough for several to sit, or a few to stretch out and take the sun.

The pool, sheltered from the current by the big stone, is broad and deep enough to make a pleasant swimming hole, and in the summer the water is always comfortably warm. This far upstream from the city, it's clean and quite clear.

The Targaryen provided many carts departing in front of the Maidenday Garden around 10 in the morning. A large number of scrubbed children seem to have taken advantage of a free outing to the countryside. Plenty of tables with cakes, savory pasties, fruit, mint tea, and honeyed lemon water have been set up, with plenty of servants to keep the tables full and guards to keep the children from wandering off to get lost or drown. Pavilions have been set up for those needing shade and others for privacy in case of a fall into the pool. Several flower bedecked punts are available for the racers, well padded with cushions, toy boats and reeds plentiful. A large number of brightly painted silk kites are ready for those wanting to fly them, including several large dragons reserved for Targaryens.

Uncle Dhraegon himself is wearing a flower circlet and two small braids with ribbons, flowers and tiny bells woven in to keep his hair from his face, with the rest combed out, as pale and delicate as a lily's petal.

Jurian has turned out to celebrate his uncle's nameday, and has a smile pasted on while he looks out from a pavilion. Most of the family is probably trying to stay in the shade at least part of the day. He doesn't seem terribly inclined to join in any of the activities, at least not yet.

Dhraegon, being Dhraegon has a big pastel blue, pink, and lavender dragon kite out and is darting about the field with it aloft, giggling and shrieking like the children currently playing ball or flying kites of there own. His own child like delight is completely unselfconscious. The inevitable Flox is watching from the shadow cast by the Targaryen pavilion awning, an unobtrusive figure, ready to intervene in case of trouble.

Jurian is drinking some lemon water, by all appearances. He watches Dhraegon's carefree movements, occasionally letting his gaze trail up the string to the magnificent kite. "How fine it is, uncle!" he calls out.

Dhraegon flashes Jurian a big goofy smile, "It has a very strong pull! Want to try it? I wish I knew how to do tricks!"

"I don't think I would do it as well as you, uncle," Jurian says. "I'd rather watch the expert." He raises his glass.

Dhraegon giggles and shakes his head, "I'm not an expert…. If you like you could fly this one as it is already aloft!"

Jurian smiles indulgently. "Why not let a child try first," he suggests. "I'm sure they're dying for it." He eyes some of the young ones who are pattering around.

Dhraegon eyes the children, "It is a large kite…." He picks a reasonably strong looking girl in the eleven to twelve range. "You look strong nd clever. Do you think you could hold on to this dragon even if it tries to escape?" The girl nods excitedly. He instructs her on care and feeding, makes sure she has a good grip and lets her go with it. He collects a plate of cakes and a lemon water and comes to sit by his cousin, "I would live on cakes and… and refreshments if I could, but they say that is bad for you." He sips his lemonade, eyeing Jurian's cup with some curiosity. "It was nice of you to come, Jurian."

"Do you see, she was very happy," Jurian says, smiling. He may or may not have doctored his drink. It does look a little pale. "As for what /they/ say, /they/ certainly know how to make life dull." He looks to Dhraegon. "Well, you were kind enough to come to my party when I was newly arrived."

Dhraegon gives him a friendly and very gentle thump, especially given his size, "Of course I did! We are family!"

"You truly understand the bonds of family, Uncle," Jurian says warmly. "It's important that we support one another, don't you agree?" His gaze drifts again to the kite.

Dhraegon stops stuffing cakes in his mouth and carefully swallows before speaking, "Oh yes! We need to look after each other!"

Jurian smiles, pleased by that answer. "I know we've only just met, Uncle, but I think we're growing close already. I'm glad you are so open-hearted."

The Targaryen provided many carts departing in front of the Maidenday Garden around 10 in the morning. A large number of scrubbed children seem to have taken advantage of a free outing to the countryside. Plenty of tables with cakes, savory pasties, fruit, mint tea, and honeyed lemon water have been set up, with plenty of servants to keep the tables full and guards to keep the children from wandering off to get lost or drown. Pavilions have been set up for those needing shade and others for privacy in case of a fall into the pool. Several flower bedecked punts are available for the racers, well padded with cushions, toy boats and reeds plentiful. A large number of brightly painted silk kites are ready for those wanting to fly them, including several large dragons reserved for Targaryens, although a girl who is clearly not a Princess is flying a blue, pink, and lavender one among a bevy of other children flying assorted kites. Some other children are playing with a ball. Uncle Dhraegon himself is wearing a flower circlet and two small braids with ribbons, flowers and tiny bells woven in to keep his hair from his face, with the rest combed out, as pale and delicate as a lily's petal. he gives Jurian a gentle smile and pats his shoulder, "I have seen how kind you are to young Xavia. It is an awkward age and she needs encouraging, I think." He is currently sitting next to his kinsmen, Jurian, eating cake with lemon water. The inevitable Flox is watching from the shadow cast by the Targaryen pavillion awning, an unobtrusive figure, ready to intervene in case of trouble.
<OOC> Dhraegon hides pose in the set.
-— New Activity ---

"Mm, she wants to be a septa, you know. And she's convinced she'll die young. Of course it could happen," he acknowledges, "But somehow I think she may last a while. She's intelligent." He looks to Dhraegon. "You were the one who got her that book, weren't you? I've seen her reading it several times."

Siyu shows up, he found it amusing and somewhat, well, fanciful. He brings with him a Yi Ti Kite. That is a rectangular box made of paper. Good paper mind, he found some paper he found acceptable, and made a kite from his own childhood. The pretty boy exotic from Yi Ti walks in with his strange kite and tries to enter int of course. He smiles and laughs at all of the obvious nice children and about. Well this is a bright little gathering.

Dhraegon looks sad, "Accidents happen, but let us hope not here…. Perhaps she should have a talk with my Snowdrop, or that Tyrell girl… The one who became a Septa…" he is clearly struggling for her name. Flox supplies, "Leire." Dhraegon sips his lemon water, "Leire. It might help her know what to expect if she really does it, but i think it is better to be a woman grown before taking such vows. young people do change their minds sometimes as they get older." He nods, and says wistfully, "It is a shame the place is too deadly to safely visit. it sounds like paradise. When I was… after the accident, I wished I could run away there…. It seemed like a thing she might like." he studies the new style of kite with some curiosity, "Do you think that could fly, Jurian?"

"She does not think she will get much older, that is the problem," Jurian says. He lifts his eyebrows at Dhraegon. "What place, Uncle?" He looks over to the box kite, expression somewhat skeptical. "It hardly looks as if it could, but unless he is a madman, surely he brought it thinking it will."

Siyu sets his kite down and smiles "yes that is a kite, yes I wish to fly it…" he stretches a little bit, and gives a faint smile and laughs as several children come to poke it it. Trying to keep their grubby fingers off of it of course. The young…man? Is dressed in light linen, white linen with a silk undershirt, long hair, pretty face, wide hips, he looks up and glances around and….oh dear. Dragons. He sees the Targ's and goes slightly pale, simply trying to merge himself into the crowed then.

Dhraegon takes this seriously, "Perhaps I should speak to her…. The Butterfly Islands." He gobbles the last cake and bounds over to Siyu, "Keli's friend! It was nice of you to honor my nameday! Have you met my nephew Jurian? How does it work?"

Jurian looks Siyu over top to bottom, not making any attempt to conceal the scrutiny.

Jurian looks Siyu over top to bottom, not making any attempt to conceal the scrutiny. "My goodness, uncle. You know this person?"

Siyu lets out a soft breath, damnit he's been spotted, and he turns to face the two royals. He is from Yi Ti, his Hunang colored skin, round face, and almond eyes…mismatched, set him apart as an exotic. He smiles with his full pouty lips, and walks over, "Of course Your Highness, your lordship. Of course. I wish you honor on your nameday." he bows formally and respectfully, if nothing else he knows manners and is polite, his long hair swishing slightly against the ground. He smells of jasmine and vanilla, raising his head up. "I have…not your Highness….your Highness." he bows to Jurian as well.

Dhraegon gives Siyu a big smile, "This young person is courting our Keli Jelly! She is daughter to Eonn of Rills who serves our young Ser Daevon. She is like a daughter to me…" His face falls, "I haven't seen her lately. Is she well, Gang Xi Siyu? You do not appear wounded…." Phrince Dhraegon smells of lavender and vannila, as usual. Also cakes. And lemon. He is painfully sober.

"/Who/, Uncle?" Jurian says, apparently not having formally met any of the people he mentioned, but particularly confused about who this 'Keli Jelly' would be." He returns his gaze to Siyu. "By the Seven, Uncle," he deadpans. "Is everyone you know pretty?"

Siyu coughs, "Not so much courting as simply ensuring she is well fed. I keep bringing her food and wine, and making sure she will grow fat and happy. She is quite the stray cat that I care much about. Your Highness." he bows his head, "She is well, she is quiet, she is…she is being herself. As I said, a black cat, she wishes to be quiet now, and slink about. As felines do. That is what she feels like doing now, though the grilled meats and treats I leave for her always end up disappearing, so she is still well and eating. I do not know how fat she is getting though." he smiles and tries to joke with Dhraegon. Though a noticeable bead of sweat is forming on his brow. Not sure how the Targ is going to react. He looks at Jurian, and once more inclines his head, "Forgive me. It is my fault I have not introduced myself to you, of course your Uncle is at no fault, ahem. I am Gang Xi Siyu. Siyu is of course fine your Highness. I am a merchant, trader and scholar from the lands of Yi Ti. I have traveled far from my homeland, through the Jade Gates, across the lands of the Harpies. Through the Doom. To the summer isles! The Iron Bank…and now here. I admit to having a soft heart. I feed and greet a lot of the…children around. Those that have no kith or kin. Ahem. Keli…is one such stray I have grown quite attached too. As of course, has My Lord. She is a clever scamp." he turns slightly pink, "I…thank you for your compliment your Highness." the pretty boy says to Juria.

Dhraegon giggles and explains in a tone that assumes of course everyone knows his Keli Jelly, "Kelinyx, daughter of Eonn of the Rills. Eonn is the red headed man who is often in the stables at the manse. he serves Visenya's twin, the Maiden Knight. It is their birthday too, did you know?" He goggles at Siyu, "Is he pretty? I have a hard time telling that sort of thing." He nods, not seeming to notice Siyu's discomfort, "She is a growing girl and could use some meat on her bones." He turns stern, "not too much wine, I hope?"

Jurian stares at Siyu while he talks. He blinks when Siyu has concluded. "He babbles, uncle," Jurian observes, as though Siyu could not hear him. He looks back to Dhraegon. "Is it?" he asks about Visenya's birthday. "Well. I'm sure the Dornish will give her a lovely celebration."

Siyu twitches his green eye. His orbs are mismatched, one green one gray, there is a flash for just a moment, but the mask is, in the next instance, back upon his face. "Ah, ahem, yes I feed her well, or offer her food that is good for her. The wine, well, you know how she gets your Highness…" he takes a step back. Another glance to Jurian. He doesn't respond to any of it. Simply waiting.

You say, "He does that. He's also caused a bit of stir at the citadel….They were kind enough to share their birthdays with me last year." He turns to Siyu with a surprising amount of menace, "Best less wine. We don't want her turning out like me!""

"How nice," Jurian tells Dhraegon. Then he regards Siyu again. "You? What did you do at the Citadel?" he asks.

Siyu ahems, and yes there is his nervousness, he can't read Dhreagon, or his moods. Can't read them at all. It's shocking, and very off putting to the merchant, "Of course…" he offers. He turns his head, "Ah Your Highness. I would not want to babble and bore you. I am a scholar. I did scholarly things."

Dhraegon whispers in a way that carries, "There were threats! And fist fights! An Archmaester disgraced!" In his normal tone, "Which reminds me, maybe you can explain about the feet…." It is unclear if this last is addressed to Jurian or Siyu.

"Yes, that is a sufficient answer," Jurian tells Siyu with a smile. But he widens his eyes at what Dhraegon says, looking delighted by the gossip. "Scholarly things. You bring us the knowledge of your distant lands, I suppose." Is he being sarcastic? Impossible to tell. He looks back to his uncle. "The feet, Uncle?"

Siyu clicks his teeth and ahems, "I am a scholar of the earth, and geology and mines, of metals and minerals. However my travels have given me a talent for tongues and languages. I found several large pieces copied whole from a current Maester, from the works of previous Maesters on linguistic theory. He did not improve, he copied. I submitted my findings and they agreed with me. He did in fact copy his research." he offers blandly, "Feet…I am not sure?"

Dhraegon nods, eyes wide. This time he really does keep his voice low, "It was a weird thing that happened at the Dolphin festival. In the amateur division of the paining contest, someone painted a picture of just the mother's feet instead of all of her or mostly her head as in the other paintings and this Dornish Measter said it was obscene…. What is unseemly about a woman's feet? It's not like her… the scary bits."

Jurian furrows his brow lightly at Siyu's story. "Isn't it rude to call a man's life's work into question?" he asks. "What good does that do." Then he looks back to Dhraegon, brows shooting back up. "Obscene?" he repeats. Then he chuckles. "Well. Perhaps that Maester himself had some rather obscene feelings toward feet."

Siyu blinks a bit at Jurian, "Scholars are meant to advance knowledge. We improve and build, we construct and formulate. To build, even a sentence, into the knowledge of humanity is and admirable goal. A thought, a word not yet realized by man, even minor. Shall be recorded, written and credited. To use others, to steal from the long dead. is a disgrace and dishonor to them, and a crime to history." he sniffs. "The maester had good ideas. I had ORIGINAL ideas. I credit him fully to the ideas he created from his research. But he was not satisfied with his own advancement. He was not satisfied with the piece he could add. So he stole." he offers a faint incline of his head. "I only offered my retort when found he would not be killed for it. In Yi Ti. A scholar who steals from his peers, or form the honored dead….is cut once. For every word stolen. He is told to a post in the courtyard of the grand library and sliced. He may live or die, depending on the severity of his theft. But he will never be trusted again. That fate did not befall the Maester, so I felt justified in present my findings"

Siyu glances at Dhreagon , "Feet….I am not sure I understand….at all…"

Dhraegon's eyes go wide, "What would a Maester do with….with feet?" He looks horrified by whatever he is imagining." The slicing of scholars gets no reaction, especially in comparison.

"Stole from whom?" Jurian wants to know. "A dead man? How does exposing this help anyone? Can one even /steal/ an idea? Shouldn't good ideas belong to everyone?" He tilts his head just slightly off center, eyes rounded, rarely blinking. "It seems to me that all it does is ruin a man's life." Dismissing that for now, he looks to Dhraegon. "Feet, Uncle, I understand that there are men who love feet more than a woman's breasts. I can't say I share the affection, so I can't entirely explain."

Siyu narrows his eyes at Jurian, "That's the whole point, the ideas belong to everyone. Once you give an idea it belongs to everyone, it is knowledge. Credited, but combined knowledge. To steal credit is to steal that knowledge. It is taking away what was already given. To put previous knowledge together, into a combination that was not previously know. That is clever, that is worthy of recording. But you still must credit those who came before. Those who built before you. A bricklayer cannot lay one brick, on the top of a spire, and claim he built the entire thing. The thousands of bricks before him helped to reach the pinnacle. Such is the way of research. Those who came before you, helped you. A student must credit his teacher. A scholar must credit his predecessors. And hope, in turn, to be credited by those who live long after he has died. And in such a way, be remembered." he shakes his head, "To plagiarize is to steal that…from the living and the dead…" he ahems, and then looks between the two royals. "I do not know of such things of feet…"

Dhraegon looks at Jurian in utter confusion, "But feet can not help make the bodice look nicer…." He shudders, his voice far too soft to alarm the children with the next question, "Wouldn't they be l+umpy and the blood get everywhere and ruin the gown?"

Jurian shakes his head slowly at Siyu. "I have no idea what you mean," he says. "Knowledge cannot be stolen. And I think it's very greedy to demand credit. Bricklayers don't get their names on the bricks. They simply lay them and go to the next. It sounds like a foolishly baroque system." He looks back to Dhraegon, eyes narrowing in confusion. "Blood, uncle? What do you mean?"

Siyu twitches his lips, he politely bows his head to the pair, polite enough that he can't be mistaken for an offense…and simply tries to slip away from the pair. To disappear into the crowed.

Dhraegon says with utter seriousness, "If you cut them off to fill out the bodice. That… that is what breasts are for, isn't it? So that the gown hangs right?"

Jurian can't help bursting out with laughter at Dhraegon's question. "Oh, /Uncle/," he says. "No one intends to put feet in any bodices. The majority of men like breasts much better /out/ of a bodice than in."

Siyu disappears, leaving his kite, away from the dragons, away from danger.

Dhraegon is staring at Jurian in utter perplexity, the teenager and his kite forgotten, "Why?"

Jurian smiles. "Because they are pretty to look at and nice to hold, uncle, and not everyone gets to do those things," he says. "Have you ever seen a rare and beautiful piece of art that very few get to handle? There is pleasure in that, is there not?"

Dhraegon nods, "I grow asphodels, Jurian, rare fugitives of Valyria, that only now grow in a few places else. They must live under glass domes and me watered carefully…."

"Does it give you pleasure to be near them and to see them and touch them?" Jurian asks, looking thoughtfully at Dhraegon.

Dhraegon nods, warming to the subject and clearly delighted by this topic, "Oh yes! They have a lovely smell and must be handled carefully less they be injured, but the petals as very soft."

"So…you can understand part of the pleasure. The other is the pleasure of the bedroom. Which appears to be instinctual. I'm not entirely certain I can explain," Jurian says with a politely regretful tone.

Dhraegon listens carefully to this, trying hard to understand it. Finally, he nods, "I still think it would be better if babies grew on vines like melons, only with shells like a dragon egg has to keep out hungrey birds." He wrinkles his nose, "This other business is terrifying and confusing and seems rather hard on the women."

"Some of the women quite like it, you know," Jurian tells Dhraegon. "And it isn't all for babies, either. Some people go to great lengths to try to prevent children being born."

Dhraegon looks at him much as a small child does on discovering where it came from, "I know about the tea, I just… Really never thought about any of this before they told me I was to be married." He looks around with the desperation of a man wishing that there was brandy handy, "I don't suppose you…."

Jurian smiles slowly. "You don't suppose I…what, Uncle?" he asks encouragingly, eyes round and open.

Dhraegon leans in and whispers, "have a flask?"

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