FALLING STAR ; @ironundcrneath - Tumblr Blog

#( * muse | you were a wildflower growing stubbornly in a field of wilted roses. )

sseashell:

jeyne had her dress pushed half way down her body and the top of her scrubs on when the nurse stuck her head in. rosaline was one of the better nurses jeyne had acquainted herself with in the last year and she knew enough about her to know that she was straight forward when it came to their jobs. ‘ uh, yeah, can you give me a quick run down on what happened ? ’

she had an inkling suspicion but she needed to hear from someone impartial to it all, she needed cold facts. she’ll find out the culprits and the motivations afterward. ‘ i was nearly home when i saw the ambulances, ’ she says, explaining her sudden appearance at the hospital, ‘ i thought you could use an extra set of hands. ’ jeyne balled up the dress and shoved it into her locker, moving to stick her feet into her shoes, her heart beating loudly in her ears as she bends down.

——————————————————————————————

The blonde’s thoughts were confirmed as Jeyne explained that she had, what sounded like, literally just missed all the violence. Granted she hadn’t outright said that she was in attendance, but Rosaline found herself wondering if the doctor was like her, forced servitude to some syndicate, or if she was a willing member. “I can only tell you what I know from what I’ve overheard as I’ve been stitching folks up.” She said with a small shrug and a look of chagrin on her face.

“Lights went out, mercenaries streamed in, all out brawl ensued. By the fact that there are more injuries than fatalities it seems like they had a...” She shivered at the thought “--Perhaps a list of people they were going after. We have quite a few lacerations as knives seemed to be their weapons of choice, a couple of bullet wounds, although more grazes which is fairly lucky considering the whole ‘no lights thing’, and a few head traumas, generally with the mercenaries on the receiving end of guests fighting back with bottles, chairs, whatever they could find.” she took a shaky breath, the idea that she could’ve been there, that her family if initiated could have also been there, rattling her a bit. “--Most of the major traumas have already been admitted, at this point my guess is it’ll be people coming in with little things that were missed by Dr Waynwood who was running some sort of pop up med tent on the scene.”

#( * interactions | ft. jeyne westerling. )

.ofbryce:

The evening had been sold to him as drinks and a couple of games of cards, both things that he was able to handle. By the time he’d realised it was supposed to be a more formal event with a dresscode to match, it had been too late to back out and as always he found himself resigned to his fate. The only silver lining of it all was that it was pretty easy to avoid small talk by just sticking to the tables and pretending as though his stoicism was simply his poker face. He didn’t exactly have money to burn but he wasn’t entirely broke either so he’d had some modest success during a couple of games. It maybe wasn’t as bad as he’d expected it to be but that didn’t make the suit he’d borrowed any more comfortable. After finishing his hand, he took a moment away from the table, yanking his collar away from his neck when he was tired of the fabric constantly rubbing. And then there was the rest of it. That hadn’t sat right since he’d gotten there and that one corner that refused to stay tucked in. A flash of familiar strawberry blonde catches his eye as he’s busy rearranging and he’s quick to direct a question at her when he realised that his discomfort might have been witnessed. “Having fun?”

@ironundcrneath

She had been meandering between tables watching games being played, money lost and won, simply taking in the glory of a night out when it had been so long since she had one. She really didn’t have any money to lose, her purse strings were tight and budget even tighter, but she found it entertaining enough just to watch. It was during this walk around the tables that she spotted Bryce, and she had to admit she was quite surprised. Not only was he in attendance but he was in a suit. As she watched him fuss with it, she could only guess that it wasn’t his, but it didn’t change the fact that it suited him fairly well. A scuffy 007 or something of the like. He looked suave, a word she was not used to using in reference in to Bryce. Gruff, grumpy, disgruntled, sure, but not suave. --Eventually her observations had been made, and she had been spotted, so she made her way over to his table, only a few feet away. And upon being within closer distance, she thought she might have spotted his problem. Without thinking, she reached out for the collar of his shirt, picking off what must’ve been part of a dry cleaning tag somehow wedged itself in there “I am both having fun and not having fun, if that makes any sense.” She commented with a shrug after finally retrieving the source of his annoyance. “It’s nice to be out, but I’m...A bit paranoid.”

#( * interactions | ft. bryce caron. )

arrynsrobert:

He didn’t want to be there. In fact, the very last place he wanted to be was mingling with King’s Landing’s elite. How pathetic this whole thing was, so soon after the murder of his mother and they were all pretending like nothing had changed. Just another ordinary evening in King’s Landing, another boy orphaned without a second glance. As he sipped from his complimentary glass of champagne (slowly, he wasn’t willing to give money to anyone or anything that he couldn’t completely trust) - he let his eyes wander the room. Enemies, all of them. Unless someone could prove themselves a friend.

——————————————————————————————

It had been a long time since Rosaline had attended an event like this, or really done anything other than work, and she had to say she missed it. She missed getting dressed up, wearing something other than scrubs, doing anything other than stitching up her patients and Stags alike. It felt good. That is until a familiar face caught her eye and the blonde quickly found herself looking for cover. With no immediate places to duck into, she instead decided that despite his seemingly unwelcoming face, that the man off to her side was her best option. “Hi, you don’t know me and I am so, so sorry but would you mind just pretending we’re having a conversation for a moment? And then I promise that you’ll never have to see me again?” To say she was desperate was an understatement.

#( * interactions | ft. robin arryn. )

gilmoresgifs

#( * muse | ft. ysilla royce. )

———— R O S A L I N E 😇

#( * visage | you saw her beauty but not the iron underneath. )

oftybolt:

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

Ever the faithful lieutenant he had been making a daily trip to North Wall Memorial regardless of the fact that Robert was still refusing to see anyone but Eddard Stark. Perhaps it should have wounded him somewhat that his boss had not included him on the shortlist for who was allowed in but instead he found himself hardly caring. After all, the longer the Baratheon stayed in the hospital the longer he was able to act as governor and prove that he was the right man for the job. It had all worked out rather perfectly when it meant that he had the perfect foundation for the campaign that he hoped would end in himself officially calling the shots rather than simply being second in command. So whilst he wasn’t entirely heartless and did want the other man to recover ( partially through genuine care for both Robert and then his fiancee too and partially because it would be that much more satisfying a victory if his opponent was fighting fit ) he wasn’t showing up out of simple concern. He knew how it would look favourably upon him if he was seen to still be loyal and supportive.

He knew the way to Robert’s room by now and so he strode with confidence through the corridors, only pausing when nurse spoke to him. Smooth reply came without missing a beat, easy smile slipping onto his features. “I think you can. Tybolt Crakehall. I’m here to see Governor Baratheon.” He resists the urge to tack his title onto the end of his introduction when it felt that little bit too heavy handed.

——————————————————————————————

While she hadn’t initially recognized the voice, upon turning around she realized she did know the face. Robert Baratheon’s #2, well, in one of his lives at least. Ros, being a Stag surgeon had been tasked with keeping an eye on Robert while he was in the hospital, which meant that much to the ICU nurses dismay, she had been spending a lot of time in the ward, and she had seen the man in front of her’s face a couple of times. Although she wasn’t exactly sure why, he must’ve known at this point that he wasn’t going to get in, day in and day out, things hadn’t changed, Robert still refused to see anyone but Ned Stark. --- Rosaline, who had spent much of her life with her back purposefully turned on any syndicate news or knowledge hadn’t known exactly why that was significant, until a gossiping initiate had let her in on all the past drama between the two men, families and syndicates. It seemed after 20 years perhaps it was all being put to rest. Near death experiences had a tendency to do that to people, make them want to forgive, to make amends, reach out. She had seen it countless times.

Looking at the man, a slick smile on his face, she raised a brow. “I think we both know that’s not going to happen.---” He must’ve known, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he visited day in and day out in hopes of catching a newbie, or someone off guard who didn’t know of the governor’s security restrictions. But it wasn’t like security wouldn’t stop him at the door even if he did. All these thoughts raced through her head, trying to figure out the man’s goal, understand if it was anything nefarious that would blow back on her, before she finally realized exactly the point of his visits, or so she would guess: optics. “--But if you like I can call security and see if there’s been a change to the list?” That you’re not on, she thought to herself, which made her mind start to wonder exactly why his right hand man wasn’t on the list. But she stopped herself, she didn’t need to know, nor did she want to, the less info she knew the better, her time with the Stags could be done any day now (or so she hoped) and she wanted to know as little as possible for when she returned to civilian life.

#( * interactions | ft. tybolt crakehall. )

@ofwaynwood north wall memorial hospital

Rosaline was worried. The entire shift had been filled with fairly innocuous patients and injuries, the worst they had gotten so far had been a possible heart attack (spoiler alert: it had simply been bad heart burn), followed by a fairly bad arm break that was quickly taken over by ortho, and a bad case of the flu. Some might even consider it ‘The Q Word’ (the word that must not be said, Voldemort style). But they all knew better than to complain, and spent time getting caught on paper work, charting, supply restocking, and even some light chatting. She even had time to take a walk, finding herself heading to one of the surgical break rooms, although she was looking for one surgeon in particular. Upon spotting the brunette head of hair, Rosaline made her way in. it was a break room only for surgeons, but only a very stupid surgical intern would try and tell a nurse, those who kept the hospital running, that they couldn’t be there. And even though that stupidity was avoided, it seemed like a different kind was running amuck, as a person leaving as Rosaline entered gave her a cheerful smile and said “Quiet night tonight, huh?” --- “Please tell me the intern who just said the Q word is not yours?” the blonde questioned as she threw herself down on the couch next to Anya.

#( * interactions | ft. anya waynwood. )

#( * muse | you were a wildflower growing stubbornly in a field of wilted roses. )

ofbryce:

When he’d tied himself to The Stags he’d done so knowing that it wasn’t simply the Baratheons that he was pledging himself to. Instead there were a whole host of people he suddenly had ties with and it perhaps would have all been too much for him if he hadn’t been so adamant that they were nothing like a family. They were all simply acquaintances and he tended to keep it that way when it wasn’t as though a deeper relationship was required. He was protective of all other members, refusing to let any Stag suffer on his watch but there were some he kept a closer eye on. Somewhere in among the countless initiates he’d demanded her help for, he’d taken to watching out for the blonde. The exact reasons were ones he paid no attention to when it would have meant diving to deep into his own psych and he instead assumed that it was just because she was in a healing profession. “Least you’ve got a break now. If they ever overwork you, just let me know.” The threat was absent from his tone but they both knew exactly how he would rectify any problems that she might have had with work.

Shoulders rolled into a shrug at her question, one that he should have seen coming. Even when he showed up with some initiate who was clearly the one who needed help, she never had overlooked him. “Always am.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, not when he’d maintained something of an equilibrium for years by simply choosing numbness over all else. He figured emotions were worth sacrificing for a level-headedness that brought with it clarity instead of pain. Part of him knows that his answer wouldn’t really satisfy her, not when he knows that that caring instinct runs so deeply in her. But he’s got no real desire to be checked out again when he feels as though it’s unnecessary and he’d rather she didn’t waste her well deserved break on him. So he speaks again where he’d usually have stayed silent, tone neutral as ever even though he’s trying to seem convincing. “We all got checked out when we left. Doctor said I was all good.”

——————————————————————————————

Despite how tired she was, Rosaline couldn’t help but chuckle at him. She knew he wasn’t trying to be funny, but in her overworked mind she found herself imagining him squaring up against the charge nurse. Rosaline wasn’t someone who liked violence, but that would be a fight she’d pay to see. Pay-per-view and everything. “I’m a nurse, Bryce, being overworked is sort of in the job description.” she joked, a tired smile tickling at her lips. “And on nights like tonight, well, I don’t mind. Especially when any of those people could have been me. Or you. Or even more of those stupid kids.” She would assume he’d understand ‘those stupid kids’ was her referring to the initiates he frequently brought in. She didn’t want to know their names, not because she didn’t care, but because she knew if she did, she’d care too much. And by the pure frequency in which they came in, or she was whisked off to care for them, she figured they’d lose some of them before the end of the year. Especially now.

“Until you’re not.” she muttered under her breath as she began to clear her vending-machine-meal from the table. His reassurance did the opposite of it’s intended purpose, as sometimes the confidence he seemingly held for himself and his abilities and the attitude of ‘always am’ made it feel as if he was testing the Gods, and at one point they’d knock him down a peg. Granted, she (mercifully) had never seen him in action, so maybe he was that good. But she couldn’t help but worry, because Bryce was a name she had learned, and it wasn’t one she wanted to have to chart one day. And really, it wasn’t even a lack of confidence she had in his abilities to keep himself safe, it was more of a fear of everyone else’s abilities. All her life she had spent stitching her family up, and at the beginning of her entanglement with the Stags, she assumed that’s what she was getting into, more of that. But nights like tonight reminded her that this was a much more dangerous game. --- She wasn’t sure if he had heard her, but regardless she couldn’t stop the breathed “Sorry,” that fell from her mouth, as she turned away from the garbage can she had just tossed her food in and back towards him. “It’s just...Long night.” And after the night he had, she’d assume he’d understand, although he didn’t look the least bit rattled.

#( * interactions | ft. bryce caron. )

sseashell:

jeyne had been there, only having left the venue at the request of her mistress mere minutes before it all went to hell. she was already half way home in a cab with her mother ( they were invited out of the kindness that her father – away on an extended business trip – was a loyal servant of the lannisters ) when she saw police cars and ambulances racing in the opposite direction. ice had been poured into her veins the rest of the way home and bidding her mother goodnight, jeyne rushed back out still dressed for the event and headed toward the hospital.

there was an influx of people near the entrance, rigs lined up in the ambulance bay as people were wheeled in by various medical staff. jeyne forced her way in, nearly tripping over someone who had come in looking for a patient and nearly running into rosaline. ‘ i’m sorry, ’ she says to the both of them, straightening up. ‘ rosaline, could you escort this person to the waiting area and then come find me in the changing room ? i’m going to get out of this dress. ’ what she needed was to clear her head, but there was a sense of duty she couldn’t shy away from, least of all when she suspects she knows who’s behind it.

she slams the door of her locker shut and begins to tie her hair up. it had already been a long night making the rounds to pay attention to the people at the party, and now it was only going to get longer as she prepares to go back out into the emergency room.

——————————————————————————————

It took her a moment to put the familiar voice with the face in front of her. She had never seen Jeyne not in scrubs, and while all dolled up she looked beautiful, but she looked different. To Rosaline at least. Recovering from the small moment of unknown identity, the strawberry blonde quickly snapped back into so-called ‘work mode’ and with a smile and a nod, she steered the woman who had gotten lost in the fuss back towards the waiting room, with the mental note to check on her in a bit, once things had calmed down enough that she’d be able to get a doctor to brief her on her family member’s injuries. For most of her life Rosaline had stitched up her family members, so she knew what was going on,so she couldn’t even imagine the helplessness of sitting in a hospital, waiting for news on a loved one, not even knowing what happened to them. It made her stringent on nagging doctors to go out and talk to family members. The newer ones always seemed to avoid it.

With the woman settled in, Rosaline quickly set on her next task, meeting Westerling in the lockers, although she had to wonder why. Did she need help getting out of her dress, or was she simply looking for an intake briefing of the night so far? With a dress like that Rosaline had to wonder if the woman had been at the event herself.

Despite already having entered the room halfway, Rosaline still knocked on the door just to make her presence known. “You needed me?” she questioned softly.

#( * interactions | ft. jeyne westerling. )

———— R O S A L I N E 😇

#( * visage | you saw her beauty but not the iron underneath. )

wclfgurl:

somehow the idea of the hospital being oh so neutral seemed amusing to arya. she got it in her head somewhere down the line that if she, perhaps, tagged the building would be comical to her. she would love to see what people thought of that — if it would cause others to declare war on something that’s so simple as a fucking spray paint job. which is exactly why arya found a spot near the side of the building — hopefully far enough away from the noise and people coming in and out. then again, getting caught is part of the fun.

her usual supplies laid in a black bag next to her, open. spray cans that she completely finished and used up, discarded around her. she barely just got started, nowhere close to finishing her work when a voice seemed to come out of nowhere. thank the gods that she was wearing some disposable mask to keep herself from breathing in the fumes. she tried to ignore the other, hastily finishing the job before she has to bolt. it won’t look good but it’ll be complete. “ give me like, five more minutes? nearly done over here. ” ah yes, arguing with someone who threatened to call security. a smart move on her part.

——————————————————————————————–

Rosaline, in general, was a generous and forgiving person. Her entire life was made up of people she had forgiven (some she shouldn’t have), and she thought she was being generous enough in telling the kid to scram rather than calling hospital security. But as the girl made no move that showed she intended on doing just that, and instead had the nerve to, even jokingly, ask for more time...Well it was fair to say that Rosaline’s generosity had run out. She had it with people who thought they could do whatever they wanted.

Without knowing who the girl was, who she was connected to, or capable of, before Rosaline could even think it through, her legs were carrying over to the other’s position, and her hand snapped out in an attempt to snatch the can out of her hands. “Are you dumb, suicidal, or just an asshole?” She figured it was probably the latter. “--First of all, you need to learn some respect. You do this to the workplace of people who could one day save your life? Or that of a friend or family member? And for matter of fact might have to save your life if someone finds out you did this?” The families seemed to take the idea of the hospital as the most neutral of zones extremely seriously, and while the woman in front of her had made her blood boil, she figured the punishment they’d dole out would far outweigh the crime, and didn’t think she deserved that.

#( * interactions | ft. arya stark. )

goldkraken:

Everyone had to be checked before leaving the vault. Asha had been lucky, she didn’t have any big injuries, just a few bruises, and scratches, nothing of interest of even out of the ordinary in the situation. Once she had got to go ahead to leave the venue, and once she had talked to Theon, there was one place she knew she would need to be, the hospital. They would need someone to identify her father and the sooner the better. Asha was sure there would be next to no sleep in the next hours anyway. The only thing she did was changed into something more comfortable as the dress she wore would not allow her to comfortably sit while she waited in the hospital. With an almost steaming cup of coffee in her hands, something far from what she was used too, Asha was walking towards a waiting room while looking at her phone, waiting for the chaos to hit the news. When a woman’s voice was heard, Asha looked up, unsure if she had been addressing her, not realizing she had been closely following someone. “Hum yeah,” she started as she put her phone in her pocket. “I’m looking for the morgue, I think? My father’s, well, he died and I’m going to have to identify his body.” Devoted Asha, she would be the one doing the horrible task of looking at a lifeless Balon. Maybe this was her punishment for her actions.

Upon realizing she wasn’t speaking to her nursing student, Rosaline had instinctively arranged her face in the practiced, yet somehow still genuine smile that was reserved solely for those in the hospital that were not staff. She knew no matter the reason why you were there, whether patient, friend or family, it was a hard time, so she always tried to offer a comforting and warm interaction. But, Rosaline’s face fell as the woman revealed her purpose. “Oh” And without thinking, she reached out for the woman’s shoulder, in some attempt to comfort her. “I know sorry is never enough in these situations, but I am sorry that you have to go through something like this.” Having a parent die was hard enough, but having to identify their body? Rosaline couldn’t imagine. “Would you like me to show you the way? I really don’t mind.”

#( * interactions | ft. asha greyjoy. )

ofwvlfblood:

Brandon had missed all the fun, it seemed. Gone a few months and his little spiders reported back nothing out of the ordinary, fine - boring, but fine. At least Ned and Robb and Lyanna were handling their newfound power well enough, even if, really, he’d expected at least some unrest after news of his retirement spread through the families. Of course, he’d stayed in town long enough to make sure that gossip had reached every ear that mattered, as if proclaiming it at his own birthday party wasn’t a surefire way to make sure their entire little world knew in a day. Travel plans carefully arranged so that he’d be nowhere near King’s Landing when this meeting called around - retired or not, he couldn’t imagine Lysa would’ve taken kindly to him drinking the night away a few streets over from her little soiree - he’d made his way through the city’s blockades as if it was nothing and found himself in a madhouse.

“Sounds like I can help you with something, unless you find this Emma,” he replied, lazy grin on his face, one hand in the pocket of his pants. The hospital hadn’t been his first stop, or his second, but none of the Starks were on death’s door, none of them needed him to hold their hand. But Brandon wasn’t a monster ( hah! good one, right? ) and he’d known he’d have to pop by and check in on his family eventually. It helped, of course, that a few sightings around town could only fuel the story of his return. “I’m looking for Ned Stark - you know, stony face, looks a bit like he hasn’t laughed in a year, probably hanging around Robert Baratheon’s room?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosaline had no idea who the man was, having kept herself purposefully ignorant of Syndicate politics and the criminal underbelly of King’s Landing near about her entire life. But, she had been around it her entire life in one way or another and could tell that this man was someone. He had a presence about him that gave her that reading; strong, powerful, confident. “Well unless you know the difference between a 4-0 biosyn monofilament and 4-0 nylon suture, I don’t think you can. Thanks though. Points for offering.” Despite the charming, lackadaisical smile which would normally earn the giver one in return from Rosaline, something held her back. Gods, she was getting more paranoid by the day.

Or perhaps she wasn’t. As she listened to his reason for being in the hospital, a shiver went down her spine at the mention of the name Baratheon. She highly doubted that Robert, the governor of King’s Landing had anything to do with her indentured servitude, being at the top of the chain of the Stags she figured he wouldn’t deal with such things, but she still could feel her gut churning at the name. The other name he dropped didn’t pass her notice either. She had been right, he must’ve been involved somehow to know those two. But the hospital, one of the last places and parts of her life she still held power over, gave her courage. They were in her territory, and she flexed the small amount of power of her domain that she had. “Haven’t seen him. But even if I had...Due to the events of the evening the governor’s security team has made it clear only family and people on a pre-cleared list are allowed in. In fact the entire unit is pretty much under lockdown.” While she was speaking the truth, she felt a small bit guilty for how much pleasure she got from turning him down, and paused. “But if you’d like I can call up to security with your name?”