rdwyns

[rdwyns]

armoredspirit‌ .

          elair  never  quite  forgets  his  height,  he  hasn’t  been  able  to  since  thirteen  when  he  stopped  being  a  child  who  was  thought  to  be  older  than  he  was  and  simply  became  another  umber  of  impressive  height,  but  he’s  reminded  of  it  whenever  he  sees  someone  have  to  crane  their  neck  to  meet  his  gaze.  he  returns  her  smile  with  equal  warmth,  remembering  his  time  in  nightsong,  trading  stories  for  his  stay.  ‘  we  can  hope,  ’  he  says  with  a  chuckle.  it  was  likely  the  revelers  would  be  fine,  but  it  wasn’t  an  unheard  of  occurrence.  usually,  no  one  would  be  badly  hurt,  and  whoever  had  fallen  would  simply  get  up  and  join  back  in.  he  nodded  at  her  explanation,  understanding.  ‘  i  was  never  told  the  dances  would  be  any  different.  i  left  the  north  for  the  first  time  and  made  quite  a  fool  of  myself.  ’  eliar  dancing  alone  was  enough  of  a  sight  to  make  others  stop  and  watch,  and  now  it’s  something  he  usually  leaves  to  others.  he  pauses  a  moment,  reflecting  on  her  inquiry  and  watching  the  dancers  move  ‘  —  i  think  it’s  a  bit  of  both.  they’re  good  enough  to  still  remember  the  steps  while  drunk,  and  being  drunk  makes  them  better  at  the  steps.  ’  he  laughs  lightly  again,  shaking  his  head  slightly  as  he  watches  them  continue.  ‘  at  least  they’re  enjoying  themselves.  ’

          at his admission, laughter spills unbidden from her lips. her belated attempt to hide her mirth behind a cup of wine fails her, too, but it is only the semblance of propriety that prompts the gesture. she suspects rather that he means to elicit laughter, but it remains impolite of her to find humor in his apparent embarrassment. it's easy to imagine eliar umber sticking out in southern festivities, but much harder to envision him following the measured, elegant moves required of southern dance. “ a shame we never hosted any musicians during your stay, then. it would have been welcome entertainment. ” the jest lingers in her voice, carefully masking any bitterness at the rather joyless state of nightsong. it does her no good to be moody about it, not when she's blissfully far from home and there is joy and amusement to be found wherever she may care to look. his explanation --- and perhaps the wine --- has her laughing again, regarding the dancers with fascination. “ i’m inclined to agree with you, ” she says with an approving nod as the northern lordling spins his partner ‘round with surprising grace ; but her brow twitches upward at his last comment. “ are you not enjoying yourself, then, ser ? ”

[rdwyns]

amereicaron‌ .

Amerei wasn’t sure she would ever fully get used to the rumours, but she did little to fight them. She wasn’t the murderous witch they made her out to be, but she had taken a life, even if nobody knew it to be true. She deserved at least a little of the venom directed at her. Still, with Anya, she is able to forget for a moment and be merry, enjoying the feast as any normal woman would be. “You’re prettier than the legends say, Lord Greenhand,” she said, a stupid wisecrack that would have revealed itself for none but Anya. Though they stuck quietly to the sides of the room, speaking only to each other, she could feel stares on her, from southerners who thought they knew their stories and northmen who couldn’t give a shit, but looked at them with lust. It was almost as though Anya could read her mind, and as she thought this, the brunette’s statement clicked in her mind, and she laughed. “Not bloody likely. I don’t like the thought of shivering for the rest of my days,” she said, dismissively. She had resigned herself to a life in Nightsong, of spinsterhood and solitude. “We shall enjoy our time together, even if we’re cold and miserable.” She squeezed her arm gently. “It is a momentous occasion. I’d never have forgiven myself if I missed it.” 

          “ why, thank you, my lady. ” anya flutters her eyelashes prettily --- doltishly --- at the compliment, mischievous smile holding back laughter, part mirth and part nerves. if she had been alone, she might have made her excuses much earlier ; she can only stand polite company so long without someone familiar to lean on. even a knowing glance from across the room could sustain her. to walk arm in arm with amerei, equal parts observing and observed, has her toeing the line between giddiness and anxiety, but not at all inclined to withdraw. “ oh, you don’t mean that, do you ? ” anya prods, brow quirked suggestively. “ i’m sure the northern cold is not so terrible with someone to keep you warm. ” she nudges ami ever so slightly, but won’t press the issue just now. it would be rather devastating, losing amerei to so distant a land as the north, but if it could see her goodsister happy, anya cannot make any objection. “ and i don’t think i’d have forgiven you either, ” she teases, “ it’s been much too long. will you travel back to king’s landing with us ? stay at least a while, before going back to nightsong ? ” 

[rdwyns]

armoredspirit‌ .

         he’d  been  to  enough  northern  engagements  before  that  the  spectacle  they  often  became  left  him  unphased.  he  grew  up  with  these  dances,  these  halls,  these  people.   even  if  he  had  left  them  behind,  he  was  still  a  child  of  the  north  and  their  parties  were  much  more  a  comfort  to  him  than  the  stiffer  manners  of  the  south.  he  followed  the  gaze  of  the  woman  as  she  spoken,  seeing  her  gaze  on  the  dancers.  a  smile  came  to  him,  amusement  painting  his  features,  ‘�� give  it  another  hour,  if  not  less,  and  i’m  sure  one  of  them  will  fall,  ’   he  turned  to  her,  ‘  have  you  ever  danced  in  the  north,  my  lady  ?    the  steps  are  quite  a  bit  different  than  the  dances  of  the  south,  at  least  in  my  own  experience.  ’   he  had  made  quite  a  fool  of  himself  when  he  had  just  begun  his  travels,  assuming  there  wouldn’t  be  much  difference, if  at  all,  between  the  practices  and  stepped  on  a  young  lady’s  feet  while  in  highgarden. 

          the northman cuts an undoubtedly imposing figure, his stature placing him well over a head taller than anya. she has to crane her neck to meet his gaze, and wonders, not for the first time, at the absurdity of his moniker, for little he is not. at least it renders him recognizable ; it has been some time since his visit to nightsong. “ ser eliar, ” she greets, her smile genuine at the sight of a familiar face. “ oh, i hope not, ” she says with some anxiety. servants still weave between guests filling cups with ale and wine, and she can all too easily imagine one of them knocked to the ground, drink spilled on skirts and breeches alike. “ i’m afraid i haven’t, ” she admits, evoking more the image than the true spirit of regret. “ we were taught some northern dances as children --- my sister and i, that is --- but there is precious little occasion to practice anywhere south of the neck. ” that, and her sister had insistently derided the northern dances as graceless and brutish, with anya overeagerly following suit. not that she can admit that. “ but you must know much more of it than i do. you’ve seen much more of the world and its dancing. i suppose you could tell me, then --- i’m very curious --- are they ---, ” she points to a pair dancing nearby, undoubtedly northerners, “ terribly good dancers, or just terribly drunk ? ” she’s inclined towards the later, but the fact that they’ve so far managed to keep their feet makes her wonder. 

[rdwyns]

infinite list of favorite reign outfits:

↳Mary in 1.17

[rdwyns]

It scares me when people say I’m sweet because I’m not. I’m bitter enough to burst, half-sick with rage on my good days. I wish someone hated him the way I did, so that I could stop, so that I could get rid of this fury that rots & blooms inside of me. This is a terrible way to think: if you really loved me you’d want him dead. I’m so tired of boys saying I’ll kill him because they never follow through. It’s just a loud thing to say before they try to touch me and then I’m left with him in my head: laughing, rolling his eyes.

— Nicola Maye Goldberg, from “Dream Protocol II,” WHAT KIND OF TROUBLE?

[rdwyns]

stagborn‌ .

              CONFRONTATION  MAY  BE  A  BURDEN  ,  but  there  are  times  when  cedrik  does  not  mind  stirring  up  dramatics  .  he  finds  himself  filled  with  liquid  courage  and  as  he’s  left  alone  ,  can  one  blame  him  for  the  chaos  that  ensues  ?  if  lord  redwyne  had  been  elsewhere  ,  eyes  not  on  his  beautiful  wife  ,  perhaps  the  lord  baratheon  would  have  went  about  his  way  .  though  with  a  pang  of  spite  ,  he’s  crossing  toward  anya  quicker  than  anticipated  .  overall  ,  his  own  actions  amuse  him  .    ❝    mmm  ,  i  see  no  southerners  dancing  among  them  ,    ❞    the  smile  he  shows  must  convey  his  intentions  .  they  had  always  been  good  at  influencing  each  other  in  the  worst  ways  .    ❝    may  i  steal  you  for  a  dance  ,  my  lady  ?    ❞    he  questions  ,  hand  extending  .

         it has been some time since anya last saw the lord of storm’s end, though whether too long or not long enough she cannot say ; yet at his approach, nerves quicken her heartbeat, and she thinks, definitely not long enough. she feels half a fool, casting a furtive glance around the hall like a misbehaving child afraid of being caught, when all they are doing is exchanging a few words. his offer to dance changes that, leaves her taking just a little too long to make her response, trying to spot his wife in the crowd without appearing so obviously to do so. but in her brief survey she does not spot the lady baratheon, and her nervous energy and will to dance --- not to mention the wine --- soon win out. “ only if you have no reservations about making abolute fools of ourselves, my lord. ” it’s as he said ; few enough southerners dare dance these northern dances. but despite the hesitation in her statement, she finishes her cup of wine in a sip too long to be quite ladylike, and takes the hand he offers. 

[rdwyns]

amereicaron‌ .

Ami had come to love Anya like her own blood sister, and like any sister, she wanted better for her. She had taken to her immediately, and the selfish part of her was glad she had come to Nightsong, but she wasn’t blind, and she could see there was an unhappiness in the Lady Caron. It was because of this that Ami had done all she could to take her under her wing, to make things a little easier for the younger woman the way she wished somebody had for her during her second marriage, if not for the bride’s sake, than because she knew how the story went for the groom. She smiled, entwining their arms and leading her away from the table so that they could survey the celebrations. Ami’s fair head bowed towards Anya’s so that she could hear her, a small smile playing on her lips. “No,” she answered, truthfully. She had thought the Stormlanders were a fierce, wild people, but though tempestuous, it was nothing like the unbridled revelry displayed by the Northerners. “The people seem more free, here. Perhaps there’s wildling blood in their veins, somewhere down the line. Some of the men certainly seem like the sort.” She cast her eyes to the table of noisy lords, the untamed whiskers on their chin and alcohol staining their tunics. “It is a shame the North is so bleak. Could you see the sun in the sky, I might like it here. But what of you? Are you glad you came?” 

          anya knows such events can be uneasy ; even she suffers under the sharp, watchful eyes of a crowd, but amerei bears the brunt of the disapproving glances and unabashedly curious stares. alone, to be so observed is unsettling, but arm in arm with her goodsister anya can find some amusement in it too, bolstered by the security of not being the only one. leaning into one another, speaking in hushed tones with slight smiles on their lips, they float through the festivities with slow, measured steps, the very image of proper southern ladies. as different as night and day, yet it is obvious to any observer the bond the two women share. “ i don’t doubt it --- if that lot don’t have a drop of wildling blood, then i’m garth greenhand, ” she jests. of course she’s seen southern men much further in their cups than this, but even then there was always some element of decorum, however foolish and unnecessary. the wildness of the north makes her nervous, but she admires it too. her brow quirks at amerei’s observations, lips still smiling but pursed with just the hint of tension. “ oh ? you never know. we may lose you to some great beast of a northman ; i suspect they are less spineless than their southern counterparts, ” she suggests, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “ of course i’m glad. any opportunity to see you, even if the travel was hellish and i’m sure to catch a chill. and how many coronations might we see in a lifetime ? certainly not enough to pass up such an opportunity. ”

[rdwyns]

daeryons‌ .

              ❛❛  REALLY . ❜❜  he has to stifle a chuckle. there is something so absurd in thinking that anyone should be shocked or intimidated by his requesting a dance . if he were merely daeryon , and not KING DAERYON , it would be entirely laughable , and yet he has acquired a power that does intimidate others .  he seeks to recognize it , and its sway over others, where he can . ❛❛ but only if it is not too much of a burden on your time , my lady.  ❜❜ the wave of relief that accompanies her agreeing to his request surprises him . he does not actively seek the company of others beyond what he already knows . not typically , at least . 

           ❛❛ i assure you  - - if my royal toes are stepped on , it is a statement to my royal clumsiness only. ❜❜ another smile is extended to the lady , his eyes flickering towards their hands, before he turns from her ever so slightly to lead her into the next dance. for once , he is oblivious to the stares & the whispers. is it not a relief for his subjects to see their king in good spirits ? 

       once they are situated , and surrounded by several other pairs , daeryon bows to his partner .    ❛❛ i suppose this is where we exchange idle pleasantries about the cold , and how we find the north & our hosts ? ❜❜

          his assurances soothe some of her nerves, and there is something so sincere about him, a hint of humility in his features that anya does not expect. it is impossible to avoid the rumors that swirl endlessly around the targaryen king, but she knows better to put stock in hearsay, and with his every word king daeryon disproves his detractors. in the brief lull of music between dances, they step forward from the edges of the hall, taking their place among the other dancers. her steps are careful, an attempt at delicacy, and she’s suddenly aware of the wine she’s drunk --- but it is far too late to make any excuses now.

          “ we certainly could, ” she agrees, mirroring the amusement she finds in his features, “ but i’m not very cold, and truthfully, as grateful as i am for their hospitality i have had little opportunity to form an opinion on our hosts. ” then the music starts up again, slowly, though with a warning edge that suggests it will accelerate soon enough. she follows his lead, gaze flickering to the other dancers, to the edge of the room where she meets curious eyes ; this makes her more nervous than even dancing with the king, and she returns her attention to him with something of relief. “ but your grace sat with the starks at the high table --- you must have formed an impression. and i must know, is the northern queen displeased with the festivities ? or does she merely seem so ? ” this is no less idle than talk of the cold  ( perhaps more so )  but the northern coronation is nothing if not an opportunity for gossip ; and there is an undeniable iciness about the stark queen.

[rdwyns]

empyrcals‌ .

“ It is a wonder yes.” Sansara smiled into her drink of mulled wine, rather enjoying the archaic vintage. It was no arbor gold or even dornish red but there was something to be said for its unique flavoring. Sipping it slowly she would be careful not to overindulge for a shadow had to have eyes, ears and full control over one’s mental faculties here. The Tarly girl couldn’t allow her eyes to grow too big here taking in all the wonder of the north when she had never been farther than the northern border of the southern kingdom. Then again was that truly the truth? She was after all her brother’s emissary not that her house was large enough to require one but the girl was intriguing - a mystery. “Perhaps we should join them? We southerners are in strange waters here and ought to stick together”

          the tarly girl is quite the little lady, poised as she nurses a single cup of mulled wine, her response carefully measured. she looks intrigued, but her features are too closed off for wonderment. anya wonders if sansara is nervous, or if she’s simply misreading the signs ; either way, she hopes the smile she offers is comforting. “ if we are in such strange waters, perhaps it’s best not to try to swim too deep ? ” anya suggests with a quirked brow, though the twitch of her lips betrays the caution in her words --- she’d rather dance, even if it means drowning. “ but --- would you like to dance ? i’m afraid i won’t be able to keep up, but --- ” she glances at the dancers, all enthusiasm and here and there a little grace, and lowers her voice slightly, “ it doesn’t appear that that matters all too much. ”

[rdwyns]

amereicaron‌ .

As a general rule, Amerei avoided crowds these days. It was always just a matter of time before she noticed suspicious gazes or hateful whispers. Still, there were things more important than all of that. Her relationship with her sister-in-law was one such thing. Since returning to Nightsong, things hadn’t been easy for Ami, but Anya had provided comforted where she had not thought to look for it, and Ami would do all she could to repay that. “It’s quite the spectacle,” the blonde agreed, meeting Anya’s smile with one of her own. She rose to her feet, smoothing her skirts and holding a hand out to her brother’s wife in invitation. “Shall we do a lap of the room? See if we can’t spot anything we can gossip about later?” 

          anya finds little comfort at nightsong ; little from the people, none from the castle itself, and even less from her husband. this is less true of king’s landing, but the capital, however vibrant and interesting, lacks the one person who made nightsong bearable. her goodsister amerei is a comfort anya has done little to deserve, but come to rely on ; her mere presence here lifts anya’s spirits immensely, and her suggestion brings a wry little smile to her lips. “ a brilliant idea, my lady, ” she agrees with a nod. following amerei’s lead, she rises to her side, but forgoes the hand she is offered in favor of linking her arm with amerei’s. leaning in slightly, her voice lowered conspiratorially and masked by the noise of the celebration, she asks, “ tell me, what do you make of all this ? can you imagine something like this in the south ? ” her gaze falls on a group of young northern lordlings, singing the bear and the maiden fair at an increasingly loud volume, despite the musicians playing quite a different tune. southerners were certainly just as capable of such unrestrained merriment, but in the court of a high lord or king ? anya couldn’t imagine it.

[rdwyns]

daeryons‌ .

                   FOR THE FIRST TIME , IT SEEMS since this blasted voyage had begun , he is not the primary object of fascination. eyes are fixed on the other king - - the truer king in these parts , and daeryon is glad of it . the cloak of paranoia rests lighter on his shoulders this night , and sees him deeper in his cups than he is usually accustomed to . he even dares  to venture into the fray , where a typical evening would have resigned him to watch the festivities from his seat. blue hues settle on a familiar figure , and he gravitates toward it . even in his levity , he will not allow himself to be judged by strangers. he has little to judge the lord caron by , apart from his outward expressions of fealty , but his lady wife is an altogether separate enigma. there is something in her countenance  - - something very hidden , that he feels he understands entirely . whatever it may be , he realizes , he has no idea , but a rare comfort accompanies her presence in his courts.  ❛❛ hm ,    ❜❜ comes his curt reply to her initial query . he has not settled entirely on his opinion of northern dances , or northern company .  

        ❛❛ perhaps we ought to try ?   ❜❜  he quirks a brow ,  the beginnings of smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. he hands his goblet off to a passing servant , before outstretching his palm to the lady .  ❛❛  see if we can’t remain upright in foreign territory ?   ❜❜

          being in the north does something strange to the southern delegation. normally, the presence and attention of the king would make her nervous, deferential, as if she were wasting his time --- and in king’s landing, what business would she even have with him ? but here, in a foreign land at the court of a different king, his presence at her side feels strangely familiar, even comforting. and, though the thought is foolish and self-important, she imagines he might feel the same way. his smile is a rarity anya cannot remember seeing before now, subtle, almost shy. but she cannot return it in kind ; his offer to dance brings a bright smile to her face that she cannot subdue. 

          “ really ? ” not even her husband can object, not when the king is asking, and the hesitant question in her throat --- are you sure, your grace ? --- dies in the face of her desire to dance. “ i would be honored, your grace. ” she too leaves her wine, still half-full, with a servant, and dips into the slightest curtsy, more enthusiastic than graceful. “ so long as i have nothing to fear if i do step on your royal toes, ” she adds in jest, hesitating for only a split second before she takes his hand in a delicate gesture. her face is warm, cheeks flushed ; she tells herself insistently that it is the air in the hall, or the wine, but that alone would not have her heart fluttering as nervously as it does. 

[rdwyns]

( but, no, they always trust me to be someone i don't even want to be. )           @stagborn.

[rdwyns]

          the air is thick with laughter and spices, the hall crowded and warm. the northerners are raucous in their reverence, relieved of their mourning, drinking toasts to the starks, to their new king, to spring and the old gods and to peace. anya, for her part, drinks with them, enthralled by their joy and hoping the wine will dull her nerves. they even dance more freely, she notices ; not with the delicate, choreographed steps she knows well, but with a vibrance, an energy that she envies. yet she will not be asked to dance --- it only takes a brief glance at her husband to confirm this disappointment. “ it’s wonderful, don’t you think ? ” she’s earnest, perhaps overeager to engage. “ and quite a wonder no one’s been knocked to the ground yet, i’d say, ” she adds, hiding a small smile behind a cup of wine.

[rdwyns]

@mariclas .

[rdwyns]

BOLD THE ONES THAT APPLY TO YOUR CHARACTER.

tagged by: no one !  tagging: everyone ! if you see this you gotta do it, i don’t make the rules.

VIRTUES

adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful | brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy-going | enthusiastic | fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun-loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard-working | heroic | honest | hopeful | humble | imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open-minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self-assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough | versatile | warm-hearted | well-intentioned | wise | witty.

VICES

absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly obedient | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent | depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditsy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | flaky | frail | fraudulent | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypercritical | idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive | insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery |  overprotective | overly-sensitive | paranoid | passive aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled | stubborn | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | nonathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn | workaholic.

[rdwyns]

I am full. I am boiling over. I am fragile. / I am terrified to say that. To say I break like a fever.

Desireé Dallagiacomo, from “I Break Like a Fever,” Sink (via lifeinpoetry)

[rdwyns]

( let’s ALL go back to where we came from ! the beach ! )           @krakenbound.