The Gardens of the Keep

[The Smith]

Outside the Keep itself the lush gardens have been arranged to hold guests, and musicians move around the grounds willing to play any song.

[Teirney Lannister]

Princess Doreah Martell slipped into the gardens, letting an imperceptible sigh escape her lips. It was true she had been waiting for this feast anxiously, had lost sleep over it, if she was entertaining full honesty. She had practiced every courtesy and expression until she could recite dragon lore in her sleep--the memorized stories, anyway. She knew she was ready for this trip to King's Landing. Except right now she needed ten full seconds of air that didn't stink like rose-petal perfume, and much much better company that what she had witnessed inside.

Still, this place was out a dream.

[Teirney Lannister]

Doreah stopped in her tracks, lifting her dark, doe-eyes to meet the woman's stare. "My Lady, my mother will be inside. I have heard the Red Keep gardens are a delight, and was anxious to see them myself. They are quite lovely." She tried a probing smile.

[Teirney Lannister]

Doreah's expression grew startled and the smile dropped from her face, but she buried the emotion almost immediately. The smile did not come back, however.

"My mother is Fyona Martell, and I am Princess Doreah Martell." She drew herself up proudly, pushing for every last inch of height her spine would allow. "My mother does not feel I am in need of an escort to view the gardens, but you may ask her yourself, if it please you." Her expression made it obvious that doing so would be a mistake.

[Deleted]

The tall, graceful form of Renwulf Greyjoy appeared in the gardens, his long hair and beard fluttering wettly in the light breeze. He gazed out at the flora with faraway eyes, his lips moving in some unheard cadence, his voice lost to his breath. After crossing to a cluster of wildflowers he bent and plucked one by the stem and brought it up to his face. His nostrils flared as he inhaled it's scent. He twirled the flute of the bell in his fingertips as he continued to trill wordlessly.

[Deleted]

Renwulf regarded the Lannister woman cooly, twirling the flower before responding. His body language was languid, though his voice was clear and strong.

"Ser, to you as well." He said to the woman.

[Teirney Lannister]

OoC: hahahaha, nice Aranya

Doreah kept her expression doggedly pleasant. "We are not in need of attendants in Dorne, my lady." Her train of thought, however, was interrupted by an approaching man. Doreah tried not to stare at him so frankly, but she couldn't tear herself from his fervent eyes and hulking figure.

His response to the woman, however, made her stifle a giggle. She already liked this man. "Ser," she said to him considerably more brightly.

[Deleted]

Renwulf turned his eyes back to his flower and then they landed on the bratty Dornish girl.

"What are you?" He asked.

[Teirney Lannister]

She was taken aback by this strange question--she was a woman, wasn't she?--, but he was just the sort of party guest she had been hoping to see. The kind you could only find in a city such as King's Landing--the fascinating sort.

"I would hope what I am would be a thing apparent--is it not?" she ventured, not impudently.

She glanced over to the woman to gauge her reception of him.

[Horas]

Lord Bayard makes his way to the garden, enjoying the light breeze on his face. He has one attendant with him -- a foreigner of some extraction, though wearing the livery of a Royce servant. The attendant catches sight of Lady Lannister storming their way and murmurs something to his master in his outland tongue.

"My Lady Lannister," Bayard's bow is a study in courtly chivalry. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I am Lord Bayard Royce, of the Eyrie."

[Deleted]

"You speak with too many words." He said, lifting the flower up. "Much like this." He gestured around the garden. "Filled with beauty and splendour to disguise the fact that is simply an empty space between walls." He dropped his hand. "Why not speak plainly?" He gestured the flower to her so that she might take it from him. "So..."

"What are you?" He asked again.

[Horas]

"The king's peace reigns," Lord Bayard replies, "and so our travels were blessedly uneventful." In another life, Bayard might have cut quite the handsome figure; the twenty-five year old was a tall man with well-made features and a reassuring smile. But the scarring that covered the middle part of his face made him somewhat difficult to look at. "Are you enjoying the feast?"

[Teirney Lannister]

Doreah's cheeks reddened, and she stole a glance at the stern woman before reaching for the flower with tentative fingers. She was aware of the distinct possibility that he was calling her stupid, but she opted for the other interpretation. Unfortunately, his pretty speech had not done much in the way of showing her what she actually was, so she grasped at straws, struggling to respond. She was many things: sad, lonely, excited, tempestuous, joyful, scared, alive. But those were not things you told a stranger.

She was saved from her embarrassment, however, as two men approached them. She saw with surprise that one of them appeared to be blind. A huge scar ran across his face, but Doreah could not help but still think him as handsome. She also did not fail to sourly note the change of tune in the angry woman once approached by these newcomers.

[Deleted]

Renwulf noted the arrival of the new men and scowled. Noblemen in their livery. He thought to himself. He had met Lord Royce before, and as far as Greenlanders concerned, he was not full of the pomp the others seemed to delight in. That, to Renwulf, was more respectable, but only slightly. He was a much more tolerable Greenlander to Renwulf than the mewling lion woman. He was a man of conviction, and Renwulf liked that.

[Horas]

"I thank you for your compliments, my lady. Even in the Vale we hear of your husband's renown." Bayard had heard no such thing, and in fact had heard the opposite. "Your family shall have to visit sometime. I understand that your eldest child is close in age to mine own heir?"

As he smiles pleasantly, his manservant whispers something else in his ear. "Forgive me," Bayard says, "I had not realized there was another lady present." He bows, equally courtly, to the small girl. "You are one of Fyona's daughters, are you not?" he asks. "I was at your mother's wedding."