(122-12-23) Dragons, Swan Princesses and Butt Trumpets
Dragons, Swan Princesses and Butt Trumpets
Summary: Kiddie Matinee at the Whimsy
Date: 23/12/2015
Related: None
Players:
Loryn..Kelinyx..Miranda..Desmond..

The flying dragon of the Whimsy has made quite a few waves in Oldtown. The chatter reached the children who were all chewing their parents' ears off to be allowed to see the play. Unfortunately the play is not meant for childrens' dainty ears. So Loryn reacted and quickly wrote a short second play, sanitized enough to bring the children. And so the Whimsy is pandemonium before noon with a hundred squabbling children all over the groundling area, half-minded by their exasperated nannies and mothers unless those have fled up to the seating.

The play is in full swing with a gang of gaudily dressed highwaymen mock-fighting the hero and heroine - until the fire-breathing dragon swoops in to save the day. Children shriek and squeal in a mixture of delight and fear when the dragon actually does breathe a puff of fire.

Desmond lingers at the rear of the theater, watching the Play with amusement. The huge Northman is armed, but out of his armor, wearing woolens and leather. He is, perhaps, an unexpected figure at the children's performance. But he claps along with the youths when the dragon swoops down, roaring with laughter at the fire. He seems to take a genuine pleasure in the display.

Miranda has been quietly lingering at the back of a large group of orphans - many whom Desmond had seen prior at the duel. The young septa is just as impressed when the beast shoots out a small burst of fire and almost ducks. She laughs in weak amusement and scoops up one of the younger kids who cannot stop crying from fright. With a toddler burried in her shoulder, she wanders away to let the other Faithful watch the brood and comfort the wee one.

Soon enough the play reaches its happy end as the hero and heroine escape the highwaymen and return their village's stolen vague-nondescript-treasure-thing home, where they are cheered and finally allowed to get married. The dragon may be the strangest bridesmaid ever seen, but she takes part in the celebrations as well. Lastly the play concludes in a shower of colourful confett and ribbons, that rains down from the highest stand over the audience - much to the children's glee, while nannies grumpily pluck confetti from their hairdos.

Desmond catches sight of Miranda with her weeping orphan burden and frowns, drifting off from where he's leaned against the wall and making his way over to the Septa. He offers a polite, albeit clumsy, boy. When he speaks, it's in a hoarse whisper, not intended to interrupt the show. "It's nothing to fear," he tells the little one. "I've faced dragons." Well, not run from them, at least. And then the show is ending, and there's colored snow falling from the ceiling. Desmond booms another laugh, and scoops a handful up to show the crying child. "Do you see? Look at all the colors."

"Snownight," the kid says to the big man, looking at the colors. "You make snow?"
Miranda chuckles and wipes away confetti from her robes, the colors bright against the grey. "What a lovely show that was! Ser Loryn is too kind to have put it togther. Look at how happy they all are," she says to Desmond, her smile bright and pleased.

Desmond rubs the 'snow' between his fingers, then sprinkles some on the toddler's head. "See? It's warm. I didn't make it. Ser Loryn made it. Would you like to meet the man who makes colored snow?" A smile up at Miranda. "Do you think the other children would enjoy meeting ser Loryn?" A look toward the stage. "I could go grab him and drag him out."

The actors take their bows on stage amid the happy shrieks and the clapping of the children. Finally it really IS over and children, nannies and mothers start to slowly file out of the theatre. Some demands of "again!" can be heard.

A few of the actors start mingling with lingering guests, clearly family members. The young hero of the play, still dressed in the muted colors and leathers of an adventurer, approaches Miranda and Desmond. Why, it is no one but the Tyrell himself!

Miranda watches as some of the children start to re-enact the epic fights, with a girl in a cloak woooshing along shouting "I breathed fire! You all have to fall down!" She looks back at the actor and seems surprised at who it is without the bright colors of his house showing. "My goodness, that was impressive." She shifts the toddler on her hip and points, "See, there's the hero. Say 'hello hero! Thank you for saving us!'." The little boy manges a herro and then throws the confetti back at Desmond with a giggle.

Loryn offers an exaggerated bow to the children when Miranda announces him as the hero. "Hope you all liked it?", he asks the kiddies, though their excited faces should say enough, "Would you like to meet the dragon?"

Desmond sputters and waves his arms, pretending to beat the confetti out of the air, and grins at the toddler. He makes a face, nose scrunching up, tongue sticking out. He looks over at Loryn, eyeing him up and down. "Hello, Ser. A true hero indeed. And you look rather dashing in your leathers." Grinning, the huge Northman raises a hand. "I would like to meet the dragon. How did you make it breathe fire?

She had to smudge up her face a bit, mostly around the eyes and neck, for the costume to have full effect, so even in some big and borrowed, billowy, brown shirt long enough to fit her as a dress, the dragonlet herself approaches quickly. "Did I strike fear into ickle hearts?" she asks of Loryn, though just as quickly she checks faces familiar and un-.

Miranda's orphans crowd him with a sea of questions. 'Was that a real sword?' "Was that a real dragon?' 'Are you really gonna marry the girl?' 'I wanna learn how to sword fight'. The septa sets the little one down so he can pick up the confetti off the floor with a child's particuar OCD focus. "I admit, miss, I ducked." She smiles warmly at Keli. "He told me you played the dragon, I wondered how that was possible."

"Ah, here is our dragon, you can ask her yourself!", Loryn grins cheerfully (and a little relieved) when Keli appears by his side and can field some of the dragon questions. "Definitely a real dragon.", he winks at the little kid who asked that particular question. "Hello, Ser Desmond.", he greets the big man, "Did you help Mmmmm—- the Septa with the children or what brings you here?"

Desmond shakes his head. "No, just a happy coincidence. I wanted to see a dragon," he says, grinning at Keli and waving a little. "And I remember you told me I could help move props and the like." He leans down, picks up some confetti, and sprinkles it onto the erstwhile-weeping toddler again. Straightening, he says "I seem to recall you saying I'd owe you a favor." And then, after a beat, "..And, er.. I also heard it was going to be the adult show. It was my mistake."

"Why, you get drunk before you showed up again?" Keli asks of Desmond, but there's no venom, just the tip of a tongue playfully shown. "He used these arm and leg extenders to make me look all bony and lizardy, and we even had the leather pressed to look like scales, and there was black powder mixed with stone salt to make the explosion, and we bent off a trumpet and put it in the dragon's mouth!" She might be lying, just to get attention, but she's effervescent with pride in Loryn's work coming together so well, even if it was the matinee.

Miranda says, "Very impressive. And clever. I was afraid for a moment you used wildfire. I had this horrific vision of the entire place up in flames." She laughs faintly and nods to Loryn. "I'm glad I could inspire you to a more child-friendly version." She offers apology to Desmond - "I am afraid this was my doing, ser. He mentioned a dragon and a play and I inquried if I could bring them." Them being the city's orphans and underprivledged. "He said it was too mature for this lot— but here we are. And they loved it."

"Ah, no, adult performances are after dark.", Loryn winks at Desmond and nods to his offer. "I can most certainly use your help. I can give you a tour backstage when things have calmed down a little in a while. Perhaps your children would like to take a look backstage as well?", he turns to Miranda, then, hoping that nobody notices except her, rolls his eyes at Keli when she claims the dragon had a trumpet in her mouth. but surely they couldn't reveal ALL the stage magic!

Desmond sticks his tongue out at Kelinyx. "I'm never drunk," he claims boldly. "I might get warm and friendly, but I never get drunk." He smiles over at Miranda and Loryn, tilting his head slightly. "Well, I'm not complaining. I got to see a hero and heroine rescued by the big — fierce — dragon." A wink back at Kelinyx. And then, only a touch more seriously, "I'd be happy to see the backstage, and move anything you need moved."

One of the older boys asks, "How much do they pay, Kel? They need someone to be the dragon's ass?" Miranda hushes him and says, "We'd love to. Some of the older ones of course - the wee ones would get lost back there I'm sure."

Prattling on for who might listen but nobody in particular, Keli stresses the first word of it "I," then continues, "Also suggested a butt trumpet, and we could have that spray out cinnamon powder, but he said ,'Noo, what if it gets in peoples' eyes?' And I would say serves 'em right for not movin when a dragon's dropping plops. This might serve as narrative enough to help keep the gaggle of children moving with them. "And as for pay?, well, if you're just the ass, we only pay you in plops. If you play the whole dragon, they pay you in goats and bad children."

The orphans all -love- the idea of a butt trumpet. The septa presses her hand lightly to her wimpled forehead and sighs.

Loryn GLARES at Keli when she starts taking butt trumpets spraying brownish powder. There's a septa right there, dontchaknow. He quickly claps his hands to try and distract people. "Well, why don't we all go to the stage, hmm? You get a chance to stand on stage yourselves!", he cheers the orphans on, "Maybe there's even a cool drink and a cookie in it for you?" Silently wondering if there is ANY beverage backstage that doesn't contain a generous percentage of alcohol.

Desmond guffaws at the talk of a butt trumpet along with the youths. He even goes so far as to make a honking noise, grinning at a few of the children. "I could do with a cool drink myself," he tells Loryn. He hurries toward the stage, picking up one of the toddlers and setting her atop it with a smile. The huge man hoists himself up after, sitting on the stage-edge, beaming at the crowd.

Miranda and the other Faith on baby-sitting duty herd the children onward - the older ones anyhow. Some of the smaller ones continue to play with the dirty confetti and run around the now empty pit. "They are going to make farting dragon noises for a fortnight now," she says with a kind reproach.

"I'm so sorry.", Loryn replies to Miranda, while he's trying hard to keep the corners of his mouth under control. "Let's see, if we find some lemon water for the children?", he suggests to Keli. The other actors who were in the play are already changed into day clothes and starting to leave. A few stopping to greet and hug their short fans. The stage sets of the play can be seen tucked into the wings or behind the main curtain of the stage. One older child is quick to seize upon a plastic sword and make stabby movements at Desmond.

Ducking trouble, Keli slips off to make herself useful, waddling back with a heavy jug of water and a few simple wooden mugs nestled into her arms. Water is distributed among the thirsty of all sizes though cups are necessarily shared, but during this Keli with a demeanor that shows one part scolded and nine parts amused, keeps stealing glances at the grownups squirming.

"Not sorry in the slightest," Mira corrects Loryn. Her blue eyes flutter and roll as she helps distribute the water, but it's a good natured annoyance. "Are all the shows so vio— action filled? Or do you ever do holy plays for feast days?" Keli is given a thankful nod as there's something other than ale or beer to drink, and she shares a cup along with the others.

Kelinyx is smart enough to not let her tongue wag her into more trouble now, but there's a friendly shade in her snickering and smiling to Miranda after this, seeing the Septa isn't absent a sense of humor.

Loryn organizes a cup of wine for himself from one of the many hidden spaces backstage and leans carefully against a fake rock on stage. "People like action. And drama. And… uh, romance.", he explains with a careful sideglance towards those of the orphans who are listening to their conversation. "Not much coin in holy plays unfortunately. But if you have suggestions for a good story… or would even consider helping me write a play, I think…. it could be done as a one-off on holy days, why not." He sideglances at Keli to see what she thinks of this.

Desmond is probably mock-fighting a bunch of little snotnoses by now who have all found the plastic swords of the highwaymen.

"If I don't have to talk, I could help. I got mistaken for stranger than a spirit before." Gathering cups back up, she helps herself to a few big gulps, flicking wet fingertips at Desmond the warrior and his foes.

Desmond cut-thrusts-parries with a bunch of snotnoses, letting them land strike after strike. He gently bops one child on the shoulder as Kelinyx flicks water on his face.

Miranda asks the pair, "Do you know the story of King Hugo of the Andals and the swan sorceresses?" She says it with an almost impish smile. "A story of a bold hero, beautiful damsels, treachery, sorcery, and the champion of the Seven prevailing against evil magic."

Loryn tries to look all savvy but it's hard to keep that up. "I probably heard it at some time but I can't recall it right now. Do you?", he asks Keli, then looks at Miranda: "Why don't you tell us all a story?" Even some of the kids look excited now. More story and fun!

"A story might be nice. Also might make them easier to wrangle home," Keli says to Miranda of the kids ranging from tots to potential peers. A brief look of admiration touches Keli's face as she considers the task of minding so many kids on one's own, then it's closer to Lory, slipping something into his hand.

Desmond looks down at one of the younger children, then tousles his head and leans over. "When you're older, if you want to learn the sword, you come see me." He grins and gathers up his opponents. "It seems the Septa has a story for us. Let's have a seat, shall we?" The huge man sets an example, plopping down with a thud.

Miranda blushes a little as attention is called to her. "I'm… not a good story teller. I'm no actor." She sits on the edge of the stage and picks up one of the girls, setting the grubby orphan in her lap. "You both know King Hugor -blessed of the Seven. Crowned by the Father himself, given a bride by the Maiden, blessed by the Mother with fourty and four sons - each wiser than the last with the Crone's blessing. Trained by the Warrior himself and bearing armor made by the Smith. He sailed the Narrow Sea to Westeros under the seven-pointed star to claim the land the Gods had promised for him and his sons - but before he could become King, he had to undergo a holy quest."

Loryn accepts whatever Keli is slipping him and begins to nibble on it in-between sips of wine. He has shifted position as well, sitting cross-legged on stage now like a lightly outsized kid himself, as he listens to the septa's tale.

The dragon unscaled finds her way near enough to Lory that she can lean or pester in some way while listening.

Desmond ends up with a tiny girl plopping into his lap, and other children draped around him. He listens to the story curiously, head canting. "Your Gods give you gifts like this?" And then he hushes, wincing. "..Sorry."

Miranda says, "Not us, but our ancestor. Hugor of the Hill." She smiles for the Northerner, glad of the chance to explain her faith better. "But before he was given such blessings, the Gods set him on a quest to prove his worth. There came from the north tales of beautiful maids, graceful as swans - feather-white was their hair, pale was their skin, long of limb and fair of voice. These maids would lure away travellers from the road and none would see them again. Boys woud leave their mother's side. Men would leave their wives. Brothers leave their sisters - and the would vanish into the fog chasing these maidens and their song. When the fog lifted, seven white swans would be seen flying away - and all that was left of the men was BONES!""

Loryn's theatrical mind is starting to kick in as the story progresses and he leans closer to Keli: "I don't think the Little Bear would make a good swan though.", he whispers, "She may be long of limb, but also broad of limb…"

Desmond stares at Miranda, horror-struck. "..Wargs," he whispers. Absently, he hugs his arm around the girl in his lap. He swallows, then keeps very quiet, looking at the others nervously, perhaps hoping he hasn't been overheard.

Keli's eyes look between the two suspiciously before she answers Loryn, expressively gazing up. "I think if we did this story, I could start collecting bones now. I even know where to find some people bones right now!" She's not exactly whispering like a slick wheeler-dealer, but she cups her hand over her mouth anyway.

Miranda says, "The women left behind wept and prayed, asking the Mother to return their sons, the Father to return their husbands, the Warrior to return their brothers - and the Seven heard, and the Seven came to Hugor - a dream in which the world was dark and lit only by the light of the Crone's lantern." She smiles as they whisper and mutter, rolling with it. She welcomes a second child to her lap and holds them close as she continues the tale. "The light from the lantern illumined the Seven faces of the Divine in each aspect, calling him to provide justice, vengence, wisdom, comfort, strength, stability." She only names six virtues but adds, "And lastly, the Stranger - not a man. Not a woman. Challenging him to face the unknown and stare in its' face.Would he overcome fear of this evil magic and do what must be done? Hugor roared a challenge and whent to throw back the Stranger's hood - but when he grabbed the cloth - there was nothing there underneath…"

Loryn eyes Keli with a frown. "We are not having people bones on stage!", he warns her in a somewhat lowered voice, but some children might still overhear, "If they weren't actors on stage during their lifetime, now is not a good time for their stage debuts. We'll just…. think of something." And then he falls silent as Miranda continues, the story getting better and better. He even forgets his wine for a brief time.

Kelinyx isn't sarcastic or anything, is just nodding as if that wrap satisfies her properly.

Desmond has a disapproving look on his face, shaking his head as he listens to the story. He keeps his arm protectively around the child, but his face is sour. When one of the children reaches up and prods at his cheek, he forces a smile and a nod down at him.

"When he woke, he still had the cloak of the Stranger clutched tightly in his fist. But wrapped deep inside of it was a holy symbol, the star of the seven." She touches her hand to the one that hangs over her chest, although hers is quite clearly made for a noble. "Hugor put it on as a sign he had accepted this holy task and set forth with his men, seven times seven in number." She pauses to clarify, "That's Fourty-and-nine. He made fifty. For a day and a night and a night and a day they marched, singing songs to the Warrior and celebrating their victory to come. They marched under the banner of the Gods, what harm could befall them? But their hearts were not pure- they did not seek justice but glory. They did not seek vengence but conquest. So by the evening of the third day, when they made camp near the haunted woods where the swan-maids were said to dwell…"

Kelinyx leans in with interest.

Loryn frowns a little at the numbers being mentioned. "No way we can have fifty people on stage.", he asides to Keli quietly.

Desmond closes his eyes, mouthing 'Fools' to himself. Alone out of even the children, Desmond seems to be taking this story quite seriously. He looks disconcerted, and less than thrilled, at the idea of camping near those particular woods.

Miranda gives Loryn an apologetic smile and a shrug. That's how it's told. But she doesn't interrupt. She lowers her voice and draws the others in. "A fog rolled in around them. Dancing and drifting through the camps. Caressing and calling. Soon the voices started to call from the fog. Soft. Alluring. Singing wordless songs that beckoned to their very souls. And all the men listened in rapt wonder, hearing his own name spoken through soft lips and in dulcet tones. All, of course, save Hugor. He along stood - the fog not daring to touch him."

Kelinyx bobs her head as though she's participating in the story, trying to stay strange sounds to keep her focus on the story's message.

Not even Loryn has any more comments at this stage, just waiting for the grand finale of the story. His eyes are slightly glazed, as if he's seeing dancing maidens in front of his inner eyes.

Desmond shudders and scowls, not looking at anyone in particular. His gaze, too, is distant - perhaps he is envisioning dancing maidens. Perhaps he is envisioning something else.

Miranda says, "Slowly, the men drifted off into the mist - to their dooms, to their deaths. Their screams soon carried over the sounds of the siren's song. But then — ah — only Hugor stood alone. The mists parted and forth came the maidens. Each more lovely than the last, each clad in a gown of pure white feathers. He drew his sword and stood at the ready. Surrounding him, they sang. And when faced with such beauty, such power — he closed his eyes and fell prey to their magic. Long white fingers worked at the buckles of his armor, stripping it forth from him. A hand closed over his and pulled away his iron sword. A hand caressed his strong jaw and curve of his ear… much as a woman would skin a rabbit before she set it into a stew." Perhaps a bit racy for the kids but the mental images set up the scene. "But — even as they prepared Hugor for their next meal, a hand brushed against the star worn at his breast." She touches her own again. "And she screams! Screams with holy pain as her evil magics cannot stand the cold iron star. The spell breaks. Hugor's eyes snap open. His sword springs to his hand. Their evil magic is no match for the power of the Seven once it burns in his heart."

Once the story is told, the kids begin to scatter again, having sat still long enough. A few are already hopping about the stage as swans. Keli remembers that she is still in her dragon costume and goes to get changed. Loryn notices his stage leathers as well, but he looks mostly thoughtful now. Apparently he doesn't have an answer quite ready. "It's a good story… for the religious-minded.", he admits.

Scowling, Desmond shakes his head. "You can't tell that story," he mutters. "You oughtn't put that tale on stage," a little more affirmatively. He gently eases the toddler out of his lap. "That's a dark, dark, tale. The Old Ways are heavy across it." Scowling at the others, he says, a little defiantly "You oughtn't tell tales of wargs on a stage. Naming calls."

Loryn gives Desmond a look of surprise. "The old ways?", he asks curiously, "Is that some northern thing?"

"No. It's not Northern.. not truly. It's old. Before the dragons came to Westeros." Desmond looks around at the children, then back to Loryn. "It's of the Winter that never ended. It's of Bran the Builder and the Wall. And the Children of the Forest, and the King of Winter, and the Others, riding their giant spiders. Southerners forget the tales, it's true." He shudders, rubbing at his scarred face. "They're not tales for children."

Miranda nods although she doesn't agree fully with the northorn giant. "It's important to tell these tales because it tells children evil can be vanquished by good." With the toddlers off her lap and at play, she adds softly, "I didn't give you the true tale - the seven swanmaids? Had hearts as black as dragonglass. Perhaps made -of- dragonglass." She keeps her voice low - not as part of the story but to truly keep the detail from the wee ones. "And Hugor laid them on the altars of the Seven as signs of his loyalty and faith, for which they knew he was worthy to be their Champion and our King."

Loryn still doesn't seem convinced by the story. "I'll think about it.", he tells Miranda, "Can you write it down for me, so I won't forget half of it? I'm here I could do something with it for a holy day… mind you, people would mostly pay to see scantily-clad swan girls and hot warrior in tight leather pants.", he admits.

Desmond chews on his lower lip. "I'm telling you, Ser, that it's a bad idea to put that story on stage." He speaks in low, intent, tones, biting off each word. "That last part, especially, Septa. I know my Faith is not yours.." But he stares between the pair, urgently. "What your man did, he faced something very dark. And might be you've gotten away with telling that tale for however many years.." He spreads his hands slightly. "But they listen. And winter will come again. Might be, the winter that stretches a hundred years. You don't want them remembering you, then."

Miranda gives Desmond a gentle frown. "This wasn't from the North, ser. This was from the East. There are still dark magics practiced there. It is the Light of the Seven that keeps us safe from them; that's the lesson learned. If you keep the Seven holy in your heart, they protect against such evils." She confesses slightly to Loryn, "I knew that would be part of the draw. It's a bit racy but far more fascinating than the Revelations of Septa Bridgid. "

Loryn can't resist a rolling of eyes at Demond's warning. "You might have your winters up north but here… honestly sometimes I think it would be nice to cool off a little.", he says and grins, "I certainly don't think that a few dancing swan girls will bring the wrath of the winter Gods down onto Oldtown."

Desmond looks from Miranda to Loryn, his expression disgusted. "Old, I said," he mutters. "Not Northern. Old. Very old. And very dangerous. Our Gods make certain we do not forget, is all. Perhaps your Seven shall gird you for battle, but I assure you both.." He spreads his hands, sighing, "..I'd not be the one to count on it." And looking to Loryn, he adds "The Others are not Gods. I'm not certain what they are.. but once, they ruled this land. All of it. The Endless Night, we call it."

Miranda does frown a little at Loryn's flippant attitude but not with the same severity that Desmond does. "Perhaps we should discuss something more pleasant, sers. It is a lovely summer with no winter chill in sight." Ever the diplomat, the septa.

"The Others are the kind of bogeymen nannies use to make sure the kids stay in bed at night and clean their rooms.", Loryn dismisses the gloomy northern talk and readily agrees with Miranda's suggestion. "Indeed, it is a lovely summer evening - as all are here in the Reach. Oh, Desmond, the Dornish soiree is in full preparation, I received delivery of good Dornish wine and I found another musician to alternate with Mads. Mylady here promised to come, too.", he winks at Miranda.

Desmond hesitates, then forces a smile. "Ah. Yes. I should.. well.." He clears his throat. "We should probably talk about the wine and food a bit, Ser. It would not be a terrible idea to.." Considering for a moment, searching for a word, he looks uncomfortably from Miranda to Loryn. "..Secure it. Guard it. I could recommend some reliable men."

"Promisde to try, ser Loryn." The young septa smiles as she reminds him. "I cannot promise anything because my duties to the Faith come first. And, as we have all seen, the presense of a septa at a feast often put people off a holiday mood." She slips down off the stage easily and smooths her robes down in place. "I should excuse myself then, gentlemen. I have a gaggle of children to return to their chores." Chores?! A general groan of dismay rises up.

Loryn aws a little when Miranda announces her departure, although it's mixed with a hint of relief. At least the kids will not be able to pick the stage sets of the Whimsy apart any longer and break the props. "Well, it was wonderful to have you here, Mylady.", he smiles at her. While she gathers the kids, he turns back to Desmond: "The wine is at Garden Isle. Do you really think the Tyrells don't have enough men to guard some wine?!"

Desmond winces faintly. "I didn't mean to offend. I… there are certain things I'm very bad at. Apparently, Ser, not offending you is one of them." He spreads his hands. "I used to think Manfryd Qorgyle was just an offensive prick. That a duel with Daevon would be an agreeable distraction to the Prince." His features are grim. "I find now that there's more to him, Ser. That's all I meant. He.. poisoned a boy. Some sort of thing to make him see things. I can't prove it, of course. I'm sorry. I ought to have waited longer to say so."

Miranda's fortunately distracted by orphan herding to hear the description given to the Dornishman. She nods to the pair of men, not wanting to interrupt a clearly important conversation, and makes a gesture of blessing. "Seven walk with you and light your path," she says solemnly.

Loryn frowns at Desmond's information. "And where does that rumour come from?", he wonders, "It's a bit late now to cancel the Soiree after invitations have been sent…" He turns to offer Miranda a warm smile and a deep bow, not sure what else to respond to her greeting.

Desmond winces again, perhaps realizing how close he came to being overheard by the Septa and her wards. He manages a weak smile. When her back is turn, the huge man thumps a fist into his forehead. "Idiot," he mutters softly, self-reproachfully. He gazes at Loryn for a moment and answers, more quietly. "It's truth. Not a rumor. But the tale isn't mine, and I oughtn't have said anything. We can't cancel.." He considers for a few moments. "No. Ser Daevon will certainly want to see him in person now."

Loryn frowns until he is certain that Desmond didn't just call -him- an idiot, then he nods and looks up into the big man's eyes firmly. "If you want to kill him, I'd appreciate you do it somewhere by the river and not in our garden. I don't need that kind of trouble…"

Desmond shakes his head, looking a little glum. "They made me swear not to kill him," he answers, still speaking much more softly, his back on the departing Septa and her adopted brood. "If I could, I would have tried before now. I only wanted to make certain nothing will go wrong at your feast."

Loryn looks a little relieved at that. "Alright.", he says and smiles faintly. He looks around to realize that the theatre is fully empty now and the last bits of confetti and other debris have been swiped away by the cleaners. Only a few stage hands are still loitering backstage since they have nowhere else to be until the evening show. "I should get changed.", he says, gesturing towards his stage clothes, "Don't worry, Desmond, nothing will go wrong. I'll have our own guards on hand as well."

Desmond rises and stretches overhead, twisting a little. "Aye, of course, Ser. I'm sorry if I offended you at all." His voice is genuinely concerned. "I run my mouth sometimes. Get angry. I.." He shakes his head. "This thing with Qorgyle has me on edge." With a sudden smile, he says as he turns to head for the door, "But you do look better in plain leathers, Ser."

"Why, thank you, I'm flattered.", Loryn grins, "And don't worry. I've heard far worse in this town. See you around!" He seems to be doing a slightly exaggerated wiggly walk as he heads backstage and up to his office.

Desmond lingers to watch Loryn go, just for a moment, and grins as he turns away, scrubbing at the back of his head. Something seems to have lifted his spirits; he's whistling the Bear and the Maiden Fair as he heads for the theater's doorway.

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