dearorphic

[dearorphic]

The cold touch jolts and there is no stopping the bloom of a smile at the lord standing before her. Oh, they knew her all too well, didn't they? A pleased hum leaves her lips, eyes twinkling as she leans just enough to breathe in his closeness without surrendering to it. " Well, strongwine makes everything taste better, doesn’t it? " she muses, glossed lips curling demure. " But so do the right words. " A knowing glint, for they knew too many. She peels back a step, and very quietly:

" Beautiful? " she echoes, fingers idly smoothing a fold in her skirt as though it were her gown they were in reference of. Her appetite for flattery, voracious. " Now you’ve gone and made me suspicious of a handsome lord. I’ve been here all but a while and already someone remembers what I wore last time. "

Laughter spills from her, unrestrained and mischievous as they were, and with a voice laced with implication. " Do tell, Martyn, were you watching, or were you waiting? "

They take the marzipan, a cold touch against the soft and elegant hands of the lady of Starfall. Her warmth is still, after such a long time, almost as if the first sun of spring had pressed a gentle kiss onto their skin. He lingers for a moment, just as long as he sips on his wine, stepping closer to her. "And would that strongwine go well with the marzipan as well, my lady?" He asks without necessarily caring for the answer, then he takes a bite, his gaze tasting her attire as his tongue tastes the sweetness. "You look as beautiful as the day I last saw you." They know that flattery always works on Elira. And whether they are serious, or merely playing pretend, as they so often did in the past, is entirely up to her. "If not... even more than that? I didn't think it was possible!"

[dearorphic]

" Mm, but isn’t it our duty to outbloom each other? " Elira teases, eyes softening at the edges as she closes the distance, her fingertips brushing Gwyneth’s elbow in greeting. Such closeness was a gift for her, to know she be near without recompense or scandal given their past; Elira had hoped it would never change, this closeness to her, for it was simple and true. " How else would we survive such tedious affairs but with a bit of competition in loveliness? " Her smile is slow, not to be taken too seriously, never that. Though they were subject to such games in the court, weren't they?

Elira sighs softly with her flower still idling in hand. She leans against the column beside them, shoulder to shoulder, as though they’ve always been here like this. " It's good to see you, my dearest Gwyn. "

the  dornish  lady  stands  to  the  sidelines,  shoulder  meeting  the  cold  marble  of  the  column  gwyneth  has  chosen  for  company.  all  they  want  is  to  be  back  in  godsgrace  ⸺  and  if  they  could,  it  would  be  by  her  lonesome  (  especially  if  the  alternative  is  having  only  her  brother  for  company  ).  and  then,  one  of  the  only  faces  that  could  change  that  want  for  loneliness  makes  their  presence  known.  for  a  few  moments,  it  is  as  if  the  crowd  around  them  disappears  into  a  void  that  gwyneth  does  not  want  any  of  them  to  come  back  from.  ❝ my  lady  dayne.  ❞  every  fibre  of  gwyneth's  being  relaxes  at  the  sight  of  elira.  ❝ you  are  just  being  kind.  you  outbloom  us  all.  ❞

[dearorphic]

He groans, exaggerated as the eldest very well squishes him with all his might; boar, he was, given his blatant disregard to the muscles that he had on him. Still, Rhys laughs when he's finally let go and shakes his head. A lazy grin curls onto his face at the mention of suitors, for there was plenty to attend to but it was mostly ensuring everyone got the same kindness he was given in return. " Fighting? " He cranes his head, a guise of innocence worn. " I'm the one who falls to charm far too easily. " He clasped his brother’s forearms in return, pulling him back in for a quick bump of shoulders. “ And you, ” he said, mock serious now, “ still manage to look more fearsome than me without half the effort. It's infuriating, truly. ”

a  warm  laugh  rumbled  easily  from  belly,  a  brotherly  bond  never  faltering  despite  any  time  apart.  “every  good  party  needs  a  boar--though,  i  would  rather  not  be  the  one  hunted  this  time.”  his  smile  matched  the  joy  of  his  tone,  arms  quick  to  wrap  around  the  younger  for  a  rough,  tight  embrace.  the  elder  kept  it  short,  stepping  back  a  moment  later  to  place  both  hands  upon  his  brother's  shoulders  to  give  him  a  good  once  over.  “and  look  at  you.  surely  fighting  off  the  suitors  at  this  rate?”

[dearorphic]

He smiles at her, and once again casts a keen eye to the court mingling around them both. " Truly? " Head cants, " I had hoped to see all your suitors keeping you company. " If only so he could be nosey and charm his way into ensuring the best were loyal to his sister. " Surely you can't mean to say that not even one lord, lady, or ser here has caught your eye, dear sis? "

Orianne listened with a look of gentle amusement to the string of words murmured into a goblet, light eyes on the glittering crowd of nobility before them. These were the sort of events she lived for--enough wine to fill the Trident, the pulse of energy that came with so many of them gathered in one place, the stories--all of them charged her as though a cat in a sunbeam. Only when her younger brother pressed a drink into her hands did her gaze shift to him, her grin broadening from one of contentment to outright sunny joy. "Very nearly," she agreed as she took a sip. "Admittedly a little dull thus far," she added a moment later with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows. "You don't seem too out of your element, though."

[dearorphic]

@steelfyre, @nevcrmine, @lcstblood, @unscng, @eclipt1cs, @crueltied, 0/2 open

“ Moonlight, ” he murmured aloud to no one in particular, voice low as he took in the the hall bloomed to silver. “ The gods have a poet’s sense of timing for the princess. ” He steps away from the wall then, eager to get closer to the spectacle that the crown had illumed for the court. Not for power. Never that. But for the symbolism that sparked the poet in him. " Shall we find a drink? " he grins, turning with a boyish lightness to his companion at his left; tonight's mood was infectious. His smile curls genuine. " It feels terribly ungracious not to toast a moonchild’s beginning, don’t you think? "

[dearorphic]

Could he fault the younger for his call to war? No. The weight of brotherhood weighed far heavier than the call to rule, to lead. A tired gaze turns to Alaric, and he had thought he'd done so well to steer the conversation to something lighter and more agreeable. It was his own fault for assuming Alaric was anything but agreeable, he thinks as he watches him over the rim of his glass; whatever part of him that he remembered knowing, anyways. " Drinks and bells don’t drown it out. " A hum, and he's gazing back to the court. " What would you do, Alaric? Storm the grounds? Ask questions which would insult their pride and call it justice? " There was truth in Alaric's words, yes, but there was also treason; " Do you even have a plan? And not just more damn noise from someone who doesn’t know the first fucking thing about what he’s asking for. "

voices call in the darkest corners of his mind , spitting out accusations and demands , and with his bare hands , those were silenced . no longer was the lord of bear island imposing , waiting for others to take responsibility for the consequences of their actions . from the hours that stretched to days , that stretched to months , that stretched to years , of waiting , desperately reaching out for a drop of concern from kin , he had learned mormonts cannot betray their ambition , no matter the cost . ❝ i was thinking about demands for answers , investigations on the attacks a year ago , but certainly , drinks and bells are more pressing matters , brother . ❞ his brother can pretend as long he pleased , live as though his choices held no consequences if the vale allows him such space for delusions but alaric wanted none of it . there was nothing to go back to , not after all he had lost and no one to answer for it .

[dearorphic]

" How kind of you to notice, " he shoots back, a wan smile on his face. If there was anybody to keep an eye on, it'd be the new hand, but even still: " but a celebration is still a celebration, my lord hand. " He shrugs, and sips from his own chalice once more with an eye to ton which filled the court; a merry atmosphere, which had given more people to do as they pleased. " It wouldn't quite be a cause of celebration if it were dry. "

they'd  lost  count  of  how  many times they'd circled the room since the celebration had begun, conversing with the nobility and ensuring all was running smoothly. the number of empty platitudes unknown as well. trystane had expected it, so many wanting to become better acquainted with the new hand, but they grew weary of them nonetheless. a moment to walk through the crowd with only his thoughts was savored. until a shoulder bumped into his; trys jolted.  ❝  it's quite alright, lord arryn. ❞   a polite smile quickly appeared - assurance that words were true.  ❝  better to stumble due to two left feet than too many cups of wine. ❞

[dearorphic]

In truth, he wouldn't know, given that he had grown out of that isle at any moment he could seize. Antony snorts and finds his own cup, metal rings clinking against the chalice as he tries to find the words that compliment the Isle; even if they were few, he could, " Bear Isle’s winds do strange things, " he agrees, " some folks grow taller. Others just grow a thicker hide. " Companiable, at best. He steps back, and gives him another once over, " have they not been feeding you over there? You should be half a bear already, lad. "

The memories of that night were blurry, filled with conflicting emotions that Martyn would've liked not going through again, even though he was fairly certain that some of those feelings never really faded away. They stuck themselves to his heart and calcified around it, seeming to have driven him ever since. Nevertheless, he pushed the notion to the side, with the help of wine of course, and he grinned as he lifted his chin slightly, trying to appear taller. "Have I? One might think a man doesn't grow after a certain age but there must be something in the winds of Bear Isle! I visited for a few months over the last year."

[dearorphic]

He's only partially glad she isn't so easily inclined to act on an impulse he knows all too well, having only briefly seen the daggers that clipped him short from bursting out laughing right then and there. Antony grins instead, rolling his eyes at her, " you'd hit an old man? " Oh, he knows she would. " In the middle of such a joyous occassion too, with all these eyes waiting for such a show ... " he tsks, brow raised, " It's unbecoming to be a salty hag, Elowyn. Especially when you're already halfway to cronehood "

had  it  not  been  for  the  saving  grace  of  the  wine  that  had  already  been  consumed  ,  fury  may  have  taken  over  the  mask  that  siren  wore  ,  though  perhaps  that  was  more  testament  to  who  it  was  that  decided  they  need  not  pay  mind  to  their  surroundings. 

few  elowyn  would  consider  friend  ,  and  yet  somehow  the  seemingly  clumsy  lord  from  the  vale  had  managed  to  claim  such  a  title. 

swirling  pools  of  greens  and  golds  narrowed  slightly  ,  a  subtle  tilt  of  her  head  as  she  peered  up  at  him  beneath  dark  lashes  ,  amusement  hinted  at  the  faint  lift  of  her  lips.  “  you  don't  need  to  lie  to  me  ,  tony.  ”  rasped  words  carried  with  a  taunting  lilt.  “  you  and  i  both  know  it's  just  because  you're  getting  old.  ” 

[dearorphic]

Brow raises, and there's a slight uptick of a smile which threatened to overtake if he wasn't aware of just who it was he had bumped into. Her joy was infectious, even to an old bear such as he. Antony places his hand over his chest; dreadfully formal. " Let me take your word instead, your grace. " Not really, he didn't enjoy sweets. A smile curves, " it wouldn't serve well to take a Dagareon's princess' half eaten cake when there's enough to feed the entire realm? " Though the thought made him chuff. Head cants only slightly, and he raises his thumb and forefinger, swiping at his lower lip to indicate, " you have icing... "

some  version  of  a  raucous  laughter  escapes  the  sweets  filled  mouth  of  the  princess  of  essos,  bejewelled  fingers  flying  up  to  protect  the  other  from  the  attack  of  the  crumbs  of  her  cake.  “  oh,  it  is  me  you  must  pardon  my  lord.  ”  she  says  hurriedly,  half  chewing,  half  laughing.  “  if  i  wasn’t  putting  so  much  of  my  efforts  in  deducing  which  sweet  would  bring  me  the  most  happiness  next  then  perhaps  i  could’ve  kept  a  lookout  for  you  and  your  two  left  feet.  ”  her  cheeks  flush  a  red  dangerously  close  to  the  targaryen’s  banners.  “  please  accept  the  rest  of  cake  as  my  token  of  apologies.  ”  the  princess  offers  the  other  a  half  eaten  cake,  icing  smeared  every  which  way  and  a  toothy  smile  to  top  it  off.

[dearorphic]

The voice stills him, first, and it's the recognizable hue of Valyrian tresses, second. To imagine she'd still be a haunt within memory, and even now? He chuffs. As is customary, he offers a wan smile and incline of his head if only for show. Rhaeny's words were always like a sword at his stomach, a sharp sting just below his rib; an agonizing descent into that which he could stomach, if she'd only let him. " You've always did have a gift for saying so much with so little. " He steps back, smoothing a hand over his tunic, if only to show a bit of propriety. He had often wondered the extent of her affections to keep him bound so close with a dragons grip digging into flesh and bone, consuming all of him albeit slowly. An old affectionate gaze smooths over his features, " It'd shock you to know how much I loathed to see you. " With the attack on Hightower on few months prior, and then the duties of lordship over the Vale; he had busied himself with matters more pressing than old haunts. There couldn't be two specters within the Vale's castle's walls, not when one had already kept him frustrated as is. " Have you been well, Lady Tarth? "

the  jolt  takes  dragoness  by  surprise  .  conversation  with  another  abruptly  ended  with  in  a  mirage  of  silver  and  moonbathed  tresses  ;  scowl   is  prominent  first  ,  passive  amusement  second .    ❛   yes  ,  two  left  feet   and  not  much  else  in  between .   ❜   violet  hues  travel  the  length  of  his  figure  ;  a  year  has  not  changed  much  ,  a  little  more  grey  perhaps  ?   ❛   you  did  not  have  to  jostle  me  to  get  my  attention  lord  arryn  ,  my  sights  would  have  set  on  you  sooner  or  later  ... but  i  appreciate  you  may  have  been  loosing  patience .   ❜   previous  company  forgotten  ,  a  far  more  entertaining  target  was  before  her  now . 

[dearorphic]

@steelfyre, @ravasz, @unscng, @wcrfcres, @sacrificeds, @crueltied, @handscffate + 0/2 open

Comfort was her only concern in the larger scheme of things, and to be so far from home with all its leisure in the gardens to cultivate and tend to within Starfall? Elira could adapt. Soft touches trail onto the jaw of latest indulgence, to which she planted a kiss goodbye on and peels away from just as quickly. Not carefully, but with the celebrations happening, surely... " Oh ! " She blinks once, and as though it were muscle memory at this point without any regard to just who she was speaking to. Courtly charm falls with ease from glossed lips, companiable mischief in her eyes so as to steer the conversation away from her own, silly ministrations sought tonight. " You must try the marzipan, they go well the wine they've served tonight. A shame it wasn't strongwine, there's this lovely blood red ... " A sigh, as she plucks a singular piece to offer them. " I should've brought it as a gift. "

[dearorphic]

Such impossible inquiry creased only the slightest frustration between his brows, a sharp exhale, and he settles back to his spot for he knows he can't fault her for it; standing beside her, with a drink in his hand like a balm. To that which sounded dangerously close to an invitation that he should know better to be one affectionately made. A hidden smile drowned in fruity wine. Very quietly, his answer to both: " No one. " He could only hope she wouldn't fault him for his own impossible asks. The noble house of Arryn was all a play in the eyes of the court, a united front of Vale and the North to which the benefit was to she, the mountains heart that only drew him near but not enough to crowd but enough to covet her attentions.

"And if they did, I’d pity them."

A ghost of amusement curled at the corner of his mouth. " Should I take waiting beside your doors now, sword at my side, for those you would expect ? " Or want? He's lived with her ghost for months, the living were easier to get rid of.

she's   clearly   had   a   sip   of   wine   too   many   ,       with   an   offered   ease   to   her   so   rarely   sought   and   seen.   was   it   the   need   to   show   themselves   a   united   front   that   had   her   loosening   her   lips   ?   or   perhaps   the   distance   from   their   home   that   enabled   her   a   more   forgiving   demeanor   ?   such   an   evasive   feeling   ,       there   and   gone   ,       but   one   she   desperately   clung   to   in   hopes   of   seeing   them   through   the   night.     ❝       and   who   exactly   do   you   expect   within   my   rooms   ,       treading   over   my   rugs   ?     ❞       was   it   cruel   to   speak   of   ,       with   even   the   idea   of   such   an   invitation   so   safely   guarded   ,       and   hardly   granted   ,       even   to   her   husband   so   ?     ❝       who   would   ever   dare   to   try   ?     ❞

[dearorphic]

@traegedys

Fluid as feline, she is not one to be crafted for the small talk of court; weaved amongst its fringes with pleasant enough smiles to entertain for propriety and appearance sake, Elira was always moving. From the tables of sweets, to the flowers that decorated the keep with its cause for celebration; a stem of hollyhocks, and gardenias plucked from its vase and cradled in her hand. Idling, until sight is set upon an ever more dearest, tapping a finger to her shoulder and deftly ducking out of sight to appear upon her right with a charming, " my lady Allyrion. " Mischievious sprite holds out the bloom of flower in hand, tracing its petals along her jaw with a laugh. " You're blooming today, I see. "

[dearorphic]

@wcrfcres

Time spent away from brother and kin was long and as unforgiving as Northern winters; cold, and without so much as a raven to inquire about their general health. He had already listed his own reasons if they were to argue with him about it but there was comfort in knowing they wouldn't; not when he was far from them, with the Vale hounding at his every step since the attack. " I'd have done without the bells, I think. " It was easier to pretend their absences did little, and to instead pick up where they had left off. " And stronger drinks. Gods, there is only so much wine I can stomach before it all starts to taste like water in the end. " He looks to his cup in hand, and then finally, to his youngest brother whose company he had found amongst the crowd. " But it is good to see you again, Alaric. "

[dearorphic]

" Something like that, " the lord would reply with at least the grace to, at the very least, offer a sympathetic smile. The attack was brutal, and wrought in the horrors uttered to those born in the North, except, he had faced it and even just thinking of it. A shudder rolls down his spine, and his hand flexes. " In fact, I think ... " head cants, and eyes narrow as though he had to make sure his own vision didn't fail, though, hesitance laced in his voice: " you've grown ? " A ghost of a smile.

One glance at the bear of the mountains was enough for the dark brown northern eyes to roll playfully, a smile in the same tone adorning Martyn's lips as he turned towards him with a bow of his head. Playing with honor and manners, as usual. "Lord Arryn!" He leaned onto the table he was standing beside, his gaze dropping to his own frame before looking back at Antony. "The last time you've seen me I was in quite a rough shape, wasn't I?" Barely able to walk after a week's bedrest, but eager to get on his horse and set out on the journey home.

[dearorphic]

" A rug ? " The word is repeated with as much surprise as he allows, clearly taken off guard with the remark. A rarity he wouldn't spoil but instead, " do at least grant me the dignity of not allowing just anyone to tread on me, wife, " a crooked smile and he settles near; moments with her were few and far between, which is why he'd not budge. Not yet, anyways, not when the noble houses watched for such frayed edges in marital bonds. Northern pride softens with a slight uptick of an arrogant mouth and he lowers his voice enough so it was only she who could hear the pride of a bear ruling in the mountains, a Vale noble with his head canted close to his wife's; to anyone else, an intimate moment. However, " who else could wear an Arryn so well? "

it's   far   too   early   into   the   night   to   be   feeling   the   way   she   is   ,       but   she's   quite   ready   to   be   over   and   done   with   the   entire   affair.   too   many   unknown   faces   and   variants   to   allow   her   a   moment's   calm   ,       but   she   remains   seated   ;       straight   backed   and   donning   a   well   honed   mask   of   amicability.   and   while   it   does   not   entirely   bring   her   relief   ,       she   accepts   the   offered   drink   ,       and   his   company   rather   easily.     ❝       worry   not   ,       husband.     ❞       taking   a   smooth   sip   of   wine   ,       her   next   words   were   accompanied   by   a   small   smile   of   jest.     ❝       you'd   make   for   a   terrible   adornment   upon   my   walls.   now   a   rug   ,       perhaps.        ❞