|
|
Post by Davos Dayne on Mar 15, 2019 23:24:42 GMT 1
"My lady, your speech moved me. Would you honor me with a dance?"
Davos bows courteously to Lynesse, observing all the courtesies - if anything, he comes across as somewhat stiff, as if unwilling to deviate from the proper forms to even the slightest degree. Perhaps he is afraid she will reject his offer if he does not, or perhaps he is overtly conscious that she might take his request as a prelude to an unwelcome advance, or perhaps his courtesies have grown stiff from disuse.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 16, 2019 0:38:06 GMT 1
[OOC assumption that observing all the courtesies does NOT include introducing the character by name?] Lynesse's face froze in a facade of polite nonchalance for a moment. Did he mock her? He bore the colours of House Dayne, who were considered the cream of Dornish chivalry, for what that was worth. It must be some ploy, she decided, to taunt her into showing she is no more than some foolish, spineless child. "You honour me, sir," she replied, taking his hand, undaunted. At first she held herself stiffly, but in truth, she had always loved to dance, and her movements became cleaner and more elegant as they move to their position "I am Lynesse Daverhyl, though of course, the master of rolls announced my name to all." "I must say that I did not expect to find a sympathetic ear from across the Red Mountains," she said, turning to face him as the musicians started a new piece, and the dance began. |
|
|
|
Post by Davos Dayne on Mar 16, 2019 1:46:35 GMT 1
"Indeed, Lady Lynesse, and as I am sure you heard the master say, I am Ser Davos Dayne."
He smiles.
"When you have seen as much of the world as I have, you quickly learn that there are no good peoples or bad peoples - just good people and bad people. No honest Dornishman would deny that there are ill-doers in Dorne, just as no honest Reachman - or in this case Reachwoman - should deny that there are ill-doers born and bred here, as well."
He leads her into the dance with a calm practiced style, though he is certainly no master dancer.
"You toasted Lord Jon and Lady Erena, did you not? Are you a relative of theirs?"
DOH! not including his name was totally a player goof. Davos would certainly have done so. Ah well.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 16, 2019 9:41:35 GMT 1
"Lord Jon is my uncle, as my mother Barbara Blackbriar is...was his sister. I have been their ward these last two months, and they have indeed been kind to me," though her speech stumbles, her footwork does not. She cannot help but smile, as the pace of the music increases, and she steps smoothly into the new tempo. This Ser Davos lacks the refined polish of a courtly popinjay, almost missing the adjustment required, but his steps are adroit and he recovers in a split-second. Some men learn similar footwork and reflexes in the marshalling yard, Lynesse has heard, but the display impresses her nonetheless. He has an athleticism to him she finds not unappealing, for a Dornishman.
Lynesse ignores the obvious ploy to invite the man to regale her with his far-flung exploits. She decides instead to needle him with a piece of rhetoric her mother had often read to her from the books of a notorious Septon she favoured.
"Indeed Ser Davos, I have not travelled far. This is my first visit beyond the Reach, and yet I am sure you speak truly. As the Seven Pointed Star teaches us, there is evil in the heart of every man. Only though atonement and faith in the gods can men overcome it. If men of a particular region or culture could not choose to do good, then the eternity of hellfire they endured after death would be quite undeserved. If men of the Reach could not sin, then they could never atone or have faith, and would never find salvation in the gods, which I hold most dear. I have met many Dornishmen in dire need of the fires of hell, and so I must assume some good ones exist as well, or else Just gods would spare the rest what they so richly deserve."
"Perhaps their inclination toward foul deeds is the simple result of climate or culture, I cannot say. I believe the preference for the use of poison among the Dornish is fairly well documented. As an anointed knight, you must find this unchivalrous, surely?" She was not at all sure of this, but she had always wondered why men of Dorne would even bother with oaths of knighthood, when they seemed to have no regard for the conduct such oaths implied. A Dayne seemed the ideal subject to explore this contradiction.
|
|
|
|
Post by Davos Dayne on Mar 16, 2019 17:48:17 GMT 1
Davos chuckles.
"You may be right about the gods. In Braavos there are places of worship to many gods, the Sept Across the Sea being just one of many. I do not pretend to know which if any gods are real, or false - such matters are beyond my ken. One thing I can say is that I have never seen a man struck down by a god. Not directly at least - a man can never know if a man's hand is guided by the divine, or purely by a man's own desires. I am but a man, and to claim to know the minds of gods seems to me to be hubris of the most dangerous sort."
It seems that he has had a similar conversation numerous times before, likely in Essos, given the peculiar phrasing that he fell into.
"As for the prevalence of poison in Dorne..."
He shrugs.
"Poison is a weapon, and like all weapons it can be used righteously in defense of the defenseless or viciously for personal gain. It is the motive behind an act not the means by which it was carried out that matters most. There is a story I could tell you that I consider to be a righteous use of poison, but to explain the motive behind it would require me to say things one should not in the presence of a maiden."
He frowns at the idea.
"As important as chivalry is, those sword to uphold it are but men, and all men as you have said have said, there is evil in the heart of every man. A great many wrongdoers hide their villainy behind the titles of 'Lord' and 'Ser'. When chivalry has failed, has been used as pretext or shield against truthful accusation... is it better for the victims to continue to suffer, or for them to defend themselves and others by whatever means they can? Certainly it is better to resolve matters within the bounds of chivalry, but as your own situation attests, the trappings of power can sometimes make that difficult, if not impossible."
He smiles, and leads her into a spin in perfect time with the music.
"Not that I am advocating that you poison your uncles - assuming I am correct about what you hinted at in your speech, but did not say. Know, however, that not all who bear the Rhoynish look are your enemies. As I have said, your tale of plight has moved me. Should you find yourself in need of strong sword arm - for chivalrous deeds, of course - I am staying with my sister's family in Starkwood, neighbors to the north of Gyldenhaal. I would gladly be your ally in this matter."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 17, 2019 2:50:04 GMT 1
"I have heard of these pagans who worship giants, fire, sea monsters and the like. I do not think the existence of such temples is cause to doubt that our own gods are false, when their history is recorded in The Seven Pointed Star." She pauses in thought, having seldom encountered such an open-minded, if clearly heretical, perspective. It does not seem a wise course to pursue.
"You are kind to offer your sword, sir, for such things can and do cost men their lives. I shall rest easier knowing I have an ally as open-minded as yourself, and will likely call on you when I can press my allegations fully. If I may ask, though, is there any more to this readiness of yours than my speech? I do not know much of the politics of Dorne, truth be told. Have my uncles done aught to earn your ire? Has their mother house, the Blackmonts?"
Lynesse had not heard poison described that way before, as a tool of emancipation, and it makes more sense than those few knaves I have heard try to justify it before. "Still, I do not think I could ever agree. When one loses family and loyal friends to treachery and assassination, it sours the appeal of such tools, at least for myself."
"Regarding chivalry, you turn my own thoughts against me, for ‘tis true, that like peace, chivalry might protect some blackguard’s name. It seems a slippery thing though, to say “I shall be chivalrous when it suits,” for if that was the intent of chivalry, I do not think men would be asked for lofty oaths with words like “until the end of my days,” rather than “when it costs me little” or “when the weather is clear.” Mayhap oaths can only mean anything when they cost us much."
As the song came to an end, Lynesse slowed her pace with reluctance. She enjoyed the dance, of both body and mind; the feeling of movement made her feel freer than she had at Mustard Hall, or even Gyldenhaal.
|
|
|
|
Post by Davos Dayne on Mar 17, 2019 5:06:21 GMT 1
He thinks of responses on the topics of faith, of poison, and chivalry, but with the song coming to a close, he instead responds only to the main topic of discussion - if Lynesse desires to discuss the other topics further, that will have to be conversation for another time, or at least another dance.
"If there is some historic feud between Dayne and Blackmont I know it not, nor have I ever met nor even heard of your uncles before today. However, there are few things in this world that disgust me more than an innocent and defenseless woman being preyed upon by men of low morals. As for my life..."
He cracks a half smile.
"I have lived my life as a sellsword, traveling from battlefield to battlefield. Death has been a frequent visitor to my friends and companions. I have lived well, loved deeply, and lost dearly. All men must die, and while I do not seek death, if I am to die I would have it be in service to what is good and right."
He breaks into a full smile.
"Not to mention that my wife would give me hell if I were to ignore your situation."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 17, 2019 9:15:07 GMT 1
It was strange to hear him refer to a wife so suddenly, but it was the habit of nobles to omit such a thing when approaching a maid, Lady Erena had warned her. "May the gods bless and protect your wife then, Ser Davos, for the mark she has made on your heart. Thank you for the dance, and your kind offer. It soothes a broken heart to know its cries are heard. If your natural inclination is to help a lady in need, then perhaps chivalry is simply in your nature, and not your spoken oaths. I have heard it said that good men need no rules, and perhaps if you answer my call when the time comes, I shall know that this is true."
Out of the corner of her eye she sees Eustace Daverhyl moving toward her empty assigned seat amongst the Blackbriars, though her has not spied her yet. She did not think he would be here, and her heart begins to race. She is not ready to face the man, and if Davos's words are honest, she does not wish the Vulture to reach her empty seat and spy her here with the knight of House Dayne. She does not want him to know she may have an ally willing to face him, when the time is right. "Please excuse me, Ser Davos, I must return to my kin." She moves quickly to depart, some might say in too much haste, and leaves the Dornishman in her wake. This Davos Dayne, she has decided, was a credit to his people. |
|
|
|
Post by Davos Dayne on Mar 17, 2019 14:53:48 GMT 1
A less observant man might take umbrage at the sudden departure, but one does not train with the First Sword of Braavos without learning to be observant.
Following the line of her departure, it was not difficult to pick out Ser Eustace making his way there. A grim look crossed his face. When he approached Lynesse he wanted to take her measure - many young women play the innocent to manipulate others. He was now quite confident she was not one of those, however - which meant she truly believed what she had said.
This Ser Eustace might have signs of Rhoynish descent, but he was no true Dornishman. Like the Vulture Kings of times past, he was the sort that poisoned the reputation of the Dornish in the minds of the Reach. That alone was worth condemnation, but the vile acts which were his poison were an even greater fuel to the fire of Davos' disregard.
[/scene]
|
|
