InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "die another day"

Rosalie Iversen (womanswork) wrote in watchers_rp,
@ 2017-04-07 21:28:00

Entry tags:

#day 001/01 may, locan, ryn

Who: Ryn and Locan!
When: Late morning
Where: Elkwood Castle, Great Hall

Ryn had been known within the walls of Elkwood Castle under several different names. At the beginning of her work for Syrilus he'd planted her as a scullery made, but the shift to foreign nobility hadn't taken long at all. Lady Kistrya Talaisis was respected in court, albeit slightly mysterious. She'd concocted a good story over the years, and had a reputation as being a little wild. There were rumors she was the proprietor of several brothels. Ryn, having found ages ago that the best lies often held seeds of truth, didn't shy away from it. She built her reputation as mysterious and exotic, discretion honored above all, and in time many of the local lords had felt safe patronizing her establishments. It was a system that worked.

On the course of any week Ryn might go back and forth between her businesses and court, though she had been spending more time in court as of late than she usually cared to. She felt it was important to be there. And the constant parade of nobility had already proven itself to be quite entertaining. So many ladies trying to out-dress each other (while, often as not, having no idea what was actually fashionable in Kingswood). So many puffed up lords looking like to explode. Ryn found she frequently had to hide a smirk under a small lace fan. She stood near a large column with a good view of the show, occasionally taking mental notes of names she had been tipped to take an interest in. In some small part, she had to admit she was waiting for her father's family to arrive. She wanted to see that, and see what they made of themselves. But more importantly, she wanted the lady to see her. To know she would be watched so very carefully. Ryn had not forgotten. She would never forget.

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bloodandscales
2017-04-08 10:57 pm UTC (link)

Well, if there was nothing else that could be said, the Great Hall was indeed looking....great. At least from what Locan could see of it. Despite the pomp and circumstance, he was still questioning his decision to roll out of bed before noon that morning, even knowing that there was no way he could possibly deny a whole slew of fresh nobles the pleasure of his company. In reality, he wasn't going to disrespect his king, even if the faint thrum of his minuscule, dying hangover whined otherwise. He didn't normally suffer after drinking, either because of his unusual heritage or the fact that he rarely stopped long enough for any aftereffects, but he'd been celebrating. Waking up to find himself cuddling his very newly acquired, very rare, very old, and very expensive painted vase and realizing he'd spent at least part of the night drinking out of it wasn't terribly surprising. He supposed the fact that he hadn't ruined it in the process probably should have been. But no, the beautifully painted mural of two satyrs having their way with one another in the midst of a shocked crowd of anthropomorphic mammals in noble clothing, in delightfully graphic detail, surrounding the gem encrusted silver pottery, remained unmarred. The interior smelled faintly of something other than wine, but he couldn't recall what else he'd used it for during the night, or much of anything else. He decided not to worry about it.

What really mattered was that he looked as if he were above being affected by the day's festivities or the pampered people involved, as per usual, rather than being annoyed at the fact that he couldn't take a nap like a brat. It helped that he looked undeniably put together today, as always, that one unruly forelock dangling over his eye in neatly groomed curls as he lightly bowed and nodded in accordingly in greeting. How deep and how sincere it sounded depended less on the status of whoever was on the receiving end, and more on whether or not he favored them for the time being. That might change by the end of the day.

Well, probably not for her. He spotted the Lady Kistrya as he was pulling himself up from a bow so minute it might as well have not existed, the older gentleman huffed his annoyance out through his nostrils until the hairs there bristles. Barely acknowledged, primarily ignored, and not brave enough to say anything about it. Not that Locan would have cared either way. He stepped beyond the short queue that had begun to form to greet him, expectant eyes turning dejected as whatever the hell it was they wanted would obviously need to be pushed off for another day, if they were lucky. Locan's mouth quirked as he neared her, mentally noting that her current attire wasn't nearly as intriguing as what he'd seen her in last. When she was working. When she was something other than the Lady Kistrya.

"My lady," he practically purred when he was near enough, though the tone and his expression held more mischievousness than anything else. He bowed more deeply than he had for anyone else that morning before inviting himself to share her space as at respectful distance. "You're looking radiant this morning."

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womanswork
2017-04-08 11:22 pm UTC (link)

"My Lord of Silverling," Ryn replied, offering a smile as she curtsied gracefully. She liked the Lord Locan, him being one of the few that knew who she really was, and whose ear she whispered in. She would have appreciated him for the scales alone, but he was a good source of information and entertaining besides. Smalltalk with him was rarely dull, and today above all days she felt she would appreciate that.

"You are kind to say so," she went on. "I only wish I could say the same for... some of these creatures." Her nose twitched slightly and she raised the lace-and-feather fan to her face, using it first to discretely direct his attention towards the waiting line at the entry-way. "Ye gods, look at that one. Have you ever seen so much salmon-colored taffeta in one place?" Ryn sighed distastefully. "Her mother should have taught her to love herself better."