45th Sess, 229: For Research Purposes

For Research Purposes
Summary: Kierne and Eoin discuss the arts, the attack, and the oldest profession.
OOC Date: 31/Mar/2014
Related: None
Kierne Eoin 
Public Gardens - City of Stormvale
A broad path of crushed white stone runs in a wide circle around a fountain, ringed in turn by flowerbeds. Beyond them, the lawn continues, smooth and softly green. A row of rosebushes, in full bloom, are planted along the stone wall to the north, flanking the gate. The path branches off to the south, where it joins a shady avenue lined with lush green trees, and to the east toward a quiet grove.
It is a spring day. The weather is cool and clear. The planet Cri is starting to rise in the western sky.
45th Sess, 229

Man, being sober sucks. Kierne has been on a regular roller coaster from sobriety to extreme intoxication and back again ever since his recovery, and he's on a peak of sobriety at present, hating life with all his heart, but he's as broke as the average river pebble, at present, and so he's prowling the gardens instead of the taverns, pacing with his arms folded in front of him, browsing the selection of females with a disheartened half-frown. No. No. No. Maybe, but probably not.

Eoin is working on getting out a little each day. Yesterday he kept things simple and only went a far as the Mowbray's next door to call on his sister. Today though, today he's been more adventerus and has made it most of the way to the castle. He'd watched some sparring on the practice field earlier but then had decided to head home, making it only so far as the gardens before deciding to stop for another rest on one of the benches. It doesn't hurt of course that there's a certain lady who sometimes frequents these paths, but for now there's no sign of her so he just sits and rests, getting ready for the walk home.

Kierne spots Eoin and brightens considerably, moving from a disgruntled stroll to a lively hop-jog on his way over to the bench, then sticking his landing to present the Lord High Admiral with a jaunty salute. "My Lord," he offers brightly. "You're looking well. Or. Well-er than before. Glad to see you out and about!"

Eoin had been absently admiting the view, looking at nothing and no one in particular but Kierne' energetic arrival catches his attention and he turns to greet the arriving lad. "Afternoon Squire" he notes with a nod, gesturing to indicate that there is plenty of room on the bench should he be wanting to take the weight off his feet. "Thank you, I'm told my progress is good, but I must confess that mostly I'm ready to climb up the walls for all the thing I can not yet do."

"I can barely imagine," Kierne replies, twisting his face up in a look of pained condolence. "I was trapped a whole week and by the end of it had no notion what to do with myself." He turns himself about and plops himself down, slouching forward and planting his elbows on his knees, twining his fingers together. "I took to writing poetry, of all things. At least it passed the time, though I doubt any of it is any good. Are you of any literary bent, Lord?"

"I think I slept most of the first week," Eoin admit with a vague nod, "and for all it's faults, at least having all of us in the infirmary ment we never lacked for company." Some company over other, but at least there was a steady flow of people to talk to. As for the writing he merely shakes his head, "I read, but the only thing I tend to write is ship's logs. I have not the talent that others are blessed with, but I try to be a patron for those who do. It's sort of a Greenshire tradition."

"That's true enough, we had our own convalescence convivium," Kierne grins impishly at his bad turn of phrase. Then, his interest piqued, "You patronize authors?" he asks. "Whom have you patronized, or what books have you had written under your patronage?" he asks. He's an avid reader of books, this kid, and seems rather more interested in them than in the bits of skirt floating by at the corner of his attention.

"Authors?" Eoin repeats, "none, yet. I was meaning more the bardic traditions, musicians I suppose, but then if an author did come a seeking I would consider as I do others." He smiles faintly at that then shrugs lightly, "I suppose I should probably write something on my work, but I hope I will have long year yet to do that when I have learnt all I can form the sea."

"Musicians— singers, or those who wield an instrument, or both? I can't imagine having enough money to do a thing like that. Though I guess if my dad ever decides to let me stop living off of an allowance," he trails off briefly, then laughs, "Well, I guess I'd go broke just as fast as I do when I get my allowance, just more extravagantly. My Lord Knight keeps trying to teach me the value of money, but I tend to drink all of mine."

"Become a sailor," Eoin offers with a faint smile, "you'll find there's not much to spend you money on when out at sea." Leaving unspoken the other end of that, where there's double the money when on shore. "The Duke is wise to do so," he states simply, "it is a useful skill to learn and will hold you in good stead for when you have your household to run." Buuut, such talk is dull and he asks, "do you write anything other than poetry? I can not help but think that there should be an account of the King's death, but I know I could not compose it."

Kierne doesn't go into his plans for when… if… he ever has a household to run. Which he will, of course, if he survives the war and any other of the manifold things which could go wrong for him. "I write synopses of philosophical treatises, but I put those in verse, too. I dunno, I find them easier to remember like that." Like the one he'd recited at the bardic about the vanity of the fear of death. "I'm working on a philosophical treatise of my own, but… I don't know that it will ever be ready for public consumption."

Eoin remembers that recital and just nods slowly, he doens't ak more about it just in case the lad decides to go for a repeat performance, settling instead for the ever useful, "I see." The news that he's working on one of his own is greeted with a "good luck with that," without actualy asking what it might be on. "I think you might have found yourself a bit of a niche market there if you are looking to publish what you write." Then in jest, "perhaps a bawdy ballad or two?"

Kierne laughs. "Oh, yeah. I doubt much of anyone down at the tavern would want to hear it, even if I ever do finish it. It would be one of those things to send home to Lakeshire and see what the experts think of it. And they'd probably just mock me as an ignorant amateur," Kierne looks down to his boots with a bashful smile, ears turning red even to think of coming under scrutiny from the great minds in philosophical thought. Then, looking up, he laughs as he's encouraged to write something more pervy. "I'd have to do a little bit more research, first, but if you want to patronize a trip over to the docks to visit with the young women there and gather materials for such a verse, I wouldn't say no," he grins.

"Everyone started as an amateur once," Eoin remarks with a faint shrug, but he'll leave that matter there, given he knows about as much about philosophy as Kierne likely does about tacking to the leeward. The mention of a trip down to the docks has him smiling though. "Nice try," he admits, "but you'll have to use your allowance for that." Then, quieter, but in no mean less amusedly, "although if you find yourself wanting a wider research pool, then there's a couple of ports in Aberdeen I could point you towards."

"I hope to! But, heavens, I got a quote from one of the girls over there, and I think I'll have to come up with some manner of payment plan," Kierne cackles gleefully. "I'm dry as a bone to-night, saving up. You must tell me whether they're taking advantage of my innocence in charging so very much. I hardly thought it polite to haggle."

Eoin takes a quick glance around, a if to check who might be close enough to hear all this, before turning back to Kierne. "In that case I can think of several points where you might be going wrong. First off, did you ask while looking all prim and proper like a Lord? Thats a dumb thing to do as these girls aren't stupid, serveant you can get away with, but they smell lordling and there goes the price right up. Second, where are you going? Some place are better than other and I'll suggest to you that it's never a good idea to just pick up a lass from the dockside themselves. Cheaper yes, but then there' the complications afterward and most apothacry's services don't come cheap. Third, haggle. Seriously, jut as you would on a market. They expect it, so don't go blushing at it either. They see those ears go read they know they've got someone new and they'll hike the price again to see what they can get away with."

Kierne looks down at himself, "I was dressed as I am now," he explains. His trousers are fine enough, but his big brick red sweater-tunic could easily let him pass for a commoner if someone didn't know him already. "And if they think they can squeeze any good money out of me, I fear they're out to be sorely disappointed. Do they really expect to be haggled with? It seems such a personal thing to tell a person, oh, I will pay so much for your company, but not so much," he wrinkles up his nose. A sensitive lad, if ever there was one. "I went to the pub down there, you know the one, where the serving girls will go upstairs with you."

Eoin chuckles faintly at Kierne' answer to that, shaking his head slowly. "Oh, you do need the research don't you," he replies before explaining, "it might be hard for you to understand right now, but it's not a personal thing, it's business. They know it and the really good ones will make you forget that it is before he night is out, but it's all business. If this was personal to them they wouldn't be at it night in and night out. It's called 'the oldest profession' and it's precisely that, a profession. You haggle a price, then if you like the work you tip, pay extra next time, or maybe take a present. Never let it get personal though, that is how things get messy and complicated."

Kierne shrugs his shoulders with a bashful smile. "I've never hired one on before. I don't know, it seems to me as though a great deal of them came to the work through a lack of other options, and that, even if they might tell themselves over and over again that it be only business, there is some part of their humanity which is touched very deeply by the repetition of such an intimate act. Whether positively or negatively, it is hard to tell. Some people say that the act wears away at the soul, debilitates it if overindulged. Others that it brings clarity and freedom from desire. To tell you the truth, I AM planning to go for the sake of research, in earnest, but not for the production of a bawdy song. Though I suppose I might easily write one afterward."

Eoin eyes Kierne, long and hard for a few moments, then asks "you ever get told you're over thinking things?" There's a faint shrug to admit that there are a few girls like that in the profession but he continues, "depends where you go as to what you find, and what you pay. I could sit here all day and give you hints and tip nd such but to be honest, it's one of those things you have to learn for yourself. What works for you, what doesn't. What works for them, what doesn't, so as you know for when you're wed. Your Lady is expected to be new to it for ure, but if you have no clue what you're doing… ?" He lets that hang so Kierne can have a good long think on the consiquences of that before he asks, "so, how much more do you need to save?"

Kierne turns his head and gives Eoin an incredulous grin. "Just about all the time. I think it's my family's way of telling me I'm not truly a Kincaid. That I was really born Kierne You'reoverthinkingthings. Ehn," he adds, "All the stuff I'd need to know for a wife I've already figured out with my girlfriend. But if you want to really investigate the concept of human attraction and libido, what better than to go to a professional? I've put aside most of this week's allowance. If I add next week's to it, and the week after that, I'll have enough." He probably works in some sort of number in there, but I'm not that fluent in in-theme currency, so let's just say that it's enough of a sum to make a fellow wonder whether the lad is truly being ripped off, or else is just asking for some seriously weird shit.

"How much?" Eoin asks, rhetorically, "who the hell did you ask? The Queen?" It's his turn to look incredulous now and he just shakes his head slowly. "Someone saw you coming a mile off didn't they." The comment about a girlfriend gets a faint raising of an eyebrow, but he says nothing, youngsters can get way with so much, especially if they're noble. A hand does go to one of the small pouches on his belt though and he withdraws a coin purse. "Since one of the few things I've been told of that night is that you helped keep my blood and guts inside me," he tarts, reaching into the pouch as he does so, "consider this one on me in way of returning the thanks. Next time though, haggle. Seriously. Half og that is still expensive." As he finsihes he finds the coin he wants and flicks it over for the younger man to catch.

"Oh… geez, look," Kierne goes from jestful and pleasant to faintly uncomfortable. He catches the coin easily enough, but then bashfully hands it back. "I only did what I could, since those great bastards kept knocking me on my ass every time I tried to stand up to them. I can't take a reward for that. Your advice is help enough, and I can manage my own way. If you are determined to be parted from your money, go deposit it for those who aren't as fortunate as we are to be spending out spare coin on wine and women."

"Spend it as you will then," Eoin replies with a shrug while making no move to take the coin back, "or if it feels like a burden then pass it along to your Priest friend and I am sure he will find a use for it amongst those who are, as you say, less fortunate than ourselves." If the lad believes he needs reward for his actions or not it seems the Admiral isn't inclined to budge. "One of these days you'll have to actually tell me what happened," he starts, in a light change of topic, "I rememebr little after determing that your uncle the Duke was still alive and well, and that was some hour before the dinner."

"Oh, wow. That was all the same day, wasn't it?" Kierne seems lost in thought about it, warming the coin anxiously between his fingers since he can't get rid of it. "There was that dinner party. I don't usually care much for events like that, y'know? Kind of dull," he shrugs. This, from a lad who spends so much time with his nose in dry philosophical treatises. "But then suddenly it wasn't." He shakes his head and stands up. "I'm going to go put this somewhere safe. Hey, why don't I come over, sometime? We can talk through it at more length and see whether you can remember any of it, after all," he offers. "Send me a note over to the palace when you feel up to talking, and I'll bring a wineskin over, if your doctor says you can have any."

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