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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 24, 2012 11:53:52 GMT -5
Reyna sees Fyodor Dustin, but he doesn't seem as excited to see her as he probably should be, even though she looks especially lovely.
Kalvin sees Amelia and just puts his head in his hands. "Why, gods, why? I'm sorry I killed that bastard Markus, I'm sorry I cut off Malik Greyjoy's finger in that fight we had outside Greywater, I should never have kissed that girl at Winterfell when I was twelve and she was seventeen...but WHY is she my fellow ambassador?"
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 24, 2012 11:57:39 GMT -5
Amelia feels a hand slap her bottom and laughter rings out. The owner of the hand is a Volantene who is short and fat, but apparently wealthy. He babbles at her in a language she doesn't speak.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Oct 24, 2012 12:03:51 GMT -5
Reyna was puzzled as she walked over to Fyodor, having expected a warm welcome from him.
"Good evening, my dear," she said with false cheer. "How are you?"
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 24, 2012 12:04:29 GMT -5
Amelia stops and puts both hands on her hips, looking at the an with an offended pout. "And what do you think you are doing?" She asks.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 24, 2012 12:11:30 GMT -5
He points and giggles at her speaking in a different language, clearly shitcanned. He taps his friend's shoulder and mimes an exaggerated round motion.
Fyodor smiles, but there is sadness behind it. "I got a response to my letter before I left." He hands it to her.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Oct 24, 2012 12:12:46 GMT -5
Reyna#s heart lurched. She took the letter and read it.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 24, 2012 12:16:33 GMT -5
To say the letter is a refusal is to considerably understate the fact. It manages to bring new meanings to words that Reyna had not even thought her father knew. There are four threats on his life, two declarations of a desire to turn Barrowton into a thrall production ground, and a rather creative idea for the use of the prow on Fyodor's ship in regards to his rear end.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 24, 2012 12:16:54 GMT -5
He points and giggles at her speaking in a different language, clearly shitcanned. He taps his friend's shoulder and mimes an exaggerated round motion. "What is that supposed to mean?" Ami asked, now pouting though only part of her was offended by the man. Always put on a show. "None of you speak my language?"
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 24, 2012 12:19:02 GMT -5
That seems to be the case. They are nine hundred miles from Westeros at the least. The fat man pulls out some gold and pats his lap, apparently actually thinking she is a courtesan.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Oct 24, 2012 12:20:53 GMT -5
Reyna flinched and crumpled the letter in her hand.
"Gods! My father...He's got worse with age," she sighed. "Or mayhaps I have just spent too much time away from him. That is...unfortunate. But listen, the King promised there would be no trouble, if I do well here."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 24, 2012 12:22:59 GMT -5
"No trouble from him, perhaps." Fyodor shakes his head. "But he won't make your father follow your wishes. And...I cannot ignore this threat."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 24, 2012 12:25:48 GMT -5
That seems to be the case. They are nine hundred miles from Westeros at the least. The fat man pulls out some gold and pats his lap, apparently actually thinking she is a courtesan. Amelia thought for a moment; she saw a slice of cake next to the man and grinned on the inside. Her pout turning to a smile she sat on the man's lap. Hopefully this would not backfire.
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Oct 24, 2012 12:29:53 GMT -5
"No trouble from him, perhaps." Fyodor shakes his head. "But he won't make your father follow your wishes. And...I cannot ignore this threat." "But he is the King," Reyna persisted. "Even the Lord of Harlaw must do as his king bids him. Are you sure you asked him correctly?"
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 24, 2012 12:30:00 GMT -5
The man's friends cheer, and he stuffs the coins into the high bodice on her dress and pulls her in roughly for a kiss, not knowing she is supposed to be a noblewoman, treating her like a common whore.
Only the fact she voluntarily sat on him is stopping Kalvin from having fried Volantene as the course at the next meal.
//
"No king tells his lord how to marry his daughter off; he just agrees to stand out of the way," Fyodor says. "If he started making lords marry as their daughters wished, they'd rebel. And my letter was perfectly clear, polite, and honest." He sounds insulted she even asked that.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 24, 2012 12:32:20 GMT -5
Amelia feigned interested as he pulled her in, while her hand moved out to grab the slice of cake. When she came too close for comfort to his face she raised her hand and pushed the cake into his face.
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