(123-08-23) Choice of Company
Choice of Company
Summary: Jurian finds Marsei in the Dragon Door Manse.
Date: 23/08/2016
Related: None
Players:
Marsei..Jurian..

Sitting Room - Dragon Door Manse
Starry Street

This lush room is comfortably furnished with chairs and couches, all thickly upholstered in either black or red leather. There are upright reading chairs, sofas that allow people to sit side-by side, one of those 'gossip' couches that separate a seated pair with a curving arm, and lounges for lying down. Placed handily among them are end tables with polished stone tops, black veined with red. Their wooden legs are dragons, each carved and painted differently, with gilt details. A similarly carved sideboard holds wine bottles and glasses, and two matching chests contain blankets and extra throw-pillows.

The room is well lit in the day by three large arched windows that offer a view of the garden. They are framed with carved stone dragons that match those of the arch leading back into the entry hall.


While Marsei is a less frequent visitor to the Dragon Door Manse since getting married - no longer needing to visit Dhraegon once he moved into the tower — her cheerful face is not an uncommon once amidst the Targaryens of Oldtown. Still, she is a figure out of place, particularly as she finds herself briefly alone in the sitting room, standing politely in wait and looking out on the garden, the most familiar to her of all the places on the property beyond the glass. The carved stone dragons on either side of the arched window seem to eclipse her slight figure between them, were it not for the stand-out canary yellow of her gown.

Naturally the Targaryens don't see anything a bit foreboding about their sitting room decked with dragons and dominated by severe color contrasts. After all, there are throw-pillows. So Marsei has been left to sit her all by herself, and wait upon the advent of the little bird princess. But when the stairs creak, it isn't Aelia who appears, but her older brother. Dressed in black and blue today, he clashes only slightly with the decor. "Well, Lady Marsei. We've left you on your feet."

"Oh, Prince Jurian," Marsei says as she turns about, a remark on her surprise as well as the soft deference and greeting in saying the prince's name; she has a smile ready even though it is not the sibling she expected. Her hands are clasped neatly, relaxed, in front of her. "I wanted a better view of the garden, is all," she assures cheerfully. "Have you been well?"

Jurian smiles in reflection of Marsei's smile, looking out over her shoulder into the garden. "It /is/ a fine view," he agrees, moving closer. "But please. You'll have some wine?"

"Oh— well, all right, thank you," Marsei acquiesces after a quick pause of considering; a hesitation whisked away by the welcome smile to her host— intended host or not. She's surrounded by dragons now: two are made of stone, and one is Jurian, who might as well be carved from ivory. Perhaps that thought accounts for her briefly pondering look at him. She glances past him, then, the way he came. "Will your sister be coming down…?"

Jurian smiles again, he is full of smiles. Though he snaps his fingers to summon a servant, from whom he requests wine and two glasses. The servant hurries off and Jurian sits near Marsei. "Aelia is deciding what dress she'd like to wear for you. She thinks the world of you, you know. You will be at our wedding, won't you? We've moved it again, for some weeks hence."

The reason for Aelia's delay brings a further warmth to Marsei's features, not to mention a hint of relief. Once Jurian is seated, she sits just across from him on one of the multitude of chairs. She doesn't quite indulge the lush craftsmanship of the furniture, rather sitting on the edge, albeit with a certain comfort in her ladylike poise. "Of course! I wouldn't miss it. I do think so highly of your sister, too. She's such a sweet person," she says, sweet herself in her sincerity. Her delicate brows inch upward, subtly, as she ventures, "You must be looking forward to it, after the delay?"

Jurian lifts an eyebrow slightly. "Well. You're not her brother," he points out, his smile tilting this time. "But she will be pleased to have you there. And we're having a pleasure-barge party before the marriage, to celebrate. You'll be there too," he decides. And he reaches to take her hand. "Well. We must be married, mustn't we? It is always a good match when Targaryen marries Targaryen. How is my uncle?" he asks, almost no space between the last two sentences.

Marsei, about to comment with apparent interest on the prospect of a pleasure-barge party, has the buoyant little expression of curiosity suspended on her face when her hand is taken. She nods in agreement as much as someone not born of the Targaryen name can, her expression coming to life again with a smile. "He is not getting out much as of late," she answers, but it is without worry — only quiet fondness — for her husband's rather well-known penchant for hiding in rooms of pillows for varying periods of time. "Any day now, I expect."

Jurian squeezes Marsei's hand, still smiling at her while he narrows his eyes a little. "Oh, dear. Well, I must visit him when he's feeling better," he says. "What shall I bring him? Something fine to drink? Or a cake? What shall I bring you?"

"We're both rather fond of cake," Marsei says, smiling graciously as though such a gift has already been delivered. There's a certain watchfulness in her gaze, meanwhile — not wariness, not so much as that, but a kind of wonder and wit that seems to look just beyond the surface. Beyond the slight narrowing of Jurian's eyes. Beyond the squeeze of his hand. "I'm sure he'd be interested in a visit, your grace. I'll tell him to expect you."

"And can I pay that visit at any time, Lady Marsei?" he asks, finally letting go of her hand when the servant comes in with the wine, which is poured and left on a convenient table. "Or should I wait?"

"Shall I send word when he's feeling up for visitors?" Marsei suggests politely, reaching for the wine closest to her. The polite suggestion extends, "Perhaps if you'd like you and Aelia could attend dinner with us at the Hightower."

"Yes," Jurian agrees. "I think you shall." He sits back and takes up his wine. "I can bring Aelia if you like, but does her company really divert you so?"

Marsei brings her wine to her lips, pausing just before she takes a sip to place a curious look upon Jurian. "What do you mean?" she asks benevolently, as though it's a strange question. After all, shouldn't everyone adore Aelia, not to mention want to accompany their betrothed to dinner?

"I mean," Jurian says, pausing for his sip, "Aelia. Do you want her at dinner? She can be…Well, people find her eccentric. She can be tiresome." He smiles. "To some."

"People find Dhraegon eccentric," Marsei points out in a gentle manner, unbothered. She sips her wine. "I enjoy Aelia's company. You're both welcome to visit."

"Yes, people do," Jurian agrees. He drinks from his glass again. "Then. I shall have to bring her, won't I?" It is only a few moments later that the princess in question appears. She is in a bright green dress with stacked sashes in blue, yellow, and red." Jurian turns his head. "Good afternoon, popinjay," he greets.

Marsei beams when Aelia appears — or is it a second before the green and many-sashed figure appears in the doorway? Either way, she's all bright smiles in welcoming the aforementioned eccentric princess. "Princess Aelia! How especially colourful you look today," she says in what is most definitely a compliment. "Your brother has been keeping me company."

Aelia bounces her knees, making her voluminous skirts poof up with a crinkling noise. "Yes, I am colorful!" she agrees proudly, and almost with a tone of approval for Marsei's alterness. Jurian pats the seat beside him and so she sits down, skirts plumping beside her. "You wore yellow!" Which seems to make her happy.

That Aelia is pleased by the yellow dress brings a simple joy to Marsei's features; a soft laugh, as well, just under her breath. A good, warm humour, perhaps unlike some laughter that is sent Aelia's way from time to time by others. "It's the dress made from some of the sandsilk that was given to me by Princess Visenya." One she has worn before. Besides the fabric and flowy nature of the skirt, it bears little resemblance to anything worn in Dorne. "If I remember, it is called canary yellow." But she defers to the expert.

"She's one of us, isn't she, Jurian?" Aelia asks. It's unclear if she means Marsei or Visenya.

"That's right," Jurian agrees without asking for clarification.

Aelia leans forward to touch the fabric of Marsei's skirt with her fingertips. "She should send me canary presents."

"It was a wedding gift. You never know what you'll get for yours," Marsei says with a little gleam in her eye. "But your dress is lovely as it is," she adds, reassuring. A brief glance is sent Jurian's way, as if for confirmation of how lovely Aelia's dress is, but she glances back to the princess almost right away. "It must have taken time to choose all of those colours. Have you had the dress for your wedding made yet?"" she wonders suddenly, given the young woman's changeability from day to day, bird to bird.

Aelia looks between the two of them. "Will she give me a present?" She wants to know. "She should know that I am a parrot, has she been told?"

Jurian ignores the questions but smiles at Marsei. "She has endless dresses, surely one of them is good enough."

Aelia bobs again. "I wanted to be colorful enough!"

"Princess Visenya is over the mountains in Starfall. I suppose only ravens can talk to her from here," Marsei says, but does not lament on this fact — such as it is. "A parrot! Of course. I see them sometimes with troupes of entertainers, and every so often at the market. I don't think I've ever seen a more colourful bird. They're like mummers, the way they play and do tricks." She gives Jurian a patient smile that someone might typically be more apt to give Aelia instead. He clearly doesn't know the importance of ladies dresses on their wedding day.

"Yes, they are the smartest of birds," Aelia claims, "And they can talk like men. But not like men. Do you think they take the voices of people? Do you think voices can run out?" She smiles. "What is the most beautiful dress?" she asks Marsei. Because obviously Jurian doesn't know. He looks a bit puzzled at being the one left out of the conversation.

"Oh, I-I don't know!" It's not entirely clear whether Marsei is perplexed about voices running out or about the most beautiful dress. "The Queen gets to wear the most extravagant of dresses— but she so rarely does." Therein lies perhaps the worst thing Marsei will ever imply about her royal sister: that maybe she could wear grander dresses now and then. "Perhaps the most beautiful dress has yet to be worn," she suggests enthusiastically. She nods her head toward Aelia, encouraging. "Do you have a favourite of yours?"

"This one is my favorite!" Aelia exclaims, perhaps predictably. It is a fine enough dress, though one never knows what she might say on another day. "What is your favorite?" Jurian drinks.

Marsei gives another little joyous laugh. Of course today's dress is Aelia's favorite. "I don't know how I'd ever decide," she admits. "But I did love my wedding dress — the second," she amends. She holds her wine, the cup only half-sipped, a bit closer. "Although it was lovely too, all … rubies and apples; still, it wasn't so fine. Whatever you wear will be the most beautiful on you," she tells Aelia with confidence.

Aelia grins at Marsei. "Should I wear rubies?" She turns to look at Jurian who sighs and picks up his wine.

"Aelia, we are to have dinner with Marsei and Uncle Dhraegon, isn't that fine?" He stands up. "Shall I leave you ladies to your conference?"

"Rubies are especially lovely on a Targaryen." Such vivid red gems would certainly match the room they sit in now with its powerful red and black motif. Marsei sets her wine down and stands after Jurian, if only to see him off politely with a gracious nod of her head. "If you wish; I know we must bore you with all this talk of dresses! I will give Dhraegon your regards."

"Well, women always talk of such things," Jurian says in a gracious tone. He makes a half-bow and moves back toward the direction he came from. "But we will see you both for dinner. Good day, Lady Marsei." He departs and Aelia bounces a little.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License