ROTTEN / 腐った

SORA ARYNN of THE VALE

[kusatta]

KUSATTA 腐った / rotten | body —- illusion  appears ,  illusion  ceases ;  the  biggest  illusion  among  all  is  our  body .  once  a  pacified  heart  finds  its  place ,  there's  no  such  body  to  look  for .

i. sora arryn . lord of the vale , twenty - nine , he / them . -— intro. visage. threads. board. ii. thawin 'nak' drumm . liege of old wyk , twenty - eight , they / them . -— intro. visage. threads. board.

[soulrcts]

“  what  i  find  attractive  i  am  sure  is  not  the  same  others  do,  ”  kella  muses,  turning  to  the  next  page.  just  sneaking  peeks  while  others  openly  gawked  testament  enough  that  her  priorities  skittered  off  with  whatever  passing  thought  that  she  had.  “  however,  if  you  must  know  …  no.  it  only  tells  me  that  someone  has  not  learned  to  duck  effectively,  and  is  that  not  one  of  the  first  skills  a  fighter  learns  ?  to  protect  their  face  and  parry  ?  ”  novels,  however,  could  be  incorrect  and  she  would  cede  where  she  was  wrong.  “  your  stretching  is  not  more  entertaining  than  my  poetry,  no.  will  me  staring  at  you  help  you  win  ?  ”  lowers  the  book  enough  to  see  be  granted  the  view  of  skin,  dragging  her  gaze  slowly  up  to  rest  on  his  eyes.  “  you  act  as  if  i  have  not  seen  you  bare  chested  before.  ”  a  treat  each  time,  but  she  would  not  allow  him  to  know  that.  “  and  i  did  not  say  you  would  lose.  i  said  i  hope  that  you  would  not.  ”  

she  heaves  a  great  sigh,  lowering  the  book  to  rest  onto  her  lap.  “  you  will  do  so  well,  sora.  you  will  beat  your  father  and  my  brother  and  they  will  both  need  to  turn  to  their  wives  for  comfort.  i  will  become  some  queen  of  the  battle  and  you  will  get  the  opportunity  to  roar  like  a  lion  that  has  proven  its  might.  i  will  swoon  and  faint  into  your  arms.  ”  a  pause,  smile  playing  about  her  lips.  “  that  sounded  rather  convincing,  did  it  not  ?  ”   

[kusatta]

sora does not doubt her statement, knowing that her preferences are indeed different, much to his disappointment. he can charm most people around their age, but seems not to be as successful around kella. though today he is hoping it would change- he would win and then be able to show that in front of all, as a sign of their betrothal and his devotion. the idea pulls him away from reality for a few seconds, before he is pulled back and lets out a small huff. "well- you are only seeing the failures. i think it's a sign of how many times i have managed to successfully duck —" he is here alive in one piece after all. all lethal blows have been thwarted, and those that were taken did not leave him with any lasting damage. at the end of the day, that is the most a fighter could ask for. his eyes return to the book, and fight the urge to act as if it's his biggest enemy. it's not. though by this rate, it is going to make the list. doesn't comment on her watching him bare-chested ( although he would not mind kella watching him any day ) — "isn't watching the match more interesting?" to him, this seems as clear as night and day; poetry or a championship match? while he is aware the words are fake, they send a trickle of warmth down his spine, of which he tries not to show. a shake of his head, he laughs, partially accepting defeat. "that did sound convincing if i didn't know you." twitch of his lips, something gentler swims in his expression, unlike the fighter he is that stands on the battling grounds. "i'd think you were a shapeshifter instead if you did say all of that."

[kusatta]

location : gardens ⏲ day four , far from the performance hall from : sora arryn , lord of the eyrie to : open starter ! [ 0 / 2 ]

as the young lord walks through the gardens, he would vehemently disagree that this is pacing. no, it is merely enjoying the beauties ( or lack thereof ) of king's landing, that it is one of the very few things arryns seem to be allowed to do. breathe in air, that is — unless maelor thinks they are breathing wrong and scheming against the throne in the same vein. he wouldn't put it against him, after all, the lunatic seems to have created a world of his own in that odd mask of his, blaming them before they have even done anything. the speech had made him almost forget that he lost the tournament — angering him so that he felt he almost bent one of the cutleries in his hold. the most annoying thing is that they haven't even done anything — has he been imagining different ways to murder the king in his mind? yes. has he acted in any way shape or form? not at all. if they were going to be punished all the same, wouldn't it have been better to actually scheme in some form? the thoughts run wild in their mind when they hear the sound of footsteps. it's a surprise, not expecting someone to be here as he turns on his heel, facing the newcomer. a tilt of his head, he bites the first words that come to his tongue and attempts something else. "oh- stopping for some air, or did the performances end up being too boring?"

[soulrcts]

it  was  odd,  to  be  given  the  attention  that  winning  the  tourney  had  afforded.  split  second  decision  to  etch  their  name  onto  the  list  to  enduring  the  apathetic  not  quite  disapproval  but  neither  approval  from  their  father  from  her  act.  erena  had  already  mounted  a  rationale  in  her  mind  —  their  house  was  overlooked  and  if  they  won,  people  would  speak  of  the  boltons  with  something  other  than  infamy.  if  she  had  lost,  people  would  forget  about  their  presence  and  move  about  them  all  cautiously  as  they  already  did.  she  had  not  expected  to  best  any  in  the  contest,  if  they  were  to  be  honest.  they  thought  little  of  their  skill  for  years  now  despite  the  methodical  way  she  remembered  both  their  mother  and  father  correcting  her  stance  with  a  patience  that  was  no  longer  afforded  in  their  adulthood.  erena  had  known  each  arrow  would  ring  true,  yes.  their  father  had  set  up  for  a  target  to  move  in  the  years  they  had  been  back  to  the  dreadfort,  offering  more  challenge  and  yet  …

seated  towards  the  back  of  the  great  hall  with  a  single  goblet  of  arbor  red  untouched  before  them,  the  eyes  prickled  against  their  skin  uncomfortably.  “  there  is  someone  sitting  there,  ”  she  speaks  softly  when  another  approached,  lying  easily  as  though  the  empty  bench  was  not  proof  enough  to  the  contrary.  

[  open  starter:  day  three,  in  the  great  hall.  open  to  4  replies  ]

[kusatta]

one thing for sure, it was entertaining to watch the tournaments from the sidelines, without having a stake in it; quietly looking over the audience, the players. the intention seemed innocent enough at first glance, a well-meant kindling of sportsmanship, a demonstration of peace, of harmony amongst the houses. that is if one could not look further than the end of one's nose. despite the image that's projected, it was clear that there were many who wanted to make it a show of strength over others, sending their champions, people who were the best of the best. and nak only had the job to observe and watch- which they found quite entertaining. now that all of it is done, they walk amongst the aftermath, smell of iron in the air, as well as frustration that's kept behind lock and chain. to see one of the victors sitting alone is a surprise, and they make their way towards them quietly, intending to offer greetings for a conversation- before it's thwarted. a hint of amusement at what they deem somewhat of a childish refusal, they do not take it to heart. drumms do not have a great reputation after all, and it can be that or one of many other reasons. instead they hum and feign looking around. "is that so? do you think they could let me borrow it for a short respite?"

[bareruin]

an open starter for 2/3. day four, attending a performance in the great hall.

from where she rests against the balustrade near the back of the hall, bare shoulder pressed against cool stone, nymeria feels another's attention settle on her. her hand is curled loosely around the stem of an untouched goblet, her own gaze tracking the audience rather than the performers. on the stage, a player in knightly guise speaks of dragons and blood and destiny, of noble conquerors and divine inheritance. she pays him little mind. the story will end well before it gets truly interesting, before dragons fall from the sky, before the culling. still, nymeria raises her goblet in lieu of applause when the monologue ends, dark eyes glinting over the rim.

"a familiar story," her voice is low, pitched for the singular listener. the faint curve of her smile does not reach her eyes. "though the details tend to change, depending on the hall."

[kusatta]

the crowd is unlike the one that's familiar from home; chaos is veiled by the mask of propriety, as if they cannot see in people's eyes their fear, their distaste. as nak hangs out near the outskirts, carefully removed, the performance continues in the background. they are not interested in the play on stage, but the one that takes place in the audience. how people are seated, who is missing, who cannot hide their weariness. the monologue is more proper, less crude than the ones they have heard back in old wyk, yet the messages revolve around the same topics. the thought is apparently shared when they hear a low voice, and nak only hums, raising their own goblet and taking a sip. "familiar indeed. language also seems to change depending on the hall." they doubt these people could handle the way plays are handled on their stage, with obscenity and crude words ample. "i take it you're not a fan?"

[highonour]

It strikes her as being darkly amusing, the exhaustion she feels after only day of being back among the Red Keep. Some three weeks on the road did not tire her out this way, the winding journey along the the High and Rosby Roads, anticipation building all the time for what was to come. Now that they're arrived, and the first night of their stay is upon them, Alayne is not entirely sure what to expect. It's almost as if she is waiting for the other shoe to drop, for some grand horror to be unleashed or some heinous scheme to begin to unfurl. With the King the way he is these past few years, there is nothing she would put past him,.

"Yes." When her answer finally comes, it's on an exhale, wearied and worn, not quite as truthful as it is obligatory. Her concerns are not ones that she wants to share with her children, for she does not want to burden them any further: it is bad enough that the family name is tainted by her dismissal, their table at the feast set at the very edge, intentionally excluded; that their aunt is still imprisoned, essentially, unable to receive real visitors, family or not. If she were to share every little worry that infects her at this moment, well-founded or not, then none of the Arryns would surely know peace. No, now is not the time to voice the thoughts that crease her forehead, that deepen the lines already deep-set in her face—she suspects things will only worsen as the festivities progress. "Or rather, I will be." Wishful thinking, Alayne already silently accuses herself of, but the truth will not be any more helpful. "But what of you, Sora? You seem ill at ease."

[kusatta]

the answer is weary, and while it says one thing, sora believes it means another. a deep intake of breath, it only raises his shackles to hear of alayne's weariness, knowing who is the reason for it. his fists, hidden by his crossed arms, clench, nails digging into the soft skin of his palms. and once again, he needs to exert herculean effort to calm himself down. it only works halfway. the urge to go up to the throne and pull that mask off is strong, irrationally so. only knowing what it would lead to is what holds him back. yet it's a fuse waiting to be lit. the wishful thinking is there- though it does not calm the young man by any means. all he can offer is a tough nod, evading his eyes as he stares into the floorboards. when the question is turned back to him, it feels odd, to have been perceived in a way that begets comfort. it's not what he seeks or expects, and the lines of his body grow tenser as he stands up straight. no, he shouldn't bother his mother with his own anger when everything is running amok, he refuses to be another problem on her list. "i'm all good. golden." perhaps it is overcompensating for it, so he continues without letting her comment. "i'm just- eager to do something, anything about this. that's all." there, something closer to the truth. offered as a middle way. "we are waiting for the other shoe to drop. i want to take it from his hands and-" a pause, barely managing to swallow the next threat. "yeah. that's- that's it."

[kusatta]

name : thawin 'nak' drumm / nickname : nak , win / faceclaim : apo nattawin wattanagitiphat / age : twenty - eight / region : iron islands / gender : non binary ( they / them ) / orientation : panromantic pansexual / title : lord of old wyk / moral alignment : true neutral / positive traits : charming , protective , disarming / negative traits : evasive , deceitful , spontaneous / inspiration : loud laughter or yelling echoing through closed doors , a makeshift family that is unlike any other , trying to keep your siblings safe , an impossible task to fulfil .

INTRO

nak was an unwanted child, a bastard of one of the captains who did not care to have an offspring. they were the first adopted, before their siblings followed. being the eldest has given them the responsibility to take care of them all, even if it wasn't a task directly handed by their father. at the end of the day, they feel incredibly protective of their siblings and fear a reality in which the drumm act rashly against the throne, and then fail the fight that will follow. they are hellbent on making sure that doesn't happen, and try to prepare in any way they can, through lying to people for information, through spies, or blackmailing to learn more out of the other houses. they are nimble on their feet and they can fight, yet further than that, they believe it will be a battle of minds and wills, which they are doing everything they can to prepare.

POLITICAL INVOLVEMENT

nak wants drumms to be in power, not necessarily because they believe that they are the best suited for it, but because at the end of the day, it is the survival of the fittest. and they want to make sure their family makes it through it in one piece and becomes the ones in charge. compared to the ruling lord, they mimic his actions in public. the ever-devoted son standing straight, loud and certain, ready to take on the world. though unlike the ruling lord, they prefer to use other methods in acquiring power and information. through perhaps less seemly ways of subterfuge, of befriending others for political gain, trying to look as if they are simple and direct, while they are anything but. there is little they won't sacrifice in terms of morals when it comes to family and loved ones, opposite to the image they present to the outside.

PLOT IDEAS

- family members pwease. other iron island connections? tension w the greyjoys? people they have friended over the years, people they are using to get more information out of. sth more, sth less- enemies frenemies everything!

[girl-starlight]

♥ ♥ ♥

[soulrcts]

had  he  looked  at  her,  sora  would  have  seen  the  way  that  her  gaze  tracked  both  him,  and  the  people  in  the  training  yard,  before  down  multiple  times.  a  page  had  not  turned  in  many  long  minutes  and  kella  would  blame  the  clamor  of  people  getting  ready  for  the  event  rather  than  the  stretching  (  shirtless  )  bodies.  “  i  hope  that  you  protect  your  face.  your  adoring  flings  will  not  find  you  nearly  as  handsome  should  you  be  covered  in  scars.  ”  then  again,  they  may  —  the  royce  had  waved  sora  off  on  his  travels  as  she  went  on  hers  without  any  thought  to  it.  rumors  and  stories  that  returned  to  her  had  always  been  met  with  her  scrunching  her  nose  at  him,  ribbing  in  faux  distaste  before  she  returned  to  whatever  she  had  hyper  fixated  on  at  the  moment.  her  latest  trap  for  a  shadow  cat,  if  there  were  more  than  lemons  in  braavos,  how  quickly  a  ship  could  get  to  king's  landing  and  where  she  could  keep  her  own  ;  she  simply  had  better  things  to  worry  after  than  sora's  dalliances. “  if  my  brother  beats  you  in  combat,  i  will  be  ending  our  betrothal.  i  can  not  bare  to  have  the  two  of  you  in  constant  rematch  and  agitating  my  spirit  while  you  do  it,  ”  kella  drawls  after  a  moment,  flicking  to  the  next  page  now  that  she  had  some  grasp  of  what  was  happening.  “  it  is  bad  enough  that  you  could  lose  to  your  father,  but  please  not  robar.  ”   [  closed  starter,  open  to @kusatta  ]  

[kusatta]

the young arryn stretches, pulling one arm to the side, then the other. pushing his head to the right and then to the left, going through the same motions for one last time. and if he's shirtless and near where kella is- it's simply because he wants to have a conversation before the fight. that is all. the comment pulls boisterous laughter out of him, tutting in tease. "your faith in me is quite wounding." arms set upon the railing in between them, and if muscles flex, it is out of pure instinct. "though i have heard scars are an attractive quality in a partner. do you disagree?" not that it would make too much difference, for while sora's face is mostly void of scars, his torso isn't. small battle wounds collected throughout the years litter his skin, from different weapons, various marks of dedicated training. once he spots it, he tips his head the book, eyebrows raised. "what're you reading? is this not entertaining enough?" disbelief is difficult to hide, as he can almost smell the blood in the air, the tension that stretches through the air. it turns to excitement through his veins, ready for the fight, to take on whoever the competition throws at him. "oh a little faith, kella! it is bad luck to tell a fighter they will lose just before a fight." he peaks at the page again that has stolen her attention away from him, and huffs a breath. "no encouragement for my victory?" sora leans forward, while doesn't expect any compliments, still feels cocky enough to ask. maybe to get her attention for a few seconds more, for good luck before the fight.

[kusatta]

location : sparring grounds ⏲ day two , morning of the tournament from : sora arryn , lord of the eyrie to : petyr arryn , lord of the eyrie [ @illuminvtes ]

compared to the first day, after the festivities and the speech that filled sora's chest with frustration and anger, he has reached more of an equilibrium. that is not to say that the young arryn is calm now, far from it; though he has made room in this frustration, having toyed with it all through the night. settling into the feeling and starting to make something through it instead. hearing about the tournament was an upside, as sora had always enjoyed venting through martial arts. he looks forward to these two days, to channel it all, to show off the hard work that has accumulated through years of training and travel. it is even more thrilling to know that he will be sparring with his dad; that they will showcase the arryn strength and strategy to other houses. knowing that this is public only spurs him further, and it's hard to hide the grin on his face as he and his father set foot on one of the sparring pads, starting to warm up for what is to come. "father." a bow, the official first step of a match, one he learned when he was a child, from the man that's standing in front of him now. he raises his fists, and waits him to start. "i would say don't go easy on me- but i think i know that already." the grin widens. "let's give them a show?"

[kusatta]

location : arryn chambers ⏲ day one , post welcome feast from : sora arryn , lord of the eyrie to : alayne arryn , ruling lady of the eyrie [ @highonour ]

his jaw aches from clenching his teeth throughout the evening. in his head, he has thrown off the table and stabbed a few guards before coming to the dais, pulling off that horrific mask and breaking it into shards across the floor. the inability to do just that had made it harder and harder to make it through the evening, but they had all made it. without causing a scene, without letting something slip through his lips that he knows should have kept sealed. he isn't stupid enough to blow up at the flicker of a light, but facing the culprits firsthand made it incredibly difficult. after all, the mask of etiquette did not come as easily to sora as it did to many others, quite apparently so. he did not know how everyone could act as if that speech did not happen, as if this man was not a nut case about to break open. it would require the smallest of sparks for him to explode, and tonight had made it even more clear. now that they are back in their chambers and away from prying ears and ever-seeing eyes, he lets out a deep breath and waits for his mother to enter the main room. pacing across the room only elevates some of the tension, though when she enters, he stills. inquisitive gaze searches her expression, concern seeping into his. "mother." a step forward towards her, he realizes he is still clenching his teeth. "are you... alright?"

[kusatta]

name : sora arryn / nickname : rya , orie / faceclaim : arata mackenyu / age : twenty - nine / region : the vale / gender : demi male ( he / them ) / orientation : panromantic pansexual / title : lord of eyrie / moral alignment : chaotic good / positive traits : intrepid , daring , sharp / negative traits : impulsive , reckless , spontaneous / inspiration : hours spent traveling between regions on horseback ; laughter that spreads through a tavern , followed by the cheers of clinking glasses ; the neverending urge to prove oneself .

BIOGRAPHY

when sora was too young to know better and asked why he looked different from his siblings, his family used to tell him a falcon brought him over to their doorstep. that vicious creature had held the cradle with steady hands, and set it gently upon their lap. it was a sign that he was always supposed to belong here, and they had no doubt about it. so neither should sora, even for a minute. of course, it did not take long for this white lie to give its place to the truth. there was only so long a boy could believe in fairytales. years ago, a handmaiden who worked for the arryns for a long time had come to them, with teary eyes and a heavy heart. the passing of her sister had orphaned a young boy. she couldn't take care of the baby herself, it was not her plan, she was supposed to marry in the next month. it was either arryn's accepting him, or the young boy ending up in an orphanage. the kindness at that point in time is what made sora into an arryn; and despite the fairytale, he has always perceived it as a life debt. he had to live up to their expectations, had to prove himself as worthy as others. when he was a child, the attention-seeking side of them was clear to see; the young boy was caught between listening to his parents' every word, then doing something out of line in the next breath. never able to stop moving, constantly doing something, anything to keep himself busy. now that he is older, the same urge manifests in different ways. he enjoys travelling and learning about the world of westeros, though some trips might seem arbitrary, they hold the intention to seek information to bring arryn's higher on the ladder of power. with the chaos that's starting to spread across the land, that urgency is at the forefront of their mind. although they might be perceived as impulsive as they have always been, their moves become more strategic, relationships more calculated.

POLITICAL INVOLVEMENT

the fact that sora is adopted drives him to work harder for the goals of the house of arryn. their loyalty lies with their family, and against everything that maelor stands for. what happened with liege and lady arryn makes him furious in a way that he sometimes finds it difficult to hide in political settings. he is aware that he is a chess piece in a large game, yet wants to bring more to the table, let it be in the form of information or relationships. they can tend to be reckless and impulsive in their decision-making, and try to be more calculative, especially at a time as tense as this one.

PLOT IDEAS

- ride or die (vale preferred), old flings, enemies, frenemies, rivals, political ties, anything and everything !!

[jdramasource]

You didn't kill anyone for those? No. I haggled.

MACKENYU as Roronoa Zoro ONE PIECE: 2.01 "The Beginning and the End"