(124-07-25) New Beginnings
New Beginnings
Summary: Loryn stops by the Whimsy a couple of days after the birth of a new Tyrell.
Date: July 25, 2017
Related: None

Amphitheatre - Whimsy Theatre Beacon Boulevard

The Theatre of Whimsical Dreams is a three-storey, open-air amphitheatre, approximately ninety-eight feet in diameter, which can house some two thousand spectators. At the base of the stage, there is an area called the yard, where, for three pennies, groundlings stand on the rush-strewn earthen floor to watch the performance. Vertically around the yard are the three levels of the gallery, with more expensive stadium-style seats.

A rectangular apron-stage platform thrusts out into the middle of the open-air yard. The stage measures approximately forty feet in width, twenty-four feet in depth and is raised about seven feet off the ground. On this stage, there is a trap door for use by performers to enter from the cellarage area beneath.

The back wall of the stage has two doors on the main level, with a curtained inner stage in the center and a balcony above it. The doors enter into the tiring house where the actors dress and await their entrances. The balcony above houses the musicians and can also be used for scenes requiring an upper space. Above the balcony is the apex, which has windows and a battlement-style walk.

Large columns on either side of the stage support a roof over the rear portion of the stage. The ceiling under this roof is called the heavens, and is painted with clouds and the sky. A trap door in the heavens enables performers to descend using a rope and harness. The rest of the theater is crisscrossed with wooden support beams, over which a white oilcloth can be stretched to keep out the rain, and also provide a reflective surface to help light the theater.

It's been all over Oldtown: A new Tyrell has been born and free drinks available to the whole city in celebration. This might have been two days ago but it looks like Loryn never stopped celebrating if his ruffled appearance at the theatre is something to go by. Yet it is greeted by cheers from some people, mostly grateful for the gratis piss up.

Sal is among those at the Whimsy who cheer to glimpse the Tyrell back at his theater, but her celebration is distracted. It should come as no surprise that she's in the midst of an argument with a small crowd of actors, stage-hands and other folk who more legitimately work at the Whimsy than Sal the juggler does (though she certainly seems like part of the crew by this point). It doesn't seem to be anything serious, but they shove each other about in a "You! No, you!" manner and all avoid looking directly at Loryn.

Eventually things simmer down as it's only so often people are willing to listen to Loryn describe his perfect little daughter. One of them is glad for the upheaval nearby and nudges Loryn. "Should check what's happenin', boss" he suggests and Loryn casts a weary glance towards the pushing shoving people. "Excuse me, I didn't know we had an ensemble of children.", he grumbles at them.

They all settle down right away. Maybe it's the newly minted father voice. However, most of them are all smiling instead of looking properly sheepish — except Sal, who looks exactly that. Someone gives her a shove to the small of her back and she winds up marching toward Loryn, a soft, flat, square item, wrapped in a threadbare blanket for protection, tucked tightly under her arm. The vagabond entertainer looks uncharacteristically nervous; she starts to veer away at the last moment, but faced with the encouraging expressions of the crew behind her, she rolls her eyes mightily, tucks her chin down, faces Loryn, holds out the wrapped item and mumbles, "For your kiddo."

Loryn blinks in surprise when something ressembling a gift is produced and a big smile spreads on his face when the juggler lady confirms that it actually is. "Aw, Seven, that's so sweet of you all", he murmurs, cheeks flushing with joy, "That's so thoughtful… aw, thank you…" And he does begin to unwrap the pressie to see what the item underneath the blanket may be.

Inside the blanket is another blanket, just big enough for a baby or small child. This one is not threadbare — it's new, at least in this form. Much of it has been crafted from recycled fabric. Fittingly, it's whimsical: quilted patterns take the shape of animals both real and mythical (and some that can't quite be defined one way or the other), jugglers, and musical instruments. Bits of colourful fabric might be familiar: pieces of old, torn stage costumes, repurposed. It's trimmed all the way around in ribbon embroidery shaped like roses. The whole thing is imperfect, but full of the spirit of good intent and creativity, and has the hodge podge look of being sewn by multiple hands of varying skill levels.

Sal doesn't quite seem to know what to do with herself in this kind of circumstance, and so she simply stands there looking intensely awkward; it's all she can do to not run off in the opposite direction from all this nice gift-giving. "It's nothin'," she refutes, humble to the point of prickliness … but manages, at great effort, to mumble sincerely," — I hope it's all right for 'er."

It's the kind of thing that actually blows Loryn away. No precious gems, gold, silks or other ostentatious stuff, just something right from the heart, made with love. His first attempt at speech ends in a croak, but the second time he manages to say "This is incredible… thank you all so much… it's… I promise it will be a special item for her…" He clutches the blanket as if it actually was a baby, but it's not big enough to hold on to, so he hugs whatever is close within reach - which happens to be Sal.

"Urgghk— !" Sal makes a startled noise that sounds approximately like a frog being choked. She doesn't hug back so much as tense like a stone statue and give Loryn a slapping pat on the shoulder. As the others congratulate Loryn, Sal dimisses, "She's just gonna puke on it." But she's smiling now, and it warms her voice despite herself.

Loryn doesn't seem to notice her freezing up, but at least he's quick to let her go again to hug the others in the group as well. "My daughter won't puke.", he declares proudly and obviously without any knowledge of infants. When he's done hugging everyone, he briefly places the blanket over his shoulder so he can use both hands to clap loudly. "A drink for everyone to toast my girl!", he announces loudly, before lowering his voice some. "And then we need to talk…"

Sal is much more comfortable joining in the applause in the name of celebration and drinks; she gives a sharp whistle as a cheer. A few of the crew pat her on the back as though congratulating her, too, on a gift-giving well done, but she elbows them away like she had nothing to do with this idea. Clearly. The addendum to Loryn's announcement of drinks has her lowering her brow.

Simply wooden cups are distributed and filled with medium-decent wine. The toast is made, the wine is swigged and there's another round of cheers for the youngest Lady of House Tyrell.

Loryn's remark has seen quite a few brows lowering though and it seems that an explanation has to be made. So he clears his throat: "I've long managed to juggle the responsibilities of managing this theatre with the duties of being a scion of House Tyrell and a noble knight. But more duties have been added to my slate not long ago and now the greatest duty of them all awaits: To become a worthy father. So, in short, I cannot do -everything- myself anymore. I will continue to manage, write and perform for the Whimsy, but I need an assistant, someone to deal with the day-to-day things of running a theatre…" He looks around his trusty crew. "Any volunteers?"

What vague concern Sal had vanishes; she heartily swigs her medium-decent wine (which, for a person of her standing, is classified simply as good) and looks from person to person, waiting to see who steps up to the task.

"I do!", one elderly man announces cheerfully, "Been here since the Whimsy was built, innit?" "And you still can't count two and two together.", another one points out helpfully. Loryn seems to be in agreement. "Should have a head for numbers to deal with bills and orders and all.", he points out. "Can do that.", another elderly man announces, "Keep me house in order, I do." "On the rare occasions yer sober", someone else comments. "Ser Loryn has no use fer lunkheads like y'all!", one woman calls out and soon the hubbub grows into a discussion. Loryn doesn't seem to mind. Until they come to blows, he'll just let them discuss things. Albeit with a slightly desperate expression.

Sal ducks out of the cluster as folks shout over her head at each other about why they're the best. Someone abandoned their wine in the process and she casually, unabashedly tips the remainder into her own cup before coming to stand roughly next to Loryn, watching the discussion unfold. "Maybe you ought to hire a dancing bear and put him in charge," she suggests.

"Not the worst idea I've heard so far.", Loryn agrees with a little grin, "They aren't the sharpest tools in the drawers, but experience counts for something, I guess…" Judging by the little sigh that follows, he seems to mostly try and convince himself. He does turn his head slightly sideways to look at the woman. "What about you?"

Sal scoffs, mid-drink, into her cup. "You really would be better off hirin' dancing bear," she replies. "You'd be outta your gourd if you had me runnin' anythin'. I'm just a juggler, mate. How d'ya know I can count higher than my balls?" She smirks over the edge of the cup at Loryn, gives a little snort, and shakes her head. "I was thinkin'…" She folds her arms, looking away, off toward the stage; through some internal conversation, she nearly talks herself out of what she was about to say. "I could … I could do more, if there's more coin in it. On stage, or…" she shakes her head, close to dismissing it already.

"You have a good head on your shoulders.", Loryn says softly, "I know you could do more than just juggle some balls and look good while doing it." He pauses for a moment, giving her a chance to ruminate on her own thoughts. It also gives him an opportunity to glare at two men who are almost coming to blows over the question who'd be more capable of running the theatre. But when they simmer down, he turns to look at Sal again: "What do you see yourself doing here? If coin was no issue?"

"It's all about coin when ya got more'n one mouth to feed," Sal is quick to refute, but simmers down herself and rolls her shoulders into a shrug. "Look, I don't wanna be front 'n' center with everyone lookin' at my face. I sure as hell don't wanna be responsible for something I'd just fuck up." She thins her already thins lips. "I can do more than juggle," she admits without pride; quite the opposite. She lifts her eyes skyward and reluctantly confesses under her breath all at once: "Itrainedasanacrobat."

"More than…?" Loryn arches a brow but decides that's a question for another, quieter time. He listens to her refusal with a little sigh as if it wasn't quite unexpected, but the last bit naturally pricks his interest. "Acrobat, huh? What else can you do then except juggling? Tight-rope walking, that kind of thing?"

"Yup," Sal answers succinctly, realizing a moment later that she should expand upon that. "Flips, climbin', balancin', all of that fancy shit." As unimpressed as she sounds with her own repertoire, she can't help the natural cocky gleam that springs up in her eye. She smirks a bit. "I'd fly around as one of your fucking dragons if you wanted me to. All the better, to be honest. That way no one'd know it's me."

"Well, we have capable dragons now.", Loryn replies, rather not thinking about the broken bones involved in getting them to fly. "But acrobatics are -very- popular with the crowds, so I'm sure we can find other things to do for you. How would you like setting something up? Create a bigger performance for yourself, train a few of the kids up to join you? It could be its own spectacle, accompanied by music." Cirque du Oldtowne.

That's clearly more than Sal was expecting, and so she blinks bewildered eyes at Loryn. For a few seconds, she looks at him like she thinks he really has lost his mind, though that isn't exactly uncommon. "Y'ain't even seen what I can do yet," she points out with a tip of her cup, which she then drinks from 'til it's empty. "I could be flying garbage." She cracks into a grin, though. "Yeah. Maybe. I'll think about it. You have a lot of faith in people, yeah?" Spoken as a strange, but admirable, concept. She looks from Loryn to the crew.

Loryn looks amused by that remark. "Some people call me an idiot, but I've found that more often than not my faith in people has been rewarded. Very often all it takes for them is someone who believes in them." With that little motivational speech, Loryn seems ready to move on. "You shall prove to me what you can do. When you are sober and I've had more than three hours of sleep in four days. Now excuse me -" And before she has a chance to reply he hurriedly moves to break up the fight that has finally erupted between the men who each thing they will be capable managers.

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