he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
shark vs the universe
Cosimo Galluzzi
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
YOU ARE THE REASON
Discoholic 🪩
official daine visual archive
Mike Driver
Claire Keane
KIROKAZE
ojovivo
No title available
Kiana Khansmith
Sade Olutola
pixel skylines
One Nice Bug Per Day
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
cherry valley forever
The Bowery Presents
seen from Ukraine
seen from Venezuela
seen from Poland
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Iraq
@faatedones
# faatedones – a dependent roleplay blog for @103ac featuring muses loved by brooke ( 29, est, she / her ). DNI if not associated with the group.
LORD CEDRIC OF HOUSE LANNISTER – intro. pinterest.
RULING LADY ELISSA OF HOUSE WESTERLING. – intro. pinterest.
LORD HARLON OF HOUSE TYRELL. – intro. pinterest.
RULING LORD MYLES OF HOUSE REYNE. – intro. pinterest.
"then it is good that i have not been doing so, lord harlon." falyn says his voice with such a sneer she could grow sharp canines if she willed it. she was not a violent person, but now in this moment, while he sat there looking all smug like he knew everything about her, she wishes to latch onto his throat with her teeth and rip out his jugular. oh, how that would solve many problems. her cousin dead is what she wishes for, the disgusting and vile nature he brings to her home. perhaps now that he is snooping into her life, she should figure out a way to make that happen. because truly, who could blame such an innocent, sweet woman like her if he were to perish so suddenly? a man voted to the council without a king to do so, falyn was sure he had made some enemies in that and she would seek them out. "it would be quite unbecoming of you to spread such rumors, how terrible would that make you look, cousin? so i am glad for once, we are in agreement." she does not feel relief because she knows he is a liar, but she will act as if there is no rumor to spread. instead, she smoothes out her dress, "a sour mood you always give me, so i shall continue my walk through the gardens and leave you to whatever it is you find enjoyment in." she does now bow because she does not care to, she simply turns and continues on through the rows of flowers.
END.
“ no, i should be in the ground, or sunk to the bottom of the nearest lake. ” she waves off his delicate concerns. it was rather difficult to hold thoughts in her mind, and upon muttering her own, she is immediate in forgetting them. a normal persuasion of the milk, your grace, once you no longer need it, it will no longer affect you. did he accept her congratulations? she doesn't ask. “ will you be the one to put me there, lord harlon? ” phrased in the most content of tones, satisfied at the idea, but then she holds a hand up: “ don't answer that, the kingsguard will consider it high treason regardless of the empty throne. i'd hate to get blood on their cloaks and your … ah. … highgarden silk. " harlon carries the presence of one who deserves the place on the council and to rule highgarden, of that much delfina can agree — however, it is about the principle of the thing, and the targaryen seal already lies in support of falyn tyrell and her implied wishes.
harlon's eyes widen, if only slightly, when the princess begins to speak. is this the work of whatever had been given to her by the maesters? milk of the poppy, no doubt, after days spent floating in the bay. he cannot imagine the amount of trauma she must've endured.
“ah, no, i simply was concerned for your wellbeing, princess,” harlon says, bowing his head respectfully. “i mean no disrespect, of course.” it is true, he was genuinely concerned. if he were in her position, he wouldn't be so ready to return to the business of things.
“i will leave you to your thoughts, then,” he says politely. “should you need of me, do not hesitate to send for me.”
END.
she snorts. "must i mastermind everything?" vaiora would sooner die than voice her affection for him aloud. much more than that, to voice it first. even considering the slant of his mouth against hers, no words exchanged between the loss of air between them. a new game beginning. "women like to be wooed sometimes, cedric. use your own imagination."
"i detest that you imply that i am not the sun of your every conversation with him." the redwyne crosses her arms, playing at displeased, nose tracing high in the air. but, she cannot help the upward curve at the corner of her lips, pleased to see her lannister with a smile once more. "unfortunately for you, we are the paragon of perfect happiness." she pauses. well. "bar his injuries, of course." that did put a dent in the image in their script.
he cannot help but to laugh at that. and gods, does it feel good to laugh. in the midst of all that has befallen them, it feels good to feel even a semblance of joy – and he typically does in her presence. “and can a man not asked to be wooed from time to time? must i do all the work?” he dramatically complains. it's really just him teasing her, though.
“no, unfortunately i have not had the heart to prod him on the status of your arrangement given, you know, his bedridden state at the moment.” he gives her a look from the side of his eye, but says nothing more on the matter. “good, good! i am glad that the two of you are happy, you know. truly.” did it sound convincing?
"some more so than others," she acquiesces. she has yet to decide if she's restless staying --- or restless at the thought of returning. all she has known is the routine of bracken land and horses, never given the freedom to travel for any reason beyond that. even now, it was for her family that she's here.
"my family seeks what they always do." and she says no more. let the never-ending feud fill the gaps. still, she eyes a necklace, lifting it up for inspection before showing it to myles, a glint of tease in gaze. "though what does your new betrothed think of castamere, hmm?"
he nods in response, supposing that his friend is quite right in her assessment. myles wonders then, when was the last time she got to be free of duty? when was the last time she left the riverlands? he realizes that he had never asked her such questions, but he should. they are friends, are they not?
“of course,” he says. it is no wonder that the brackens would be chasing after the blackwoods and should either put their name out there to be considered for royalty, the other must indeed follow. he looks down at the necklace she's accquired, inspecting it with his own gaze. “she's let me tell her little of it,” he laughs. “she despises me, you know, myria. says that her mother will give me an earful whenever it is that she returns, put me in my place so to speak.”
she finds herself incensed by his very presence. it is no fault of his own, of course. the ruling lord reyne has done nothing but wish to advance the influence of his house. still, desmera reviles what she cannot understand — and she understands so little of politics. she stands stiffly, fingers fisted in the black silk of her skirts. she must keep her hands busy, lest they act of their own accord. desmera endures his compliments for her brother with pursed lips. " she has written — " she begins, " and is due to return the day of the council meeting. you shall see her there, will you not? hopefully she will wait to speak with you, lest she embarrass you before your aged and so very boring peers. "
he can tell that every move he makes, every word he speaks, annoys her greatly. though he cannot understand why, he supposes that he should at least try to see all of this from her perspective. she had been given away without really any prior knowledge and she clearly clings to the customs of her mother's homeland, though myles is unsure if the lady of cider hall had ever actually been there. after all, they had spoken so little of their personal lives to one another. he cannot imagine that she would want to do so now.
“embarrass me?” he cannot help but to laugh. “i mean, i know this is not an arrangement that either of you two like but…” he sighs. “i will speak with her, though. i intend to reassure her that her daughter is in good hands, even if neither of you see that yet. and i don't blame you for that, either. you know so little of me,” he says. “but i intend to prove myself to you, lady desmera, should you allow me to."
time skip of one hour.
you let him guide you. you do not remember the climb back through the keep, only that your feet continue to move because he asked them to. because somewhere between the river and the red keep he had made you a promise. i'll send my best men. they'll search. they'll keep searching until she's found. that promise alone is enough to keep you from tearing free and throwing yourself back into the blackwater. when he lowers you into one of the great upholstered chairs within the targaryen apartments, your body sinks without protest, soaked clothes clinging unpleasantly to your skin. your hands rest limply in your lap. somewhere nearby, cedric speaks quietly with one of the servants. you stare ahead for a long while before your voice finally finds him. "...what did you ask her?" he turns, and those familiar ocean eyes meet yours. limpid and unwavering. nothing like the dark water still swallowing your thoughts. you look at them longer than you mean to. somehow they quiet something inside you, if only for a moment. the tears never truly stop, they simply continue without your notice now, warm tracks slipping down numb cheeks. another servant enters beside a maester carrying a small tray. glass clinks softly. herbs. then the unmistakable sweetness reaches you. milk of the poppy. "...cedric." your brows knit together as realization settles over you. you know why. he is only trying to keep you from breaking apart completely. yet another fear quietly takes root beneath the grief. what if the bay has not only stolen your ma? what if it takes this too? what if, when all is over, the lions stray from the dragons, and you lose the truest companion you have left?
you drink because they ask you to. because resisting would require a will you no longer possess. the warmth spreads slowly through your veins, softening every sharp edge until the world begins to blur around its corners. your maids undress you, wash the river from your skin, dress you in clean linens, settle you beneath the covers of your bed. by the time they send for him again, you are already drifting somewhere between waking and sleep, eyelids heavy enough to ache. the door opens quietly. you find him through the haze almost immediately. shame prickles warm beneath your skin. you were taught better than this. princesses are not meant to ask for comfort. they are meant to endure. yet your lips part before pride can stop them. "...can you..." you swallow, blinking slowly against the poppy pulling you under. "...stay until i fall asleep?"
cedric is eternally grateful that he has gotten her this far. back into the keep, away from the chaos that unfolds outside. she needed to be here, to be safe. and he will make whatever promises he must in order to calm her and keep her emotions at bay. he will search for the princess, have others do it as well, to the best of all of their abilities. among all of them, they would have to find some trace of the princess… right?
he leads her back to her chambers, lets her get settled before calling for servants and maesters to tend to her. “hm?” he hums whens he finally speaks up. “you needn't worry,” he tells her with a gentle smile, one meant to disarm. he continues instructing those under his charge to care for her, to make her comfortable.
when it is time for her to be changed and bathed, he bids her farewell, but promises to return. for he too must bathe, as he had been completely soaked to the bone in the waters of the bay chasing after her. and not to mention there were various small injuries littering his body that needed tending lest they get infected.
he eventually returns and seats himself at her bedside, looking over her as she lays there so still and so calm. a completely different picture than what he had seen of her back at the river's shores. he nods when she asks him to stay, smiling gently down at her. “of course,” he adds softly. “for as long as you need me, i'll stay.”
who had been there to see her? no one even knew it had been her who was walking those markets, a cloak pulled high over her head and dress that did not suggest noble birth. addam couldn't have... no, she must banish the thought. he might have left her, but he would never betray her this deeply. (or at least that is what she tries to tell herself, maybe he had tired of his bastardy and wished to find a quick way to title.) "i have not found myself in any compromising positions, cousin," she stands her ground, though her fingers twitch at her side, her voice cracks just slightly on his relation. "it is traitorous for you to even suggest that of a lady. i believe it wise that this rumor is squashed immediately."
harlon says nothing for a few moments, only watching her to gauge her reaction. though she stands her ground perfectly, it is clear in the way that her voice shakes ever so slightly that this frightens her. good. that is the reaction he was hoping for. and not only that, but it tells him that there is certainly more to this little meeting than she is willing to let on, least of all to him.
“the position of fraternizing alone with a bastard is compromising in and of itself, my lady,” he tells her. “but i do so agree. it would be wise to squash such rumors, lest they begin to spread.” of course, he wouldn't actually be doing that. no, instead, he would be keeping a close eye on the so-called heir to highgarden. part of him wished to speak with the mistress of whispers, though he's not sure what good that might do. for now, he will have to employ his own little birds.
"i am aware of the eyes." she attempts to keep her tone at bay, still syrupy and sweet lest anyone be listening. which, apparently they were, but she does not let the panic she feels show. her face remains neutral besides the tiny clench of her jaw that she relaxes just as quickly as it came. "i am friendly with a lot of people, cousin, that is why most like me best. so i do not know who it is you are referring to." poised and controlled, what her father had taught her even with the small semblance of fear rising in her, "are you telling me you would not befriend a bastard? that seems low even for you."
again, he has to fight the urge to not smirk or smile. but it would be all too easy to sneer in her face, to show her that he has the upper hand in all this, despite her trying to remain composed. she does a good job of it, too, he must admit. he will give her that, at the very least. even as she attempts to get under his skin by implying that most like her over him. but he could not care less about that right now.
“i never said such a thing,” he says with a slight tilt of his head. “being cordial with bastards is one thing, cousin, but to remain close to them… it is a very compromising position, for a lady of high birth, you know that, don't you?”
falyn is glad he agrees. they do not have similar needs, but they have similar wants and falyn does not wish to fraternize with him more than she has to. rather, she would not want to at all if it were up to her. she would take his head on a spike and leave it around highgarden for everyone to see who was truly meant to sit upon the tyrell's seat. she is going to ignore him, move about the gardens on her own and she means to, is already taking steps away when he speaks again. "pardon me?" falyn's body turns, ever graceful, but her tone is sharp, "what rumors would even involve me? and let alone get to you."
he has her in his snare now. his lips very nearly curl into a smirk, though he manages to remain expressionless for now. he stays sat upon the bench he had initially planted himself on, clasping his hands together in his lap. “the walls have eyes around this place, i've come to learn,” he begins. “you would be wise to learn as well.” then again, it's better that she doesn't. “you and the waters boy are quite… friendly, aren't you?”
"were you?" falyn realized she must make it a point to learn more of house westerling, surely she knew very little of everyone but the hand and his children. "that is truly reassuring to hear such a thing with the loss of your brother. the house will be in good hands, this i am sure of." she follows the laugh, "oh, i do think so very much. this realm delights in underestimating the capabilities of a ruling lady. we shall both show them they are wrong, hm?" a gentle smile, but one that holds something beneath it. a reminder that highgarden was her's to claim, not her cousin's. "kindness is the thing my mother taught me, another hightower to thank," she chuckles lightly, "it is what everyone deserves and i shall offer it in turn to anyone who needs such and it is offered to you if you ever need such a thing." reaching out, falyn places a light hand on the lady westerling's arm, a show of companionship and good faith between the two. "such nonsense, isn't it? i hope the dornish are able to provide some insight and let us move on with this kingsmoot so we can all return to our rightful homes. enough has been lost, we must begin to rebuild."
the lady of the crag smiles upon her company. it really is nice, this moment, amidst all the chaos that had befallen them as of late. “that we shall,” elissa says with a light nod of her head. wouldn't that be nice? to show the realm that women, so often underestimated, could be just as great if not better.
“your mother sounds like she was an amazing woman, i wish i had gotten to meet her,” she says sweetly, looking down at the hand placed on her arm. she looks up to her with a gentle smile. “and rebuild we shall, soon enough, i hope at least. it would be quite nice to get this whole kingsmoot business sorted out finally.. it feels like ages since we've had a true ruler to look to.” of course, the guidance of the hand was one thing, but the word of a monarch was another.
"i did not come here to address council business," of course the person she must stumble upon is her cousin, the one person she has wished to keep away from as much as possible. him on the council is a joke. her uncle out of wits for such a thing. cannot name him heir, but wishes to offer him a spot on the council? ridiculous and foolish. "i was hoping to not run into you at all, truthfully, cousin. but i do wish to enjoy the gardens if we are able to keep our distance from one another."
ah, but of course it has to be the lady falyn whom he lays eyes upon. though part of him wishes for anyone else, another part is somewhat.. glad to have run into her. he's gotten some intel recently ( though not for free, mind you ) that would be quite useful when it comes to the likes of her.
“it does not surprise me that you feel such a way, my lady,” he begins. “indeed, i do think it is best that we keep our distance, as you said.” he allows for silence to hang in the air for a few moments, lets her think that she is safe. “…but you know, i did hear a rather interesting rumor about you.”
"well, i so rarely am." her cheeks dimple, folding the smugness into the cheekiness of her smile. "you'd like that, i think. to hear your name sung. i could be persuaded to write you a song..." who needed a bard when the redwyne was her own capable composer? vaiora's mind drifts to the melody at the back of her mind, fingers dragging along the smooth, sable wood of her harp, plucking a song from the memory of greedy hands raking down his back. "though you'd need to do something far more scandalous than that." breaking his engagement would do.
"me?" vaiora laughs in turn, airily dodging the accusation. it hits its mark, anyway. buried in the beat of it, reopening an old wound. "envious?" covetous, willas called her. "i would never," she answers primly, as if an ankle still limping in injury. "i am promised, after all!"
he chuckles at the thought of her writing him a ballad. it is a nice thought, though. he would enjoy it very much if she were to write a song for him, of all people. “oh? and what would that be?” he says, looking over at her with a knowing smirk. they both know. and they both know, all too well, that it can never happen.
“ah but of course,” he says, “never you, my lady, oh promised one!” he's just teasing her now. he cannot help but to make himself laugh. “and how is my friend, hm? are the two of you getting along better these days?” he asks as if the two of them had not been locking lips just a week prior. how quickly he seems to forget – or rather, bury at the very back of his mind. it was wrong to do, after all. what with them both being promised.
there is a twitch of his lips as he attempts to smile. one that hurts his face from the sheer amount of strength he had been having to use over the last days. "have we?" a short laugh, more of a huff of breath as his chest threatens to give out on him. "perhaps you might need to find something worse when i get out of this bed, cedric." a small shake of his head because what could be worse than this? he had seen worse. had lived through swords pushed through his flesh, blows that split lips and bruised eyes, but half his body now was covered in mottled flesh and it would be something he had to see every day as a reminder. "i am glad to hear such things," daemian wishes to reach out, to press a reassuring grip onto cedric's arm, but he know if he does he will be in more pain than it is worth. "you must give them my best and a reminder to stay out of trouble — you included."
cedric nods, confirming the thought. perhaps they hadn't, but it was meant as a reminder to his friend to remain strong. he had bested injuries far worse than these and come out the other side, and so he would again. “and get out of this bed you shall,” he says with a small smile pulling at his lips. “i will remember that, my friend,” he adds with a nod. “i will come and visit again soon, okay?” he assures the other, still grinning. “i expect you to be sitting up next time.”
end.
trystane waited patiently for this meeting to finish, he had wanted to see the reactions. the suspense. it was killing him. he paced a little while he knew the meeting was occurring but it didn't stop him from making his way towards the gardens. he found them creepy ... even as a child. they were too quiet, he hated it. all he had there were his own thoughts but after the events the occurred, he thought perhaps he could spare one or two. he heard the sounds of doors and feet, which caused him to move out of the way, back deeper into the gardens. when he noticed lord harlon sitting on the bench, he approached. trystane held his hands up. "i do not wish to disturb you, lord harlon ... i just ... was curious what was said in the meeting." he admitted. "i was eagerly awaiting it's end to see if my grandfather would tell me but i cannot seem to locate him anywhere." the fossoway admitted.
he supposes he should not be surprised that some would come to ask him for the results of the meeting. after all, he sits upon the council now. he was not merely a spectator, but a leader in all of this… mess. though he wishes to distance himself from it for a moment, he supposes that he could indulge the boy, if only slightly. “much and more was said,” he responds at first. “many had thoughts on the move to dorne, much more than i expected, but in the end it was decided we must go if we are to properly deal with this dragon nonsense.”
he looks over trystane, wondering what thoughts are dancing around in his head. “and what do you think of all this, my lord?” he questions curiously. “and how is your father, by the way? i understand he was injured in all the chaos.”
falyn did not know if they would truly be family or not. she cared for her aunts and uncles, and she loved ceryse, but half of the family had not felt like it in many years. posey's death had torn them apart and she was sure this kingsmoot would as well. still, the sentiment is there, perhaps with a hidden motive. "that is kind, though i admire you much more." in truth she did. falyn knew, or at least had hoped, that one day she too would be a ruling lady, but elissa was never meant to and that is a terrifying thing to deal with. "i imagine so, lady elissa. you were not prepared for such a thing with your lord brother at the helm. the ease should come in time, though i am sure decisions will have to be made earlier than that." she smiles gently, a hand coming out to rest upon one of elissa's own. "if you should ever need a helping hand, i shall be honored to offer it, but i am sure you will find the strength. this kingsmoot has been nothing but horror, we shall pray to the mother that it concludes without further bloodshed."
elissa nods, smiling gently at the other. “truthfully, i was more prepared than one might think. despite my brother always having been the heir, i did much and more for the crag in his absence and in the face of my father growing older and more ill,” she admits. “so luckily, it is not as foreign to me as one might think.. i am sure there will be plenty who will underestimate my abilities, but that is to their peril, don't you think?” she chuckles slightly.
“you are quite kind, lady falyn…” she sighs dreamily, looking over to her with a smile before looking off into the distance. “i may come to rely on that kindness in time.” it would be nice to have a woman in power as a friend, and hopefully soon, as family. “indeed we shall… hopefully with this move to dorne, we may soon put all this nonsense behind us. i do hope they are able to deliver on what they've promised.”
the princess targaryen witnesses far too much of the gardens for her liking. at least for the time being, her legs regain their strength. she has no shame in the usage of a walking cane to assist her, loaned with due diligence for her recovery and the kingsguard still loyal in the near distance. it imbues her with confidence, enables her to believe she might, in fact, improve. her stride much shorter than it should be, a near unrecognisable gait, but she becomes known enough around the corner: hair at last tidied, no visible bruising, and the sheer covering which prevents too much of the light from hitting the exposed talon-marks upon her chest, still allowing them visible. a sharp glean, like a cat's eye, lands upon lord tyrell. "and how would the lord of highgarden help me with council business?" ... a pause. "ah yes. that's right. congratulations upon being master of laws, my lord. i do hope it suits you despite its bad luck. it seems any who sit upon aegor's council drop like flies."
she smiles. it doesn't reach her eyes. "i blame you not for needing a clear head amongst the rabble. everyone has an opinion on the decision. but to talk about it would disrupt my leisurely stroll. you'll hear none from me." she waves herself away, as if reducing herself to a decoration.
the lord of highgarden and master of laws eyes the targaryen princess as she makes her way into the gardens. he wonders why, too. she'd been one of those lost to the tides of the bay, shouldn't she be in the sick bay recovering right about now? his brow furrows. “princess…” there is some concern laced into his voice, though not too much. “your congratulations is much appreciated, of course, but…” how can he word this delicately? “should you not be with the maesters?”
but if she is to remain a contender for the throne, she would certainly need to show face around here. it would be expected of her, despite what had happened. she cannot seriously be still aiming for it, could she? not that harlon truly cares, of course. truthfully, while his loyalties were currently with the lady of claw isle, they would ultimately lie with whomever could assuredly promise him highgarden. his spot on the council is a great honor, too, of course, but he will not give up on what is his birthright.
