open! 1/5 (but i'm easy honestly)
Myriame sat perched on the lip of a marble fountain. The heat of the air suffocating her. Her skin,usually the pale cream of winter, had ripened to an angry, stinging pink. She fanned herself with a desperate, rhythmic vigor, but the lace fan only served to blow the same stifling hot air.
She eyed a trio of beautiful Dornish ladies stroll past, their silk gowns whispering against the ground. They glanced her way, she was certain of it, and their laughter sharpened. It wasn’t exactly clear if they were laughing at her but it certainly felt like they were. They faded into the distance, their laughter ringing in Myriame’s ears.
Dorne really could piss off.
If she had thought Kings Landing was hot eight months ago, this was on an entirely new scale. Give her the North. Give her grey skies and biting winds, the sharp breath of the sea and the blessed chill that seeped into bone. Anything but this.
She glanced over one shoulder, then the other. The courtyard was momentarily empty, the guards retreated to the deep shadows. With a low groan, Myriame abandoned all pretense of being a high born lady.
She lunged forward, plunging her head into the fountain.
She held her head underneath the water and let peace take her. The water was tepid by Northern standards, but against her scorched skin, it felt a mercy sent by the gods themselves. She stayed submerged, ears filled with the dull thrum of the fountain’s pulse, letting the silence of the water drown out the oppressive heat and the memory of those gorgeous ladies. For a few moments she wasn't a lady out of her element, she was just a creature surviving.
The feeling of a presence behind her broke her momentary tranquillity.
“What?” she snapped, wrenching herself upward.
She looked a drowned rat, and she knew it. Dark, sodden strands of hair clung to her cheeks, and water cascaded from her chin, darkening the bodice of her gown. She blinked rapidly, droplets clinging to her lashes as she glared at the intruder through a blurred, watery veil. Although she couldn't quite make out who it was, “Have you never seen a woman try not to melt where she sits?” she demanded, her voice sharp.