valeurex

[valeurex]

charlotte's art history tarot - king of cups

Art: Still Life with a Champagne Flute and Fruit on a Damask Cloth – Johann Wilhelm Preyer

interpret this card

[valeurex]

What if I start with permanents here too??? ㅤ𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗 call! By stabbing ♡ you enable me to roll across your memes or get creative and send you something mysterious.

[valeurex]

The way all Targs are stressing Vizzy to an early grave but he still loves his family sm.

[valeurex]

" — except you're never done. ~ " he jestfully almost- interrupted, smirk faintly tugging at corner of his lips. The air fortunately, grasped on a whiff of so much-needed playfulness, and it indeed could remain so if only Daemon wouldn't choose to continue with his proactive approach to counter a member of a certain house.

What Daemon uttered seemed to anchor in Viserys’s mind like a dissonant chord, deep-seated underscoring. The coolness of the stone beneath him felt perceivable, a twinge of perplexity grounding him amidst the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind. Fair brow-line furrowed as he processed the other's claim, then suddenly —- truth dawned upon him.

The first of his name crossed arms over chest when turning around, voice steady but strained, rather than betraying the instinct to defend his choices, it was full of realization when he finally replied, " This isn't about two of us anymore, isn't it ... " - and it wasn't even a question anymore.

Ah, now he could see it.

Otto this and Otto that, this rhubarb squabble and the smoulder of it, however diminishing, kept going on longer than it ever needed. The unyielding specter of green loomed large in the recesses of their conversation, and Daemon always so eager to instill a knack of worry, regarded his every memory with a torch.

" If you weren't my brother, " he replied, skepticism layered into his tone, " I'd almost think you are jealous. What is there actually to see? I am acting exactly according to that, and I'm sure you know why. "

The picture of mere people suffering due to their family’s rivalry anchored heavily on the King; he envisioned the nobles in the court, swayed easily by the tides of power, and no one was excluded ...

" Imagine my awareness piqued, brother, just because I don't voice certain things right away doesn't mean I don't know about them; I am not blind. I know he's prideful; thus, his ambitions must be kept in check. Aside from that, I merely happen to value individuality guided by diplomacy that envisions my desire for peace and stability. Which brings me back to another root of why I haven't named you this whole time - he simply managed well where you couldn't; you should stop seeking personal issues behind that and perhaps look at things the other way. " - like what could be done to fix what was broken or led them to this point. The crucial part of self-reflection needed to consists of two pages.

Whether he was becoming attached to Hightower Ser or not was certainly not his business; either way, Viserys disliked Daemon's tone by pointing out something else here, and the elder Targaryen was brisk to maneuver out from that, for the conversation had tipped the scales. The retort was unmistakably more laced with ironic amusement, dancing around their shared history where Viserys felt more rush, warming his annoyance.

The following silence hung heavily, it only charged the clash of wills.

Viserys met his gaze, frustration mingling with concern, as he shot back, " If one does something for someone genuinely ... he won't be surged by the urge to brag about it, I find significance in that. You were always there, you just refuse to see it. "

Viserys was exhausted. What more strength did he have to keep fighting both the crows flying over to feast on his corpse and his own blood, where he constantly had to question where loyalty lay ... ? Especially with such behavior? Honestly, what else was he supposed to think?

By taking a deep breath, he drew strength from within and instead of thanking him ( like seriously how many times he did already? ), he reminded the Rogue-brat by slight shake from his complacency, " I did not want your crown, Daemon, nor mine, nor anyone's. I just wanted us all to be well and happy, that's it. " And this calmer response was a pure, raw reflection of his character; determined to direct the conversation away from their personal grievances. And while yes, his personality clashed with Viserys' more measured approach to rulership, this razor's edge called circle of merit was causing naught but deep rifts in bonds.

As he joined his side, Viserys kept looking him in the eye intently, remembering their childhood, filled with laughter and dreams of a future they imagined together, free from the constraints of adulthood. How many times he stood for him, and how many times he pulled him from troubles. Viserys deeply cared for Daemon; there was no second doubt about that. But the ever-patient one remained locked in internal debate, skimming through layers that brought complexity to the brotherhood, and while head physicians kept searching for the cure or at least something to alleviate his symptoms, potential uncertainty loomed just beyond their reach, where the wishful prophet struggled to grapple with its weight.

But finally he found the words that had been trapped inside him, '' I shall remember them, despite him not being in the court; it shouldn't ever come to that. ''

His brother might not like it, but he was telling him what he needed to hear.

“We are done when I say we are done.” He was more amused than anything else. Here he was, handing his brother the greatest victory he would ever have in his reign, every single king needed a war and a victory and he has handed it to his brother. “Otto Hightower, is a cunt. Have I not told you this before brother? How many times must I tell you this brother, trusting a man like Otto Hightower is foolish. Hand of the king, and yet all he does is keep you on a ball and chain. I can see Otto Hightower for what he is brother, why can you not do the same? Why can you not trust me enough, men like Otto Hightower have dreams, of something more than they ever have the right to reach ahead and claim, dragons forged these kingdoms, the throne that you sit on and now you have a man like Otto Hightower at your side, whispering in your ear, it is sickening.” As the prince leaned back, more amused that he had riled his brother up more than anything else.

“You seem to forget, I won this war for you, gave up a crown I had earned on my own.” As he liked to point out that fact, he had everything he could have ever wanted, he had a fleet, he had a army, he had a crown, he had a people that bent the knee to him and him alone and he had come back, and handed all of it over to his brother, merely showing him how easily done it was, for a real dragon to take what they wanted and not wait with there hands out, expecting to be given there due, he was not soft plump little prince, that was going to get drunk, fat and foolish over time, content with the title of prince and nothing more, he had dreams for himself. “If you cannot trust your own blood brother, then who can you trust, every single day, you become more attached to Otto Hightower, that you cannot even see the strings he has attached to you, you make for an amusing little puppet for him brother.” As he jests, truly he ought to have killed Otto Hightower years ago and dealt with his brother whining about that, than sitting here and having to suffer through this.

He remains as he looks up at his brother and just smirks. What was he going to do, send him back to his wife, like that would do anything, the vale cannot hold someone like him, it was far too small for his tastes, he belonged here, in court, right at the side of his brother, the place he knew his father would have wanted them both, working together and not at one another throats, but when he looks at his brother, all he can see, is a man with a crown, who is being played for a fool by others, being taken advantage from as well and viewed as nothing more than a weak ruler who cannot make his own choices, without Otto Hightower weighing in.

“The only thing stopping that from happening, is you brother.” As he rises up and walks forward, following his brother, like the younger would to the elder brother. He loved him, he adored him, when they had bene children, he thought so highly of his brother, that he wanted to be like him, he wanted his brother to be proud of him, but not once has he ever seen that look in his eyes, or the words from his lips, as he sighed and poured another glass of wine and walked to lean against the wall at his side and turn and look out to the city.

“Good enough to fight your battles for you, good enough to kill your enemies, but not good enough to stand at your side.” As he sipped his wine and looked at him, he was a killer, he knew it. He enjoyed it as well, he was good at it, as he stared at his brother, and wondered, why he had never taken to the battlefield himself, why he hides behind Otto Hightower and remains in the council room and not out there, in the kingdoms. “One day brother, you will look back and know that I was right, I only hope that when the day comes, Otto Hightower has not taken everything from you.”

[valeurex]

💬!

Send 💬  for me to make you a starter with a random line of dialogue from this generator. || @ozgog

" You must be mad, coming here like this. "

[valeurex]

⌖

Send ⌖ for the first 3 emotions my character feels when seeing or thinking of yours. || @korzion

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔧𝔬𝔶 ㅤㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 ( bc whenever she and Daemon unite mayhem starts ) ㅤㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔞𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱

PS: he hopes she's still not mad at him for shaving uncle Aemon's hair ...

[valeurex]

⌖

— zalisdarys

Send ⌖ for the first 3 emotions my character feels when seeing or thinking of yours. || @zalisdarys

ㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶 ( too many factors why he's worried about him & ppl around him ) ㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢

The son long longed for ... the firstborn. Strangeness ( non-coincidental resemblance ) he could see in Aegon's very first steps whenever he walked out in high dudgeon at the mention of responsibilities, and then there was this unexplainable urge by intuition that called for times spent in mutual solace than fall prey to irrational fears for the future.

[valeurex]

⌖ (not much active rn but this was too tempting)

Send ⌖ for the first 3 emotions my character feels when seeing or thinking of yours. || @nvrqn

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔢𝔵𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 ㅤㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 ( for all her family had to face ) ㅤㅤㅤㅤ▫ㅤ𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢

Whenever it came to his cousin, it was nothing but an overwhelming sense of joy and currents of nostalgia with exclusion of major stressors!!

[valeurex]

Send 💬  for me to make you a starter with a random line of dialogue from this generator.

[valeurex]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 — send 💭 + a topic to receive a headcanon about said topic.

[valeurex]

Send ⌖ for the first 3 emotions my character feels when seeing or thinking of yours.

[valeurex]

Send 💬 + a rumor and my muse will react to it.

[valeurex]

[valeurex]

Marya Hornbacher, Madness: A Bipolar Life

[valeurex]

Viserys: I have neither fought nor conquered, nor suffered any great defeat. >:( Lyonel: some might call that good fortune. owo Viserys: 8|

Viserys: but there is a part of me wishes I'd been tested. I often think that in the crucible, I may have been forged a different man.

Well, well we got a part here where he finally acknowledged he's not a monarch he wanted to be, the question is what kind he wished to be? Maybe it's just me but this part makes me strangely think about possibility that —- Daemon tried to 'awaken' this deeply sleeping part of his brother the entire time ... because he's either aware what lurks beneath Targaryen blood or in him or whatever ... and refused to reconcile with wasted potential.

[valeurex]

Now that I am roughly reminded of Rhaenyra's death day ( which happens to be today ) I will have you guys know that Vizzy ( in the afterlife ) would be so glad that he didn't survive to see this moment.

[valeurex]

"i have you." daemon

@rejectory / Daemon Targaryen.

" It's over. " He's gone. The Black Dread was no more. They lived through last of moments where the world saw the enormity of stygian wings soaring to take winds.

Ever since Balerion descended cold like one of dead autumnal leaves Viserys was nowhere to be found. From cavalry regiment to troopers to smallfolks and nursemaids, they all searched approximately with no clue of his whereabouts, and he ... he just wanted a moment for himself.

Daemon ( using his arts of tracking ) was first to find his brother in solitude, picturesque illustration in its effortless impressiveness upon floating laurels -- engulfed by river waters, sitting upon stoned surface framing the proper concept of understanding that from femorals below wholly soaked as if it currents could wash off regrets and re-write history of forfeit. " His liberation has finally come at once, " he tells him with near-intense earnestness for Viserys didn't feel to be flat on the ground but stilk on dragon's back. Lungs contained more of zephyric typhoons than remnants of sweet oxygen. Expression blank like an unreadable amalgam where obviously by Daemon's guess mourning was taking place somewhere within libraries of his reasoning.

Flicking and fidgeting with strange matter ( corckscrew ) , nails chipped off small fragments from it which at first glance seemed like a twitching act on a subconscious level than purpose. Beside him displayed an opened flask which through its dim transparency spoke about his struggle to finish a decent quarter of the mead. And then blacken scale sharped the carved angle; it prior happened to spike through the leathers of his riding suit amidst currents of turbulence when stead of the saddle wasn't enough. Seven hells ... ... he didn't know how intimate this stride would be for him.

Sometimes he thought about his ancestors, those who wouldn't be baffled, and then some of those haywiring exasperation up the spout; ride him to conquer, to parade, but no, not him. It was always a dragon's choice, wasn't it? Balerion allowed this exchange; to become his first dragon and his last rider. Engulfed the elder blood was, wholly, by avid voraciousness and fanatical need of something, something to immortalize the memory, carvings - no, embroidery and thoughts went on and on while his hands obsessively created ... [ ... ]

Aspiring smile sunlit by nature, typical in its die-cast fashion sighed to wishfully flourish unhindered; vainly unescorted by cri de cœur.

' I have you. '

A nod earned such assuredness for which internally, he was grateful.

Pivoting exhaustion drugging vitality of his movements as if loosening the stuck switch fairly reminding of the need to stop. Slumped shoulders lax in silent declaration as other neared his vicinity and remained there closer than a stone's throw away. Forehead temple gravitating towards knee of neighboring onlooker, leaning then resting in its support. It was then when he pondered a favor by filling each others curiosities with honesty. Vision shut as he spoke volumes.

ㅤㅤ'' Jāhor ao umbagon nykeā issi ao kesīr naejot maghagon issa arlī? ''

ㅤㅤ