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Tweak says, "I love the library."

Lady Delyth Bamford (judgingyou) wrote in watchers_rp,
@ 2017-05-26 22:47:00

Entry tags:

#day 007/07 may, daemyn, delyth

Who: Daemyn & Delyth (+ random NPCs)
Where: Elkwood Castle, Main Hall
When: Evening

“You make an excellent point.” The remark came from a man who would have been Lord Boswraithe had he not decided to marry into a family of Ardghal. Now he was just Kester Asselin, husband to a third daughter in a matriarchy. Which went to show what one could accomplish when love and marriage were considered compatible.

Lady Delyth’s face feigned surprise. “Of course I do. Were you expecting something else?” Turning aside, she fixed Lady Adreci with a gaze that assured her they were not done with their conversation and continued where she had left off. “He was not crazy, he was foreign.” This in reference to the bizarre young lord that was floating somewhere around court and probably listening to her, but since she was correct and arguably defending him, she did not see what the problem could be. “Honestly, Rosamund, you read too much of that romantic drivel.” Lady Adreci, at a loss as to what to say to that, flushed a dark pink then politely excused herself. Delyth watched after her with a raised eyebrow, apparently confused over her sudden departure, but actually contemplating whether she ought to have started the year keeping a tally of how many times she managed to do that with minimal effort.

She was beginning to wonder where Jarey was -- worse, where his mother was -- and whether she should look for him, when Kester piped up again. “Don’t look now…”

On principle, she didn’t. At least, not until Kester suddenly grew uncomfortable and moved away, taking her entertainment with him. Using her cane to swivel in her chair, Delyth turned her gaze to the shambling figure of Sir Daemyn Taraias. Looking him over, she came to… well, multiple conclusions, actually, but mostly that he may not be awake. Watching him for a moment, she tried to decide what she wanted to say to him first. There were always a fair number of things one could say to a man like Sir Daemyn. It was truly a matter of what to say first -- and she might have deliberated longer had she not suspected his mouth was open. Was he awake? “Sir Daemyn.” Her cane swung out and poked him firmly in the leg. “The last time I saw a mouth like that there was a hook through its lip. You are not an angler fish, it will catch you no women.”

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ferretheir
2017-05-26 11:56 pm UTC (link)

There were several very important things in the Taraias family. One of them was that dishonoring the family meant you would be getting a talking to from Lord Daphisio or worse, Lady Tanna. Daemyn had had several such conversations with both of his parents and for the most part, he'd been doing better when it came to keeping women out of sight. Drinking was something that he usually did in taverns or at dinner. He was no Janna. Which was another one of the very important things in the Taraias family. One did not try to drink as much as Janna. Ever since she'd been put aside for being barren, his elder sister had become the true drinker of the family. Daemyn knew he couldn't keep up with her if he tried, and yet this very afternoon... he couldn't even recall the why behind it. All he knew was that he had settled down near a window with Janna and what had begun as a single bottle of wine. More than that must have been consumed between then and the time that he jolted awake, mouth feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton. Nasty tasty cotton. Like rotten grapes.

"Drink is just rotten grapes," he muttered as he stretched himself out, noticing that lights had been lit. Janna was gone, as was any evidence of drinking, and he supposed he'd be glad for that if he found out anyone had wandered across him. Watchers but his head was foggy. He wasn't even hungover! No, Daemyn was positive that he was still well and truly drunk. Rising to his feet cemented that as he felt himself sway. Definitely still drunk. How much had he and Janna drank before he had slipped into unconsciousness? He was going to have to find her and find out. Determined to do exactly that he set off, or did his best to set off, his walk was a little uneven. And somehow he found himself among others. My father may strangle me for this one. A thought he regarded with an unusual amount of cheer as he felt something poke him in the leg. "Is my mouth open?" Daemyn brought his hand up to the bottom of his jaw and found it was indeed hanging open. "My apologies, Lady Delyth." Who else could this woman be but the renowned regent of Mag Mell? "I seem to have forgotten to close it as I did not remember opening it."

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judgingyou
2017-05-27 12:44 am UTC (link)

“You had to ask?” There was a snicker from somewhere behind Delyth’s right shoulder. Many thought her hearing was bad because she had spent decades perfecting the pitch one needed in order for everyone to hear her. What they did not realise was that people like Daemyn Taraias were nothing short of treasures. Strangely enduring individuals who made the majority of court seem more intelligent than they actually were and managed to come out with such gems that kept a seventy-three year old woman who frequently believed she had seen and heard it all… thoroughly entertained. Waving away his apology -- one that she was certain was habitual rather than genuine -- she regarded him with thinly veiled amusement.

“Yes, I imagine it is difficult to close something you were not aware was open,” she remarked dryly. “But dear boy, if you keep finding words to say your mouth will not stay shut.” One had to assume Lord and Lady Taraias were elsewhere, or the boy would be out on his ear. In front of all present company. To think of it. “Since you are unaware of your mouth, perhaps you should sit.” Delyth paused for a breath. “Let me rephrase: since you smell like a brewery and do not seem to know what your body is doing, sit.” It would cause laughs aplenty, but she did not think Lord Daphisio would thank anyone if the boy let momentum carry his face into the wall.

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ferretheir
2017-05-27 02:56 am UTC (link)

"Indeed I did sir!" Daemyn replied to whoever had spoken, a drunken smile on his lips. "Else I wouldn't have done, would I?" No, he wasn't a clever man, but he could have a clever mouth, most especially when he wasn't thinking about it. Any who knew him would actually agree that he was at his wittiest when he was incapable of forming thoughts before they came out of his mouth. What that said about him...

Dry tones were interesting, Daemyn thought. They had such an edge to them that they didn't match the dry tone, for he always thought of steel or glass when he thought of sharp things and such things simply weren't dry. Reeds and straw and cotton were dry. Cotton like what was in his mouth. "I'll take something to drink," he informed the nearest servant, or who he took for a servant. If it was a lord and he'd chosen to dress like that then Daemyn wouldn't apologize for the mix-up. One thing he had successfully learned from his parents was... what had he been thinking? Daemyn blinked to clear his vision as Lady Delyth continued speaking, the same smile now being beamed down at her. "My you are a small thing, aren't you?" He asked, though he listened and plopped himself into the nearest empty chair. "I always think you are... bigger. Your reputation certainly is."

If he smelled like a brewery, he couldn't imagine what Janna currently smelled like.

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judgingyou
2017-05-28 01:21 am UTC (link)

“Is there any way to shut him up?” Delyth conspired with the lord beside her whose name she did not recall because, frankly, he did not matter enough.

“If there were, would you have asked?”

It had been a rhetorical question, but what actually caused her to pause was that it turned out her co-conspirator was a woman. At least, they were wearing a dress... Giving the possibly-lord/possibly-lady a second glance, one eyebrow arched sharply in uncertainty, she decided someone had bet on the wrong horse in a decidedly questionable wager with Lord Silverling. She turned back to Sir Daemyn just in time to see him accosting the tragically under-dressed Lord Hexte for a drink, drop an “I told you so” with regards to his attire, then seize the crook of his elbow before he managed to escape. “No, he won’t.” As though he were actually a server who didn’t know when to stop giving the nobility alcohol.

Small. Small? Leveling a stare at that smile -- that if he wasn’t careful would border on imbecilic -- Delyth looked up at Sir Daemyn over the top of her spectacles. “I am seated and you’re overgrown; a little perspective helps, dear.” She paused, considering her reputation, folding away the urge to issue a satisfied smile. “Yes, well, that perspective would be correct,” she stated, almost dismissing it with a wave of one hand. “Should you reach my age I do not doubt your own reputation will beat mine in terms of magnitude.” What he had a reputation for remained to be seen.

“I take it back,” Delyth added suddenly. “You smell like a decanter of dubious origin.” Someone laughed -- she pretended not to hear them.

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ferretheir
2017-05-28 06:38 am UTC (link)

Daemyn knew when he was being talked about, and Delyth and that other person were definitely talking about him. He just wasn't picking up on it as well as he normally would've. Instead he was putting on a bit of a sulk over being denied a drink. "Water, my dear lady," Daemyn protested as she told the servant he wouldn't take a drink. "Even I know better than to continue drinking after I wake up anything but sober." He paused, a nearly thoughtful expression on his face. "To cure a hangover is a different matter entirely." Would mentioning that it had been his sister's idea help? No? Probably not. Delyth seemed like the sort of woman who could pick a lie out and Daemyn wasn't sure if it even was a lie. Things got blurry after they finished the second or so bottle.

"Overgrown?" Daemyn laughed. "Lady Bamford, my little brother would surely appreciate hearing that." It'd always been a sore spot for Amadeo that he was shorter than Daemyn and their father. His grin was wide and amused at the idea of his reputation exceeding the infamous Lady Delyth's. "One can only hope!" As for the scent, Daemyn gave a shrug. "The origin was far from dubious, my lady. My sister only drinks the best."

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judgingyou
2017-05-28 09:27 pm UTC (link)

At some point, Delyth’s face had worked itself into a mask of disapproving disbelief, but listening to Taraias ramble about his plight caused it to fall into her usual indifference. “You may have as much water as you please, Sir Daemyn, though I suggest you ask a server rather than poor Lord Hexte.” Half of her attention returned to skirts that did not need the smoothing at all. “The cure for hangovers usually begins before one passes out,” said the voice of experience. Hardly proper given that she was Lady Regent, but she was also in her seventies and if she had a sovereign for every time a member of court had an intelligent thought in their head she would likely only have enough to purchase an overworked horse. Hardly the kind of people to whose opinions one paid heed, however personal they may become.

Delyth’s eyebrow arched at his amusement. “Ought I have said it louder or would you rather have him summoned here?” Her pause was for nothing if not dramatic effect. “I can say it again,” she assured. Not that she thought he would find it particularly comforting, although she hoped he had been referring to Sir Amadeo and not the other one. That boy needed to be smacked up the back of his head with a ladle, and she would gladly offer to do it. “Indeed…” Although for Delyth’s part she would be hoping nothing until she knew what she outcome of the lad having a comparable reputation would be. It was, after all, entirely possible that he would be known for skinning children, for instance. Was she to hope for that? No, she thought not. With a wry chuckle, her gaze raised again, still watching him over rimmed glass. “I know precisely what your lady sister was drinking last I saw her.” He had not been with her, either. It would interest her to know if Janna was still alive. “Young man, you would drink lamp oil and tell me it’s honeyed mead.” On that note, she smiled her thanks to a real server as a fresh glass of wine finally found its way to her. The tardiness was unforgivable, really, but her focus was elsewhere.

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ferretheir
2017-05-31 06:50 pm UTC (link)

"What sort of Lord dresses like that?" Daemyn snorted, shaking his head at the mere idea of being caught drunk or sober dressed so close to a servant. Some people were sparse, he understood that, but this was ridiculous. "I should bow to the wisdom of experience in this matter, but if I bow, I'll fall over." Surely if he did anything but sit down, he'd fall over. If he tried to stand up at this point, he'd fall over. He'd laugh at it now, surely, but word would spread and have him in even hotter water than he was already sure to be in.

Daemyn shrugged. "He'll hear." Walls had ears in places like this and even if they hadn't they were surrounded by people who would be more than happy to pass a tale like this about. "Then she made it back to her rooms. Or hopefully closer to them. Good." Daemyn had meant to see her back, but she'd insisted on just one more bottle... and now here he was. "Have you ever tasted lamp oil, my lady? Dreadful." Daemyn didn't think he'd tried it, but as he said it with a smile he was sure people would be at least amused by it. He reached out to catch the server, hoping it wasn't another poorly dressed lord. "I need water."

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judgingyou
2017-06-01 12:08 am UTC (link)

Delyth very rarely had a problem with healthy curiosity. Except, perhaps, when it was in the same room as her and asking her questions. At least he wasn't so far gone that everything boiled down to a rather tedious 'Why?' "Should your parents ever die and leave you debts enough to drive you into destitution, I shall show you," she answered without batting an eyelash. Maybe she ought to have considered Hexte's plight a little more before making such a statement, but he hardly seemed suicidal over the matter. Now last year he may have seemed suicidal, but now-- "You should listen to the wisdom of experience in this matter," Delyth corrected, "and sit." or she would be giving his father a blow-by-blow account of precisely what happened, and she had yet to meet anybody who could beat her memory when it came to events such as this.

"Sir Amadeo's hearing is legendary," she informed the Lady who would probably soon regret sitting so close to her. It was not true and she knew it, but if her praises-apparent bothered Sir Daemyn then that would be interesting. On the subject of Janna, however: "The lady Janna was in the gardens when I saw her," Delyth remarked thoughtfully. "So unless she is currently residing in the gardeners' sheds, I cannot guarantee that to be the case." The prospect of actually drinking lamp oil appalled her. She had said it in jest, then Sir Daemyn successfully lowered the tone regardless. "I certainly have not. A knight of the Realm and he drinks lamp oil." She paused, glass hovering before she took a mouthful of wine. "Your father may well be horrified, but I suppose your pyre will burn nicely."

"Watchers, get the boy a water." The word 'water' had suddenly become an irritation.

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ferretheir
2017-06-05 04:43 pm UTC (link)

Daemyn shrugged at the idea of his parents dying and leaving him poor. He was a Taraias, did she not know that they were a very rich family? They had a thriving ferret population that contributed quite well to that as Amadeo seemed to enjoy reminding him. "Yes, yes, yes alright." Daemyn flapped his hand a little as he sat in the nearest chair, his head spinning slightly on the way down. Had he grown taller or the chairs closer to the ground? Or was he truly just that far gone? Daemyn did hope he'd remember this night because he was almost positive at this point that it was the most drunk he had ever been. That might be a defining moment in a man's life for all he knew. It would doubtlessly mark the worst hangover he ever had.

He truly didn't know how Janna managed it.

He did tip his head, curious, when Delyth remarked about Amadeo's hearing. "Only if you count how well his ears ring after he's been hit about the head when he doesn't get his sword up," Daemyn snorted, words unkind and untrue. For all that he was better than his brother with the lance, he knew Amadeo was better with the sword. It was why he disdained it so much. Another shrug came at the information of where Janna likely was. She was a woman grown who could take care of herself, it surely wasn't his job. "Only Janna's should burn better." Wine-soaked skin would see to that.

Grinning when he got a water, Daemyn lifted the glass towards Delyth, sloshing a bit on his arm in the process. "To your health, Lady Delyth, though as I see it you seem to be in perfect health with little need of encouragement."

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judgingyou
2017-06-08 12:26 am UTC (link)

Creator have mercy, but Lord Daphisio Taraias had raised a questionable family. Although even as she regarded the heir of Taraias (Creator help Daphisio on that matter) over the top of her spectacles, Delyth had to admit that was not entirely fair. The girls had turned out reasonably well, even if Janna now tried to hydrate herself with strong ale. There was something… off about Sir Amadeo, though, and it seemed Sir Daemyn was just pleased as punch with the idea of displaying at least one of his vices in what many would consider respectable company. “I am very nearly tempted to send word to your father that you’ve been sent to bed without supper,” she commented, eyebrow arching pointedly on the word ‘father’. “Of course, then it would have to be explained why, at some point, you might have been rapped on the knuckles with Lady Bamford’s cane.”

“And yet his blade stands erect more oft than yours,” Delyth threw back without missing a beat, her face an impassive mask giving no hint for or against her knowledge of the double entendre. It would take an idiot, however, to believe the lady had not been aware of her words. That her remark had made the lady beside her blush was actually quite absurd. She had heard far, far worse at the performances put on for peasants in the town -- where children could hear. Delyth did not necessarily wish to ridicule Daemyn -- he did that perfectly adequately on his own -- but it was bad form to snipe at someone when they were not around to defend themselves. (A rule of thumb that she applied to everyone but herself.) “Janna has had more practice than you, dear.” With a faintly sad smile, Delyth recalled the girl as she bad been when she first came to court. As quickly as it came, the expression hardened into a wry humour. “Like most good students, she also continues to practice even after she has the art perfected.” It did her no good, but that went without saying.

Delyth had been about to remark on the fabric of his clothing; how she hoped none of it was suede if he was only going to throw water everywhere… Instead, her eyebrows raised in something resembling curiosity at his toast. She was actually a little taken aback. More so when she caught people in her periphery also raising their glasses. “Sentiments like those are why an old woman can’t die in peace,” was the eventual, amused response. Shortly followed by her own glass raising, “And may you wake without a hangover.”

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