Festival of Roses

The previous night's meal had been a modest one. Tonight the long tables groan under the weight of platters and dishes: rabbit, fowl, pork and venison have been roasted or prepared in stews or pies. Vegetables, laden with spices both native and exotic, send their aromas wafting up into the Hall. Those seated at the head table, however, has not changed since yesterday, the Tyrell fiancé - no doubt being lavishly entertained at Highgarden - is nowhere in evidence. Lysa is looking paler than usual, and picks listlessly at her meal.

Alicent is looking about as thrilled as Lysa is when she enters the Hall alongside the rest of her family, but at least she's dressed for the occasion. It was her nicest dress, one she had helped with all the embroidery for (the detail putting her off the practice for a while after). She was a long, airy dress, only a few shades darker than the bright, pale silver-gold of her hair, fitted in the top. Like the birds on her family's coat of arms, she looked light enough to fly away herself. Their found a seat appropriate to their station, and while Alicent tried to make a few conversational overtures, she eventually lapsed into quiet, doing her best with the aid of generous helpings of wine to keep a smile on her face despite herself.

Kylie eventually made her way to a table, greeting those she knew along the way. She most always managed splendidly at such affairs, although the food on the mainland was often different and her palette unused to some of the tastes. But she would smile and say nothing about it.

Seeing a seat open, she couldn't resist. The woman was both unique and stunning. "Lady Alicent, is it? Is this seat taken?"

She smiled a little wanly at the other young woman. "Of course. Please, join me." She bowed her head. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kylie smiled at the silver-haired beauty. She was so intriguing! She curtsied before sitting. "My apologies. I'm Kylie of House Redwyne. And the pleasure is mine." After she settled she began to strike up conversation. "I must say, your gown is lovely. I didn't have time to change before this evening's meal, but my friend Claryssa assured me I wouldn't shame the family. However next to you I must be woefully unimpressive." She gave a genuine smile, light reflecting in her brown eyes.

(Gown link in signature)

"Oh, thank you..." She sat up a little bit and looked down a it. "It may be a bit much, honestly. My sisters in law helped me a lot with the embroidery and knitting the lace, and I at least wanted to show my gratitude for their help. Yours is perfect for the occasion, though... It's just as beautiful, and I think much more elegant."

Wearing her finest, a light gown of silver and ivory set with precious stones and delicate embroidery, Mari probably should have been trying harder to impress... as her family wanted her to, and as she could see that her sister was doing. It was with some envy and admiration that Mari saw how much in her element Jyn was.

She on the other hand felt lonely in a sea of people, especially after a few failed attempts to involve herself in the conversation.

At least it made it easy for her to excuse herself under the pretext of getting some fresh air and stretching her legs. The food and drink was nearly overwhelming, after all, but only nearly for Mari who had already decided that she was not going to cause any embarrassement to her father by getting drunk.


(Open for interaction as she leaves the table for a little while)

It wasn't particularly hard for Simon to figure out where to seat himself. He simply asked one of the smallfolk where maester Hubert and then followed the trail of disgusted servants towards the maester's chosen seat. Of course the plan could have backfired, for example if maester Hubert had himself sat in a wrong place. But Simon figured that the mountain (lard) of a man was glutton and not a fool.

Once seated, he had no issues striking up a conversation with one of the lord Meadow's minstrels, a tall and charming fellow with some southern blood in his veins. The self-proclaimed court musician seemed to be rather interested in Simon and his stories, so the young maester obliged the minstrel, chatting with him as goblet of wine followed an another. At one point, Simon noticed he was getting tipsy, but didn't pay much heed to it - after all, this was a feast and it was expected that everyone would get as hammered as smith's anvil.

At some point, the handsome minstrel was telling him something, something Simon couldn't quite pick up. Figuring he didn't want to ask the man to repeat himself, he simply nodded. That proved to be a mistake as next thing he knew was that he was in the arms of the minstrel, his lips locked with his as the now drunk court musician kissed Simon deeply, biting his lower lip in the process. Frozen, the young maester blinked. Before he had time to act, he could feel stray hand grasping his rear. Confused, Simon pushed back and shook his head. Visibly disappointed, the tall musician let go and slammed an another cup of wine down his throat. His heart still beating like Baratheon war drums, Simon followed in kind. There was not enough wine in the world to forget what had just happened. Luckily everyone seemed busy with something. Surely no-one had seen what had just happened.

Unfortunately for the father, at least one of his daughters was intoxicated. Jyn walked around the dinner with her goblet in hand and her steps far from her usual, practiced self. She let out an unrestrained giggle when she saw the spectacle between Maester Simon and the other man. The young lady then went on her merry way and searched for the right and proper conversation partner.

Simon saw Jynessa prance past the guests and buried his face in his hands, sighing deeply.