apottelesma

[apottelesma]

slow in her approach, her footsteps lighter than rhytmical pitter-patter of evening rain, she saunters closer, sighing in defeat as a pliant smile stretches across her lips. ''you always know that it's me.'' a testament either to the love that nestles between them or his impecable hearing. what is that betrays her so effortlessly? is it the speed of her gait, the jewels clasped around her elegant throat, or the warmth that possesses her body? ''how?'' a single word, caught between her teeth like prey.

''oh i'm certain that the ladies of the court will hold your absence against you. it's a cruel thing, after all, to be deprived of your presence.'' she could attest to that, for the dornish serpent is salt water; the more she drinks, the more she wants, greedily gulping. overindulging.

''come,'' she says, one slender hand reaching for his arm. ''let us see what these hallways hide when no one is looking. i hope one of these, at least, will lead us to a garden.''

he stands with his hands clasped behind his back, the scent of roses in the air and the low murmur of revelry fading behind him. the soft rustle of silk announced @apottelesma's approach before he even turned. there was no need to see her to know it was her— he could feel her, like sunlight behind closed eyes.

❝ i was wondering if you might come to find me. ❞ words are said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he turned to face her, ❝ think i've told enough charming lies to keep the old lords happy and the young ladies guessing that i may have earned a reprieve from the crowd. ❞

he took a slow step forward, then another, until he stood before her, close enough to feel the warmth that lingered on her skin. a hand rose and he cupped her cheek, thumb brushing just beneath her eye, a soft, thoughtless motion. ❝ but your company is always welcome, my starlight. ❞

[apottelesma]

THE COURT OF QUEEN VALAENA IS PROUD TO ANNOUNCE THE ARRIVAL OF LYRICA, LADY OF HOUSE DAYNE TO KING’S LANDING. THE THIRTY-THREE YEAR-OLD CIS WOMAN IS KNOWN TO BE SELF-RELIANT & DEVOTED BUT WILL THIS WINTER REVEAL THAT THEY ARE ALSO HEDONISTIC & STUBBORN? THEY LOOK LIKE MACARENA ACHAGA, AND THEY DO BELIEVE THE TALES OF THE OTHER RETURNING. HERE IS HOPING THEY CAN BAND TOGETHER WITH EVERYONE ELSE, AND REPEL THE COMING DARKNESS!

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 .

FULL  NAME     .     LYRICA DAYNE     NICKNAME(S)  .  DEPENDS ON WHO IS ADRESSING HER TITLE(S)     .  HEIR & LADY OF STARFALL       AGE     .  THIRTY-THREE   GENDER  +  PRONOUNS     .   CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER     ALLEGIANCE     .  DAYNES, MARTELLS, DORNE  BIRTHPLACE .  STARFALL , DORNE  RELIGION .  FAITH OF THE SEVEN BY BIRTH, THOUGH SHE BELIEVES MORE IN R'HLLOR

ENNEAGRAM     .   THE INDIVIDUALIST  MORAL  ALIGNMENT     .   CHAOTIC NEUTRAL  CHARACTER  INFLUENCES     .   CATHERINE OF ARAGON , DIONYSUS ( GREEK MYTHOLOGY ), QUEEN CLEOPATRA, ARTEMISIA I OF CARIA  TRAITS . HEDONISTIC, DEVOTED, STUBBORN , ADVENTUROUS

FATHER     .   RULING LORD TBA DAYNE  MOTHER     .  RULING LADY TBA DAYNE SIBLING(S)   YOUNGER SISTER, LADY TBA DAYNE, YOUNGER BROTHER , SER GARIN DAYNE    SPOUSE     .  NONE     CHILDREN     .   NONE   PET(S)     .   SHADOWCAT     SIGNIFICANT OTHER . VORIAN MARTELL

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 .

blood is thickest in the veins of the firstborn; with each new one, it dilates, leaving room for disobedience and rebellion. if that were truly the case, then lyrica would stand proud and tall at the end of the dayne lineage, but a twist of fate placed her atop, pushing her to the front lines of heritage and duty.

perhaps the fault lies within her parents, who shouldn't have given so much freedom to a child, but even the seven knows that she's always been too wilful to remain obedient, unable to embody the very thing that she was born to be.

they promise her power, a name to carry, all of starfall, but she only shrugs her shoulders and smiles, unwilling to play along.

she turns to swords instead, the art of dueling, and though she may never be a knight or the sword of the morning, she would at least never allow herself to be groomed into submission with a blade in her hand — and by gods, she's good at it. when she fights, it looks as if she's dancing instead, for it's a mirage of something sharp and unruly.

when she's old enough, she begins to dream of escaping, both the duties that loom over her head and the ever-tall walls of starfall, becoming a mistress of voyage. all of dorne, the reach, even the north, she sees it all, afraid to look over her shoulder — because that's where duty hides.

she wants and wants and wants — that is the root of all the rot. she wants the best wine and the sweetest fruit, so ripe that it melts on the tongue, the best views, of a verdant garden and stinging sunrise, the invigorating scent of freshest roses and seasalt, and the warmest arms she's ever known. that is all.

tell her that she gets to have it all. tell her, even if you must lie.

a quick summary: a hedonistic heir of starfall who doesn't want to be the heir and wants to live life according to her own rules, but she keeps failing, especially now when her parents expect her to follow in their footsteps and marry someone of their chosing to better her standing and of house dayne. she's sort of envious of her younger siblings since they are not burdened with such things, and get to forge their own paths. at least she'll always be one of the best, unsung swordsmen of house dayne.

she is greatly fascinated by the lord of the light and as an incredibly inquisitive woman, she is drawn to the faith. she's greatly interested in reading and translating old scriptures, as well as learning anything new.

dresses almost exlusively in the colours of house dayne and the finest silk. find her bathing in any body of water filled with flowers.