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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on May 10, 2019 14:36:01 GMT 1
"Escape." Lynesse did not know whether to laugh at the word or howl. "For now I am fostered with my cousins in Gyldenhaal, the Blackbriars, who are both gallant and hospitable."
"Escape is not a virtue of my sex, ser, unless it involves vows, to the seven or a husband. Perhaps that is why there are a great many tales of damsels in distress, and so few of damsels in egress."
"So long as my Dornish uncle bears my father's signet ring, I am bound by the decisions he makes on behalf of my house. Like as not, he will choose for me a husband that suits his plans, and the plans of House Blackmont. While he holds such authority, I cannot oppose him, and when I am married, I will be bound by the will of my husband instead."
She tilts her head thoughtfully, 'I presume the only way to stop such a passage of events would be to remove my uncle from his office of regent before he was able to wed me for his profit, but I lack the means to chart such a course."
"You are kind to think of me Ser Trystane, but escape seems an unlikely prospect."
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Post by Trystane Sand on May 11, 2019 0:14:48 GMT 1
Trystane gives her a sad but understanding look, followed by a little nod.
"I understand. Well, not understand, exactly, because I cannot truly know what your life is like, but I empathise. You are in a difficult situation, and I am sorry about that. I perhaps should not have put things in such simplistic terms."
He attempts to put a positive slant on things, not wanting to make Lynesse feel uncomfortable.
"However, you clearly have no difficulty attracting fine knights to vie for your favour. Perhaps, with some careful planning and effort, you might find one who would be a good husband for you, while being able to convince your uncle that it is in his interests. You strike me as an intelligent woman. There are likely ways to turn the situation to your advantage, or at least to mitigate your uncle's scheming enough that being bound to your future husband's will is not such a bad thing."
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on May 11, 2019 2:49:22 GMT 1
Lynesse blushes a little at the compliment, "There are many gallant knights in the reach Ser, but few who would please my uncle's eye. If you were to meet him you would see that he knows his own mind and keeps his own counsel." She tilts he head again, a gesture hinting at inner reflection, "I suspect he would discount an idea simply for knowing it was mine, or a choice simply by knowing it was my preference."
"You are have been forthcoming with me sir, so it is only right that I return the sentiment, if I can count on your discretion?"
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Post by Trystane Sand on May 11, 2019 3:12:40 GMT 1
“Ah, I see. That sort of fellow. Well, if you do find someone you want to marry, best make sure he doesn’t find out. Though there are ways a woman of cunning can make a man like that do what she wants while thinking it was his idea. I hope that either by luck or by design, your situation turns in your favour.”
Her question comes as a surprise, and intrigues him.
“Of course, my lady. You may tell me anything in confidence.”
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on May 12, 2019 13:18:22 GMT 1
“To seek marriage without one’s Lord’s permission is simply not done in the Reach, Ser Trystane, or at least, not without earning a reputation for impetuous and selfish conduct.”
She leans in closer when he reassures her their words are private. “I suspect my Uncle sees me as both a good to sell and an impediment to his own ambition. He hungers to rule in his own right, though my younger brother and I come before him in the line of succession. There have been... numerous incidents and accidents that greatness our lives and drove my grandfather to ward us with he Blackbriars. And now my uncles choice of match, well one might expect the choice was made in the hope that I would fling myself into a septry or from a castle parapet rather than suffer it”
“In such circumstances I know there can be no common ground between my uncle and I.”
She bared all to Trystane here, every doubt and surmise she had of Eustaces plotting, encouraged beyond whatdiscretion might encourage by his own candour.
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Post by Trystane Sand on May 12, 2019 23:33:59 GMT 1
“Well, impetuous and selfish conduct do not strike me as things you are given easily to, my lady, though it saddens me that it leaves you with less say in your future.”
He instinctively responds to her leaning in close, his arm wrapping a little more securely around her waist, almost protectively, as he ensured they did not step too close to anyone who might overhear. Her words, however, are more chill than her body against his is warmth.
"My lady, that is most worrying to hear. Do you consider yourself to be safe with House Blackbriar? Dare I ask to whom your Uncle seeks to wed you?"
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on May 14, 2019 13:11:46 GMT 1
"I have found the Blackbriars to be unswervingly hospitable to me. Jon Blackbriar is as unlike the scions of House Blackmont, Eustace, Sandor, and Rhys, as snow is from charcoal, or chalk from cheese. If my wardship could continue there, I would find it amenable indeed. Alas, my time will run out, as Eustace uses his position as regent to find me a match as suitable for him as it is unsuitable for me."
"He has told me has entered negotiations with Lord Eldon of House Merryweather, a course that offers him advantage and influence, though Lord Eldon has a black reputation in some parts of the Reach. It is unlikely that Ser Eustace will be swayed from his course by mere words, though perhaps his knightly peers could force him to see sense in the matter," Lynesse manages to make a simple shrug look elegant as they dance, "but of late the knights of the reach have had many a black deed to avenge themselves of, and worse than this have slipped though, unchallenged."
She notes his arm around her waist with little alarm. He has proven an intriguing dance partner and conversationalist, and she feels ready enough to detach herself should he push the bounds of courtly etiquette to breaking.
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Post by Trystane Sand on May 14, 2019 23:04:23 GMT 1
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on May 15, 2019 4:50:22 GMT 1
(That is a fail by more than 5 against passive deception, which in this circumstance would probably involve Lynesse giving nothing away, as she has learned to hide her tells behind a courteous manner in often hostile environments. To clarify "little alarm" means she is not really worried about her own safety, or even personally unhappy with Trystane's familiarity, but she would not allow herself to be seen in a situation that is even remotely compromising her honour or dignity, such as dancing with too much familiarity with a man not her kin or husband.
Trystane failing his check isn't a big worry, and Lynesse definitely isn't going to make a scene or hold it against him, but she will politely disentangle herself from him if he becomes too familiar. Perhaps this could even be a narratively good way to finish the scene, leaving both characters with much to think on, only a little to regret, and the possibility of more to come later in the story.]
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Post by Trystane Sand on May 15, 2019 19:52:58 GMT 1
[That's fine. I just wanted to have a guide for whether he picks up on it or not, as he would have adjusted if he sensed discomfort. He may be lascivious, but he's not a total creep. Unfortunately, he's oblivious on this occasion.]
The very mention of Lord Merryweather as someone being considered for her hand alarms him. The scant time he has known her makes it almost absurd, but what he has seen of Eldon Merryweather makes him dread deeply for her. This gentle beauty must not be sullied by that disgusting pig's hands.
He notices the music nearing its denouement, and, oblivious to her discomfort about him holding her more closely, tries to issue his warning as economically as he can, knowing time is short.
"You need to get out of that match," he says, in a hushed but intense voice. "You know what a beast that man is, everyone does. Whatever it takes, even if it takes dark deeds, you must not marry him. If I can help, sweet lady, I will, but in the name of all that is holy, do not allow yourself to be consigned to that awful fate, Lynesse."
It is the urgency of his plea rather than physical possessiveness that makes his hands grip her a little more tightly, but the effect is nonetheless the same. The music crescendos on her pulled almost into an embrace by him, to the untrained observer perhaps seeming like the passion of the dance, but if a studied eye cared to examine their faces, there is more unease than heat between them.
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on May 17, 2019 7:17:16 GMT 1
At least he acknowledged the severity of her position, if not the complete want of practical measures at her disposal for escaping it. The combination of his ambiguous wording and near-embrace forced Lynesse to infer an unseemly suggestion.
“Whatever dark deeds it might take? I am no knight Ser, to strive against evil,with blade in hand, come what may. I am no lord, with armies, lands or allies. The Knights who share my name are fratricides, with the blood of my father on their hands. While Ser Eustace bears the seal of my family, he rules me, and will have this match with Lord Eldon, or a man of similar vices, hoping that if I refuse and take holy orders he can overstep me in the family succession."
As the music neared its end her voice raised such that it was louder than its previous whisper, audible perhaps to those who danced nearby, but certainly not the wider throng. “I could sully that name, my father’s name, and render myself unfit for marriage. You are not the first man to suggest such, with that knowing look, and questing touch.” Her voice shook at the recollection, the many sympathetic nods and sighs she had had from many fine men of the Reach who attended such balls and feasts, though she had shared not half as much of her suspicions with them as she had with Trystane, who had inspired an immediate sense of trust she now regretted.
She slapped him cleanly across the face.
"I will not tarnish my father’s name with such an act. Ser Trystane. I will do what is expected of me, and leave this place to pray with those in vigil. I will pray for my parents, my brother, and for you Ser Trystane, that you might remember your vows. And when I am done with such prayers, then perhaps I will pray for myself." Tears stung her eyes now, and she swept from the room in an elegant flurry that skirted other couples, several of whom had slowed or stopped to watch.
Dammit Lynesse
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Post by Trystane Sand on May 17, 2019 8:13:46 GMT 1
Realising his error in judgement too late, Trystane is taken aback by the sharp strike to his cheek. Not that the physical sting is especially serious, but it is made worse by the sudden cold fury in Lynesse’s eyes as she admonishes him.
He releases her easily as she wrests herself from his grip, arms now hanging uselessly by his sides.
“My lady, forgive me, I-“
But he is too late to salvage the situation. She cuts him off, and he doesn’t dare interrupt her parting words, even though he senses people starting to notice that something is going wrong.
“I’m sorry!” he calls to her retreating back as she strides away, but he can’t tell if she has even heard. Dejected and suddenly self-conscious, he tries to extricate himself from the crowd with as much decorum as he can muster, but there is no hiding the lowered head and flushed cheeks of his embarrassment and regret.
Well, you fucked that right up, Sand. Best go drink until you forget this ever happened, and hope she doesn’t tell anyone.
While he quickly manages to drink enough to dull the memory, he fails to expunge it completely, and the regret follows him all the way through to his hangover the next morning and beyond.
Damn it, Trystane. His Disposition increases a bit anyway, and he will likely try to approach at a later date to try and make amends.
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