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Post by Ser Pounce on Sept 4, 2011 9:41:18 GMT -5
Pol stood and splattered some coins on the table, well enough to cover their drinks and then some. "In time maybe," he chuckled, "Would be best to put the wood to better use." He started to leave with Clarence. Time to make some friends... was the thought he left unsaid.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Sept 4, 2011 9:52:34 GMT -5
"As you wish. I'll see what I can do. I hope there's something decent to drink on this ship. I think I'll be needing it."
She looked all around their little cabin to see if there was anything of interest.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Sept 4, 2011 9:58:05 GMT -5
There was little save Bolton's seemingly ubiquitous papers. The bunks were small and looked comfortable enough, but the limited space left little room for much else after housing weapons and quills. "That'd be a good way to make friends." Malryas chuckled and set to reading something. "Galley's on the middle deck."
Ser Clarence groused something about peace and his hatred of it while they headed back to the ship. When they boarded, they heard a sailor mentioning the preparations for the voyage had been completed.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Sept 4, 2011 10:02:11 GMT -5
Dacey grumbled but she got up from her seat anmd put away her things, except for her daggers, which remained with her most all the time. She closed the cabin door behind her and set off for the cabin, swaggering along the deck and then opening the galley door as if she'd every right to be there. She stepped inside and looked about.
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Post by Ser Pounce on Sept 4, 2011 10:03:16 GMT -5
Pol grumbled, "Good, best we get off and get this over with." He slapped his stomach, "I still have a thirst that needs quenching. Time to see what this pile of wood has to offer. Might be some fine women that you were speaking of earlier there too." Without waiting Pol made his way to the galley and sure enough he nearly bumped into the back of what was most likely a woman. "Some of us have a thirst woman, move out of the way." He said in a gruff voice.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Sept 4, 2011 10:10:36 GMT -5
She turned and glared at him, hands going at once to her daggers though she didn't draw them.
"Women can have a thirst too, fool! I'll not move. This voyage has given me a sour taste in the mouth and only wine can help me be rid of it."
She paused and looked him over.
"And who are you anyway?"
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Post by Amelia Royce on Sept 4, 2011 10:14:09 GMT -5
Frances Sand, after having placed his bag onto his bunk, came on deck just in time to see the little bump. With a grin he stayed to watch.
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Post by Ser Pounce on Sept 4, 2011 10:15:08 GMT -5
"My mouth has grown more sour at the sight of you, unhand your dinky blades unless you mean to draw them." Pol stood at about a little over average height, and was young, perhaps in his early twenties. He was built like a bear and had the hair along his arms to match. His beard wasn't that long and had a hint of him trying to keep it in order. "Pol Greyjoy, and who's the woman with a deathwish?" His mouth gave a small smile.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Sept 4, 2011 10:19:17 GMT -5
"Dacey Frey," she said with a grudging tone.
She took her hands off her daggers but they hovered close by nonetheless.
"Greyjoy. So you're Ironborn then? Don't you have a ship of your own to travel one?"
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Post by Ser Pounce on Sept 4, 2011 10:24:45 GMT -5
"I have the honour of being a prince," he said though without much relish. "My place is here with all the rest of the important people." His grey eyes studied her, though they weren't the cold grey eyes one would probably expect from an Iron Born. "Not Lady Dacey then? I suppose I'm not the only one that skimps with titles."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Sept 4, 2011 10:31:24 GMT -5
"I suppose you could call me a lady but I'm not like a southron lady who wears skirts and silks," she said. "I'm not the type to care about titles, either. We have less time for such things in the North. Even our king's crown is bronze and iron, not gold. So you'll get no bows and princes from the likes of me."
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Post by Ser Pounce on Sept 4, 2011 10:36:56 GMT -5
"Let's get a drink," he said, "You can be the first friend I make on this pomped up pleasure barge. One would wonder what use you have for time in the North in any case. At least us Iron Born are never idle and put our hands to good use. One could also say that Riverlanders are southerners as well."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Sept 4, 2011 10:40:33 GMT -5
"Why would you say that? We're sworn to the King in the North," she said. Lots of places are south of the Riverlands."
She didn't respond to his comment about what they did with their time in the North. That was her own concern. Instead she began looking at the wineskins stored on the shelves.
"Red or gold?"
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Post by Ser Pounce on Sept 4, 2011 10:44:35 GMT -5
Pol reached and took both for himself, then looked at her in a way that meant, Why not have both?. "And the Riverlands is south of the North. In any case the Iron Born have the best claim to the Riverlands. From what I see you lot still have some of the Iron blood in you."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Sept 4, 2011 10:49:49 GMT -5
She chose a skin of Arbor Gold - the best thing about the South, in her opinion- and drank deep before she answered the prince.
"What makes you say that?"
Her tone left it clear that she didn't consider his words a compliment.
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