(122-11-11) Dornish Hangout
Dornish Hangout
Summary: The general amusement of Dornish, crude thoughts, words, and actions alike.
Date: 11/11/2015
Related: None
Players:
Elyas..Lara..Manfryd..

The hour is early but Acacia Hall is hopping as always. Dornish sailors congregate in the tavern to enjoy spicy food and good drinks from home and chatter among each other. Mostly gossiping about the stupid Westerosi in town. Lounging on one couch is the man known to some as Elyas Seafarer and to far fewer as Ser Elyas Jordayne. He's wearing his usual shabby sailors' garb and working his way to a bunch of grapes while he boredly listens to another sailor's tale.

Draped on one of the floor pillows is one Lara Gargalen, a loosely flowing gown of orange sandsilk charming her shapely physique. Beside her lounges another Dornishman who is listening to some words she murmurs into his ear, before a melodious chuckle leaves her lips. Black hair falls openly about her shoulders, her brown eyes gleaming as she watches the man in her company, perhaps waiting for a reply to a possibly scandalous suggestion. The man seems to hesitate, and so the Cockatrice allows her hot gaze to roam the hall, her brows lifting in recognition as she spots the familiar face of Elyas Jordayne.

Manfryd's arrogance gets lost in a place full of it. His push through the door doesn't cause but a few looks, maybe more sneers and knowing smirks than anything, for his recent antics. Some, some of those looks are drawn with wary respect, others with calculating intent - sizing him up as he strides into the Acacia Hall. Dark eyes will linger over the salty and sandy Dornish faces, whip at his hip fingered as he winks to one person or another in passing. He makes for one of the couches, which happens to be across a big pond of pillows from Elyas (perhaps the same pool of pillows in which Lara is lounging). Letting gravity do the work for him, he sits heavily down into the couch with a 'woof' of air, adjusting his leathers and Dornish robes after being seated. A gesture will gesture the nearest server to find him a good drink.

Elyas' brows pull together when his eyes meet Lara's and his mouth twists into a little sneer. But before he can come up with witty remark, he is distracted by Manfryd's arrival. Aaah, a newcomer. He beckons his companion to lean in closer, probably to ask him who that man is.

The man beside Lara reaches for her hand to draw her attention, when she so far is busy with 'recognizing' the Jordayne. There is a slight shift in her position, that coincidentally brings her shapely physique more into the Jordayne's view, a warm glance given him as she sees he has noticed her, amusement indeed in her dark eyes as well.

When the door is pushed upen with so much vigor, the Gargalen lady cannot help but glance the Scorpion's way. Manfryd's antics may not draw half as much attention inside of the Acacia and Leopard Hall as it obviously does outside, when she observes the confident, almost posturing gait of the Qorgyle, her hand coming up beside her face as she makes a gesture of fanning herself, a low guttural chuckle rising in her throat as she lets her head fall back, elongating that olive skinned neck of hers, before she remarks in a clearly audible aside to her companion: "Why does it suddenly feel so hot in here…?"

Manfryd's feet sprawl out ahead of him, hand reaching out for the goblet of some half poisonous kind of drink he's ordered when the wench comes to deliver to him. There is hardly any flirting made to the wench, for his eyes have assessed the nature of the individuals before him. The pair sprawled on the pillows and the man sitting with his companion across the way. A simple, but devilishly handsome, sneers set upon his lips for his eyes tracking across Lara's prone form, while he takes a sip. If the comment can be heard, which likely it was, he offers, "Because I bring the heat of the Sun to a place dimly lit."

Elyas isn't deaf, so he catches Lara's remark as well and smirks again. "Isn't he a bit young for you, Lara?", he asks, his voice just loud enough to carry over to her - and Manfryd as well, presumably. "Though I'm sure he won't reject a Dornish welcome in this shit hole of a town."

Lara has her own goblet of Dornish Red to sip from, which she does before she puts it back on the low table beside where she is lounging, shaking her head, and some of her hair back in order. She is aware of her looks, she turning now towards Manfryd, batting her lashes at him with a winning smile. "How convenient, I am sure we can use a bit more heat in here, so far from home…", she purrs, ignoring pointedly the rising irritation of the Dornishman beside her. Elyas' quip is met with another chuckle, and her dark eyes settle on him as she declares: "I've told you before, that I like them usually young and tenacious…"

The way Manfryd postures even on that couch, exudes his cockiness and the hot blood running through his veins. Killing a Targaryen, even one as young as he, or younger, was still an achievement that most Dornishmen couldn't claim. That gave him a reason to be glib. "She's already given me a 'proper' welcome—" he is off hand to Elyas, squinting as if to take stock of the other from where he's sitting, "That's more than you've had, I gather." He chuckles as he floats the goblet up to his lips and tastes another of the very spicy (due to poison added in) sip, this time letting his eyes close against the sensation. "Aha… A good fucking drink. Finally!" Those dark prowling eyes level down toward Lara, "Is your companion not getting you hot enough? Stroke her -here- man…-" he shows with a hand gestured to the inside of her thigh.

"I certainly wouldn't want to be where my grandfather has been.", Elyas replies lightly to Manfryd, with another smirk for Lara, "But you're welcome of course. My tastes run to a classier sort of woman…" He tosses the remaining stems of the grape aside lightly and reaches for his own wine cup. "What brings you here, Qorgyle?"

Dark eyes narrow just so, when the Cockatrice hears what the Scorpion has to say on the matter of their previous acquaintance, even so her lips remain curled. "I wouldn't call it 'proper'," she remarks after a moment, disregarding her companion who sits up in indignation. "It was a rather rushed… and impatient affair, ser. It was… delightful, yes. But if that's all you have to offer…" Her fingers twine about her companion's hand, and she draws it over to her sandsilk covered shapely thigh. "I prefer my current company," a rejection, if it is indeed one, offered in a soft purr. The hot fire in her dark eyes seem to convey another meaning though, as they stay locked on the Qorgyle, while she slides the hand of her companion, slowly over the fabric covering her leg. Ignoring the remark of the Jordayne, almost, were it not for a deepening of her smile. A soft giggle escapes Lara, her attention and gaze finally shifting to the Dornishman at her side, when she brings her lips against his in a lingering kiss.

"You don't mean Westerosi?" Manfryd leans forward as if to gauge Elyas' prospective on classy, "They're not classy. They just like to hold their cunts in high value, as if the great Maiden herself spit polished them to sparkle! You'd think they didn't realize their cities are full of whores." He rolls the goblet enough so the liquid doesn't spill out but crests in waves against the rim. He glances at Lara again, "Lara is a fine woman. Better than most." He tosses the drink back for a good gulp of it, letting it hurt all the way down. As he lowers it, he looks over at Elyas, "I came in with our Prince…" He doesn't say that he didn't leave with him, since that is apparent enough by his status in town now. Lara's barbed prodding has him grunt, "That is not -all- …" He rolls his shoulders, as he watches with dark glittering eyes as the woman starts to kiss the Dornish companion she has selected for herself.

"No, I don't mean Westerosi.", Elyas replies, though he doesn't elaborate further. Instead he makes a bored dismissive gesture with one hand. "Why don't you two just get a room? I can really think of better entertainment than this." He rolls her eyes when Lara drapes herself all over her companion and takes another sip of his wine.

Lara seems indeed very distracted at the moment, appeasing the irritation of her companion so extensively that she indeed drapes herself over him with a kiss that does not seem to end. Her lips curl as the kiss is broken, and she quips softly over her shoulder towards Manfryd: "I am so relieved to hear that… and would love a demonstration, should the opportunity arrise…" Another chuckle follows, as she untangles herself from her admirer, as her gaze focuses on Elyas Jordayne. "I don't believe it! You're almost as uptight as an Targaryen of my acquaintance…" And there she moves to stand, her hand holding onto the Dornishman that rises to his feet as well. "Better entertainment, boy?", her companion remarks with a chuff of laughter. "You'd prefer to watch flies doing it?" A glance is given both Dornishmen as he moves off, following in Lara's wake who drags him all the way towards the back lounge, she casting a last glance over her shoulder before she vanishes with her companion, and the door falls shut behind them.

Manfryd glances over at Elyas, "Not one to watch then…?" The Qorgyle obviously was - but he was young and it's quite possible he's never been this far north, if north at all, and on his own! Any young man, not necessarily reserved for the Dornish, may embark in the same sinful pursuits. "What entertainment do you have in mind?" this to Elyas even as his dark eyes watch how the other Dornishman holds to Lara and how she responds. His eyes glittering across any of the exposed flesh, licking the spice from his lips as he leers at the prospect of them entangling before him. That -would- be a treat. Some of the pleasure for none of the work! It is unfortunate when Lara drags away her man, for his gaze does follow them with envy and perhaps a debatable gleam conflicting in his expression. To join or not to join! He doesn't join, after the door is closed - at least not yet. Let them get all hot and bothered first. He chuckles quietly as if an unheard joke was buzzed in his ear.

Elyas doesn't really respond to Lara beyond offering her another smirky look. His eyes do follow her for a bit as she saunters off, then focus on Manfryd. "I'm sorry but I find nothing less arousing than the thought of the woman who dallied with my own grandfather and helped him into the sweet hereafter.", he explains dryly, then shrugs. "What kif entertainment are you looking for? If you feel the urge to dip your quill, you can do it here, by the docks if you want it cheap or at the Bawdy Bard if you like to get a taste of the North…"

"Doesn't sound like a terrible way to go - have you looked at Lara? Fine ass on her," he leans back and finishes up his drink, looking absently for a wench to come by and fill it. "Plugging that hole on the way out the door, can't have it better-" he notes again, teasing his eyes against the door the woman and her companion disappeared behind. As for his own entertainment, he shrugs his shoulders, "I might be. I'm looking for something different though." He lets his head loll back against the couch, "Like bagging a dragon."

Elyas chuckles at that. "You're in the wrong place then, mate. Dragons are in King's Landing and Dragonstone. Round here… not so much. I can take you to the Bard if you like, introduce you to the Madam. Have you come to Oldtown just to chase dragons or…?" He leaves it at that since he can't really think of anything else either.

"Not necessarily," Manfryd's head comes up, "There's a Princess just marched into town. I practically had her eating out of my hand. Her cunt was wet and watering." He glances at Elyas for the offer of going to the bard, "Why not." Then there's a shrug, "No. I don't fucking know why I toil here." His goblet is put aside for the moment, now empty, "I'm itching to fight, itching to fuck.. itching to do something other than aimlessly walking around this shit hole."

"Plenty of fights to pick in this town.", Elyas grins lazily, "I never stay here for long. I… prefer to take care of my enterprise." He gets to his feet. "Nothing a nobleman would dirty his pretty hands on though. Will you be here later?"

"Yes, though these Northmen have the spines of a milkmaid!" Manfryd watches Elyas for a time, brow lifting at the notion of taking care of an enterprise. It seems the poor Qorgyle has nothing similar to keep him entertained, thus, the restlessness behind those dark eyes. "Likely… unless I can piss on a dragon, then yeah…" FINALLY the wench comes to take his goblet away to go pour him another drink.

"Try not to get too drunk in the meantime.", Elyas grins cheerfully, "Will be a long night at the Bard. But for now I'm afraid… I have things to take care of." Probably to do with his 'enterprise'

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