Blood of Dragons

The 'A Song of Ice and Fire' MUSH


Fierce Creatures
IC Date: Day 23 of Month 2, 158 AC.
RL Date: November 22, 2006.
Participants: Aidan Dayne, called the Knight of the Twilight, Liane Uller and Tanyth Toland, called the Black Tempest.
Locations: Red Keep: Eastern Outer Yard.

Summary: Three of the hostages discuss their situation, and the conversation seems to suggest that it might be wise for their keepers to worry the most about their female guests.

The sky is darkening towards evening, and the castle slowly grows quieter as more and more people move indoors. This seems to hold true for Ser Aidan Dayne and the young Danyll Toland, his squire, as they make their slow way back from some other part of the castle. The two speak with one another, an indistinct murmur.

Ever contrary, as others return to the tower, filling it with more people, Liane is making her way out into the night. “I’ll be fine,” she calls in to someone, shaking her head. “It’s not as though I’m like to get lost,” she murmurs afterwards, more to herself. Catching sight of knight and squire, she manages to summon up a small smile, bobbing a sort of curtsey in their direction.

Drawing nearer, the conversation between the two can just be overheard. “... do not think that that is why Hugor was so blessed,” the knight of Starfall can be heard to say, the tone of his voice suggesting patient exaggeration. “He had a noble and devout spirit. His height was merely a sign of that.”

“Maybe,” the Toland lad says, doubtfully. “But I’ve seen tall men a-plenty, ser, and they’re not all noble or even particularly devout..”

“This is true, but that is now. Perhaps in ancient days…” his voice trails to a stop as Liane’s voice breaks the spell of such _weighty_ theological discussion. Both of them look to her, and both return her bob with brief bows as they pause. “Good evening, Lady Liane,” Aidan says, offering her a pleasant smile. “You are out late. Do you prefer the night air?”

“The place seems bigger with less people about,” Liane replies with a flicker of a smile. “And less people about means less unpleasant encounters.” She looks over her shoulder towards the Gold Cloaks, taking another few steps away from the tower. “From what I’ve seen, they can hardly keep from tearing each other apart. I prefer not to supply a less controversial target. Coming from practice?” she asks, looking between the pair.

The lady of Uller’s remarks regarding the hostage-keepers certainly seems to find some sympathy in Aidan, for his lips thin in distaste as he nods his agreement. “We were just returning from the first evening service at the sept, my lady,” Ser Aidan says, eyes briefly turning to Danyll as he speaks. “There, at least, we’ve not been particularly harrased. Though I fear one or two of the septons look displeased to provide services to such as us.” A shrug of his shoulders, and he tells his squire, “Danyll, run along and let your sister know you’ve come back.”

In a swirl of greens and gold, said sister storms out of the tower reserved for the Dornish ‘guests’ just then, and her departure cannot help but to draw the attention of a nearby Goldcloak, who moves to follow the Toland lady. However, as Tanyth spies her brother and some other familiar faces near to the tower, her path veers towards them in favour of continuing off down the yard, and the guardsman seems to determine it safe enough not to follow on her heels. For now, anyway.

“Ah, Danyll, there you are. I was beginning to think Aidan means to make a septon out of you,” she calls to the boy as she comes nearer, her words plainly meant for Aidan’s ears as well. “Tamlyn is still within, and would no doubt like your company for supper. I will be back in a little later.” A quick smile for Danyll, and she moves on towards Aidan and Liane, her walk half a stalk, half a saunter, and with a hint of a storm in her eyes.

“Sad times when even septons are unpleasant,” Liane murmurs, sighing softly as she reaches up to sweep her bangs across her brow. “Though it seems not all are a complete loss. I met a young lady of Stark the other evening who was very pleasant.” She looks after Danyll, waiting until the squire has moved away some before lowering her voice. “How’s he adjusting?” she murmurs, raising a hand to wave slightly towards Tanyth as the other woman approaches.

The Toland lad seems dutiful enough as he starts to troop off towards the tower—or perhaps it’s merely hunger, because he practically breaks into an undignified run—when his sister makes her appearance. A grin touches his lips as she comes nearer, though his greeting to her is remarkably serious. “Good evening, cousin,” Aidan tells her, bowing down with elegant skill. “Liane and I were just discussing our keepers, and Danyll as well.” With that done, he remarks, “Who has been doing quite well, I thank you for asking. He is cheerful by nature, and not easily daunted. Not even when I tell him he’s asked a question too many.” A flash of white teeth as he smiles at the last, clearly fond of the boy.

“Good evening?” Tanyth makes a question of it, and a quick scowl follows her words. “Hardly, cousin dear. Not as long as we have keepers. Unless,” and here a thin but fierce smile quirks her lips, “we have said keepers at our mercy, of course. Not that we would have any for them.” Turning to Liane for a moment, she inclines her head to the other woman, and with a suddenly quite pleasant smile she says, “Of course, Aidan would never say such a thing. A pity do you not think, Lady Liane?” The look she then gives Aidan is ... half-joking, half-serious.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Liane nods to Aidan, smile faint. “I worry a bit about the younger ones. Though I suppose they’re more used to being confined and told what to do than those of us who might consider ourselves adults,” she muses wryly, twisting her hair over one shoulder. “Lady Tanyth,” she greets, a smile tugging at one corner of her lips at the other woman’s words. “I think it is probably safest for Ser Aidan not to say such things. Especially not when there are those such as you and I to do so for him,” she adds, smile deepening.

Other men might roll their eyes at such goading, or perhaps even be embarassed. Aidan, for his part, merely offers a quiet and yet courteous, “I will not gainsay you, Tanyth, though you task me with it a thousand times.” Liane’s response to Tanyth earns her a look strongly suggestive of Aidan seeing her as encouraging Tanyth on. But then, what egging on has the Black Tempest ever needed? “What the tongue says and the heart feels can be different things. The lack of sharpness in one, sweet cousin, does not mean the lack of feeling in the other.”

“Ah, I suppose you are right, Liane. We will have to make the effort to compensate for Aidan’s ... cautious nature,” replies Tanyth to that, her smile holding a wicked edge and the overly-dramatic sigh a touch of real frustration. To Aidan, on the other hand, she snorts and shakes her head, “For no good reason, you will act the model of some overly pious knight. If it was likely to give you the opportunity to take some revenge upon these spineless keepers of ours, then I could see the sense in it, but that is hardly likely to be the case. Given that, I see no reason not to be as difficult as possible.” Which, in her case, could be rather formidably difficult.

Liane doesn’t quite look at Aidan when he gives her the look, one hand covering her mouth for a moment to hide her smile before she reaches up to tug lightly on an earlobe. “Well, there is a measure of…efficiency,” she adds to Tanyth’s words, though a crooked smile remains. “There’s a point at which the benefits of being difficult in problems caused for them no longer outweigh the difficulties we earn for ourselves. It’s a fine line. I would someday like to be able to leave this place, after all.”

“So would we all, Lady Liane,” Ser Aidan replies, still with that tone of unstrained courtesy. “If I may say so, you speak quite wisely.” He doesn’t look to Tanyth, but he doesn’t need to to make his point. It’s only after a pause that he looks to her, and makes a questioning gesture as he asks, “Come now, Tanyth. Don’t you agree with my lady of Uller? You may enjoy causing vexation for others, and may even be right to do so, but if the consequences are more dire than the cause… ?”

As she finds both of you in some measure of disagreement with her, Tanyth settles her hands upon her hips and gives the two of you a dubious look. One hand then moves to rake through the black curls falling about her face, pushing a few of them backwards. “I very much doubt that anything we do here will have much effect on our future fates. We are kept here to ensure the good behaviour of our kin in Dorne, not to ensure our own good behaviour. It is their actions that will have consequences for us.” And that, clearly, irks her more than anything.

“I don’t hold out great deals of hope regarding the good behavior of my kin,” Liane drawls, grimacing. “It seems the family tree holds more than one outlaw.” She seems to ponder that for a moment, then shrugs one shoulder. “The desire to act out comes and goes,” she says quietly, looking over her shoulder towards the Gold Cloaks before turning back to the other Dornish. “Coming usually in the afternoon, after a day of useless pacing, going by this time of the evening,” she clarifies with a rueful smile.

Aidan gives Tanyth a smile that’s very nearly apologetic, though it flashes into a grin—quickly surpressed—at Liane’s remark. “It is a dreadfully boring place, this castle. We must find more means to entertain ourselves, in our lonely tower.” And speaking of that ... He turns to Tanyth and asks, “Do you think Tamlyn and Danyll will have left anything for me? I could come begging, in sackcloth and with ashes on my head, but I do not think that would help with those two.”

“For my own part, I would much rather be an outlaw than held here,” Tanyth declares with firm and fierce conviction, and given her reputation one might suppose she would not have done so badly at such a trade. “As it is ... for now I will hold to these damned oaths, but only as barely as I can manage to.” Looking to Aidan, she smiles wryly, his words enough to amuse her even in her current mindset. “No, cousin dear, I do not think that would help very much at all. But I could perhaps be persuaded to put in a good word for you.” A pause then, and rather more slyly she adds, “Especially if you in turn could be persuaded to stay a little later than just for supper. I am dreadfully bored here in the evenings, you know.”

“I envy Alyx,” Liane admits. “And she’s getting a very large chunk of my mind when next I see her.” The words between the other two bring a wry smile to her lips as she rakes a hand lazily through her hair, taking a step back. “Supper was bland, as usual here,” she warns. “Though I suppose appropriate desserts would add enough spice,” she adds, smile returning. “I should perhaps leave you two to yours, though.”

It’s good that it’s growing dark, for the aptly named Knight of the Twilight has skin dark enough that a blush would not have been readily made out. “Yes, thank you, Lady Liane. A good evening to you,” he tells the heir to Hellholt, offering her a bow, before he girds himself to do battle with Tanyth. Turning to her, sounding just the slighest bit diffident, he says, “As you wish, sweet cousin,” Aidan murmurs. And then,after a pause in which he gallantly offers his arm, he begins to say, “We might play at tiles. Or perhaps Danyll might benefit by a reading of _The Seven-Pointed Star_. And there’s always some guessing game, though Tamlyn and you always seem to win those; I know not how.

“Indeed, Lady Liane, it seems we must add the spice on our own.” Tanyth tells the other woman with a smile. “Have as pleasant an evening as you can manage here,” she adds, followed by a dip of her head, before she turns to take the arm offered by Aidan. “Tiles? Perhaps. I am in the mood for a game of some kind, certainly,” she tells him with an even deeper smile. “We will see what might come to mind.” And with that, she allows the knight to lead her back towards the tower where they reside, making sure to keep a steady grip on his arm—in case he might try to run off.