dark wings / dark words

lady of raventree hall

[born-baratheon-way-blog]

   Queen Betha Blackwood, known as Black Betha, was a member of House Blackwood who became queen consort to King Aegon V Targaryen.

   While Betha and Aegon had married for love, Betha assisted in arranging politically advantageous betrothals for their children. The youths resisted Betha’s and Aegon’s plans, however, and the children instead married for love as their parents had done.

[corcnis]

thread tracker.

once again trying to get my shit together. below is what i owe !! and also, it’s my birthday.

nymeria blackwood.

got character ask.

serena lo.

got character ask. desmond snow. calder stark. reyanna bolton.

mya stark.

got character ask. reyanna bolton. garrick forrester ( open starter ).

[corcnis]

☾ ˚⊹ — ser oberyn dayne.

It felt like a small victory when he managed to pull a chuckle from her although her couldn’t deny that he was almost as surprised at his success as she was. Still, it was far more of a positive reaction than he’d expected when most of the Ladies that he met were all rosy cheeks and a coyness that he never had trusted. Everything always seemed far too practised from the majority of them and he was a man who thrived on impulses and the unexpected so the genuine nature of Nymeria’s reaction easily brought a grin to his face that was only widened when she had yet another clever retort ready for him. It seemed as though she was not a woman who would be easily disarmed and that was perhaps one of his favourite traits in any person he met - one who was not easily cowed or intimidated in any way.

With little concern for her guards, although he did make the concession of keeping his hands away from Dawn, the knight stepped forward with one hand placed on his heart in a dramatic show of sincerity. “Do not worry, my lady, if you are worried about having competition for my affections you are the only one who has received such treatment on this journey.” Despite them being said in jest with the intention of perhaps winning another laugh or perhaps a smile from her, there were for once true. Oberyn had never been one to shy away from a little flirtation or indulgence but those were his plans for the way back when Winterfell and the tragedy that had befallen it was his current focus, all distractions left behind in the wake of his determination to do something where his father refused.

A chuckle comes from him again and ever the proud Dornishman he can only appreciate the mention of one of his country’s produce. “Well it seems only right that I try to match one of our finest exports if I have any hope of every being considered one myself.” The words were light but there was no denying that underneath all the levity there was a deeper meaning to the words when as much as he would be content with accomplishing small deeds he did want to be worth of his title and perhaps remembered as a man from Dorne to look up to. A little shake of his head is given but the smile remains n his features. “On the contrary, beauty is a thing that only grows and the more you see it the more you appreciate it.”

“Those tales do not paint the most accurate picture of knighthood.”  It would be a lie to say that a young Oberyn hadn’t been impressed by the tales of their heroic but he had quickly begun to appreciate that it was the smaller deeds that truly mattered - the ones that would remain unsung but perhaps change someone’s life for the better. “I’m afraid I can count on one hand the number of damsels I have had the pleasure of rescuing, those rogues with forked moustaches are rather elusive as well.” His hands moved to rest on his hips, the knight pulling himself up a little taller and straightening his shoulders as he did so as though he was presenting himself for inspection. “Fair and selfish, perhaps an accurate capturing of me, although I must bid you not to forget dashing and handsome as well.”

Once again his joviality is set aside for something all together more serious and solemn when the events would never cease to play on his mind and it only seem to make things worse to know that there were so many witnesses - the only silver lining to that being that there were more to spread the word. “I’m sorry you had to witness it - that anyone had to.” It was not his crime to apologise for and yet he knew how images of such things could haunt even those innocent of any blame. There was blood on his sword that he would always feel penitent about but nothing plagued him more than the deaths that he hadn’t been able to prevent, the weight of their lives threatening to crush him at times. In another life, one where the world was so much kinder perhaps he would feel no need to be a fighter but for now he would always take up the mantle of crusader whether anyone wanted him to or not. 

“is that so?” another surprised look, her brows rose in amusement. “than i must express my sincerest sympathies to hear that you have found such substandard company on your journey north. you must have been quite lonely along the way.” nymeria flashed him a cheeky grin, before turning her gaze back to the waters. a daughter of the riverlands, there was such comfort and peace in the sound of running water--its very spirit an invocation of home. “i believe our finest export is ravens, so perhaps it is best that i not squawk about demanding dried corn and delivering letters. if that were the case, i am sure i would have no hope of importing fine wines nor becoming an export myself.” the riverlands was known well for their wine, but it carried a certain tartness that was characteristic of the more sour reds in dorne.

“perhaps.” the syllables dragged out in pensive pronunciation. if the darkness in the world sometimes overpowered it’s ability to bring out the sweet--giving renewed appreciation for the beauty in everyday things--than it stood to reason that perhaps an abundance of good might not ruin the beauty. 

“no, i suppose not.” nymeria agreed, having seen in metered exposure the devastation such lifestyle wrought. even as a girl she had known better--though she had toiled endlessly to preserve such fantasies in the hearts of her sweet sisters--and could remember the agonizing, slow deaths of those of her father’s men ( at least the ones who were unfortunate enough to make it to raventree hall from whatever battlefield they’d been injured upon ). it was a subject that could easily lend itself towards the more troubling aspects, but ser dayne brought a certain lightness to conversation that even she could not help but find contagious. “it sounds as though we’ve rescued a similar number of damsels.” a dark brow rose in amusement, the truth of the words sounding as if a joke completely. there had been a few women whose lives were hopefully extended by the learned, healing hands of lady blackwood, though there were no songs of it. “you may have to up your game, ser.”

as he straightened his posture, nymeria subconsciously took the cue as well--straightening her back and glancing over at her men who stood at lazy attention as they prattled away.the moisture of the north wrinkled her skirts and she smoothed them absently. “and modest.” she countered, unable to sustain a breathy chuckle. “gods forbid we forget what i can only imagine is a renown humility.” she wondered if hubris would benefit her more at court and made a mental note to consider it further on her ride home. a solitary woman by nature, she knew that her greatest instincts would not sustain her.

as lovely as the levity was, it could not last for long before the topic that loomed over the seven kingdoms like a shroud was recalled. as he apologized for her having bared witness nymeria looked away. teeth worried at her lower lip--the sharpness a welcome distraction. she had seen a great many things and none of them had been as terrifying. with no true friends at court, she had never felt more alone in that moment. wishing she could bury her face in her father’s cloak as she had in her girlhood, nymeria realized that there was no one left to find refuge in but herself. strength was requisite and now, more than ever, her own personal pursuits were weighed lighter than the responsibilities she had as the lady of her house. 

“it was a dreadful thing,” she agreed, tugging at the delicate embroidery of her dress sleeves as she continued to chew at her lower lip. “but i’m not sure i would have believed it myself had i not--” she interrupted herself with a short exhale and brave smile, smoothing her hair as the wind blew it out of place. “--if i hadn’t been there.” considering her next words carefully, she paused inhaling the sweet winter air before beginning again. “there’s something darker at work than the usual sort of macabre that accompanies such moves for power.” nymeria only wished she knew what it was, as if somehow knowing would give her the ability to do something about it. she was no warrior nor diplomat or queen; the weight of helplessness was staggering.

[corcnis]

☾ ˚⊹ — bryn erenford.

“If you still notice people’s eyes, My Lady, I doubt you have drunk enough.” The words should have been delivered with bravado, the same vigour with which he would dress down nobility for their blindness to the suffering of any bellow their station. Somehow he could not muster it however, and shame was evident in his voice. He was drunk, not quite slurring, but not acting as was decent either. He had possessed breeding once, even if years as a travelling hedge night had beaten some of it out of him, and he knew that his load deliver, if not his sentiments, were fulled by a want for attention, and not genuine moral indignation. 

Yet he could not let this Lady shame him, she spoke softly, logically, no doubt in an attempt to woo him into a false sense of security, to force propriety out of him. It was a powerful weapon, a woman’s tongue, he had seen his mother utilise it more times than he could remember, taking circles around over emotional men, maintaining order. He could see her now, sympathetic eyes turning hard as her house marched young men to their deaths, feasting all the while on their produce, whist their families fields were set aflame by their enemies. Sacrificing small-folk like unwanted toys. He could not conceive of any action she could take, any role she would play, that would remove herself from the reality of her place in a world scorched by war and neglect. No. He would not let her shame him into silence. 

Could this simply be another trick? Sympathy she only displayed when forced to face people so numerous they were easily forgotten? His gut said that it was, yet their was such sincerity there, if she was a liar she was undoubtedly the best he had encountered. “No? Then what would you have me say? I was good once at singing songs to please the ears of my Liege Lords. Boosting their egos, confirming their horrors, and cursing their enemies. Perhaps I could do it again, but you would need to tell me what song to sing. Shall I sing of their starving? Or perhaps of their bodies, littering the path between north and south in the riverlands? No. I think such a song would be too pleasant. It tells only of suffering, which is so often romanticised. What if I instead sing a song of villages who have closed their gates to all outsiders, would rather see millions starve outside their gates than risk the danger that an outsider provides. Of the men who have survived, killing others who struggle over food, because only one of them will eat this night, and will be slayed by another the next night. Somehow all seem to suffer except those responsible for the death. Those who caused it, and perpetuate it, in their search for more power, larger lands, and prettier wives.” That final word was a slip, exposing the personal nature of his grievances. “Are those the song you would have me sing?” 

His monologue was self indulgent, assuming she had seen no suffering, knew nothing of the destruction that had come from years of nobility squabbling over a chair. He was, undoubtedly, guilty of the very act he accused her of, allowing all of a certain class to merge into an unfair caricature. His assumptions, his inability to look closer, caused much less damage than that of the noble classes he was sure. 

“you, ser--” the corners of nymeria’s lips lifted into a barely detectable smirk as she drank deeply of her ale. “--are probably right.” though even with her escort, she did not drink so much as to entirely let her guard down. she was no warrior--like many of the ladies she’d observed in the north--but she was no fool either. cunning was not always a good match for braun, but sometimes it held its own well enough. lowering her tone to a conspiratorial whisper, she caught his gaze from the corner of her eyes. “i’m not entirely sure it’s possible with as watered down as the ale is here.” rolling her shoulders, she looked back to the glass as if scrying some greater truth in its bitter depths. there was nothing.

there was no faulting him for his apprehension. she had, on countless occasions, been the subject of mistrust among those without noble birth. it had taken years to win over those who looked to raventree hall for guidance and she could not blame them, though there was a deep discomfort int he acknowledgement that she was a symbol of the unjust plight that plagued smallfolk as an affliction that rivaled greyscale in some respects. she was no stranger to earning trust in a deficit.

brow knitted together, the corners of her lips turned down as he spoke. it felt decidedly personal, though she knew better than to take it as such. how many noble ladies had this man surely met who cared more about the space between corset eyelets than the concerns of hungry families. from the sounds of it, he had likely done the dirty work of a dozen sanctimonious lords who cared little and less for the livelihood of their people than the profit that could be made form them. she made no move to stop or interrupt him. instead listening intently--certainly his words revealed more about him than they did her. first impressions were not the time to dig into old wounds.

“you expect provocation--assume ill will.” she finally spoke, voice smooth and even. “i don’t blame you for doing me no kindness, ser. i am certain that many nobles in my position have given you little reason to do so, but i hope i can assure you it is unwarranted.” nymeria’s brow furrowed softly, gaze holding an intensity that was not well-manufactured. whether she was a good liar or not, it was not in her nature to be deceptive unless necessary. “if you are simply interested in performing the hollow words of others, than I am afraid I wasted both our times.” she doubted completely that it was his true intention. “i merely hoped for a conversationalist who was more interested in discussing reality than discussing the latest betrothals.”

[corcnis]

☾ ˚⊹ — lady laenah sarsfield.

Honesty and sincerity were something that she always found lacking in many of her peers, even in herself. They were all too skilled and practised in saying what was polite or what people wanted to hear in order to preserve the uneasy peace that had be struck and Laenah often grew weary of not only hearing honeyed, hollow words but using them herself at times. Except the woman before her seemed to go against the trend and that only prompted her to match it with something genuine of her own, as she always wanted to but rarely got the chance to. “I can only agree with you.” A soft smile follows her words before she elaborates more on what she found most remarkable about it all. “Still, it says rather a lot about everyone that things are still relatively pleasant in the face of such tragedy.”

For all she had lived in The Westerlands all of her life there had always been times where she had not felt at home there. Perhaps it was because of her Dornish blood or perhaps because there were times that she barely felt at home in her own skin. Still, whatever her misgivings and longing for a home there was no denying that there was still a certain pride in being able to say that she was born and raised in such a place when she could easily acknowledge and extol its many values. “It is rather beautiful yes, though of course we do not quite match up to the mountains of The Vale. The coastline is also something worth seeing, in fact I would say that all of it is worth seeing if only just the once.”

Politeness would have meant her simply expressing that Nymeria should make the journey when she thought that every place was worth seeing if only once when she possessed some of her mother’s wandering soul. Except she felt more warmly towards the other woman than simple politeness, even if it was so soon into the conversation. “I have been lucky enough to have seen much of it and would be more than happy to be something of a guide for you should you ever desire to travel south. I have always been likewise intrigued by your home although I did see glimpses of it on the journey here.”

Talk of the Gods always left her feeling unsure when she had never truly made up her mind about them. Her mother had believed strongly enough for the both of them while her father seemed to acknowledge them more out of duty than anything else, with Laenah falling somewhere between the two of them. “We will always pale in comparison to what they know and I doubt they will ever  be anything but a mystery to us. Perhaps it it better, I think it would take something away should from life we be privy to such knowledge.”

There’s a little pause before she decides to carry on. “I suppose it is more the thought behind the prayers that is what truly counts. I believe you can tell a lot about a person from what they choose to ask the Gods for.” Prayers were still made but she had always known that they were unlikely to be answered but she never stopped simply because she had always subscribed to the idea that if you do not ask you do not get.

nymeria often wondered if the members of any given court--to varying degrees, of course, as the north seemed to be more earnest than any other--would maintain their pleasant niceties throughout any tragedy. the sun could fall from the sky and burn a hole through the middle of the seven kingdoms and the lannisters would still pay their debts, the tyrells would still purport they were growing strong, and lady nymeria blackwood’s council would still expect her to scurry around the great hall networking with nobility and searching for a marital alliance strong enough to silence their worries.

did the pleasantries make the tragedy more tolerable? nymeria wasn’t sure. “everyone is trying their best.” even through reciting hollow words--or loving words heard one too many times--people were using all the tools in their arsenal to care for one another and survive despite the bleak outlook the mysterious perpetrators had left in their wake. “i think--” brow furrowed, she considered her words carefully before speaking. “--i think the pleasantries are a comfortable place to fall back on in tragedy. something familiar. it is a comfort to be sure.”

the talk of travel was easy for her; there had always been a restlessness in her legs that propelled her to leave raventree hall as easily as her heart yearned to stay. no matter what aspect of her life she considered, nymeria blackwood seemed to always exist in the liminal space between two dichotomous spirits--tugging and ripping at her at both ends. “the vale does sound quite impressive, but i would love to explore the coasts. it’s such a different sort of landscape than the shores among out rivers back home.” the diversity of life found along the ocean certainly was paramount in her intrigue. “and i would love to extend to you the same courtesy, if you would have it. the riverlands have a beautiful humility that i feel is often overlooked.”

nymeria nodded solemnly. knowing what she knew from her work with her maester--with the bonesetters and midwifes in town--she was well aware that there were many nobles who would not want to know such things. “I think you’re quite right.” allegorically, she could agree. if the gods looked down upon them from the heavens or simply right back at them through trees, they knew things that neither laenah nor nymeria could imagine. while she thought that the sensitive lady before her would very much like to know the plight of the smallfolk, she could certainly agree that whatever the gods may know, life might certainly lose its charm without its enigmatic mystery. “there is a heavy weight of darkness in this world--” that was more true than ever, grief covering winterfell and the rest of the seven kingdoms like a funeral shroud. “--but there is something so good in people too. i think ... there’s something beautiful in the mystery of it all.”

the analysis of prayer made nymeria smile unabashedly. it was a unique insight. nymeria’s prayers so often were salient, focused acknowledgments of transient hopes. she prayed for the betterment in quality of life in the realm, for her sisters to stay the happy, frivolous girls they were as long as possible. sometimes she prayed for herself, always feeling frightfully silly and selfish about it in the end. if nothing else, she was grateful for the focus prayer could bring. “and what do you pray for, lady laenah?” a curious brow rose in question.

[corcnis]

brienne of tarth, grey worm, jaime lannister

brienne of tarth: do you fit the mold?

“i–” nymeria began, brows furrowing in thought. she was neither a true lady nor a true healer–living somewhere liminal instead. “i suppose i do not.” and nor did she particularly aspire to. “much to my council’s chagrin.” she added with a gentle smirk. 

grey worm: how do you stand up for what you believe in?

“i do my best.” a genuine, but realistic answer. the right thing was elusive and not always easy to do in the moment–in situations like that she would perseverate on what she could’ve done better. “i think, when it comes to the most important things, i am quite good at standing up for what is right.”

jaime lannister: what would you do for love?

what would nymeria blackwood do for love? if she had the answer, would she even share it? having never fancied someone enough to entertain the idea of romantic love, she could not say, but she knew what she would do for her sisters and imagined that it would be something like that–ANYTHING. “i think the same thing anyone else would do.” she answered after a pregnant pause. “that’s why we’re all so heartbroken right now isn’t it? there’s nothing any one of us wouldn’t do for those we love.”

[corcnis]

reyannabolton:

GOT Character Asks

arya stark: do you have different “faces” around different people? bran stark: if you could warg into any animal what animal would you choose and why? bronn: what would you do for money? brienne of tarth: do you fit the mold? catelyn stark: do you miss anyone? cersei lannister: what’s your favorite drink? daario naharis: what would you do to impress someone? daenerys targaryen: do you find yourself looking back on the past often? davos seaworth: who makes up your family? eddard stark: where does your honor lie? gendry: what is something you’ve created that you are proud of? gilly: do you ever feel out of place? grey worm: how do you stand up for what you believe in? hot pie: what’s your favorite food? jaime lannister: what would you do for love? joffrey baratheon: what qualities do you dislike in others? jojen reed: what is a dream of yours? jon snow: what would you break your vows for? jorah mormont: how loyal are you to the people you love? khal drogo: what does it mean to you to be alive? loras tyrell: do you hide anything about yourself from people? margaery tyrell: how do you get what you want? melisandre: do you ever purposely manipulate people? missandei: can you speak more than one language? oberyn martell: do you believe in getting revenge? petyr baelish: what drives you? are you willing to do anything to achieve your goals? renly baratheon: do you live in the shadow of an older sibling? rickon stark: are you the youngest of your siblings? the oldest? the middle? robb stark: are you a leader or a follower? robert baratheon: are you in your prime? samwell tarly: what is your favorite thing about learning? sandor clegane: what is a fear of yours? sansa stark: what does it mean to be strong? shae: where have you traveled? shireen baratheon: what is something you’ve taught someone else? stannis baratheon: do people see you as serious or easygoing? theon greyjoy: are you anxious to prove your worth to certain people? tommen baratheon: were you forced to grow up too quickly? tyrion lannister: what’s your favorite book? tywin lannister: are people’s perceptions of you important? varys: can you keep secrets? ygritte: are you free-spirited?

CREDIT (X)

nymeria | serena | mya

[swordxfthemorning]

“ some people long for a life that is simple and planned ”

  A brow raised at the words of Lady Blackwood, already wondering whether she counted herself among the numbers who longed for a life that forwent any sense of adventure and excitement in exchange for accepting and embracing normalcy and monotony. Their interaction had been far shorter than he would have liked but all the same, the brunette had not struck him as a woman who would take the easier, more travelled road instead of staying true to her beliefs. If his initial judgement of her proved to be false and the Lady from Raventree Hall did indeed prefer to follow the norm rather than break the mold, however slightly, the knight would feel some slight and echoing disappointment. Whether it would be for himself or for what she could have been he did not dwell on.

       Plans rarely factored into his life when following his impulses and making sure he did what he felt was right always triumphed over leading the life that had been expected from him. He was Deziel Dayne’s son in only name when the two were as different as night and day, Oberyn shunning almost everything plotted and precise while his father lived for schemes and careful orchestration. Perhaps that was why he had always possessed such an aversion to such talk when even just the mention of his father could taint even the most joyous of occasions. 

      Still, the knight had always strove to hold a certain open-mindedness, almost to spite his father for being set in his ways, and if the lady wished to hold such views he could not stop er. Everyone was entitled to their thoughts and feelings after all. Each as valid as the other even if he did disagree on such a deep level. A rare seriousness weighs down his words, almost as if he’s hoping that if she is at all undecided, that his words might push her more firmly away from the mediocre. “Simplicity can be beautiful or it can be caging. But I feel those people who long for it or pursue it never truly live.” 

    Even though it had been far from his intent, it still felt far too much like preaching and that went against his very core when the only person he’d ever railed against was sat down in Starfall. A grin is conjured up to combat the serious words and instead he allows himself to relapse into the more lighthearted countenance that he usually possesses. “But of course, my lady, the choice will always be yours. I just feel as though it would be something of a crime to deny the world of your wit and beauty when to follow a simple life would be so restricting.” It was easier to embrace his Dornishness and dig deeper into some teasing flirtation than to think about the wider implications of what had been said before.

Drabble starters can be found here (x) if you would like one

[corcnis]

☾ ˚⊹ ser oberyn dayne.

Growing up, his mannerisms and ways of handling a situation had been the norm, with his father an exception when the rest of Dorne all seemed to burn as hot as the weather of their kingdom. His mother had worked to impress some values upon him and the odd lesson had been heeded but Oberyn still knew that no matter how well behaved he tried to be, there would always be an air of the impulsive and unpredictable about him. It always fascinated him how those from further north would handle his nature and it would be a lie to say that he didn’t enjoy making a habit of pushing them all to see how far they would let him go simply out of the politeness that they all seemed to cling to so tightly.

As it was, this lady was managing to combat him pretty well. She was clever, he would give her that but instead of her twisting of his words dissuading him they only encouraged him by setting something of an challenge for him unintentionally. If she was going to be determined to interpret his words the way she wished, he would simply have to make each word he said count and his meaning evident. “While the river and view are truly something to behold, it was you that I was most conscious of appearing in this state in.”

The grin on his face is unfailing, not even her avoidance of his flattery enough to deter him when she had still moved closer either in spite or because of it. “My service includes whatever you desire, my lady.” Head is dipped slightly as he plays it all up, gazing out across the river once more with an over-exaggerated shrug as he turned. “But I suppose I always have a bit of flair just by default.” Volatile was something that those who were around him often knew him to be but despite that his good nature usually triumphed over it and he had never seen any reason to hold back any of his emotions least of all when they were only well intended. 

People had always interested Oberyn, each one with their own strengths and flaws and to dismiss anyone as boring was simply the easy route. People were complicated, puzzles that he had fun trying to crack until someone else caught his attention. As it was, Lady Nymeria had his full attention and the information she gives about what her commonfolk say about her is telling. There may have been others whose lips he might have been sceptical about the truth but she had a sincerity about her that made him want to believe that they were true. “Then you are fair in both meanings of the word.” Grinning unashamedly, the knight continues. “Fair is being generous for me, I feel, see it’s actually me satisfying my curiosity rather selfishly.”

The joy and brightness in his features is lost once again as seriousness overtakes them, the thought of all the loss of life more than sobering enough. “That simply makes them all the worse.” It was a rare occasion that Oberyn weighted his words down with sombreness or a sense of responsibility but he did so with a hint of earnestness when he felt the need to prevent as much harm as possible from coming to anyone. “Then those who were there will simply have to take it upon themselves to ensure that no one is unaware and walks blindly into danger. Until the perpetrators are caught we have no guarantee of anyone’s safety.”

nymeria was contrary to the typical sort of lady that inhabited the riverlands, but she was by no means exempt from the typical blackwood characteristics. descendants of the first men, winter may have driven the blackwoods from their home in the wolfswood, but it had not driven the north from them. like her father, nymeria was proud and principled, but prone to a seriousness that prevented her from the ease and comfort that she observed of dornish passion. she was willful and drawn to her people and her house paid for it in spades as black as the unkindness of ravens that roosted in its weirwood tree, for her reclusiveness and disinterest in courtly affairs cost her the benefits that afforded the lesser houses with more ambitious lords and ladies. 

perhaps she and her sisters would likely not be offered betrothals from royalty or larger houses and, to the displeasure of her councilmen, it was a fact that offered her little discomfort, save the clever angle played by maester henly that asserted she would be wont to play such politics for the betterment of her people. it was this that she kept in mind behind the stiff and hollow curtsies and graces she offered nobles she care little and less for than the horses whose hooves had brought her to them. with so many masks, there was nothing more refreshing to look upon than a face made of flesh and blood--forthright in its own reality.

nymeria made no effort to supress the surprised chuckle as it rang from her lips at his words, blunt as a practice sword--a soft, yet much to her healing hobby’s credit, strong hand covered her mouth. biting her lower lip, nymeria let it go with a decidedly unladylike, but pensive, pop. “is this a common occurence for you?” she rose a shapely brow at him inquisitively. “meeting ladies on the road and swaying their good graces with flattery as sweet as dornish wine?” she was no maiden, at twenty-five nymeria was aware of her own beauty, but seldom heard it spoken so outright. “certainly, like most words, beauty must mean little and less than more it is used.”

the confidence of him seemed goodnatured and did not boast of the arrogance she had seen in many peacocked knights vying for attention of lords and ladies as easily as foes. such men felt that skill outweighed the usefulness of humility or the cloak and dagger she had learned in sneaking amongst the smallfolk to learn with her maester. “oh? then you are not fair in battle or in rescuing helpless maidens from the cruel clutches of swarthy knights with forked mustaches?” a smirk overtook her lips as she poked fun at the tales sung of knights from time immemorial. “you are not a hedge knight nor an unkind one. is it safe to say then that you are not also fair.” brow quirking, she added with good humor. “if not a terribly selfish one, too.”

it was hard to imagine such a cheeky man of good humor to be capable of such solemnity, but nymeria found herself seldom surprised by the depth of human emotion. his words rang true and, though it was rare that the smallfolk found themselves in the luxury of worrying about becoming the victims of some sorcery that smote the servants of noble houses into plumes of smoke and funerary ash, she agreed that this did affect the realm as it had those who mourned their fallen friends. “you are correct, ser.” her nod was sober, chest heaving with a slow, heavy breath, before continuing softly--her gaze avoidant as she narrowed her eyes to look over the lake, a shiver running through her. “it was horrible.” she had seen some truly horrible things in her life, but even veteran knights did quake ( she was sure ) in their restless sleep. dreams did haunt as sure as a ghost.

[corcnis]

☾ ˚⊹ lady araela rowan.

Araela did the only thing she could to to give some strenght to her friend, for she knew that if she had another choice, Nym would take it in a heartbeat. She wrapped her arms around her and hugged her, squeezing her against her body. “I wish that you were free to follow your heart, Nym, but women must make the best of her circumstances in this world. Yes, you didn’t want to be the Lady of Raventree Hall, but you’ve done a great job so fat and there’s a lot of things you can do to improve your people’s living conditions and keep them safe. Not just your people, but your family as well, your sisters, and I’m sure they appreciate your efforts”

The Lady of Goldengrove still kept the letters that Nymeria had sent her after and confided in a young Araela how she wished her mother had given birth to a healthy son. There was a great difference, between then and that somehow made them to keep a close frienship. Araela would have been devastated and furious if a brother had been born to her mother before she died, and Nym wanted with all her hear that she could have one to take the burder of ruling away from her shoulders. How strange life was. One girl wanted a brother and the other didn’t. 

It also seemed like this business od marriage was the same for Nym as it was for her. Well, not as often as her council members asked, but it was still a delicate and important subject on top of the table. “Well, remember that House Bracken has Blackwood blood running through their veins and the same with the Blackwoods,” she let go of her and took her arm to continue walking. “You have to be careful because if I remember me history lessons correctly, there has been a marriage between Blackwoods and Brackens to make peace between botth Houses.” Araela smiled. “Maybe your destiny is to get married with someone from that House.But Nym, talking seriously, if you do get married, will you accept the man your people choose for you or you’re going to make an arrangement like mine? You’re the Lady and the Head of your House so you could do something like that so those fools can stop bothering you all the time. It worked for me, why wouldn’t it work for you?”

Not even one year after she took control of Goldengrove, Araela began to assist council meeting wehre the only subject was the one of marriage. The old fools suggested Lord from the Reach, the Crownlands, Dorne, the Westerlands, and a few from the North, but Araela was firm in her decision, one that surprised them all. She was going to get married when the time was right, there was on question of that, buy she would be the one to chose her husband. She would marry for love, and her marriage will not be an arranged one like the one her parents had. “You could marry the men you want to, Nym, or you could enjoy having a lover first, whatever you want, my dear,” Araela poked her friend on the ribs. “Or, if that doesn’t work, you can come to live with me to Goldengrove and become my Maester! I’m sure it would be quite the scandal to have a but I never care about such things.”Araela then gasped and stared at her. “Once we leave this place, why don’t you come back to Goldengrove with me? Brings your sisters if you want, it could be just like old times, please, Nym!”

the embrace was welcome only in a small circle of people. despite their familiarity and longtime kinship, nymeria still stiffened briefly in the unpredicted show of affection. finally exhaling despite the tight grip, she relaxed into the embrace and patted araela softly on her back. “i am not insecure about my abilities, rae, but rather that my heart is not in them. i have no doubt of my own capabilities regarding rule.” 

nymeria frowned, wishing she had the same interests as her dear friend. softly, she pulled back, brushing her hair out of her face and letting out a small sigh. “it’s just that i don’t enjoy it; i don’t care for it. there is so much self-aggrandizing and networking. things take forever to be done and rarely is the outcome observable.” it was such a difference from healing. bonesetting and treating ailments had a tangible satisfaction. smallfolk said what they meant and there was little and less mindgames among them. 

“aye, araela, i know the history of my own house.” she rolled her eyes playfully. “feuds like that cannot be solved by simple, fragile alliances alone. they always restart over some small thing or another. old wounds do not disappear with deft stitching, yet they leave scars to remind them. peace is so tentative and while i bear no ill will, who is to say that whomever follows me in my seat will not find some petty slight of their own.”

nymeria bristled at the continued talk of such unions. in some ways, she could not help but be a prodigal, insolent child--so concerned with her own interests that she often could not perfectly place the fate of her house--her family legacy--above her own selfish desires, which bit at her like small river fish on the corpse of a drowned man. 

“an arrangement like yours?” she wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but she waved away the comments of the fools. “they are but old hens, clucking harmlessly to hear themselves talk. they have little and less better to do--” though certainly that had changed now. “--and they think i would be happier wed, save maester henly. their nagging is but that of a mother eager for grandchildren and nothing more.” it had been a long time since the girls of house blackwood were toddling babes. she wondered if time had softened her councilmen, sending them yearning for the sweet joy of children playing in the courtyard.

“i know i could take a husband or a lover should i choose.” she smiled gently, chuckling at the eager friendliness. “my options are not elusive to me, but i much prefer my solitude and independence. there is little else as sweet as my own company and i cannot interrupt it with stalwart companionship unless it is certain to bring me more joy than i can bring myself.” so far, no one had and, despite her desire to aid the smallfolk, she did find herself so often to prefer her own company. “besides,” she smiled warmly, “i cannot be a maester, not truly. the citadel would never suffer a woman among them no more than i would suffer to tolerate life among them.” in addition, nymeria was much more interested in the ailments befalling the commoner than the lord. penultimate among her interests was the battlefield, though thoughts of it could make the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand to hear men tell of it.

nymeria pondered her lady friend’s invitation, chewing the inside of her lower lip delicately. “i suppose i could, but i would first need to return home and address the tragedies the houses have been forced to bear while in my absence. no doubt they will want to hear it from their own lady, but after stability is returned, it would be nice to make a visit.”

[corcnis]

☾ ˚⊹ bryn erenford.

He noticed her as soon as he moved, it would have been difficult not to. None others were dressed as she were, wrapped in expensive materials, he was certain the wool that lined her coat had not been stretched with hair, he doubted she knew such a practice existed. She looked like him before his father’s death, wrapped in riches, even her plain travelling clothes were better than what many would see in their lifetimes. 

He was prepared to snort at her, to defend his words to a woman who did not understand them, who wanted an apology for his apathy. But there was something in the way she approached, not with anger, as he had expected, but with something else. 

‘Save your coin’ What good would that do him? His purse was too light to buy him anything else. What would he be saving for, a drink the next night? He would still need to go out and find more.  He dropped the purse on the counter and waved for the barmaid to pour him another ale. 

“Aye I can speak at a lower volume, but I do not know why I should. Is that not the freedom of ale? That we may shout our least popular opinions and feign innocence when the sun rises?” His words were undermined by the fact he had dropped his volume to a normal one. “What would you have me speak of?” He asked, his tone was light, but his eyes were serious, glued to her as he tried to read her reaction. “Shall I stroke the egos of the nobility, celebrate the recording of each of their deaths so that no matter their mediocrity they will never be forgotten? we can remember the greatest of their wars, and the best of their victories. I suppose you would prefer I do not mention the small folk at all.” He leaned towards her now, eyes narrowed as he waited for her reply, he was not sure what he expected, but she had surprised him so far. 

nymeria was no gaudy noble, far below par of the ladies of lannister or tyrell, but she did appreciate quality and--among trusted confidants--she would admit to the indulgence of some fine things. she had cut her healing teeth in the filth and blood of sickly smallfolk--skin itching below the coarse fabric of a dress no better than a burlap sack. it had given her a greater appreciation for the things that she had long taken for granted ( that she made sure her sweet sisters had the luxury of taking for granted ). 

so despite her metered frivolity, her dresses were clean from audacious display, but they were fine dresses nonetheless. her furs well maintained and pristine. her chambers held a spectrum of such garments ranging from courtly wear to the stained simplicity of working clothes for birthing babes and stitching wounds--two much separate lives--and, as she built up the name of her house for the sake of her sisters and her people alike, she found herself chagrined to be spending little and less time at the bedside of those same smallfolk and much and more time biting her tongue in the presence of perfumed lords.

“some of us, not you perhaps, good ser--” she began, tone even and non-accusatory, but with a certain assertive humor. “--but, some of us, prefer to enjoy our drinks without the prying eyes of every remaining patron burning holes into our backs as if we were ants below a child’s spyglass on a summer’s day.” she took a deep drink from her ale and scanned the room, looking casually for her guards and feeling out the temperament of those the man had surely infuriated.

smooth features mimicked marble in their calm and she regarded him cooly as he spoke, a light smirk threatening to break her gentle stoicism. “I do not guess that you would be capable of the task with a straight face, ser. and i would not ask it of you.” the last word halted strangely as her hubris cracked softly, brows knitting as if she’d been slighted herself. “I would not have you leave out the smallfolk.” it was a softer response, barely above a whisper. nymeria was not somber, but there was something genuine--a deeper understanding--in her tone. 

“forgive me, ser.” she began, pausing to drink deeply from her mug, which she cupped between two small hands--skin smooth, but lacking the newborn softness of her peers. “i am sure you mean to push to see where i might go, but i only request to hear more about what you have to say outside of the expectations a hollow maiden such as myself might thrust upon you. i--” she chewed softly on the inside of her lips, considering the weight of such confession. “--i do not fully disagree with you, ser. i feel for their loss of life, to be sure, but i find myself conflicted about the weight of one life over countless others.”

[corcnis]

☾ ˚⊹ lady laenah sarsfield.

When a smile find its way onto the other lady’s lips, Laenah finds it in herself to relax. While she would always be grateful to Lady Westerling for teaching her how to be a lady when her mother never could - both due to her being taken before her time and the simple fact that she would never be considered reserved enough for such a title - but for all her gratitude there were times that she almost resented the way that her lessons had made her doubt herself. The way that every word that left her lips no longer flowed freely but was analysed and weighed before she let them flow free when in reality perhaps herself would be enough. At least, on this occasion it seemed as though no censorship was needed when faced with a companion who seemed at the very least kind.

With all that happened, witnessing the deaths of people she barely knew, it was not hard to believe that the other lady had taken to the woods also. Winterfell, for all the strength it portrayed was buzzing with activity and she felt as though there was little to be done other than offer her sympathy and aid. But her house was on the smaller side and most seemed to have allies to rely on rather than a stranger whose kindness was unknown to them so she had removed herself temporarily from all the hustle and bustle that had surrounded them.

But here was an opportunity for her to take something from the trip North other than exciting memories of a place that she was unlikely to visit again. “I cannot say I am at all surprised that I am not the only one who sought something else to focus on.” She was never shy of the topic of death but it seemed too much to bring up so soon, forcing a more sombre tone on the conversation. “I agree.” A soft smile follows her words. “That is not to say that I have not had pleasant company so far but who would ever turn down the chance for more?”

Nodding at the woman’s introduction, she gives her own smoothly though a part of her always felt that claiming House Sarsfield as her own was a lie when she was just as Dornish and even more her own. “A pleasure. Lady Laenah Sarsfield.” After a little pause, searching her mind for the houses that she had spent day upon day memories she is almost confident that she has located the Blackwoods correctly. “The Riverlands, if I am not mistaken?” 

Dark eyes drift back to the weirwood tree as she gives a little shake of her head. In truth she was never sure which gods to pray to when thus far she had yet to have a prayer answered. Perhaps they felt the tear in her being and decided that what she asked for was not what she truly wanted nor needed. “No, I do not but I must confess to a certain curiosity about them.”

there is a hesitance in lady sarsfield that nymeria can find something kindred in. so many nobles are so secure within their gilded cage--so self-assured that what has always been will always be. nymeria lives on the fringe and feels ( sometimes ) too close to the inconsistence of life--its uncertainty. with so many well-rehearsed smiles disguising genuine fear, nymeria can hardly stomach another insincere curtsy. more than that, it is the smalltalk and hollow oaths of justice that produce the telltale flaring of a blackwood lady’s nostrils. there are so few expressions one can get away with when displeased at court.

the blackwoods might have been a house of the riverlands, but they would always carry the blood of the first men, just as the houses of the north did. there was a strange, vestigial sort of homecoming in returning to the home of her ancestors and, yet, it only served to make her feel more out of place. she had long romanticized the drifts of snow and the soft pads of direwolf feet as they imprinted tracks, chasing harts through the wood. it was beautiful, to be true, just as she had imagined it would be, but it was not home. she was out of place among the true northerners as she was those noble houses of the riverlands, those of the crownlands, and dorne. there was, as she had always known deep down, no magical place to cure that strange emptiness. perhaps it was a hunger felt by all men.

lady sarsfield did not exude this sentiment by any means and yet nymeria sensed something kindred despite it. their tentative smiles returned one another and she couldn’t help but be comforted by the quiet camaraderie of it, closing her eyes with a smile to feel the cool air on her skin as she let out her warm breath with a soft exhale. “it’s beautiful here. and yes, the company has not been poor by any stretch of the means, but--” there was something different to look upon the grieving faces of those whose loved ones had turned to ash in lieu of corpses; there was no comforting sufficient in the fall out of a tragedy so mysterious it transcended reason. her exhale was weak. “--it is hard to be indoors with everyone. hard to breathe, somehow.”

she smiled at the lady’s introduction, always curious about the regions of westeros that were beyond the murky borders of the riverlands. “you are correct. it is a pleasure to meet you, lady sarsfield. i have always been curious about the geography of your region. all of those mountains must be as beautiful as they are sure to be treacherous.” any incline or rough terrain could spell death for the livelihood of a horse. they were well defended in that regard, but surely there must be a great beauty in them too.

“they’re rather enigmatic i think.” she said, keening her head to the side in gentle scrutiny. “i’m not sure they hear much of our prayers, but they certainly seem to listen. they’ve seen so much, it’s a shame they care to share any of it at all.” sometimes, particularly in her childhood, it made her angry--what were the use of gods who did nothing but watch? but there was a certain comfort in knowing that the same trees that looked upon her with dead eyes had once seen her young lord father in such casual indifference. “i’ve never known if prayer did a damn thing for anyone, but at least it helps one focus their thoughts.” maybe that was the purpose alone.

[whoopty3-deactivated20231204]

tell me 5 things you'd put in a pentagram to summon me and I'll tell you if it would work or not

[corcnis]

nymeria // serena

[corcnis]

rarerpmemes:

* (  positive  personality   traits!

bold   all   that   apply   to   your   muse,   italicize   the   ones   that   slightly   apply,   and   strikethrough   the   ones   that   definitely   don’t   apply!

Adaptable / Adventurous / Agreeable / Alert / Appreciative / Articulate / Athletic / Balanced / Calm / Caring / Charismatic / Charming / Cheerful / Clean / Clear-headed / Clever / Colorful / Compassionate / Confident / Considerate / Contemplative / Cooperative / Courageous / Courteous / Creative / Curious / Daring / Dedicated / Deep / Dignified / Disciplined / Earnest / Educated / Efficient / Elegant / Eloquent / Empathetic / Energetic / Enthusiastic / Faithful / Flexible / Focused / Forgiving / Freethinking / Friendly / Fun-loving / Generous / Gentle / Genuine / Good-natured / Gracious / Hardworking / Helpful / Honest / Honorable / Humble / Humorous / Idealistic / Imaginative / Independent / Individualistic / Innovative / Insightful / Intelligent / Intuitive / Kind / Leaderly / Logical / Lovable / Loyal / Lyrical / Many-sided / Mature / Methodical / Modest / Neat / Observant / Open / Optimistic / Orderly / Organized / Original / Passionate / Patient / Patriotic / Peaceful / Perceptive / Perfectionist / Personable / Persuasive / Playful / Polished / Popular / Practical / Precise / Principled / Profound / Protective / Punctual / Rational / Realistic / Reflective / Relaxed / Reliable / Resourceful / Respectful / Responsible / Responsive / Romantic / Scholarly / Selfless / Self-reliant / Sensitive / Sentimental / Serious / Sexy / Shrewd / Simple / Skillful / Sober / Sociable / Sophisticated / Spontaneous / Stable / Steadfast / Steady / Stoic / Strong / Studious / Suave / Subtle / Sweet / Sympathetic / Systematic / Tasteful / Teacherly / Thorough / Tidy / Tolerant / Trusting / Uncomplaining / Understanding / Warm / Well-read / Well-rounded / Wise / Witty / Youthful

[corcnis]

☾ ˚⊹ bryn erenford.

“We play at war and the war follows us.” He shook his head, his dark, deep voice, feigned concern, sorrow, over the death, but his grin gave him away. How much had his family lost to the Nobility’s wars? How many lowborn families had suffered. Now it seemed the war had been bought to the rich. He himself had not competed in the tourney. It had been his intention, he never would have returned north without it. He had thought it would be a good chance to display his skills to the Lords and Ladies near by. When he arrived, however, he was turned away, he had lost much of his limited purse on the road, and had not been able to afford the buy in. 

Many of the patrons of the inn were giving him sour looks, not willing to lose his bed for his comments he spoke up again. “I do not mean to minimise the event. But I cannot help enjoying the irony of the situation. Either the Gods, or some invisible foe, have a truly sick sense of humour. We must laugh with them, or risk becoming the but of their joke.” Tomorrow, he was sure, the God’s would tire of the rich and return their attention to the poor. 

The inn was quiet, it was late, and most were with their own families, they did not wish to wander so far from home when danger felt so imminent. The few eyes present, however, continued to eye him with distaste. It seemed, once again, he had managed to attract all the wrong attention.  “A drink then, for any whom I offended.” He downed the one currently in his hand, before turning to order another. His purse was extremely light in his pocket, he would need to find another job before he left, no use holding onto worthless coin. “I can tell you all about the humour of the Gods.” 

a break on the road, the inn was hardly the sort of place for a lady. nymeria was reminded of this in stern, hushed voices by her men that were not so easily dismissed by the wave of a hand. not ignorant of her noble birth, she could understand their concern, but it took a generous amount of self-control to abstain from the gleeful freedom of an eyeroll at their concerns. with men it could so often be difficult to determine what they perceived as an actual threat and what they worried might frighten her delicate sensibilities--were she to have them.

cheap wine was not worth drinking, so far as nymeria was concerned, but ale was tolerable no matter how watered down and she was pleased to find a heady pint before her as she cut into the savory comfort of a meat pie, watching what few men remained compete for the loudest voice. so often it was the wheel with the greatest shriek that got the grease. it was not a surprise then, to hear that the voice offered dissent even in the wake of the unspeakable tragedies that plagued the noble houses. it piqued her interest and he would have her sympathetic ear. she had spent many nights helping maester henly set the bones of squires who might never fulfill their dreams of knighthood with the damage to their sword arms, seen purpled babes birthed that never cried, and held the hands of old dying men, clinging to life despite the confident whispers of the family they left behind reassuring each other that he’d ‘led a good life.’ no one sang songs for them when they were gone.

despite her philosophies, nymeria did look the part of a noble woman, toned down for travel; the position and delicate precision of her tableware another clear giveaway, as she finished her meal. as the man offered penance for voicing his opinions, as brashly stated as they were, nymeria rose from the table and approached the bar, a careful hesitance in her posture. “i am not interested in the humor of the gods, ser.” she confessed, her own relationship with her gods mercurial. “save your coin.” she did not presume to offer to buy him a drink instead, out of concern for insulting him, but paid for another glass of ale for herself. “i would be interested to hear more of your opinions on nobility and war, however, if you can discuss them at a lower volume.” a sly joke tacked on the end was the show of her own good humor.

[corcnis]

There is no end to what a living world will demand of you.

Octavia Butler, Parable of the Sower.

[corcnis]

thread tracker.

i have several half-written replies, but for my own sanity i need a to do list !! if i’ve missed something on nymeria or serena, lmk or if you’d like a closed starter. <3

nymeria.

laenah sarsfield ; @laenahs bryn erenford ; @brynerenford ( answering an open starter ! ) araela rowan ; @the-golden-lady

serena.

rook ; @winters-rook reyanna bolton ; @reyannabolton wyatt stark ; @wyatt-winterprince desmond snow ; @desmondsncw calder stark ; @wolvenstark