the north will remember.

Reading through guidelines is, I think, a good idea. I'm Robb Stark of Winterfell, son to Eddard and Catelyn Stark. They call me the Young Wolf. (Independent RP blog. Consistent with HBO's Game of Thrones, obviously where Robb isn't dead).

[immortaldemise]

//I apologize for the ridiculous inactivity, I've been really busy with school things (mainly football and registering and college essays and stuff), and today I'm going to SDCC. I'll do my best to respond to what needs responding once this is all done!

[immortaldemise]

//I try to keep my writing more narrative, but Sapphire and Hanna are hell bent on RUINING MY LIFE

[alluringhubris-archived]

The Aura of Betrayal

The air of authority that this man, this Robb, carried, was almost laughable in it’s deceit. His body language, he way he lounged, as if he were bored, was more than enough action needed for Tahno to draw conclusions of his character.

If you were going to hold such power, command such attention, at least pretend to enjoy it.

Tahno himself knew he commanded attention, but not because of his status. He wasn’t humble, he carried himself with an abundance arrogance and others were intrigued.

Tahno didn’t care for anybody. He only cared to break others. He got joy from seeing how one challenging statement, one carefully worded attack could cause the most composed of individuals to reveal their darker self.

Even now, standing in front of this ‘authority’ figure, he had an attention-demanding aura, but a leisurely position of body. He crossed his arms and stared at the man he had heard so much about, took in his appearance.

How anticlimactic. 

"And who, exactly, might you be? What business do you have in Winterfell?"

Laughable. It was so laughable, this man’s mask of control. A chest-deep voice and a hollow threat was music to Tahno’s ears. Already, he could hear the edge of defense, the barriers going up. Still, he was unfazed by the man’s tone. If it only took a few facts to provoke him, perhaps this wouldn’t be as fun as Tahno had anticipated.. 

A smirk pulled at his lips and he narrowed his eyes, offering the man an answer with a simple shrug of his shoulders. Who he was in regards to this man wasn’t important. What mattered was what he knew, and he knew more than enough.

"How great of a brother could you really be? Abandonment runs deep, but you know that already, don’t you?"

“I beg your pardon?" 

Tahno rolled his eyes and set his head back a bit, folding his arms over his chest, appearing even more uninterested and unamused. Bored, even.

 You can do better, Sansa. 

His eyes fell to the man’s hand, which was clasped tightly around his sword. For a moment, just a moment, Tahno’s heart began to beat a bit harder against his chest, but he calmed quickly, knowing that Robb would rather know what knowledge Tahno held against him, instead of killing him.

But the drawing of the sword, the six inches of reflective metal that was unsheathed and then quickly hidden from sight, made Tahno chuckle. This man had a temper, this man was defensive, and though Tahno knew not what would bring the man’s to a boil, he figured he had enough information to crack the surface. 

“You speak words about that which you do not know,"

A sneer from Tahno. “Drop the act, Prince," He growled out, his voice low and quiet, eyes narrowed to reflect all of the venom that his words did not. “Nobody’s around." He outstretched his arms gesturing to the empty hall around them and grinned. His voice was smug, loud, airy. A tone he had perfected in the arena. 

“Who are you to speak of my relationship with my lady sister?"

Tahno’s arms fell to his sides and he regarded the man in front of him with a curious a raise of the eyebrow, his amusement etched onto his face in the cast of a sly smirk.

"I could ask you nearly the same thing, Prince. Now, who are you to pull your weapon on me?" He brought his hands lightly to his chest, as if to exaggerate his innocence. “After all, I only ‘speak words about which I do not know’, don’t I?" The sarcasm rolled off of his tongue like honey.

The falter of Robb’s breathing didn’t go unnoticed by Tahno, and he turned his head slightly to the left, watching the man from the corner of his eye as he quickly tried to regain his composure.

Bingo. 

“What say you?" 

From this provoked another roll of the eyes from Tahno. Again with the ‘I’m big and powerful’ voice and act. It got old rather quickly.

"You’re a mediocre actor, perhaps you should take lessons," Tahno was bored now, seeing how rapidly this man got worked up. Self control was a valuable skill, it just appeared that Robb hadn’t taken the time to master it. 

"Your status doesn’t mean anything to me. You don’t mean anything to me either, so go ahead, let your true colors show. Just don’t blame me when they start to bleed together." 

[immortaldemise]

The arrogance in the stranger's voice was plain. The sarcasm flicked off of every word that slipped out of his mouth, The venom that poured out of every syllable, every letter, every hanging sound pierced Robb like the thousand swords that made up the Iron Throne. He was different. This wasn't an ice cold personality by nature, it was practiced. It had been rehearsed and rehearsed. It was all an act, and Robb could see that plain. Every movement he made was precise, every word carefully calculated.

Robb knew not whether it was something about which he should be afraid or perhaps laugh in the face of the constantly practiced and precise act. The facade of not seeming to care in the slightest did not distract, however, from the pain that the stranger's words brought. At every word that he hissed, the hairs on the back of Robb's neck stood straighter and straighter. He spoke as though he demanded Robb's respect, or at the very least his attention. Well, he had it. He may not know what the man's reasons were for coming to Winterfell, but he sure as the seven hells would hear him out. After all, that was what all respectable lords and kings did.

The man's lazy hair, careless demeanor, and subtle smirk said a lot. They hinted at his disgusting joy in seeing his opposition's frustration. They hinted at the innate desire to rile somebody up with the false air of confidence and pride. But Robb could tell that this man was not as proud as he said. There must have been something that made him act this way, something that gave him a reason to be the person he was. Because, when all was said and done, the truth remained that this man had come into Winterfell with the express purpose of angering Robb.

Well, he had succeeded. But he dared not show the stranger that, because admitting defeat at the hand of a few words was just as painful as being at a loss to win the war for the north. Letting the fool know he had won, in such a simple, cold, easy matter would be akin to stepping down as the King in the North, as good as giving the throne to the boy king Joffrey. The man's nonchalance aggravated Robb all the more, shrugging his shoulders instead of offering a true answer. And yet he was still hiding something from him. Something Robb was determined to find out.

"You are quite confident for a person entering a castle surrounded by my men," Robb sneered, the poison in his voice clear cut. The stranger responded with a roll of the eyes and crossed arms. "I've half a mind to cut you down right here." He flashed a smile. Robb himself was unsure of how true the statement was. "Though, before I would go so far as to see your life tragically cut short, would you be kind enough to tell me your name? Or would that compromise the entire act you have going on?" he said.

"Prince."

He kept calling Robb that. Every time he spoke, the word "prince" escaped his lips. Robb bit his tongue rather than respond. He understood what the man was playing at, he knew what his game was. By calling him that, he was hoping to catch Robb putting up a shield. He hoped that Robb would respond with something along the lines of, "I am a king." He would not grant him the satisfaction. This man, who had come into Winterfell to tease him, to play at him, to toy with his emotions would not get the best of him. He had already lapsed in judgment when he initially met the stranger, having reached for his sword.

No, he would stay calm and cool. He would do his best to beat the player at his own game. Robb's mouth was shut tight, his eyes smoldering with disgust, his nostrils flared. He would not have his lady sister, his Sansa, be demeaned in such a way, by a man he had never before seen. He licked his lips, and in a second his expression changed. He looked open, accommodating, welcoming. Feet planted firmly on the ground, arms crossed lazily, head cocked just slighty, the faintest smile on his face. The stranger wanted him to drop the act? Perhaps he would do just the opposite; perhaps he would lay it on thicker and thicker with every passing second, making it impossible to truly see the man underneath.

"I forget myself," Robb said, pressing a hand to his chest, just as his counterpart had done. "I have no right nor authority over you. You are not a citizen of my kingdom, you are not under my control. Please accept my sincerest of apologies." The man kept talking about true colors and how Robb should be plain with him. Of course, playing right into his hands would be one of the most dangerous things he could do, would it not? "Now, do you have any true business in Winterfell, or are you merely here to poke some fun?"

Where Robb's eyes grew more intense by the second, the other's seemed glazed over. He had played this part so many times, done so much in such a short life, that he had grown immune to the musing and playing of others. He was concerned only with getting his way, and perhaps Robb would be able to use that to his advantage. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to break this man where so many others had failed. It was obvious that he had been tried and tried in his lifetime. His eyes said it all. The way they rolled back in his head, the way he barely made eye contact. He was an expert at deception, but Robb had seen this many times before. Scores of men and women had sworn fealty to him, some proclaiming they had always been loyal to the King in the North, others saying they had been corrupted by the boy king.

But here was the rub: how did you sort out the liars?

[askgame]

See how my character reacts if yours says 'you are mine.'

[sexynerdy-bolin]

Introducing the Mun

[immortaldemise]

Name or nickname: Joshua, Josh Tumblr URL: immortaldemise, serselmys Sex: Yes, please. I mean, male. Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Fandoms: Doctor Who, ASOIAF, Harry Potter, Band of Brothers, Community, Orphan Black, Merlin, Sherlock, Dragon Age, Elder Scrolls, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter, and a bunch more I'm sure Muse(s): Robb Stark OC(s): — OC friendly?: Most times, yeah. Multi-fandom friendly?: Definitely. Will you ship your muse with any sex?: Sure, I'll ship it, but I'm not very good at smut so~ Are you open to SFW rp?: Sure thing, buddy. Are you open to NSFW rp?: I guess? I've never really written NSFW before. Can people come up and start a conversation with you?: Yes, it's very much appreciated Can they be your friend?: plEASE

[immortaldemise]

playing with fire || robb & daenerys.

[abrideoffire-archived-deactivat]

The air was thick with the smell of ocean water as the winds blew into the open chamber and filled her lungs with the scent as she inhaled. The sea had never truly been far from her, no matter where she had traveled, no matter where she had lived. It had always been there to comfort her, to lull her with its songs and caress pale flesh with its breeze. She loved the ocean as a child and it was the oceans that had brought her home— away from the city of Meereen and back, back to a place she had long left after the day of her birth. It had been no easy conquest, as most things were, but far easier than the sieges of the cities of Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen.

The battle was not taken as long as she had expected, however, her forces cutting through those of the enemy in hours time. Platinum hair danced in front of her line of vision until she had tucked the loose strands behind an ear and stepped closer to the gaping entry, underneath the pillars, of the council chamber. From up there she could see it all: the ocean, the rocks edge, even the camps that surrounded the fortress which buzzed with life. Dragonstone was a rather small island, truth be told, not very populated but she thought this ideal. The island had yet to be explored by the girl herself, but she had plenty of time for that.

The people of Dragonstone had fled, however. How could they not, when their previous lords no longer had hold of the castle of Targaryen? How not, when her children roamed the skies above the island? The lions that had fled from the slaughter knew, the people that had left knew, and word had already been sent to every single corner of the realm— the dragons had returned to their seat. The sun above caused her to flinch, violet eyes squinting ever so slightly as she brought a hand to shield them from the harsh light. Her hand had not remained raised for long, however, for the clouds began to roll in front of the great light and cast a shadow upon the island. Rain, she could smell it. "Your Grace," the soft voice of Missandei filled the her ears, "this one informs you that your guest has been spotted approaching the ports." Ah, that was right. Today she would have a visitor, wouldn’t she? As the ravens flew, so did her decree— she had Dorne on her side, but she could not conquer with Dorne alone. All that wished to join with the dragon were to present themselves to her— whether to ally themselves or negotiate; otherwise they will suffer the very fate of those whom had fallen to her host and the power she possessed. "Shall you be changing, Your Grace?"

Violet eyes fell on her person then, head inclining to the side as she looked upon her wisps. The girl wore a gown of a slim a-line silhouette and split, with ornate ruching enhancing the bodice of a bold v-neckline, while the skirt sweeps effortlessly to the floor. A lavishly embellished band wrapped about her waist, with a similar styling at at the shoulders. The silver locks which tumbled from her head were fashioned in a long, fishtail braid that was tossed over one shoulder, five silver bells fastened at the end. Perhaps she seemed more girl than conqueror in such attire, but she was not seeking to frighten, nor did she need to present herself as a warrior to gain the respect of they who would be coming to her soon. It was in name and in blood and in deed in which she would prove herself. She was not yet waging war, she need not dress as if she was. "No," the girl said, ordaining her words with a shake of her head. "I will greet them as I am now." As she finished she turned her head so that she could glance over her shoulder and allowed her lips to curl into a small smile. "Bring them to me, sweetling. I will await them here."

"Yes, Your Grace." 

——————

The castle of Dragonstone was heavily dragon themed, which was to be expected if it was meant to be inhabited by those of the blood of the dragon. The side wall of the council room was carved in the shape of a dragon with an open mouth, while there were many more carvings upon the ceiling. Small dragons framed the gates and and tails formed the archways and the staircases. The chairs, the torches, the furniture— yet it all paled in comparison to the actual thing. Her dragons had grown, big and strong, no longer were they the size of dogs or goats. No, her black was already large enough for the riding and the other two were close to follow. A few more months, perhaps even less, and they too would be ready for the mount.

They circled the open room from the outside, chasing each other as they used to when they were much smaller. They stirred the air with each beat of their wings, untroubled by the sudden downpour that had graced them, blowing gusts of wind and rain straight into the room whenever they got too close. The girl stood by a pillar, watching them at their sport. ‘You have grown, my children,’ she thought, a thin smile playing at her lips, ‘and much growing you will still do.’ Drawing in a soft sigh she took a single step back from the gaping hole, eyes fixed on the winged reptiles as they passed by, as if they would fly away. ’He had done so once, my Drogon,’ she reminded herself, but then shook her head, ‘he will not do so again.’ All she could do was reassure herself.

“Your Grace,” the voice of Missandei jolted her from her thoughts, and the girl drew in a deep, steady breath. It was time. “Your Grace,” the scribe began in the Common Tongue, and at this the silver haired girl could not help but blink. She had expected lords companies, soldiers— not kings. Regaining her composure she slowly turned, violet coming to lock with orbs of blue. Auburn of head, a boy at best but she was not one to underestimate another due to their age— this one was no older than she, it seemed..“You now stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, of the House Targaryen, the Unburnt, former Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons.” The Naathi turned to Daenerys then, and gave a nod of her head. "Your Grace, may I present to you His Grace Robb Stark, King of the North lands of Westeros."

Stark. She knew of this one.

"My lord Stark," Daenerys spoke firmly yet not not so that it could be deemed disrespectful. This one was was no ordinary girl, and would not be seen as such; first impressions were all, truly. Lifting a hand, she gestured to an open seat to the left of the main chair. "Please, sit." Outside, her children screamed, their hisses and the beating of their wings bringing the morning air to life. This boy was now in the presence of true dragons. Of the last Targaryen.

[immortaldemise]

Upon entering, Robb was greeted by what could only be described as the unexpected. He had assumed he would be speaking with a queen, someone who had far surpassed his years, judging by the titles she had acquired. He knew better, of course, because he had been told stories of how the Targaryen children were taken away at a young age, not so far away from his, and how they had been hidden away in cities like Braavos. He learned of how the Targaryen girl had conquered--no, liberated--the Slaver Cities of Astapor, Yunkai, Meereen. He learned of how she had bred dragons and walked through flames untouched. He learned of her triumphs, yes, but he never pictured a young girl carrying out such actions.

The architecture of Dragonstone was rather peculiar. Everything was carved into the shapes of dragons--no doubt how the castle earned its name. There were dragons on the ceilings and the floors, on the walls and on doorways. In the council room where Robb was meeting this Mother of Dragons, a dragon's mouth had been carved out of one of the walls, revealing the skies outside. It was then that Robb caught his first glimpse of them. Dragons.

"Your Grace," the Naathi girl said, "you now stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, of the House Targaryen, the Unburnt, former Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons." So, her title was as much of a mouthful as his men had said. Such renown placed upon such fragile looking shoulders, Robb thought. It would not be wise, then, to underestimate her. She obviously possessed far more power than her petite frame suggested.

Robb's eyes were fixed, however, on the beasts that flew in the sky around them. The sky cried and cried, tears flowing in a malicious onslaught, and yet the beasts were unhindered. They played and flew, biting at each other and breathing magnificent flames. It was truly a sight to behold, and one that very few men ever saw--and lived to speak about. Mesmerized by the creatures, Robb only remembered where he was when the girl asked him to sit. He graciously accepted, sweeping across the room and sitting in a rather ornate chair.

"My lady," he said, bowing his head deeply. "I thank you for your seeing me this day." Raising his head, Robb could not help but notice her striking violet eyes and platinum hair. She truly was of the House Targaryen: there were no others in Westeros who possessed such features. "My men tell me you come from Essos, where the weather is much warmer, and yet much less forgiving," he said, employing his courtesies. It would not do to insult such a powerful woman when he now was in one of the weakest states since he had entered the war. "I trust you are finding Westeros to be more accommodating? Surely, the days are not as hot these days. Winter is coming."

Robb could not turn his eyes away from her. Daenerys Targaryen had skin as white as snow, her young face lined with aging far before its time, and yet she was still quite beautiful. Her hair fell in one thick braid down her shoulder, and she wore brilliant silks that could only have come from the Free Cities. Meanwhile, Robb sat adorned in his rough leather and furs, the brown armor beginning to crack in places and the furs soaked from the rain. His auburn hair had just begun to dry, and the strands stuck together in an uneven fashion, though they were clear from his face. He had on worn-out gloves, walked-in boots, and generally tired clothes.

She looked as though she had endured many hardships, as had he. Where he had experienced the death of his lord father and lady mother, the loss of his men, being separated from his siblings, and the betrayal of Theon Greyjoy, this young girl had undoubtedly faced more. After all, it must not be the most satisfying situation to have no place to truly call a home for so long. It had been years since the Battle of the Trident, where the Targaryens had been defeated. Surely Daenerys had not forgotten what it meant.

He would be able to use this. This yearning for a place to call home, the desire to take back what was hers. He could see it in her eyes. She cried so desperately to return to a place that was home. He would do his best to return it to her. Perhaps that was the Stark in him, what allowed him to be such a leader as he was. He wanted to help, and he assumed that after exchanging ravens with Daenerys for quite some time that she was ready to accept his offering of help. Perhaps now he would finally be able to secure the North, to kill the boy king in Joffrey Lannister, and to reunite his family once more. Perhaps now, the Starks would be safe from the wrath of the lions who called themselves Lannisters.

He could feel her emanating a dominant presence. Her posture, her demeanor screamed of a leader, of a queen. She was truly a Targaryen, truly a dragon. This much was obvious. But there was something more about the Targaryen girl, the Unburnt, that made him feel as though she was just as much a part of this war as he was--or had been. She commanded legions of men, she had freed slaves, and she had dragons. Outside, their screeches could still be heard amongst the rainfall and thunder. Lighting struck outside, illuminating the sky and casting a shadow across Robb and Daenerys' faces. Everything fell quiet for the shortest of seconds, and then the dragons were back at their playing.

"But we are not here to discuss the weather, or niceties such as those," he continued, leaning forward in his seat and placing his hands on his lap. "We both understand that there are far more pressing matters at hand."

[immortaldemise]

tenderstrength replied to your post: tenderstrength replied to your post: //things to...

WOW I SAID I’M GOING TO REPLY CALM UR FUCKIN FACE

//*smooches ur face* shhhhh

[immortaldemise]

tenderstrength replied to your post: //things to do reply to abrideoffire respond to...

EXCUSE YOU

//did i fuCKING STUTTER

[ialwayshaveachoice]

ooc:

oh wow, can you guys lay off of abrideoffire for one day? stop blaming her for other people’s choices and leave her alone for christ’s sake. roleplay is roleplay. it’s meant to be fun. stop ruining people’s fun, alright?

[tormentinhonor]

OH MY FUCKING GOD. THIS. THIS FOREVER.

[immortaldemise]

//things to do

reply to abrideoffire

respond to maimedlion ask

start thread for cleverlittlerose (?)

punCH HANNA IN THE FACE

[huntingandorgies-deactivated201]

Based on my writing style who else do you think I could pull off?

[empresssongarchive-blog-deactiv]

 If you don’t think I could pull somebody else off, please tell me. If you don’t think I should play someone else, please tell me. I would love explanations for which ever option you choose. 

[immortaldemise]

//I've gained 36 followers and I've had this blog--what--less than a week? Jeez, man you guys are like flIES (but in the good way) ((if there is a good way to be a fly))

[immortaldemise]

abrideoffire replied to your post: abrideoffire replied to your post: //Ommy’s...

[shfjgkdg hyOU CAN TAKE HOWEVER LONG YOU WANT, M’DEAR. i’m so sorry if i overwhelmed screech.]

//No it'll be up tomorrow I just have to do a thing tonight I'll probably write it in the morning xx

[immortaldemise]

abrideoffire replied to your post: //Ommy’s reply makes me want to cry it’s so...

[rOLLS YOU UP IN A BURRITO AND SITS ON] nO

//oh my gosh okay i just wow what a good

wow i

i'll have your reply tomorrow i promise

[immortaldemise]

//Ommy's reply makes me want to cry it's so gorgeous I am not worthy

[kimchimoon-moved-deactivated201]

I’m trying to reply to Josh and i just

im too stupid to talk to him

[immortaldemise]

//Too stupid what the dicks you're a genius

[wolvenking-deactivated20130910]

Send me your character's reaction to my character's death.