cerelle crane

[turkishsource]

Kurt Seyit ve Şura - Murvet colorful outfits. (Request by Anonymous)

[ofcerelle]

@ofholyhall​ | cerelle + alyce | the red keep 

the capital was awash with one tiresome celebration after another - and cerelle loved parties, she might even call herself something of an expert - but it was a clear, beautiful morning in king’s landing for once. and sitting in the expansive ( not as expansive as highgarden, but how could they ever be? ) gardens by the sept of baelor, she could hardly smell the stench of the city all around them. but with no duties to dispense for margaery until dusk, cerelle had organised a little picnic for the tyrell daughter’s ladies. well, there were at least three different types of lemon cakes and enough wine to fell cersei lannister herself. and maybe it’s was just her and alyce, none of the other ladies they served with. but that was neither here nor there. it gave them the perfect opportunity to catch up away from prying nobles. 

spearing a piece of toffee into her mouth, tilting her head up towards the sun. “ did you see the look on lord baelish’s face? i thought he might faint. ” the queen of thorns had once declared that her most unattractive quality was her relentless gossiping, but cerelle vehemently disagreed: after all, had lady olenna never seen the crane after too much drink? she turned an unappealing shade of motley green, and green had never been her colour. rolling her eyes at the thought, she just ate some more toffee. “ so tell me, alyce, ” cerelle began liltingly, planting her chin on steepled fingers and beaming at her companion. there was a mischievous glint in her dark eyes - then again, when wasn’t there? but her voice was soft, perhaps out of fondness for the other woman, perhaps because alyce was with child. ( perhaps both. ) “ how are you feeling? ” 

[ofcerelle]

@ofstrongsong | cerelle + damion | cersei’s shindig 

cerelle had been mid-laugh, head thrown back and dark curls blanketing her shoulders, when she glanced across the great hall and caught sight of an all too familiar face. she hadn’t seen him in the longest time - how long had it really been? - but there was little mistaking him. she could never mistake him; even if the last time she had seen him had been through a veil of tears and rage at the injustice of it all. but here he was again - years after the tragedy, years after ambrose had been named and raised far away in the vale, years after he’d come into the world looking exactly like his father and near nothing like his mother. it dried the laughs on her tongue and muffled the memory of her favourite sister. yet as much as she wished to look away and act as if nothing was amiss, the crane daughter knew she would never forgive herself for it. 

“ i’m surprised to find you this far south, lord belmore, ” cerelle began in lieu of a proper greeting as she loped over to him, hands clasped too tightly in front of her. rationally - rationally! - she knew all too well that it hadn’t been his fault. he hadn’t been the sole reason her sister had returned home, nor why the gods took her away from them. but it hurt all the same. and as much as she knew he was not at fault, she could still barely seem to look at him. “ how is my - ” cerelle interrupted herself, clearing her throat in case her voice wavered. “ how is my nephew - is he well? ” she wondered if ambrose still had his father’s shock of red hair, but most of all, she wondered if she would see any of her sister in his features. maybe he would even laugh like she did. “ did he travel with you? ”

[ofcerelle]

@ofcrakehall | cerelle + tybolt | cersei’s celebration 

cerelle had a reputation. she had a reputation for honeysuckle sweet smiles and a carefree laugh that echoed for days. she had a reputation for intentionally reckless flirtation that went absolutely nowhere and dredging gossip out of absolutely anyone. she also had a reputation for being silly - for being so very harmless and so very guileless - that nobody would ever suspect her of wrongdoing. but she was also half a lannister; a lioness by birth, even if a rose by upbringing. but as devoted as she was to margaery, as devoted as she would always be, cerelle wore her lineage as a badge of pride. so when she ultimately crossed paths with tybolt crakehall, she didn’t truly know what to make of him. he was the architect of the greyjoy rescue - or at least, whispers of it told her he was - but she also knew that cersei had not answered his calls to protect the westerlands. 

“ lord crakehall, ” she greeted, her signature smile painted onto her lips as always, but her dark eyes seemed to stay dark and distant. cerelle was nothing if not the perfect lady. she knew most people didn’t care for what she said - after all, why would they? the cranes did not descend from kings or queens. crane women descended from skinchangers - or so the legend went - and crane men were sworn to the tyrells. instead, she had her beguiling smiles and her funny tales, and that was enough for her to excel with. it was a little like hawking, really. and cerelle had never been beaten at that. “ are you enjoying your night? ” she didn’t know much about the man, but perhaps that could change soon enough. so she took a dainty sip of her wine to prepare herself. “ our host really tried her hardest. ”

[turkishsource]

Çalikusu - Feride colored wardrobe. (Request by Anonymous)

[turkishsource]

Fahriye Evcen - Kurt Seyit ve Şura (episode 14).

[ofcerelle]

MARGAERY TYRELL

While there had been a hope in her when she had left Kings Landing for her home that she would never have to return, the more pragmatic side of her knew that it would not be the case. Instead she simply had to face crowds with her head held high but not too high ( after all it would not do for a woman to dare to seem proud ) as she did her best to keep her bad memories at bay and instead played her usual role of the charming Little Rose. There was a sweet smile always hovering on rosy lips at such events though she took care to ensure that it was not too bright. 

                                    ( She was a widow now after all. )

Though pleasantries came so naturally to her when honeyed words and flattery fell so easily for her lips, she so often grew tired of having the same variation of conversations over and over again. Once she finally managed to excuse herself from a particularly zealous individual who she had been humouring for what felt like an age, she found herself with a moment to procure another glass of wine. Spotting a tray with a large number of goblets on it, dainty steps carried her over and she lifted her hand gracefully to take on, only for her fingers to brush those of another. “Oh, after you.” Gracious smile found its way onto rosy lips and knowing the produce of her kingdom well, she easily guessed the origin of the wine. “I hope you enjoy The Arbor’s finest. It is rather a lovely night, would you not say?”

         king’s landing was always an interesting experience - an wretched one, there was no doubt, but her corset was laced so tight that she had little desire to focus on anything else. still, cerelle smiled all honeysuckle sweet and beatific through it anyway: batting her lashes and only just keeping herself from rolling her eyes when she glanced away. ( if nobody caught her, was she really even misbehaving? ) it was tedious work - smiling even when nothing was amusing, and appearing absolutely spellbound even when she wanted to yawn - but the crane daughter knew her place. so she always came armed with funny tales to trade for laughs, her blue silks twirling around her and a tyrell rose pinned to her bodice. 

         “ oh - lady margaery, ” she began, smiling warmly as she curtsied. cerelle had only been a lanky girl of eight when she had been sent to highgarden, the middle daughter of three too many for her lord father to bear, and she had never regretted it. of course, it was all very fun: the hawking, the reading, the gossip, the clothes. the roses! but she had also found a fast and true friend in the lady she served - someone to fiercely protect now that they were back in the lesser known eighth hell in existence. 

         “ but not enjoy too much, ” cerelle mused with a mischievous smile, even as she took a dainty sip from her goblet. wine would often go to her head all too fast. “ i have the funniest feeling they might start playing the rains of castamere any moment now. ” she turned her head to where cersei lannister stood. “ and you? did you see sansa’s gown? ”