[exfortunas]

EXFORTUNAS. A dependent rp blog for theconqueringhq, adored by Jas.

Featuring:

Amarei Hightower, Lady of the Hightower. Intro. Threads. Pinterest.

Andrik Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands. Intro. Threads. Pinterest.

[nastasyafilippovnas]

Constantino e Catarina | Deus Salve o Rei | capítulo VIII

Eu não costumo gostar de despedidas, mas confesso que essa foi inesquecível.

[maidavika]

BRUNA MARQUEZINE VANITY FAIR OSCARS PARTY

[shambleslily]

his words had stunned her. she knew very little of the ironborns besides what she had read in her books and what word of mouth said about them but it was not often one spoke so open. So earnestly that it almost had her doing a double take. "It seems we have found something even my dear uncle could not win against or marry his way to control then." She answered. Aemma had to be careful with her words but he was right. Grief moved in mysterious ways and one does not overcome it so easily.

"Slight of statue? We cannot all be the height of trees and mountains, my lord. I dare say my brother took the height when he was born. Though I took all the personality." She joked easily in knowing her brother was not here to defend himself. "How could we not know if that is true or not though? Who knows, maybe my dragon blood would be useful in helping me conquer strongwine." She said as she looked towards him once more.

"We have all seen spectacles since we being here but I do not think you in silks would count the same " she said with a slight harmless jab as she joked. "Thank you my lord. I did no think I would have suit the dornish styles but it is refreshing to hear. Though I imagine if you shall ever wear the silks, the amount of them would be much that I think one of the stalls of the Bazaars would have run out."

[exfortunas]

"We have, indeed." He concurred, advancing by a single step before he continued. It was bordering on careless talk, but in truth, he'd found it so wearisome to measure his every word before speaking it aloud, that this felt akin to a weight slipping from his shoulders. "If you would have my counsel -- grief is the price we pay for love. Anger, for one's untimely losses, usually trails not far behind." Sometimes, he found, the anger was stronger than any anguish felt -- he had always found it a dangerously easy sentiment to make his home in. Anger was bracing, invigorating, but all the more destructive for it. "Do not yield your pain, only because it is expected of you." At the very least, he had refused to. Because he'd been stripped of agency for most of his life, he had every intention of nursing his grudges.

"Ah, height is sorely overrated, Lady Aemma. Who would wish to pluck a ripe, untouched lemon from a high branch, when you could just as easily help yourself to fruit on the ground others have stepped on?" A snort of laughter, before shaking his head when she spoke of strongwine. "If it did prove helpful, I suspect we would have already heard of it. People are not shy to indulge in Dorne. Even those with dragon blood in their veins." He pondered how there really was little else to do here, given how hostile the heat was. If one could not accomplish anything useful, they might as well drink and eat, and languish time away.

"It is not all silk. Princess Arianne cautioned me to combine silk with sturdier fabrics." He corrected with a slight, boyish grin. "For the Dornish are unaccustomed to tailoring their clothes to a man the size of a ship."

[gildedheirs]

Horses were a means to an end to Gyles. He could see their beauty and wonder, but that connection wasn’t there. Yet, if he saw a single cat roll around, his heart wanted to burst.

Then there were these creatures. Camels, so he was told. He found himself hovering with Andrik, skeptical at their prowess. It was a sight to behold - a Greyjoy and a Tyrell, both staring at a camel while standing in Dorne. Perhaps there’d be a funny joke about this moment told centuries from now.

“I cannot imagine how they can be sturdy. Their legs are sticks.” He looked at them with disdain. Were these creatures doing the same to them in their own language? They seemed to be patiently waiting. “At least you can’t fall off with their bumps. Still use their reigns, Andrik.”

Nevertheless, Gyles knew he couldn’t back out. Yet, why couldn’t they have gotten sand steeds? Camels? Really? With a resigned sigh, he climbed into the saddle, finding it feeling wrong. “Please don’t fall.”

[exfortunas]

"They are working animals, Gyles." Whether his words served to alleviate the other's fears or his very own, was unclear. Andrik spoke under his breath, his voice low and tight, his eyes never steering from the animal he was to mount so that he may explore dunes and trails. At his leisure, that was. Why hadn't he just opted for a bottle of infamous Dornish strongwine as a leisurely pursuit, if he was so intent on dying young? "They are vital to transporting people and goods across deserts." He parroted what the guide had explained before, and blinked once, then again, before he finally looked to Gyles again. "You could fall off. You simply would struggle to fall backwards." There had never been a better time for cynicism, than a man's final hour.

He did feel a twinge of regret when he considered his friend's expression, however, for likely heightening his misgivings. "Why should they dislodge us, of all riders?" Spoken in a pitiful attempt to inspire a sliver of confidence that they would, in fact, make it to the end of the trail.

Gyles settled into the saddle first, and Andrik followed suit, finding himself unsteadier than he ever had done at sea. "Bloody hells," he muttered, helplessly patting the camel's flank once he was in his saddle. "Easy does it."

[shambleslily]

"At least I am being overly myself and not even hiding the chance that I plunder and steal as i make trade deals while also exploring the seas and her vastness." She may have been trying to throw a quip at him but Dominic had heard worse. Has been called worse. "Cannot deny i am nowhere near rhe same as the other prissy lords that walk through these halls and act as if they are above us all."

As she spoke of his brother. He could not holdback his smile. His parents and his uncle were one thing but his siblings were the ones he would always praise. Always say they are better than him even if people said differently he would continue to be a brother to them. "I take pride in my brother, even if the sea does not call to him as it does my twin and I, he has better skills in things I do not."

She was eyeing him and wondering what words was she trying to pull from him. They had a certain understanding with one another for a few years now. "Im sure if you do any lord would coming willingly to try and save you as they would think I am doing something dastardly." Dom said. "Of course, for would dare want to dissapoint someone like you. I value any beautiful lady's opinion of me even if they are friend or foe." He said with a teasing tone.

"I would have pegged you as one to be looking for a match so eagerly. One would think you are trying to use the Crown for your own gain or worse in their eyes, upstage them, Amarei." The thought of him being tied to a other so permanently was a thought he could never fathom. For he only ever thought as being free like sea who beck and call he answered.

"Oh I never doubt myself. As for what I can offer, I do wonder if a someone such as yourself would be okay with doing it this open and freely. The dornish are known to never hide themselves. The things they do here are seen as the norm while back in the other regions would be scandalous. The idea of entertaining oneself with another outside of the silks."

[exfortunas]

"A word of advice. Refrain from plundering and stealing whilst you remain under our hosts' roof." Lips had contorted into a lopsided, bemused sort of thing, not quite a smile, but neither was it a grimace. In truth, should they pluck the Ironborn from a bustling bazaar and ship them back to their isles, she doubted anyone would do so much as blink an eye. "It does not do to bite the hand that feeds you." A breathy chuckle came next. "No one would think you a prissy lord. You'd need to learn to think before you speak, as a first." A jape, no more.

"That is a good way of applying your differences." Her voice had softened momentarily when he spoke warmly of his brother. It was a heartening quality to possess, a fierce love for one's siblings. "Worry not, my lord. I can take well enough care of myself at court." And where she could not, she would have her brother to see to her protection. Amarei did not doubt Kaito in the slightest. "Any beautiful lady's opinion. How flattering." A sigh tumbled from her lips, her disappointment mild, but evident. "I am not any beautiful lady, Lord Harlaw. But perhaps another, simpler creature will find delight in being likened to many."

When he voiced his surprise, she almost wished she had not spoken of matches at all. It was a fickle matter, and it sparked no delight that she would need to marry for political merit, should she have any hope of furthering her reach at all. "What are my options? Marriage alliances are how most obtain influence." She simply answered, pursing her lips in thought.

"So you are careful not to scandalise me and my sensibilities." Amarei did not avert her gaze, shifting in her seat so that her leg just barely brushed his. "Perhaps I should just let a Dornishman show me what it is they do here, exactly. If you wish to wonder, instead of act."

[sacrifyed]

amerei's assessment of the local landscape was wonderfully accurate, eliciting a lighthearted laugh from the lady celtigar. it was always such a treat to speak with someone who understood that there was far more to a place than what first met the eye. to the crowds spinning in the center of the room, dorne was simply a whirlwind of bright colors and unbridled romance. but the true magic was in the details.

“ a strongwine is a wonderful comparison. ” merryn hummed agreeably, posture fluid and relaxed as she leaned slightly onto the stone balustrade. she kept her eyes trained on the dancers for a beat, a picture of serene enjoyment, though her focus was locked on the conversation between the two of them. “ agreed. i've found that the loveliest things in life are those we choose to savor slowly, rather than rushing into them. one should simply enjoy it responsibly. ”

a sweet knowing look was toward amarei as the younger woman took of a sip of the wine. claw isle was far more traditional, and the reach beautifully proper, yet both women possessed an eye for beauty and luxury no matter where they traveled. “ our homes are build on such grand traditions, it does them feel quite terribly dull by comparison. ”

merryn turned her head fully then, her eyes flittering with a warm, sisterly affection. “ tell me then, since you have tasted the wine and found it so intoxicating. what else do you hope to discover while we are here? i should hate for us to miss a single delight. ”

[exfortunas]

Indeed, the Dornish experience could teach them all a great deal of how one ought to live -- slow, deliberate, and unapologetically indulgent. Amarei smiled into her wine, drawing a long swig before she spoke again. "Do you view courtship in the same manner?" Lashes fluttered upward innocuously, as if she had breached no social boundary at all with her questioning. "If you would indulge my asking so openly. There must be something in the warm, honeyed air of Dorne that emboldens us all." A chiming laugh. "You and your husband paint a lovely couple. Are you an avid dancer? You certainly possess the grace of one."

She nodded at the observation; propriety had been placed in her cradle, and she knew when to wield it, where it would serve her -- and where it would only hinder. "It is good to break with tradition every once in a while, is it not? For my family's steadfast adherence to the order of things, I do believe we strike a formidable balance between guarding tradition, and allowing for adaptability." Survival, in its very essence.

"I am most intrigued by Dorne's flora, myself. Some of which one must be wary of, for they delight as much as they deceive." A tilt of her head, her countenance lightly amused. It was unsurprising that a lady of the Reach would be drawn to verdant gardens, but Amarei's interest was more layered than merely enjoying blooms and their scents. She fostered an interest in medicinal herbs, as well as poisons and their antidotes, since girlhood. "But we may freely indulge in the allure of jasmine, damask rose, and orange blossoms. It is quite the intoxicating blend." She mused. "I should like to render it into an oil. Perhaps you would enjoy a vial?"

[sikanapanele-deactivated2018121]

[shambleslily]

"Victor in a dornish race? Nah I will leave that to someone who desperately needs it to validate whatever little ego they have or in my brother's case, rightfully deserves it so others do not go around thinking less of us ironborn." He admitted to amarei. Dominic was being unusually open but she was someone he had known for years and had seen more of him than others did.

"Now if this was race at sea, it would be a different story ut alas I will take the compliment my lady. I can only hope to continue living longer so that my enemies or anyone who finds me troublesome never have the relief of out-living me." He answered with a smirk.

"I hopw to never disappoint you Amarei, than what would that day about my skills? Last thing i need is a lady of the Reach beseeching my name. Not that you would be first but certainly not the last." Along with any lords, he could not help but enjoy the crude looks thrown his way. It almost empowered him in a way.

"What the Dornish offer is not anything new. Maybe it is on a grander scale due to wanting to showcase why they are the ones who get to tie themselves to the Dragons but I have had my fair share of seeing the dances at their ports and eating their meals. What I could offer in entertainment would certainly have a chance of having you scream my name perhaps."

[exfortunas]

"Others think less of you because you are considered to be a scourge of thieves and pirates." The words were blunt, untouched of any usual sort of ornamentation Amarei spoke fluently. As such, her unvarnished honesty had undoubtedly been a choice. "Do not grow irate with me, I am only relaying accounts." Spoken not to soften the lash of truth, but because she understood what he had confided in her. "I know little of the ways of men and their vanity, of course. But should Lord Roryn's victory suffice to elevate your standing, he must be quite the man, indeed." Her lips twisted into a sardonic smile.

"A lady of the Reach would know better than to utter your name at all, lest devastating assumptions be made." She answered, but there was a curious glimmer in her gaze. Strangely fond, but wise enough to know not to linger. "Do you mean it? That you do not wish to disappoint me." Her eyes searched him. A certain depth to them, a pull -- of a moonless sea, dark, unquiet. "Do you value my opinion of you?"

"It may not be new, but it is perfectly enticing, regardless. That does seem to be a hallmark of the Dornish, does it not? Effortlessly, endlessly charming. Truly, I should have thought to secure a match here for myself." It was a passing remark, but it did tempt a chuckle from her lips. She found his gaze anew, and held it, unwaveringly. Few did speak to her so brazenly -- but it was a daring she'd grown accustomed to. A temerity she decided to test. "Perhaps? Do you doubt your aptitude after all, Lord Harlaw?" She leaned in by a fraction. "I am not in the business of pursuing what is set to disappoint. Make me a more compelling offer than perhaps, and you may yet be deemed fit to entertain."

[star-scry]

"A maester?"

Howl gave a soft cluck of his tongue, plainly disapproving of the notion.

Greywater Watch had never kept one. The crannogmen had little use for them and their chains of silver and gold. Centuries before the Andals had ever crossed the narrow sea with their Seven-pointed stars and septons in tow, the folk of the Neck had worshipped the Old Gods beneath their weirwoods. They had their own wise men and wise women still and the old ways passed from one tongue to the next instead of from ink to parchment. A maester might know the names of every king who had ever sat a southern throne, yet know nothing in truth of the land beneath their own boots. 

Not to say that they were without wisdom, Howl would grant them that much. But Greywater Watch was poor in silver and poorer still in reputation and political pull below the Neck. The Citadel did not give Maesters to noble houses out of the kindness of their hearts and House Reed had neither the coin nor the influence to coax one into the swamps. The Lord's children learned their letters and numbers from hired tutors when such folk could be found, and taught themselves from books when they could not. Everything else was remembered.

He snorted.

"You southerners and your maesters," There was no true malice in the words, only wry amusement, "Begging your pardon, my lady, but you've all grown so accustomed to having some grey-robed fellows think for you that you've near forgotten how to do it yourselves. I need no man to read to me from a book when I can read the book myself."

Howl turned back to the merchant and flipped him a piece of gold for the map, the first thing he had bought in Dorne that was not food or drink.

He rolled the parchment shut and weighed it in his hand.

"Alas, what lies beyond will remain a myth for me a while longer," His smile was a small one, equal parts mirth and regret. "It is not lack of boldness that keeps me but duty. My house has need of me still."

He glanced down at the tightly shut map before tucking it beneath his arm.

“Duty is the death of dreams," He gave a faint shrug, "I believe they also say that."

[exfortunas]

"You may beg my pardon, if it please you." A mirthless response, for a mirthless man. Amarei did not scoff, indignation did not so much as flicker across steeled composure. "Pray tell, my lord, what do you know of the workings of the Citadel and the grey-robed fellows who sustain it, given the North follows an entirely different set of traditions?" She had craned her neck ever-so faintly, looking upon the lord with a muted curiosity. A narrow mind was rather an enduring mark of the North, or so she had been told. An interest in Essos and its mysteries, however, was not. What a peculiar contradiction he was.

"A maester is but a guardian of knowledge. I've no doubt you have appointed your own scholars and wise people, the only noteworthy difference in this particular instance is that I do not see fit to disparage yours." A sigh. Subtle, unhurried. Dismissive, all the same. "I would caution of close-mindedness, my lord. But it would seem my well-honed faculties lie in the hands of the Hightower's maester. May he do them justice." She smiled feebly. A wit like silk-clad steel -- wrapped in grace, yet never without edge.

"But I do applaud you on your comprehensive skill of reading. I quite enjoy discussing what have read with those I know to be wiser than me, for it does so stimulate the mind." She glanced to the other maps, idly, aimless, for her interest had begun to dwindle. That the map was wasted on him, she did not speak aloud. The notion of dreams coaxed a feathery chuckle from her -- she would stretch them further and liken them to ambitions, but once more, Amarei did not believe the lord would much appreciate the sentiment. "And here you are... wondering of Shadow Lands. Spending coin on a map no Northern beacon of wisdom can aid you with." Her eyes briefly flitted to the map under his arm, and then lifted to his face. "It seems duty has yet to dissuade you from dreaming."

[ofembcrs]

he matched her tone, casting a conspiratorial glance about the gardens before replying, “it will be our secret then.” as she spoke, luc's hand wandered almost unconsciously toward the soft pink blooms. he paused at her warning, hovering there for a heartbeat before retreating. “the perfect camouflage,” he murmured.

“consider it mutually beneficial. i was seeking an escape, and i’ve found one.” he held her gaze, the warmth in his expression dimming only slightly as he weighed his words. “it’s strange; no matter how often i find myself at court, i’m never quite accustomed to all the commotion,” he confessed after a moment. politics, posturing — it was all the same; he had never found much enjoyment in it, only obligation. “even in a place as beautiful as this, i find settling hard.” his jaw flexed. especially in a place such as this.

before the thought could linger, he looked away. his gaze found another cluster of flowers, their petals a sky blue reminiscent of his house’s sigil. this time, he made no move toward them. “what of these?” he nodded at the blooms. “do they also possess a hidden vice?”

[exfortunas]

"Very good." A gentle murmur, quiet in her sing-song, as if she wished to test just how closely the lord would continue to listen. "But you must know, my lord, that secrets bind for life." She steered her eyes from the oleander, to Lord Arryn's -- and held contact, for a few heartbeats. Until light-hearted laughter came slipping from her lips. "I've no doubt you will guard mine faithfully." Spoken in continued jest, before she nodded at his words. "Indeed. Every Dornish person would know of its properties, I'm sure." Or they would not have allowed the plant to thrive as it did. "A place where poison blooms in abundance... is a place to be wary of." She would leave it to him to decide whether she spoke of gardens, or had presented him with a metaphor.

"That you have." She smiled, the gesture reaching her eyes. "I do not find it all that strange. We have all been shaped for court since we were out of swaddling clothes. We are taught when to smile, how to weigh our words lest we spend them carelessly. And most of us heed our lessons." Briefly, she thought of the relations she entertained to one particular Ironborn. The thought drifted away as quickly as it had come. "But it is tiring, is it not? To watch and measure -- to be watched and measured, incessantly." Had any of it ever tired her, in truth? She found she had long fashioned it into a source of motivation. "It can feel impossible to determine where courtesy ends, and honesty begins." For all the Dornish levity at play, Sunspear was as much of a game as any other court that lay north of it. In fact, Amarei believed it more dangerous than most -- wine, dance, and merriment, all served to loosen tongues, after all.

When he steered her focus to the tangle of blue, she lingered for a moment, and shook her head softly. "No, my lord." Fingers reached for the blooms, ghosting over petals. "These are perfectly honest in their beauty."

[shambleslily]

"You are not wrong my lord. Even though it has been ten years after what my mother and her dragon had suffered here, it cannot easily bw forgotten. At least not to me." She answered honestly. Somehow she found it a little cruel shw had to be here celebrating a marriage that was only done to secure an alliance in her eyes. But she could never admit that. Not so openly though. "But our King must think enough time has passed and that the wounds have healed."

She was no stranger to wine but to the different flavors that were foreign to her palette certainly had her questioning her choices. "Strongwine you say. I do not rhink I have had the chance to try it before. At least of that i can recall. I might have to be on the look out for it then."

Aemma could not hold in the laugh as she tried to imagine this tall man dressed in silks. Maybw hw could pull him off but also trying to imagine him in colors of blues and greens seemes to only make her laugh more. "Apologies my lord I do not mean to laugh but it would be a sight."

Even though she was dressed in silks of sky blue and white, it felt as if the heat was still surrounding her. "I know I have dragon blood in me and yet I feel as if the heat here is different. The mountains of the Vale are cold and it is always drafty so wearing anything like this would certainly cause looks to bw thrown at one. I fear i might not grow accustomed to ir until it is time we depart."

[exfortunas]

"It should never be forgotten." The words came quickly, earnestly. Too earnest, perhaps. But he could not retract them; and he did not wish to dilute his answer when she spoke of suffering, her mother's and her dragon's, yes -- but just as well, her own. When Andrik thought of his mother's untimely death, he felt her absence to his marrow. "What is the passing of time to a grieving heart?" He let a beat pass before continuing. "What I know of grief, my lady, is that it does not abide by rules or what one may consider prudent and rational. Grief defies logic. Even that of kings'."

Even though he had wanted to avert his gaze, and choose one of far too many lemons to settle his attentions upon, he did not relent to such a craven desire. It would be easier, for his words had implied he knew of grief, viscerally -- and should she ask of his loss, he knew it would be difficult for him to speak and look at her still. Her words on strongwine caught him off guard, then, and he grimaced momentarily. "With respect, I am not certain that would be wise. You are... slight of stature. I suspect you would not have the stomach to indulge in much of it." A wry smile. "I do not mean to affront."

Her laugh came as a pleasant enough turn, even though it was at his expense. "A sight, indeed." He echoed, shaking his head in defeat. "No, you are very considerate. Others may be tempted to call it a spectacle."

Andrik allowed himself to take her in fully when she spoke of robes. "If my opinion is of any worth to you at all, my lady, I think you wear your silks very well." His smile warmed. "Should I ever pluck the courage to wear mine, at the very least I will provide you with ample amusement."

[sacrifyed]

“ reputations have a habit of sailing ahead of ships. ” she countered lightly, stepping just an inch closer to inspect the bolt of blue fabric he had been admiring. “ but i am always willing to let a man prove his rumors wrong. ”

her fingers trailed idly over the fine material as a thoughtful look crossed her features, a quiet sigh accompanying the confession. “ i'm ashamed to admit my haggling skills have fallen below what i would like to call an average line. you'd be better off with a local passerby if you wish to out smart a tenacious stall owner, but i would certainly give it my best. ”

“ if you are partial to shades of blue, then you shall have them. ” arianne decided, giving a brief authoritative nod to the merchant to secure the fabric. “ consider it a host's advice for surviving sunspear, but we will need to find something a bit more substantial than just silk if you expect to easily navigate our deserts. most definitely a tailor. an ironborn's frame is much sturdier than a dornish man's, most merchants will not have clothes made to match your size. how do you feel about a muted blue? it would go well with your eyes. ”

[exfortunas]

"Then you will know my own reputation is less so salt-stained, and more that of a green boy, courtesy of my years spent South." He had arrived at the conclusion that it was best to speak of all talk that surrounded his person honestly, lest he allow it to fester and take on a life of its own. His years as ward to the crown had grown to be his legacy, as much as the iron isles and their reforging into something strong and durable would be. "I am well aware of what whisperings trail my person, Princess. Although, if you would allow me to speak frankly, they do strike me as bizarre in their dichotomy. I am an Ironborn cad to those beyond my native shoes, and I am a cosseted wimp if some of my countryfolk are to be believed, altogether unfit to inherit the isles." Andrik did not extend accusation, nor did his anger bleed through. Not any longer. "But I should hope you deem neither mantle an adequate fit." An arched brow, as he rounded his speech off with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

"I have learned there is much merit in observation. Perhaps one can learn a thing or two about the art of haggling, by simply watching and listening." He hummed, watching the trajectory of her fingertips as they glided over silk. "So what you are telling me is that my coinpurse will be sore, by the time I am fully clad." A breathy exhale, caught somewhere amidst sigh and laugh. "A muted blue." Andrik echoed, liking the the visual imagery well enough. "Yes, that would do. I shan't wish to look too much like a fish out of water."

[glittxeringgold]

Rhaena smiled to her iron islander friend. Being a Velaryon, she had privileges the other non-valarian houses did not. Getting close to the wards being one of them. She would take every chance to sneak them out on adventures and make their life more comfortable than the original captives King Aegon originally had in mind. The Velaryon knew her place in politics, but she preferred to ignore it. One woman couldn't make that much of a difference on corrupt structures anyway.

Rhaena grew unusually close to Andrik during the wards time in her region. Perhaps it was their shared love of the water that caused it.

"Sand steeds are fast, but they can be hot blooded and misbehaved" Her arm wrapped around Tradewind's mussel. "Much like some people I know" Rhaena teased lightly. "I know you are uncomfortable with horses. It may be wise of you to sit this out"

[exfortunas]

"Hot-blooded and misbehaved. Well, that seals my fate, then." A long-winded, heaving sigh followed his conclusion, dragging itself from the very bottom of his lungs. Andrik ran a harried hand over his face, her teasing decidedly unappreciated. "I wonder if my lord father would object to my forfeiting my life so far from our shores." Andrik mused hopelessly, kicking the earth to no avail whatsoever as Rhaena went about preparing her trusted horse for the race. "He did see fit to having me educated far from them, after all. It would only be a fitting way to go." Undiluted self-pity was what he had chosen to wallow in.

Until her suggestion to simply turn boot came, and his brows knitted together. He doubted the Ironborn cared much for the affair. He wondered just how many of them had already resorted to drinking themselves to oblivion, and swiping what costly wares they could get their hands on. "And what would that say of me? I suspect they already whisper of cravenness behind my back." The cross of sturdy arms across his chest only tightened as he spoke. "I will ride... but I shan't aim for victory, oddly enough."

[ofembcrs]

“perhaps it does.” his gaze lingered a moment over the blooms she'd been admiring before returning to her. “though i’d argue the gardens can only take some of the credit.”

a gentle breeze rolled over the water, providing a momentary reprieve. he had traded his riding leathers for a navy linen tunic, although it made little difference beneath the sweltering sun. dragon’s breath was almost pleasant by comparison.

“are you searching for something in particular?" luc asked, nodding toward the flowers. one cluster in particular seemed intent on overtaking the wall, thick vines burrowing into the mortar. “or simply escaping the festivities?” he could hardly fault her if it was the latter.

[exfortunas]

"You are most kind to say so." A gracious tip of her head, her eyes following the lord's attention over the abundance of flowers that burgeoned in every which direction. "Though I should refrain from likening myself to a flower, lest I incur House Tyrell's displeasure." These words, she had spoken in a quieter register, as if they were trading information meant exclusively for the other to hear -- and then, a warm smile tugged at her lips, mellowing what sharper precision her wit had carried moments before.

"I did some reading on Dorne's flora, on my journey to Sunspear. Thriving jasmine is what climbs the walls," Amarei mused in response to his question. She reached for them, careful fingers hovering for a moment before she plucked a single bloom, and twirled it betwixt her fingers. "The orange blossom is also lovely. I should like to dry some of it, so I may fondly remember my time in Dorne by its fresh scent." Her smile sprawled further. "What one ought to be aware of, is the abundant oleander. Soft pink, beautifully fragrant," a calculated pause, tilting closer to Lord Arryn. "And deceptively poisonous, from root to each petal." She looked briefly to the jasmine again, and then to Luceryn. "A lesson in appearances."

"Did you come here to escape the festivities?" Her eyes trailed further upward yet, to fully settle on his blues. "I doubt you came for a lesson in Dornish flowers -- but I am grateful you would indulge me so, still."

[gildedheirs]

Where others were laughing jovially, finding Sunspear to be a respite in the desert, Gyles’ lips had not moved from the thin line they had pressed since they got into the room. If it had been any cooler, perhaps he’d join in on their revelry and celebrations. But these circumstances were anything but jovial to the little Tyrell lord.

In return to the smile, all Gyles does is blink and sink even further in his chair. There was a break in the lesson, and he just wished to not sweat through every layer. He cared not for court appearances anymore - he had spent far too many years nitpicking little things. He cared not for fruit as well, finding its texture a dichotomy for its sweet taste. No amount of honey could change this feeling.

The honeyed fig, in his mind, was the perfect way to explain how he felt about Dorne. Not his cup of tea, but he was trying to not see the appeal. Sugar-coating their life and their customs for peace. Gyles was having none of it. He couldn’t help but be wary being in another’s home. He couldn't even bear to think of these people becoming the people he would turn to soon enough.

“There have been worse manners in the world,” he retorts, eyes barely even fully registering the other person beside him. “I pity whoever has to dance with you next. Perhaps a kind servant thought a game of how many nobles can get honey on their hands would be just what they needed.”

[exfortunas]

What candour poured forth from the lord she so happened to share a nook with, prompted a hearty laugh to erupt. Unvarnished honesty was a rare gem indeed, and it made the navigating of courtly interactions all that much easier for her. For something must have prompted displeasure, if not even dance and good food sparked enough joy to feel a certain Dornish levity creep into one's bones. When her laughter faded at last, carried away with the merriment of dancers and music, she wore a composed smile once more. "My good lord, I had no intention of honeying my dance partners against their will. I would much rather people succumb to my charms of their own volition." Her rejoinder came swiftly, a clean, faultless edge, the sort that revealed the lady as a figure of much more precision and intent that she usually permitted courtiers to see. If the other was paying attention, that was.

"We will simply ask for a bowl of water, and three cloths. One to deal with the fig's residue, and the other two so that we may each wipe the sweat from our brows." A little shrug, and she turned to an attendant to request precisely what she had proposed to Lord Gyles. "And then, I should say, I would be most delighted if you agreed to dance with me next."

[shambleslily]

Dominic had been nursing a slight hangover and maybe a bruised jaw from the night before from a night he did not care to remember. He tried his best to remember what happened but sitting here did allow him to relax a little. As much as one can who is ironborn and him specifically.

He had thought he was alone until he heard a voice. A familiar one from a someone who he knew quite well when he visited Oldtown. He did nothing to hide the lookout of his gaze before he locked eyes with her as she spoke.

"I? On a horse? You would sooner see me mingling with the dragons and those devoted to them then on horseback." He admitted. Dom knew how to ride but he was nowhere near skilled to compete, let alone on Dorne where the heat alone is an enemy to many.

"Then i am sorry to say that I must disappoint you, Lady Amarei. It is my younger brother Roryn who shall be riding instead. He is the better rider though if it had been a sea race, I would have jumped at the opportunity." He answered before one of his charming smiles appeared on his face. "I am sure I can find another way to entertain you, if you so wish it."

[exfortunas]

"You do not care to be hailed victor?" When he negated any desire to partake in the desert race, Amarei turned from the basin to the bench he was perched on, and settled beside him. She wore apricot silk, the most cooling of fabrics to endure in the heat, and in the light the gown's sheen was caught somewhere between peach and gold. As if she hoped to emulate the morning sun, a gown not worn to outshine the Dornish, but to appear a softened flame. Bright enough to be noticed, patient enough not to insist upon drawing attention. "How refreshing." There was unmistakable amusement in her tone, but not the serene, innocuous sort she would usually wield at court. Here, she had allowed a blunt edge of her wit to cut through her veneer. "Most men of your calibre enjoy nothing more than to participate in inane competitions that are sure to senselessly maim, fracture, and take a life or two. All for the odd chance of inflating their egos. At least you have the good sense of knowing when defeat is inevitable. May it add a few years to your life expectancy, Lord Harlaw."

She understood tradition, and why people clung to it fervently. But Amarei was not so easily stirred into reverence simply because things had always been done a certain way. The order of things, in her understanding, was not to be blindly worshipped, but evaluated -- to ensure that it would prove useful, and serve her well. "You do not disappoint. Not this time." She jested, her smile turning into an easy, lopsided sort of thing. When he spoke of his brother, there was a glimmer of something dark in her gaze, but amused all the same. "Then I shall wish Lord Roryn good fortune."

Her attention flitted away for a moment, hands smoothing her skirts, before his words landed. Her eyes settled on his lips that wore a smile all too smugly to be wise. "Can you? There is entertainment abound. Dancing, bazaars, desert rides. The Dornish even make a celebration of eating." She offered a smile of her own, sharper than courtly habit allowed. "What could you possibly offer that would lure me away from such delights?"