(123-03-07) Baffling Jewellery Club
Baffling Jewellery Club
Summary: Ser Malcolm goes shopping for jewels and runs into Camillo and later Tellur.
Date: Date of play (07/03/123)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:123-02-28-dolphin-tournament

It is not long after lunch time. The servants of the well to do as well as some wealthier ladies with escorts are going in and out of the shops. Up ahead! Is that a familiar tall man with distinctive horizontal stripes in his hair going into a jeweler's shop?

On occasion, fine things in the Hightower must be supplied just like the regular orders of food and candles and lamp oil and parchment. Which is what brings Camillo up this way, to buy a new bottle of perfume for one lady, and put an order in for a new chair. He is just stepping out with the bottle in hand when he spots that familiar shape and finds himself following utterly against his better judgment.

The forge is kept out back of course, lest it offend the eyes of the fancy folk shopping here, though fine work is done behind the counter. The Bastard Knight pulls a familiar shaped lump wrapped in velvet out of his cod, and sets it carefully on the counter. His gloved hands unwrap it to reveal the dolphin necklace, freshly cleaned and polished.

Camillo hesitates a few steps back, stopping to see what will happen with it in spite of himself, a troubled expression on his face. Is the dolphin to be sold? Melted down? Re-mounted? When did Malcolm get it back?

The Knight's distinctive Stormlander lilt inquires, "Are you the ones forge these for the Hightowers?" Here follows a rather obsequious sales pitch touting their exclusive provision of dolphin tourney jewelry prizes. The Knight listens politely enough, and when there is a pause asks, "Might it be possible to forge rings to match? With the same sort of jewels in miniature?"

Camillo looks down at the bottle he's holding, idly fiddling with the stopper to see how firmly shut it is. Of course he's listening to what he can catch of the conversation.

"Why of course!" The shopkeep gets ink and quill and starts makinbg some rough sketches. Ser Malcolm gazes rather quizzically at them, clearly unsure as to what suits best.

There is a cork in the stopper to help keep the precious essence from escaping, which satisfies Camillo after a few tugs. He glances up.

Malcolm … actually fidgets. It's such a rare thing for him to make a movement to no purpose, but now he jiggles his leg a little and tugs at his beard braid. "I've not much of an eye for such things. How… expensive are they likely to be?"

Camillo finds himself shifting in sympathy, brow furrowing even more as he tries to imagine what this is all about and how he might be able to help without being hopelessly strange about it. He anxiously rolls both lips over his teeth.

The Shopkeep lists a base cost for the three designs, "But much depends on the quality of the jewels." Ser Malcolm nods, "I think… small would be better, especially with the ring sizes, but they'd need to be the same type and the colours would need to match." He tugs at his beard braid again, clearly rather wishing someone else were here to help him with this delicate task.

Camillo ultimately can no longer bear the uncertainty and steps into view, bag slung on as usual, bottle of noblewomen's perfume in one hand. "Er, Ser Malcolm," he says softly, obviously loath to make much eye contact. "Is everything…?"

Malcolm looks upon Camillo as a drowning man might a rope, "Camillo! Come help me choose settings, will you? Know you ought about stone quality?" His dark eyes are rather pleading.

Camillo looks uncertain when Malcolm immediately summons his help, but he dips hs head. "A little," he says. "Only a little. What, ah…what do you need them for?" He approaches a couple steps nearer so he can at least see the counter clearly.

Malcolm blushes and lowers his lashes, "I thought I might have rings made. To match the pectoral…." Which doesn't exactly answer the question.

Camillo looks a bit confused. "The what?" he asks. But he seems reluctant to pry excessively. "Quality is… It depends on what sort of person is going to wear it and what they'd be wearing it for." He mostly looks at details of the forge or the counter rather than at Malcolm. "A high-quality stone, it's clear and catches the light well. Nobles, they want high quality and large size. But ordinary people don't need the very finest. And some people think a stone with a flaw can be interesting." He shrugs.

Malcolm lifts the necklace up as if he were wearing it, the dolphin stretched across the center of his chest, "Well, it's bigger than a pendant? And too small for a breast plate?" His sheepish smile suggests he is trying to be funny. He sets it down again, "I think small stone but good quality and no flaw, then."

Camillo lifts his eyebrows uncertainly at the joke. "And there are some stones that look like others…" he offers vaguely, looking at the necklace when it's set down. "Is…that the old one, or the one you gave to Mistress Esme?" he ends up asking.

Malcolm shakes his head, "It must be the real thing for this. I've been saving…. Oh, this is last years, yes. Mistress Esme has the new one."

Camillo looks at the piece thoughtfully. "I thought it was very nice, that you gave it away again," he says. "You're very good to the people. I think Mistress Esme was probably pleased. As for this one…I thought you would have given it to someone by now."

Malcolm smiles sheepishly again, "That's why the rings…." He leans down to murmur in Camillo's ear, "I can't offer my name, being a Storm, and so my favours can not be given openly to those I love best."

Camillo looks vaguely consternated about this ear-murmuring, but he nods vaguely. "I don't really understand," he admits. "But I'm glad if you have something made that you /can/ do what you please with. You could sell the necklace when the rings are finished," he says, "If it's no use to you, anyway. Then you wouldn't have to spend so much of your hard-earned purse."

Malcolm looks into his eyes, his own large dark ones terribly sincere, "I thought about it alot in the last two weeks, and it seems… you went to a great deal of trouble on my account. This necklace likely can never be worn openly, but it ought to be worn, and by someone who appreciates it."

Camillo furrows his brow a little at that sincere look and statement. He shakes his head a little, looking aside. "I…only bought it," he says. "It doesn't…It wasn't meant to become a burden. You don't have to…think so much about it."

Malcolm keeps making that unnervingly sincere eye contact, "It's all right, Cam. I… try to live in a way that involves a great deal of thought about my actions and their consequences."

Camillo seems even more than usually averse to the eye contact. He can't help pulling his chin down a fraction as much as he doesn't want to /obviously/ avoid the look. "That is very clear, Ser Malcolm," he says after a pause, "In the way you treat the people of Oldtown. But please, do whatever you wish. Whatever pleases you. It always belonged to you, I only looked after it for a short time."

Malcolm gives a manly squeeze to his shoulder, "And it was kind of you to do. I shan't forget." He sighs and turns back to the shop keeper, "Best to show us the gems to choose."

Camillo looks unsure about this 'us' who will be choosing the gems, given his low level of expertise. But he stays and looks toward the counter to be available for decision-making.

The Bastard Knight seems comfortable choosing for size and colour match himself, but insists on Camillo looking over the ones he can't eliminate right away, talking to him as if they were on similar social footing and teasing him in a friendly sort of way in hopes of getting him to relax. he does seem more comfortable himself with a friend to bounce things off of.

Camillo is generally rather terrible at friendly teasing and joking, but in time he seems to understand Malcolm's intent and does his best to respond in some appropriate way so as not to make the knight feel unhappy. He does what he can to pick out some sort of suitable stone without knowing what sort of person or occasion the piece is for.

It is not long after lunch time. The servants of the well to do as well as some wealthier ladies with escorts are going in and out of the shops. Talking to a fancy jewler is a familiar tall man with distinctive horizontal stripes standing with camillo as they examine jewels. Something looking suspiciously like a Dolphin Tourney necklace is spread out on the counter.

There is a low noise behind Malcolm and Camillo both, a light 'whuf!' sound, and there is a white brachet with red ears and a red tail. She has a collar on with semi-precious stones set into it and pretty braiding, and a more well brushed and groomed dog is seldom seen outside the chambers of a high lady. The dog's tail is wagging.

Camillo happens to be holding a fancy bottle of perfume which is likely for some lady at the Hightower. The sound behind him draws his attention at once, and he looks down curiously at the dog and its fancy collar. "There's a dog," he points out, in case this is of interest to the jeweler or Ser Malcolm.

For his part, Malcolm keeps the teasing gentle and keeps encouraging him with smiles and the occasional manly back thump. He is used to dealing with socially awkward men. "We'll need three fire gems as much alike as we can get and a number of the smaller sapphires…" He winces, imagining the expense. Turning at the 'wuf," he spots the diog and squats down, the dark linen of his hose rather taught, "Fiona!" he holds out a hand for the dog to sniff. "This is Tellur's Bratchet. She's a good girl, aren't you, Fi?"

Fiona sits up and offers a paw, her eyes dark and intelligent. If Malcolm shakes, she is pleased, if not, he is in danger of having his face licked. Then she sits at his feet, looking up at him adoringly, as Tellur's voice comes floating lightly by "She is, indeed, however she knows who the soft touch is at the Weirwood."

"Oh," Camillo says, nodding as he recognizes the animal. He turns his palm up toward the dog, but looks up to see if he can see Tellur.

Malcolm shakes the paw, and slips her a bit of jerky out of a pouch, because he is a soft touch. "Fee, this is cam. He's a Friend. Tellur Snow, are you running amock with your beasts?" His tone is the same light one he's been using as they look over jewels.

Poor Camillo. As Malcolm says to Fiona that Cam is a friend, she sniffs him, and then licks it, while Tellur says "See the mighty hunting dog!" Fiona does not care, she is happy to gambol for treats, as Tellur enters, and whistles low "Who is the lucky one?"

Camillo doesn't mind having his hand licked as long as it's not the one holding the noblewoman's perfume. Camillo bobs his head in respectful greeting to Tellur.

Malcolm straightens and moves to hide the necklace and the design sketches, casually like, "Did you hear the Lady Marsei is the new Queen of Love and Beauty? I don't suppose either of you know how well that's going over?"

"What?" says Tellur, a little affronted, perhaps. But then he says "No idea, I have been out with my beasts, running around like a fool. And, eh…I went to speak to the Healers amongst the Maesters." He frowns lightly, then he says gravely to Camillo "It is good to see you."

"How well?" Camillo echoes Malcolm. "With whom? Is it expected to cause some trouble?" He dips his head again at Tellur. "Good day, Master Tellur," he replies.

Malcolm sighs, "I know I shouldn't compete in the Dolphin tournament, but I can't seem to keep away. I couldn't pick Visenya this year given… Well, you know. I wasn't sure how picking a Prince's new bride would go over. I'm hoping it was clear we didn't know each other and no… insult was meant, but rather a compliment to a virtuous woman much beloved in the city." Behind his back, he is folding the velvet over the necklace.

Tellur says dryly "Why don't you ask her yourself?" There is just a little wickedness in his voice, at that. And then he says "Well, there is no need to worry! If anything happens, Camillo and I will protect you." He grins "And if it goes further than that, the Cat will come down as well, and flirt so much with Lady Marsei that she'll be concerned mostly to escape him."

Camillo shakes his head a little. "I'm sure no one…" His speech slows when he realizes what Malcolm is doing, eyes flicking aside, though he's careful to draw no more attention to it than that as soon as his mind catches up to the fact that his mouth has stopped. "I'm sure no one would, would think so," he says, starting over. "I am sure the lady herself takes it as a blessing, and Prince Dhraegon is not inclined to jealousy at all. But I can ask, carefully, to be sure?"

Malcolm laughs warm and bright, "I can see it now! But she seemed sweet and shy when I crowned her. I'd not want to alarm her with a charm offensive." He flashes Camillo one of his sunny smiles, now flipping the sketches over casual like, "Aye, i'd take it as kindness if you'd let them know no offense was meant."

"Camillo runs in the circles of the great," says Tellur, practically teasing. And then he says "She seems pleasant. I can't begin to guess what being a Targaryen would do to her. Or for that matter any of it. I can't begin to imagine what being a Targaryen would be like myself." He scrubs at his face "You two are acting terribly suspicious."

Camillo bobs his head at Malcolm. "I can do that," he assures the knight. "But I am sure there is no worry. Lady Marsei is very kind and generous, not prone to suspicion or easily discomfited." He lifts a hand to ward off Tellur's teasing praise. "I only sweep their chambers," he says.

You say, "Well, Daevon's all right, at least. I don't know this Prince though." He gives Camillo a gentle nudge, "Surely you have a rather more responsible job than chambermaid over there…. Cam is teaching me how to appraise sapphires, Tellur.""

Tellur grins at Camillo, and he lowers a hand to stroke Fiona's ears lightly, and then he says "I feel sorry for Prince Daevon. It must be hard to live a life like that." Yes, all that money and power. But Tellur seems to mean it. "They are prettier than normal stones, these gems, but why would people like you and I ever need such skill?" He clicks his fingers "That reminds me. I want to visit an armorer here."

Camillo shakes his head. "Not very," he says. "Only sometimes I tell the chambermaids where to go. More often the hall boys. But sometimes the nobles are kind enough to talk with me. Prince Dhraegon is kind to everybody, no matter their station." He looks to Tellur. "Prince Daevon?" he repeats, evidently not sure why Tellur sympathizes so much. Then he adds, "I don't really know anything." About stones.

Malcolm nods, "It can be lonely, I think." He lightly touches the hilt of his dagger with a gloved hand. "It's a shame he didn't come out to joust, I have sparred with him aplenty on foot, but we've never crossed lances….Are you ready to armour yourself properly, Tellur Snow?" He shrugs, "Ah, Cam, he'd much rather be a knight errant than a Prince, I think. He's as serious about the sword as I am. I've seen your Prince Dhraegon in the judges stand, but I admit I know little of him. Was he a champion once?" his expression is doubtful as he asks.

"It's as Malcolm says," Tellur says to Camillo "I'm no fool - anyone would rather be him than poor. Or us! But he's chafing. He'll never want to sit a throne. He wants to be on a horse, smiting evil. I don't think he's overly fond of dragons, either." He grins, slightly, and then he says "Should I let you two finish? And yes, I am. A couple of days ago one of the Maesters cut me open to get out that scarring in my shoulder and sew it up aright. I'm done with being stabbed like that."

Camillo shakes his head a little at the question of Dhraegon being a champion. "I don't think so," he says. "I think perhaps his family has kept him close. He's…different." He nods a little to what Malcolm and Tellur have to say about Daevon, but offers no opinion of his own, there.

Malcolm laughs, "I suspect he thinks dragons ought to be left alone and living away from cities full of temptation for them." The talk of the operation does have him concerned, "And here I am unscathed, babbling on about tourneys when you are truly injured. Is that new squire doing your lifting for you? If not, i'll give him what for. He's still shy of the horses, but I got him to feed Motley a treat and pet him. How is your shoulder then? Is their ought I should be ordering from the apothecary?" he cocks his head and studies Camillo, "Different how? Not cruel, I hope?"

"Dragons are beautiful," says the beastmaster "But I will never get to see one close without being eaten." He blinks "Being injured under…in those circumstances is different, Mal, I mean. Ser Mal…ugh, let us just assume everyone knows we are friends." He grins "He is doing a great deal. Calm yourself - he is desperate to be a knight. My shoulder is swollen, I think, but I have supplies - perhaps I should go back soon. Where are you two going next? Would you mind visiting one of the armories?"

"The opposite," Camillo says to Malcolm. "I don't think he could hurt anyone." He glances to Tellur with some concern. He looks more uncomfortable than sanguine on the subject of dragons. Then he glances between Tellur and Malcolm. "Well, I should probably get back to the Hightower soon," he says, hefting the perfume he carries slightly.

Malcolm thinks for a moment, "Didn't you see one of Princess Visenya's hatchlings? I vaguely remember toothmarks on your finger." He seems amused rather than offended by the lack of formality…. Let me have a few words with the man here and we can walk with you." he turns to have a few very quiet words with the shopkeeper, paying him some ernest, and after sliding the small cloth covered bundle into the purse and tucking it all deftly away in his cod, body blocking his hand movements from the other bastard. "Oh! So soon, Cam? I suppose I have imposed on your wisdom, rather."

"Well, yes, but it didn't have much fire…" says Tellur, who then rubs the back of his neck "Though I did have to have my finger stitched shut. I look rather patchwork now." He turns his attention away from Malcolm and he says to Camillo "Do you need to? You should come to the Weirwood soon, since you are a good friend of Malcolm's." He eyes the Knight oddly, but turns to smile at Camillo.

"Not at all," Camillo tells Malcolm. "I don't think I did much, but I'm glad to." THen he looks back to Tellur, blinking once. "A…?" He makes a gesture that seems /mostly/ like a nod, but an equivocal one. "That's kind of you."

Malcolm, for once, seems oblivious to any subtext and looks back confused at the odd look Tellur gave him, then turns a bright smile on Camillo, "It's up to you, Cam."

Knight, Tellur knows you are hiding something! But then he says "Eh. I am not kind, but you two are friends." Then he says to Malcolm "I need your advice on armour construction given my fighting style."

Camillo dips his head. "Good day, then," he says, obviously at a loss for how to respond to invitations and accusations of friendship.

Malcolm is all businesslike at the mention of armour, "You'll be wanting something quite and reasonably light that you can move in. Give you full armour and you'd be pinned like a bug… I'm thinking leather with maybe some metal bits in key areas, all painted to blend instead of stand out…." He gives camillo a smile and an encouraging squeeze of the shoulder, "you ought to come by for dinner your night off, maybe…."

Tellur looks at Camillo, puzzled now, himself. He hen frowns, and he pats Fiona, looking down at her, and he says to Malcolm "Aye, I've no desire to stand out. Though on that topic, I need a surcoat and cloak suitable for riding in Cat's entourage. So I don't shame the poor b…man." He grins, showing his sharpish teeth, and then he says "Yes, I'll bring rabbits and pheasant."

"All right," Camillo finally agrees, bobbing his head at both of them. "Be well, then." And with that farewell, sincere if not effusive, he heads off.

You say, "We'll got to a seamstress next after the armourer, all right?" He gives Camillo a friendly wave.

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