This is an Armored dress. Designer: Fannie Schiavoni.

Kiana Khansmith
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@dyncstys-blog
This is an Armored dress. Designer: Fannie Schiavoni.
Female Pirate Aesthetic
Requested By Anonymous
❛ So I may roam wherever I wish until the dawn. ❜ from jaeyi
Admiration. That was what she felt every time the warrior opened her mouth. Kyra was beyond thankful for the opportunity to learn the art of swordsmanship and was even more grateful that not only was a skilled warrior teaching her, but it was a woman who was doing it. Just proving to her that she could become a force to be reckoned with, despite having the soft body of a Lady. She could and would become a storm that men all across Westeros knew not to tamper with. Sparkling emerald hues rest on the warrior woman a moment longer before she spoke.
"I have always done whatever it is I want." She admitted, nodding her head. "My father disapproves of many things that I do. But I do them still, for I am not on this earth to please any man, blood or not... I am the owner of my own body and my own thoughts. And I am glad to have found another woman who thinks so similarly."
@redjaeyi
“ oh, there’s something i ought to tell you. ”
Curious gaze lingers on a beautiful face that she'd seen only a handful of times in the past, but knew too well: a healer. Her name was Jeyne if Kyra had heard right from the voices howling about the taverns. A gorgeous little Lady indeed. Kyra both longed to be more poised like her and resented the idea of being so... Seemingly soft-hearted. How she'd avoided a run in with the healer before was beyond her, but perhaps it was laid in the fact that she wished not to treat any of the injuries she gained from fighting with the men at the taverns and out in the streets. Her bruises wouldn't be seen by anyone but those closest to her. Lyarra hadn't even been allowed a glimpse at the parts of her that were different shades of blues and purples.
"And what is it, Lady?" The words are soft, holding all her curiosity in it as she spoke, eyebrows raising ever so slightly to invite whatever knowledge Jeyne held to come out into the open.
❝ the night is dark and full of terrors. ❞
Indeed, she thought, the night was a terrifying time of day. Yet she had no quarrels about being out under the blanket of stars. Kyra found peace in the twinkle of the sky at this time of night, enjoyed the silence that smothered out any other sounds in the world. But she did sometimes wonder about what was lurking in the shadows, in the parts of the forests that she couldn't see, that was too dark to wander through. She thought of beasts with fangs and claws, and of icy blue dead eyes, staring, spying. Waiting for the right moment to leap upon the people of Westeros and Essos and all the like. And even those thoughts did not turn her from her adventures, for she knew that whatever happened, was bound to happen. No decisions would change what was coming their way.
"It scares me not." She admitted, turning her gaze to the Lady Captain. "I'm sure the creatures hiding in the night are nothing shy of the same creatures that prowl about in the day."
@baratheonshireen
“You picked a bad day to visit.”
Forest eyes rest on a face undeniably familiar to her soul, yet foreign. It was a rarity that she had found Maron to be in a terrible mood, had rarely seen him angry. She had witnessed him throw men across taverns when she got herself too deep in arguments. She'd seen him hiss and curse, but the look on his face was not one that she notably recognized, such realizations had made her feel concerned. Eyebrows furrow curiously over sharp gaze, staring up at the man that she had found herself calling a best friend in recent days.
"What's the matter, Maron?" The words are quiet, disregarding his vague warning. Whether it was a disguised threat or not, she didn't hold any fear for what would come from whatever he had to say. He was a terrible person who she expected terrible things from, but she feared none of the terrible things he was capable of. Her heart hurt in the lightest, knowing that there must have been some incident that pushed him to his limits for him to be staring at her and uttering these words, as her visits had never before been met with such negativity. "Did something happen?"
@krakenskiss
GENERAL
“Can you walk?”
“How did this happen?”
“What the hell happened?”
“I hit my head.”
“Did you hit your head?”
“Can you hear me?”
“Don’t close your eyes, stay awake!”
“Come on, stay with me!”
“No no no no no!”
“You shot me!”
“I didn’t mean to shoot you!”
“You stabbed me!”
“I didn’t mean to stab you!”
“Take the knife out!”
“Don’t take the knife out!”
“It was an accident!”
“That/this wasn’t an accident!”
“That looks broken.”
“I think my leg/arm is broken.”
“That doesn’t look good.”
“Am I going to die?”
“You’re not going to die!”
“Calm down!”
“Don’t panic!”
“I can’t help you if you don’t let me!”
BLOOD
“Are you bleeding?”
“Don’t move, you’re bleeding.”
“Is that blood?”
“Whose blood is that?”
“That’s a lot of blood.”
“Do you know how to get bloodstains out?”
“Why do you know how to get bloodstains out?”
“Damn, I got blood on my shirt.”
“Don’t move, you’re losing blood!”
“I won’t let you bleed out!”
“You have blood on your face.”
“I swear to god, if you get blood on me…”
“What’s your blood type?”
“Why in the hell would you need to know my blood type?”
WOUNDS
“That cut is nasty.”
“You have a massive gash in your arm/leg!’
“Don’t touch it!”
“Don’t move, you’ll only make it worse!”
“I’ll get some bandages.”
“You’re going to need stitches.”
“That looks infected…”
“Did you get bit by something?”
“There’s no exit wound, the bullet is still in you.”
“There’s an exit wound, the bullet went through you.”
AFTERCARE
“How are you feeling?”
“How does it feel?”
“It’s still not healed, but it’s getting there.”
“Let’s go home.”
“I just want to go home.”
“Let’s get you into the bathtub.”
“We need to change your bandages soon.”
“Get some sleep, okay?”
“You need to eat something, you’ve been through a lot today.”
“I’ll check up on you in a bit.”
“You’re going to be fine. I promise.”
*: ・゚✧ interrogation starters.
feel free to change pronouns etc as needed.
CALM / QUESTIONING.
“ tell me, what happened?”
“ did you see anything?”
“ what do you remember?”
“ do you remember anything unusual?”
“ please, try to remember as much as you can.”
“ every detail is important.”
“ and what happened next?”
“ and what did you do when all this took place?”
“ what were you doing around __ am/pm?”
“ where were you around __ am/pm?”
“ can anyone verify that?”
“ was someone with you?”
“ and you had nothing to do with it?”
“ and you weren’t involved?”
“ did you see it happen?”
“ did you see who did it?”
“ did you see or hear anything? anything at all?”
CARING / UNDERSTANDING.
“ you seem scared… is that why you don’t want to talk?”
“ did someone hurt you?”
“ it’s okay. you can tell me.”
“ you were just trying to defend yourself, weren’t you?”
“ we can take a break, if you want.”
“ everything will be okay, i promise. but you need to talk to me.”
“ it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. but it really would help if you did.”
SUSPICIOUS.
“ there is something you’re not telling me.”
“ i think you’re lying.”
“ you looked away just now when you said that. are you sure you’re telling the truth?”
“ except what you’re telling me doesn’t align with what we already know.”
“ seems to me like you know more than you’re letting in on.”
“ what aren’t you telling me?”
“ who are you trying to protect?”
“ so you really don’t know what any of it means? no clue at all?”
“ they must’ve told you more than that.”
“ you have to have seen more than that.”
“ and you want me to believe you don’t remember?”
“ and you want me to believe you had nothing to do with it?”
“ an accident? is that what you’re going with?”
DEMANDING.
“ i need you to tell me the truth.”
“ i need you to tell me what happened.”
“ i know you’re not telling me the truth.”
“ that doesn’t line up with the evidence. so… you wanna try that again?”
“ stop lying. i already know that’s not what happened.”
MAKING A DEAL / ASKING FOR HELP / DEMANDING HELP.
“ what do you want in exchange for this information?”
“ i’m listening…”
“ you’re coming with me.”
“ since you’re the only one who knows how to find them, i don’t really have a choice but to take you with me.”
“ fine. i’ll take you with me, but if you try anything…”
“ i can’t give you that. you know that.”
“ if we’re going to make a deal, you’re gonna have to ask for something a little more rational than that.”
“ okay. we have a deal.”
“ sorry. no deal.”
- ; phrases that really hit you where it hurts
“ did you really have to be that honest? ” “ every time i see you i just feel more alone. ” “ you changed me. ” “ was this all just a joke to you? ” “ i don’t want to know. ” “ can we start over? ” “ you make me feel so insecure. ” “ i don’t know if i can love you. ” “ every time i wake up i’m reaching for you … but you’re never there. ” “ of course it meant something! ” “ stop yelling! ” “ i gave up on you a long time ago. ” “ you think i care about you? cute. ” “ did you just forget about me or something? ” “ i still need you. ” “ i wanna say that there’s still hope but sometimes things just don’t go your way. ” “ you said you would keep trying! ” “ no, you ARE strong. ” “ you promised me! ” “ fine. you’ll never see me again, okay? ” “ i gave you everything i had. ” “ your eyes can be so cruel … ” “ i can never do anything right can i !? ” “ i want my life back. ” “ stop crying. ” “ you should go. ” “ don’t come back. ” “ does hurting me make you feel good or something? ” “ just stop it. ” “ i was never in love with you now leave me alone! ”
krakenskiss:
bedfordwrites:
THE 1975 SENTENCES STARTERS ♛
sentences starters inspired by lyrics off their first album + eps
“boy, there’s something different about your mouth.” “you try chasing dreams, man it’s harder than it seems.” “we’re not doing it again, so leave it.” “i wanna see you but you’re not mine.” “i could hear you giving her head.” “all we seem to do is talk about sex.” “does he take care of you?” “we might as well just fuck.” “it’s not my fault that i fucked everybody here.” “man i’m so high, i think i love you.” “i was thinking about leaving again.” “keep your voice down.” “i’d rather be getting high than watching my family die.” “i love you, don’t you mind.” “get in the the shower if it all goes wrong.” “what if what they’re saying is true?” “it’s coming to the end of you and me.” “don’t you need me?” “i think i’m falling for you.” “when the smoke is in your eyes, you look so alive.” “i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck.” “i’ve been thinking lots about your mouth.” “i’d be an anchor but i’m scared you’d drown.” “god, i love the way you love yourself.” “for crying out loud, settle down.” “i guess i’ll never learn.” “i just can’t stop myself around you.” “you’re cold and i burn.” “i’ll shoot him if that’s what you ask.” “babe, you look so cool.” “what’s the fun in doing what you’re told?” “one moment i was tearing off your blouse, now you’re living in my house.” “what happened to just messing around?” “shouldn’t you be fucking with somebody your age?” “i’ve got a feeling that the marijuana is rotting your brain.” “i’d like to say you changed but you’re always the same.” “i know it’s me that’s supposed to love you.” “is there somebody who can love you?” “i like the way that your face looks when i’m arguing with you.” “i like the way that your face looks when you’re yapping on about him.”
BETH ‘| KYRA | KALENA
Like this for a randomly picked poem-inspired starter!
lycrra:
though she could feel her heart beat in her chest, there were periods she would swear it was nought more but a cold and useless lump of muscle. long since dead and too frozen to offer any true warmth. and yet it was times with her sister that reminded her that she still possessed that softness within her, that not all her smiles need be feigned. there was a lightness that few beyond her family and childhood could elicit from her, kyra most of all. “this is pretty.” lyarra murmurs, the corners of her lips twitching upward as she tugs gently at the others sleeve. noting the way her sisters eyes seem to be focused on it. “is it new? suits you. mama had one a lot like it once.”
she knows the compliment may seem frivolous to her ( the cerwyn’s had never put much stock in appearance, though perhaps that was a trait of many northerners when the snows tended to leave a frostbitten exterior ) but still she felt the need to say so. she would bolster each and every part of her sister always, as was her job.
it comes as no surprise to her to hear that kyra seeks to march with the rest north. the youngest cerwyn had always been a warrior at her core. if lyarra stood as the mind, then kyra was most certainly the heart. where logic and reason had guided her every move, her sister was ruled by her emotions and no one would be able to stand in her way once she had set her sights on something. not that lyarra had any urge to stop her. if she had it her way, as she often did these days, she would be stood at her side when the knight king crossed the wall. “this is our war, not just the men. they will need every capable hand if we want a chance at survival.” the thought of her sister amongst a bloody battle is enough to halt her heart altogether, but she knows there is too much truth in all she says that it overrules her fear. “seek out the king. he wants as many swords in his army as possible, no matter if you wear a skirt or not. he might know of an able trainer to suit?” serious arched brows soon dissolve into a groan as her palm connects with the other’s shoulder in a playful shove. “don’t! what i don’t know won’t hurt me so i would much rather you keep any brawls to yourself to say me the stress.”
her seemingly never-ending curiosity is piqued then, dark eyes widening as her lips part with offence. “you’d keep such a detail from me when it is the first intriguing thing i’ve heard in weeks? whatever happened to sisterhood? kyra you must tell me.” small hands wrap round her sister’s wrist, a pleading look in her eye that serves to make the winter’s widow appear years younger than she feels. hardly ever did she get to indulge in such small jest filled matters and she would take full advantage of it whenever such a chance came along. “approval aside, can you see a match there? is he handsome?”
Kyra was confident, and yet she was not. Satisfied with her skills and her words but not with her skin and her bones. The young Cerwyn girl knew that she was not the prettiest in the crowd, knew that there were girls like her sister, with perfect faces and perfect silhouettes. Knew that there would always be a girl who was worthier because she was prettier. So she didn't enjoy trying to be beautiful, for it was only trying to be something that she wasn't: the main thing that she despised. She liked how it felt though, the short periods where she felt pretty. Where she felt like she stood out in a crowd because she was a gorgeous face. They were rare, but many happened when she wore dresses. Nothing pink and sparkly, nothing typical for a lady, but the dark ones, the plain ones, that were gorgeous and simple, that made her feel like she fit. Like she actually was meant to be who she was born, and not like she had been born in the wrong place, to the wrong family, to the wrong people.
For Lyarra to say that she liked her dress, this one is her favorite, being the one that made her feel all things she wished to be: pretty, powerful, meant a lot to her. It put a small smile on her lips, and the idea of her mother, so unlike her in appearance, having an eye for something similar sat nicely with her too. Kyra felt at times like they shared not the same mother. Her brothers and Lyarra looked so much like her, Lyarra, more than the boys of course... But looking at them, one could tell that they were her offspring. But not her. Kyra was all her father. So to know that they must have something in common, this taste in apparel, made her feel right.
Letting her sister continue to speak, Kyra finally began to laugh when the woman started to lose her mind over her refusal to tell her the name of the company she'd chosen to keep in recent days. Her eyes rolled playfully as Lyarra begged, pleaded to know more before she posed that question: is he handsome? Maron's face flashed in her mind, the devious smile that made even the most stalwart warrior's knees weak, the eyes that had the ocean swirling in them, a jawline so sharp that it could cut... "Oh yes," she hummed, nodding her head. "Devilishly so, sister. Probably one of the most attractive men I've laid eyes upon." Her eyes drift to the window, eyes seeking out the sea. Her love for him, despite their activities together, was purely platonic. But she could admit that there was love for him; if he were to get hurt, she would lose her mind. Gods have mercy on whoever she deemed at fault. He made for a good companion, making her feel unique and enjoyable, letting her be who she was at heart. But, yet, at the same time, he was the cause of all her turmoil. He made her think that she would have been better suited for a life at sea, than being on land. That she was Iron, born wrong. The thoughts ate her up at night.
"He's a captain." She mused, pursing her lips a little as her eyes remained outside. "He's Ironborn, with a terrible, terrible reputation, which is why I know that even if you were able to accept that company, father would have me home in a heart beat if only to get me away from such men. But he is not cruel with me." Her eyes drift back to her sister, and the softest of smiles grace her lips. "He is my best friend, Lyarra. I don't feel like.... Like an outcast, around him and his men. I feel like I belong, like who I am isn't... Wrong." She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "But he has terrible, terrible ideas. If I let him have his way, he would ride North to see father with me, if only to freak him out, so that he would stop sending men my way."
krakenskiss:
Maron was no humble fool, he knew the appeal he had on pretty maidens who saw him as everything they shouldn’t want packed up in a tall, handsome, scandalous package that smiled at them and uttered the pretty words they wanted to hear until they either ran back to their fathers in fear, or fell, as Kyra had, into his bed with all reservations put aside until the time came to face their consequences. Men too, seemed to like him in this way, the ones who were open to such things, of course. He supposed it had something to do with subduing and dominating a man they thought an other, an enemy, a scourge from the sea. It did not bother him either way, and he sought pleasure from wherever it was offered.
Very few offered him such pretty words in return as Kyra, who blindsided him with the use of words like beautiful that seemed to clash with every other facet of his personality, but somehow sounded true off her tongue. So beautiful she was, tiny and delicate on the outside, but so steely and thorned on the inside like a fair rose blooming through the snows of winter - such flowers did not grow in the Iron Islands, and the newness of all the she was provided great distraction from the wariness that plagued him whenever he removed himself from the languid relief of being in bed beside her.
“As long as you know that your body is your own, it matters not what these fools who your father throws at you with such poor aim think of it. How lucky I am that it is, and that you have such poor taste in men.” He laughed, cutting off any of her protests at his comment laced in sarcasm with another long, drawn out kiss. Perhaps that was a hypocritical statement from a man who had taken a salt wife but he knew such truths did not present themselves popular to these mainlander women.
He never pretended to be virtuous, but he did not advertise the specifics of what made him so wicked in the eyes of those with far more moral merit. “They will never find out from my lips that you have been here with me - I would not seek to seal your fate with loneliness now just because you believe it is what you want having seen only twenty two name days.” He chuckled, a low, fond sound. “Though do not think for a second it will be easy for me to keep my mouth shut at my pride at having earned the affections of such a woman as yourself.”
The isles were a place devoid of music and song, and as a result Maron did not enjoy such things. He did, on the other hand, think he could listen to the sighs and contented whispers that were sung from Kyra’s lips as his lips navigated passage across her skin, biting it with warmth to counter the chill of the cabin on her bare skin. He was not a particularly giving soul, but he liked that he could give her this pleasure before she entered the marriage bed of a man who may not be so attentive to her needs, who might not take as much joy as he did in seeing her skin flush pink and hearing her voice keen with desire.
“You are far too much for me to handle already, Kyra, I assure you.” Tiny as she was, and as beautiful, there was no point in denying that Maron had bargained for far less than he had got when he first met the northwoman. “When you settle your sights on another, perhaps I should breathe a sigh of relief as well as regret.” He teased, knowing she was not one to take true offence to words she knew were laced with little truth. She had, of course, heard him make far more scathing statements to those with whom she found herself entangled in conflicts she could not win alone.
Kyra prayed, to his god and to her own, that he thought as highly of himself as she did. A man as gorgeous and beautiful as he should not have to doubt himself based on the things he had done, for it was merely his way of life. Only how he was raised. Kyra knew that had she been brought up in an Iron house, where she was given the same morals that the Ironborn had, given the same means of fighting as they did, that she would probably have just as bad if not worse of a reputation than he had. If she had been gifted that power by the Drowned God, Kyra would have downed any man who looked at her with a lingering gaze that she did not fancy. Would have slaughtered anyone who twitched their nose in disgust, or disrespected her in any way. She'd have sailed across oceans just to burn villages, where she would run free through their streets, cackling out her own war call, cutting heads clean from their shoulders. She could see it, too. Envision what a wild creature of death she would be if they had remotely the same upbringing. If she wasn't given the morals of the North.
"Honestly," she mused, "I don't quite care if anyone finds out. I mean, naturally, it would not be ideal. I think my father would... Actually, have a heart attack. My sister would scold me, but she's a woman of reason and would easily be able to understand how I fell to your charms." There was a laugh that followed her words, light and airy, as she smiled. "Though I think if anyone were to find out about our adventures within this room, it would likely come from the complaints of your men. They don't seem to fancy me once I'm on this ship." She laughed, guiding her lips to place soft kisses to his jaw.
His words brought a sense of pride to her. Knowing that even he, who was meant to be all rough edges and harsh words, yet found her to be a bit more than he thought he could handle. Perhaps it was just his way of stroking her ego, to keep her calm in his arms, but she did find joy in knowing that this man still, after getting to know her so well in these days, probably couldn't call her next move. It left her feeling a sense of power that she didn't think she was capable of feeling without having her arrow pointed at the eye of a man who believed her nothing but a girl. "I think you credit me too much," She mused playfully, letting her teeth scrape the soft skin that sat on his neck, before she leaned herself away from him, lounging her body against the sheets once more.
"Perhaps that is why I was born a Northern woman. No other part of Westeros would be able to handle my attitude, other than the North, but the Iron Islands would turn me into an unstoppable creature." Her body lifted out of his arms, and she sat on her knees before him, letting the fur she'd been using as a cape rest around her hips, her hands sat underneath the warmth, soaking up the heat that came with them. Her eyes drifted around his cabin, it wasn't that she was unfamiliar with the layout or the things that sat within, but it was that she was frankly amazed by it. "If I were to grow bored of the morality that exists here on the mainland, would you allow me to stow away with you?" The question is playful, nothing but amusing. "And allow me to take out the full lengths of this anger that exists within me? There are terrible things I wish I could do... But it is my name, the honor of my father, that keeps me from doing them. If I could appear somewhere else, with a new name, a new reputation... It would no longer matter. I could burn villages to the ground, and no one would bat an eye."
The words are quiet as they fall from kiss-swollen lips, and emerald eyes dance about the cabin they laid in. Her thoughts that often kept her up on nights she wasn't within these four walls coming to light, secret fantasies of being elsewhere in the world with no care of what her actions brought back to her. Wonder of what she could actually become, should she get the chance.
zcldrizcs:
dragons had affection for their friends. even more so for their mother , but her three children didn’t often shy away from the hands of her friends. when they were little they enjoyed all the attention. it was after they were stolen by the magicians in qarth , mistreated and chained as babies , did they actively seek out only their mothers’ hand since. nor did their growth and immense size often welcome an outstreatched hand. but her friends and advisors had nothing to fear from her dragons.
“ it was difficult , “ daenerys nodded. there are no written histories on how to mount a dragon , only stories from an outsider’s perspective or the stories viserys had told her long ago. when they’d first hatched , she’d envisioned herself upon one of their backs , but it had been years until she found herself in the air. “ a horse , ultimately , could be broke to accept a rider. not a dragon. there has to be a bond between them and rider. “
and only after drogon’s rebellious stage did he accept her onto his back , amidst fire and blood and potential death. she’d been exhilarated when he’d first taken her into the air with him , but also frightened. “ after that it only takes practice. “
She wondered what it was like in the air on the back of one of these majestic animals. Kyra could recall how excited she was the first time she'd ridden a horse; she'd fallen off of it a good many times before she'd managed to stay put and be able to control him. She imagined that Daenerys had felt what she had, but times ten. Riding a horse was simple, compared to these creatures. Less dangerous, too. Being near these animals alone were enough to pump adrenaline and excitement through the young Cerwyn's veins.
"I think that's quite interesting." She mused quietly, looking up to the Targaryen Queen. "That these creatures, which people so stupidly believe to be incapable of anything but death and fire, require close bonds and relationships to allow people near them in such vulnerable ways. It requires trust. These foolish people think that Dragon's are excluded in the ability to feel such things. That they are only weapons and things to be afraid of." Her eyes drift quietly back down to the resting creature. "And yet it is so clear that they feel as much as we do, perhaps even maybe more. The difference between our emotions and theirs is that we have a means of voicing our feelings in words that another human will understand. We're accustomed to our species reactions, most of us speak the same language here... These beautiful animals don't have the means we do to tell us when they are uncomfortable or frightened. All they have is teeth and fire, to show their discomfort and anger. We have words we can use before our actions... But any warning noise they could make would make any foolish member of mankind think they were going to kill them."
Breathing a little sigh, Kyra let herself enjoy the moment while it lasted. "Thank you for allowing me this experience, Your Highness. It is one I soon won't forget."
rcgna:
“aye you’re right. your lot ain’t nearly as fun as one with iron blood but beggars can hardly be choosers.” she quips, left eye dipping in a wink. to the untrained eye she was a woman of great fortune who enjoyed the company of strangers and friends alike, a bastard who flirted and batted eyelashes harmlessly for fun. but any who had hard the tales of the sea serpent knew full well the atrocities such a pretty face could commit. ragna had sent many a sailor to their watery grave with little regard for the lives they once had. for now she was happy for the northerner to see only the surface mischief behind valyrian features.
she hoists herself up onto a piling with an ever growing smile. at the very least she had found another to indulge her. most here seemed far too gloomy over deaths of loved ones to offer her the time of day. “ragna.” indigo hues glint playfully then as she bows her head in mock formality. “such a pleasure to meet no doubt an esteemed lady of westeros. who has upset you so? perhaps i can be your white knight and slay the men who bother you.” no doubt she could slay them should the mood strike her, but it would have little to do with a stranger’s problems.
Perhaps when the time came for them to navigate to new places, Kyra would ask to take up a position on Maron's ship. Surely she didn't much have a place to be there, she knew little to nothing about how they worked, and her swordplay was weak. But she was an excellent archer and a quick learner, and she was certain that she could learn how to throw her anger into every movement of an ax or a sword or whatever it was that she wielded. Besides: she longed to smell the ocean from atop a moving ship.
Still grinning, Kyra heaved a little sigh, rubbing a hand down over the fabric of her pants, looking with squinting eyes back towards the castle she'd fled from. "Frankly most men anger me." She admitted, laughing. She felt that this Captain she'd stumbled across would be able to understand quite easily what she meant, what she felt. "My father thinks I need a man who can level out my anger. I think he's more afraid that if I keep going on the path that I've chosen, I'll end up a dead woman on a battlefield no one will live to remember or mourn. But the men he sends me are ugly little creatures with no interest in letting me keep my body as my own." She had never wanted a man who would not accept all of her for who she was. She had tasted it now, too. The relief that comes with being around someone who understood her, who accepted her, who thought she was pretty amazing just as she was. And she refused to settle for anyone who treated her as anything less, more so now than she had a few moons ago. "But I think I have them handled pretty well, running back to their lands with their tails tucked between their legs."
She moved to continue her trot towards the wooded area where she often practiced, far away from prying eyes, intending for the woman to follow her. "And what have you so bored, Ragna? From the sailors I have met so far they're all quite adept at finding chaos here on the land, picking at the easily ruffled feathers of the higher up nobles that linger about. Picking fights in taverns," or watching her pick fight in taverns, "do those things bore you?"
lycrra:
despite it being the role of every elder sister since the dawn of days, lyarra had never taken joy in scolding the others. if she had learned anything at all from the misfortunes that had befallen her, it was that life was shorter than most ever expected. far too short to spend most of ones days unhappy. and that was all she truly wanted for kyra, a life full of more happiness than her own. there were moments in life that were set in stone, one day her sister would have to take a husband but she would ensure it was a man that deserved each and every part of her. not someone who sought to change kyra into a mould she would never fit, such a man would likely never survive such a storm anyway. “chin up. there won’t be any marriages with the dead marching toward us. perhaps you owe the night king your thanks.” the elder cerwyn daughter’s lips twitch into a wry smile, her humour had not entirely deserted her.
it was in her nature to take blame upon herself, especially when it came to the family she feels she has failed for her years. as the first born daughter of a great northern house she had always known that any marriage she made would be born of duty first and love second. when one was raised with such a notion then it was not difficult to come to terms with and yet she had been unsuccessful in every match. now such a burden fell on kyra’s shoulders and her family’s name would remained tainted in the great histories to come because of her own misdeeds. no doubt the other’s resistance to marriage had spawned in some part from the dire ends of lyarra’s.
the sullen beauty stands from the desk, moving to perch on the edge of her bed as she peers down at her sister with a small smile. despite her youth, it was clear how much she really had grown up. though she may not think so now, lyarra was certain kyra would make a reputable lady of a keep one day. her strength, knowing when something right. a lady did not have to be a meek and submissive shadow of herself, perhaps she might understand that at wars end. when the world hopefully saw women for more than property to own. “thank you. they’ll appreciate any words you have for them no doubt. there is little else we can offer.”
a huff of laughter leaves her as she drapes herself gracefully across the bed beside her, eyes rolling before landing on kyra. “i’ve no time for boys, and they have even less for me. i shall have to live vicariously through you instead.” there was the odd visitor to her chambers of course, a luxury she had granted herself in the aftermath of her tattered reputation. men spent evenings with the winter’s widow, content with the knowledge that neither would ever ask for more than that. but matters of the heart were something else entirely. “my days are spent nursing miners, riding astra or swaying the minds of foolish little lords. i train too, garrick has been patient enough with me to teach the ways of the sword. basics but it is better than knowing nothing at all.” lyarra shifts onto her side, head propped up by a small hand as she arches a brow at her little sister. “and what do you do all day? i hardly see you so you must be quite the busy bee.”
There's a sense of melancholy that lays itself around the girls of Cerwyn's name. Lyarra, so beautiful and so sad, had vibes of a weeping angel. She always seemed so sad, and yet she never missed a beat in being this beautiful unearthly creature. Kyra was much the same and yet leagues different. Instead, she was always seemingly sorrowful, but no one could pinpoint why or how it even came across. She did her best to smile and play around and make jokes with those who could still handle the unending temper that erupted without much of a warning. But it was clear that those smiles were not always reaching the parts of her that a smile was meant to achieve, and most times her jokes fell short of what they were expected to be. She was not the unearthly beauty that her sister was. Instead, most would likely compare her more to the likes of a storm. A war. She was angry and violent and explosive; she was not small; she was not quiet, and she was not beautiful. She was death and tears shed in anger. She was salt; better of she would have been, to be born of Iron: a thought that tore up her insides nightly.
Her eyes remain on the skirts of her dress. Had she had more reason to wear them more often, she would. Most must have thought she hated these damned things, for she rarely wandered about in them. Usually, she found herself dressing like a man, armor and pants and shirts. But today she had wished to change things up, adorning the long black gown. The dress was relatively simple, long and flowing, no real design to it. But it made her feel pretty. Even though she thought she was not such things, this dress had the power to make her feel everything that she was meant to be: powerful and pretty. It definitely turned heads, definitely caught the attention of those around her, and she felt like she could take over the world in the thing, even if such thoughts were silly.
"Me?" There's a small laugh. How her time was spent was by no means something that would ever be approved of. She could leave out details and still it was likely that her sister would frown at the idea of the company she had found herself so fond of keeping in recent days. "I train a lot." She admitted, steering herself away from her company for the time being. "I have no real trainer just yet, but I hope to find one that can suit me well enough. But I'm hoping I can get good enough at swordplay or even continue to advance my skills with archery so that King Robb might consider letting me be a part of his army." She knew her sister would likely worry, thinking about the idea that she might end up on the battlefield. But it was where Kyra thought she might belong. "I spend many nights in the woods, doing everything I can to prepare myself. Otherwise, I'm most likely fighting men in taverns." She giggled once more, finally lifting her gaze to stare at her sister.
Smiling a little now, the young Cerwyn lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. "I have made a friend. Definitely not one you or Father would ever approve of. But I spend quite a lot of time with him, I would like to think he embraces my attitude quite nicely. And he keeps me from fights that I cannot handle. And should I still pick those fights, he does intervene. He and his men have sharp tongues, and I feel like I fit among them fairly perfectly. But I will leave him nameless for now."
redjaeyi:
“What honourable reasons you have.” Jaeyi laughed, endeared by the selflessness of this stranger. Jaeyi had not been able to save any of her sisters when the emperor’s men had come for them despite her adeptness with the blade, but her heart bled everyday for them - to see this strange girl actively wishing to learn to protect her sister was enough to fill her whole body with warmth. Once Jaeyi was done with her, if she had the potential that she suspected, the Young Wolf would be lucky to have her amongst his ranks.
The girl’s excitement was infectious, and Jaeyi did not regret her decision at all when she saw how much her agreement had elated the woman in front of her. Little as she was, she looked fierce and certainly had the drive to learn. “You are not dressed for it, but we can start now, if you wish?” She offered, knowing all too well that sometimes one must draw their sword when they were least expecting to have to. “My name is Jaeyi, may I know yours?”
Her sister was her biggest weakness, and perhaps her biggest strength. A man could take her from Kyra and threaten to end her life if she did not follow his rules of the game, and Kyra would throw herself to his mercy, just to free the woman she wished she was soft enough to be. In another life, Kyra would be a delicate little lady, who was everything men wanted. She would be sweet and quiet, and she would be the picture-perfect daughter, just how she viewed her sister was. But that was in a world where Lyarra was happy and safe and free from the trauma that had burdened her in this one. But this was not that world, and so Kyra must be that hard woman she was. She must be hard, and cruel, and loud and everything any man who dares wish to harm her sister was terrified of in some form or another, to keep them from getting too close. To sacrifice her own happiness meant to bring her sister some that she so desperately deserved.
"My name is Kyra Cerwyn, I come from a house in the North." She explained with a little dip of her head, smile still blistering on her snow-kissed skin. "I would love to begin tonight. I know this dress," her eyes dropped, eyeing the black skirts that twirled with her every movement, kissed the dust beneath their shoes, "is not ideal for fighting... but I promise I have fought men three times my size in the likes of it before." Grinning savagely, her eyes raised once more, eager to learn anything this beautiful warrior had to teach her.
In time, she would be able to make her father proud. He would have no other choice but to be proud of this supposed weirdness that she'd had since she was a child if it was out saving the world.