ROYALTY / 親王

MATEO TYRELL of HIGHGARDEN JINGYI CORBRAY of HEART'S HOME

[qinwangs]

QĪNWÁNG 親王 / abandon | hope —- through  me  you  go  into  the  city  of  woe;  through  me  you  go  into  everlasting  pain;  through  me  you  go  amongst  the  lost  people .

i. mateo tyrell . liege of highgarden , thirty - two , he / them . -— intro. visage. threads. board. ii. jingyi corbray . liege of heart's home , twenty - six , they / them . -— intro. visage. threads. board.

[qinwangs]

location : day after the attack ⏲ grief & glory from : jingyi corbray , liege of heart's home to : gwyneth nittha corbray , liege of heart's home [ @firedreamt ]

this time in infirmary had been brief, without lapses in reality, without the unknowns from before. previously, they hadn't known that it was poison that took over many, that it was deliberate- not a mere sickness. this time, however, the danger was clear in sight, jingyi had felt the terrifying warmth surrounding the dragon, the wind that swept across them as they managed to dodge the massive tail headed their way. was it better to know your attacker? to be faced with its mass and the roar that would deafen? or was it better to go to sleep, with a chance of never waking up again? both terrible. a terrible line of thought, useless- as they seemed to be throughout all these happenings. the only silver lining is that dexian and gwyneth remain unharmed; that bone-chilling fear jingyi has felt that blinded them from pain, hadn't come into realization. there were worse outcomes to be had — yet they couldn't bring themselves to feel glad about it. in the wake of suffering that remained, and those who were lost. they seek gwyneth again, after they were there for jingyi once more, the bonds between them strengthening, despite the forces that have always been there to tear them apart. they gingerly make their way to them, where they stand on the balcony, and clear their throat. settle on the chair that overlooks the city, a heaviness in their voice they cannot fix. "i wish we could go back home." the words are gentle, yet full of sorrow. a plea not directed at her, but everything that has happened. "is it truly impossible?"

[qinwangs]

location : short after the attack ⏲ grief & glory from : jingyi corbray , liege of heart's home to : dexian corbray , liege of heart's home [ @rottedhearts ]

thorns of concern wrap around their throat, unable to breathe until they get their sights on their sibling. although they are covered in ash and there's a pain spanning across their back they are trying to ignore, none of it is felt in full. as if all of it is underwater and only thoughts of dexian and gwyneth reach the surface, the terrifying thought of them being hurt makes jingyi almost blind. they don't know how they search through the crowds, the hallways, the rooms — it's all a blur, seeing through eyes that are not theirs, reaching for something against the waves. it takes some time- more than they would have liked, more than they thought they could stand. their eyes meet familiar ones, and they are quick to look dexian over, unable to speak at all, before they pull them into an embrace. "god- you're here — are you alright?" the embrace is brief for the need to confirm is stronger, their hands end up on dexian's shoulders, gentle yet erratic, trying to find wounds that are not there. but what if they are? "is gwyneth alright? have you both been checked?"

[qinwangs]

location : night after the attack ⏲ grief & glory from : mateo tyrell , liege of highgarden to : harlon tyrell , lord of highgarden [ @faatedones ]

the smell of fire and ash does not leave, no matter how much he wishes it would. it sticks in his nose, heavy and nauseating, matching the panic that makes his heart thunder in his chest. it's not as paralyzing as it was earlier, but the aftermath is still jarring, perhaps even more so. hearing all the wounded, the dead, the missing — the disaster the dragons left in their wake, who knows countless more injured. the buildings that looked unbreakable were rubble underneath their wings, and the sheer strength and anarchy of it all had shaken him in a way he did not expect at all. the liege continues to pace in their room, back and forth, back and forth, still clad in the same outfit as earlier, wrinkled and without the embellishments, trying to wrap his head around everything and failing to do so. a hand wrapped around a wine bottle, he takes a swig every now and then, and although the warmth burning down his throat is familiar — it does not help. when the door to the tyrell chambers open to reveal harlon, he rushes to his side. even if he knows the older wasn't hurt, his movements are still erratic, hands moving to the other's shoulders. "harlon! harlon — what the fuck —" there is a part of him pleased that his brother's been offered the master of laws role- yet the panic about the attack wins over. he'll inquire that part later. "what happened? do you know?"

[firedreamt]

the   liege   stares   off   to   the   side,   draped   in   their   bed   as   if   part   of   the   comforter.   hand   steeples,   propping   their   head   up,   an   exhausted   blink   pulling   at   the   corners   of   their   eyes,   and   a   moment   as   the   other   reaches   across   the   bed,   feeling   the   emptied   space   where   dexian   was,   memorising   its   cold,   for   it   becomes   all   too   familiar.   they   insisted   upon   a   conversation   with   the   other   vale   folk,   which   gwyn   does   not   inherently   resent,   but   as   most   things,   it   simply   acts   as   a   conduit   to   point   out   their   growing   distance.   it,   a   cavern,   a   pulsating   heart   asking   to   be   stabbed   for   how   much   affection   they   give   and   —   the   knock   thus   startles   them.   their   bed-silks   are   modest,   so   they   have   no   concerns   with   this;   they   merely   straighten   them   and   then   pull   the   high   collar   and   long   sleeves   to   better   rest   against   their   limbs.        “        …   jingyi?        ”   almost   uncertain   they   heard   right.   but   upon   it,   they   cross   the   floor   and   open   the   door   themself.

“        what's   this?        ”        the   question   blurts   out,   an   automatic   reaction   to   most   things   involving   their   sibling   in   law.   they   simply   cannot   help   it:   reflexes   overtake   reason.   they   scan   their   brow   for   signs   of   additional   fever   or   nausea,   for   the   sickness   which   ravaged   them   and   left   them   thinner.   then   their   gaze   drops   to   the   tray   and   the   answer   lies   obvious.   they   flush   with   embarrassment.        “        you   didn't   have   to   do   that.   your   legs   must   still   be   weak   from   having   been   bedridden   for   that   long.        ”        yet   they   move   aside.   a   beat.   little   times   has   jingyi   been   invited   in   without   dexian   or   their   other   sibling   there,   either   as   source   of   invite   or   as   buffer   between   the   stiffened   politeness.   yet   the   shifting   axis   is   felt,   and   so   gwyn   isn't   quite   as   demure   as   they   might   have   once   been,   caught   off   guard   by   their   offer.        “        we   will   share   it.        ”        leaving   no   room   for   argument.

[qinwangs]

they hear the soft voice calling their name through the door and feel the nerves rise to the surface again. the terrible feeling at the bottom of their stomach returns, one that eerily feels like guilt and self-dismay. they are hit with the nonsensical fear of being turned down now, with a tray in their hands, and heart nearing their sleeve in a way it never has been before. it's nonsensical because it is unfair. gwyneth has been kind to them, no matter what they have done- even at their worst, unable to tell dreams apart from reality, unable to figure out what was up and what was down. they were still kind- and there is no need to expect otherwise now. it would not be fair. they steel themselves with that resolution and wait until the door is opened. the surprise is heartwarming in a way they do not expect. a flush rises to their cheeks that has nothing to do with fever this time, a small smile on their features as they shake their head, quick to reply. "no- no- i'm alright —" they move aside and jingyi slowly steps inside, in no rush lest they spill any of it over their carpet. they set the tray down on the table, careful about the tea. "i really am alright, and you are one of those i need to thank." they evade their eyes briefly, not from dishonesty, but the shame that's their own. "it feels good to be out and about again." another olive branch, or a part of it. a conversation they readily offer, which they did not use to before. her offer does not leave place to an argument, and they nod, settling on the chair opposite. "how have you been faring? with- everything that's going on?"

[antagonistzz]

sevan  snorts  —  unable  to  disagree.  it  simple  was  not  the  obsequies  that  the  lord  lannister  deserved.  it  was  too  simple,  too  full  of  strangers.  he  deserved  the  grand  design  of  a  westerlands'  procession.  they  hoped  that  the  late  lord  would  receive  it  fully  upon  his  final  passage  to  casterly  rock.  a  boring  platitude  that  sevan  disliked,  but  he  thinks  it  still  —  we  shall  never  see  his  like  again.  they  struggled  to  imagine  lady  mara  stepping  into  her  father's  shoes.

the  reyne  taps  a  rhythm  against  the  dark  fabric  clothing  his  thigh,  matching  the  agitated  bounce  there.  "perhaps,"  he  says,  returning  the  tyrell's  smile,  if  not  a  shade  more  defeated.  "if  lord  cerion  was  the  sole  target  of  this  curse."  it  is  a  wishful  sort  of  thought.  if  only  the  gods  were  so  kind.  "if  not,"  they  feel  as  if  playing  a  mummer's  part  of  solemnity,  "then,  it  is  only  the  beginning."

[qinwangs]

their hands itch for something to do; either a drink or some sourleaf, which they have not brought any today. mateo does not know what made them think the funeral would be quick — yet they are disappointed by it already. it being drab is one thing, most funerals are. what's different is that people's reluctance to be here is tangible in the air. either from fear of what happened, or that this is a forced endeavour. a hum in thought, they tilt their head to meet the reyne's eyes. more curious than mischief swims in brown eyes as they prod. "do you think it was the sole target?" it's a genuine question, and they don't shy away from following it up with their own opinion. "if so, why poison all those other people? a cover-up?" if it was a cover-up, then it was still too messy for it to be a good plan.

[firercts]

“  sit,  you  silly  thing.  ”  they  had  not  come  with  the  intentions  to  fuss  anymore.  exhausted  in  a  way  that  felt  bone  deep,  where  fever  had  overtaken  others  a  coldness  had  settled  deep  in  her  bones.  fear  that  they  had  not  wanted  to  accept  for  what  it  was  kept  their  teeth  clenched  tightly  together,  grinding  as  they  wrung  their  hands  and  paced  endless  nights  with  the  knowledge  that  nothing  that  she  did  would  help.  “  you  are  not  yet  fully  yourself,  do  not  exert  more  than  necessary.  ”  needed  but  one  glance  at  jingyi  to  see  the  sickness  still  thick  on  their  skin.  another  may  have  taken  that  as  warning  to  keep  distance  yet  as  amahle  crossed  the  room  they  were  quick  to  clasp  their  hands  gently  in  hers. “  i  had  hoped  to  visit  you  earlier  than  this,  you  must  forgive  me.  ”  squeeze  of  their  fingers  light  before  pulled  away,  taking  the  few  steps  to  settle  herself  into  a  chair.  “  i  know  you  are  well  enough  to  no  longer  be  bed  ridden,  but  how  do  you  fare  ?  are  you  in  need  of  anything  ?  ”  distant  thought  that  they  ought  not  fret  when  she  was  certain  jigyi  had  many  others  that  continued  to  do  so  and  was  likely  overbearing,  but  at  this  point,  what  was  a  liittle  more  ?   

[qinwangs]

the warmth of the underlying concern settles gently in their chest, very much unlike the heat that came with the fever and dragged its claws through the skin, stubborn not to go away. this is the exact opposite of it, and they cannot stop the small yet genuine smile spread across their face, slowly shaking their head. "i am well now. truly." this is mostly true, at least to them. compared to last week, this is black and white, a full turnaround from how poorly they felt. in reality, they are not as strong as they used to be, though they are of the belief they can fake it until they can make it come true. their hands are warm against jingyi's, and they squeeze back, genuine appreciation in their countenance, a brief bow forward in lieu of thanks. they are quick to shake their head as they settle back in the chair, and some tension seeps away from their posture now that they do not need to stand. "nothing to forgive. i wasn't the best company... or so i have heard." mirth that's reserved for close friends, slips through the cracks, feeling more open in amahle's company to joke around. "i am genuinely alright now. thank you for visiting." and a part of them yearns to know more, for someone to tell them more about what's going on out there, what's going on in other houses. gwyneth had been kind enough to tell him the truth of the matter, the poison, those who have been affected. jingyi wondered how amahle saw it unfold, how it fared in the house of arryn. "how have you been? i would really like to know more about what's going on outside these four walls."

[rottedhearts]

the  infirmary  reeks  of  sickness.  DEXIAN  CORBRAY  squeezes  his  eyes  shut,  jaw  tightening  against  the  chafing  where  prosthetic  meets  skin.  they  move  to  remove  the  straps  ---  and  then  JINGYI  CORBRAY  sighs. // @qinwangs

jingyi's  fever  breaks.  he  hears  it  in  the  sound  of  their  breathing,  even  if  slumber  still  wraps  them  tight.  the  frantic  pace,  now  eased.  slick  sweat  finally  drying.  for  too  many  beats  in  the  dim  space,  dexian  merely  holds  his  wrist  over  his  sibling's  lips,  counting  the  seconds  between  each  breath  fluttering  against  skin.

only  when  his  heartbeat  finally  slows,  finally  suited  with  the  knowledge  jingyi  would  not  tumble  closer  to  death,  does  the  ruling  corbray  finally  press  a  cold  rag  upon  jingyi's  forehead.

"awaken,  jingyi,"  he  murmurs.  his  voice  breaks  the  silence  in  the  room,  striking  louder  than  intended.  "you  need  to  be  conscious  to  eat."

[qinwangs]

it is a state between dream and reality. nightmares and mirages. something that seems within reach, yet it slips through their fingers once they get there. a weight pushing down on their chest, a hand pulling them away, a deep plunge into lava, a visit to the land of always winter. a pendulum swinging between two extremes. there seems to be no end in sight, as it is impossible to keep track of time. have they been here for a few hours? days? is this hell? they do not understand it, nor can they even start to grasp the reality of what is going on. then, sunlight starts breaking through the winter. a cool hand reaching through the volcano. the extremes do not switch between one another as often, and start feeling less and less painful. time is still a fickle thing, yet they begin to have a better understanding of it. almost there, reaching the surface. a sigh falls from their lips from the effort. then, a familiar voice breaks through, and their eyes flutter open. "ge-" their mouth opens to speak, yet no words sound but a cough. their throat feels like filled with sand, and unconsciously they lean towards the cool rag. they cough again to dislodge whatever's stuck, and only manage enough to be able to speak. "water- please." they do not feel hunger at all, only an inexplicable thirst at the forefront. beneath it, confusion is as easy to see as day, with their furrowed eyebrows and eyes looking around to the other beds.

[qinwangs]

"now whatever you do, don't look down." (aila to jingyi)

the worst of the illness is past; only some of it still lingers. every once in a while, it reminds itself with a movement that aches, and a breath that settles wrong in their chest. they are much too keen for it to be over that they pretend those signs do not exist. when their friend aila visits to inquire what they would like to do next, they are quick to ask if they can accompany them to get some fresh air. much to their glee, the offer is accepted. however, rather than going outside, they head to one of the larger balconies on the floor. even if it is only mere strides away, it feels good to be outside, away from the stuffy room that cannot be aired enough times, away from the bed that they spent days they could not count. once in the balcony, they walk towards the edge, and once again, pretend that the beads of sweat that collect at their temples are not a result of the aftermath of what has happened. their eyes close as they take in a deep breath, enjoying the cool weather. aila's comment is what makes them look down, an involuntary action that makes their stomach swoop, and their head get immediately dizzy. hands clench at the balustrade, posture slipping to catch themselves. a groan leaves jingyi's lips unprompted, and they close their eyes again, nodding. "y-yeah. bad idea." breathing through clenched teeth, they do not open their eyes. "i might need to sit down for a bit."

[qinwangs]

we look up at the same stars and see such different things. / falyn & mateo

it is a fairly beautiful night, stars shining down on them both, sitting on chairs next to each other on a balcony, looking over the expanse of king's landing, the dark sky above, the world underneath their feet. it used to be easier in the past, to look at the sky of highgarden, without a hint of malice between them, no questions or doubts about loyalty, no feud between their family. it brings mateo back to those years when everything was simpler, and how he misses it dearly. this is not spoken into the air between them, though as silence stretches on after falyn's words, maybe it's tangible enough for the thought to be shared across minds. a beat passes, then another one. mateo shrugs. "i think you got the nicer chair, fall- yn." the nickname slips for half a second, remnants of a time much long ago, when they were friends. mateo is quick to add the last syllable to the end, though it wouldn't be difficult for her to pick up on it. "look, i got a tree blocking my view." a few branches obscure the side mateo's sitting on, but nothing large enough to actually cause any trouble. " but i will let that be because i am a gentleman." a twitch of his lips, he rolls his neck to the side, resting against the back of the chair, meeting her eyes. "in a perfect world, we could switch." this too, is not about the chair. "though like i said, i'll be a gentleman and lean your way to see better instead."

[qinwangs]

" i'm sick of being treated like some timid little old lady. "(seraphina to mateo)

there is always a choice that mateo needs to make. to take things seriously for once, or... not to do that. it's usually simple enough to take the latter route, as he finds life much too short and people fairly boring to take everything at face value. however, every once in a while, contrary to popular belief, he can gauge when something is serious enough not to be made fun of. his chest rises and falls in a deep breath, something changing in his expression. a flicker of something genuine, earnest. "next time someone treats you like some old lady? kick them in between the legs." alright, maybe it seems he isn't taking this seriously; however, this is as serious as mateo can get. "whilst in pain, they will probably pick up on the fact no old timid lady is quick or brave enough to do that." a gesture with his hands, a 'ta-da' motion to make his point with a bit more flair. "no one can decide who you are. no matter what they believe, only you can decide that." dark eyes focus for the briefest of moment, before it slips. the mask is back on again. "and kicking someone is a good way to remind them that. though i do not take any blame if you get thrown to the dungeons for it. unless you manage to kick the guards as well, i suppose."

[qinwangs]

“We're  all  just  songs  in  the  end.  If  we  are  lucky.” (elyas to jingyi)

a deep intake of breath, dark eyes focused on the view in front of them. they do not turn to look at their company, and remain quiet for the next few minutes. there is much that swirls in their mind in response, and while this conversation shared in the balcony, far away from the chaos that reigns indoors, has been greatly appreciated by jingyi; they do not share this particular sentiment. at least, not in the way that they think is meant. "i would rather be forgotten than to be turned into a song." their hand sweeps across the cold stone of the balustrade, and they wonder how many royals this castle has housed in the past century. how many are remembered, how many lost to the tides of history. "i do not think being a song is worth the peril of what it costs to be sung about." they turn to meet his eyes then, head bowed as they speak slowly and gently, yet clearly. "i believe the price one must pay is oftentimes forgotten with the high of glory clouding one's vision."

[optional]

SUCCESSION — 1.01: Celebration (2018)

[qinwangs]

“i seem to remember a conversation we had back then” (addam to mateo)

a half empty glass sits in front of him, god knows which number this is tonight. a hand wrapped around it, they take a swig before gesturing to the bartender to give them another round. when the question settles in, he tilts his head at the statement. the tavern around them is loud, and mateo can take a guess that the conversation in question was also held in a setting similar to this one. that's as much as he remembers, and with his particular tendency to find a tavern in every single town- it does not shorten the list at all. "my dear addam, are you pulling my leg?" elbows rest on the table in between them, as he leans forward, dark eyes narrowing as they look into his. a new set of drinks are set out in between them, and mateo can only pretend to be serious for a few seconds. then his face splits into a grin, gesturing with his hands as he speaks, animated. "we have had more than just one conversation my friend, do give me a little more clues would you?" leaning back, they are quick to add. "if you want to make a game out of it, i'm in. make it hard."

[qinwangs]

location : corbray chambers ⏲ pestilence + last rites from : jingyi corbray , liege of heart's home to : gwyneth nittha corbray , liege of heart's home [ @firedreamt ]

something has changed. more than simply the illness that came too close, other than the death that surrounds them all. to face one's kindness at one's worst is a jarring ordeal. it was their last memory before the sleep of the uncomforted, that they had pushed their in-law away, too deep into the recesses of their mind, too worried about the consequences of being here, to be able to put on the usual mask of etiquette. jingyi had been cruel to them, yet they'd still taken care of them at their worst. mumbling nonsense and covered in sweat, they were the kind hand that reached as solace from a nightmare, the reminder that they were not alone. it makes them quieter, more pensive. now that the worst of the illness is over, where only headache and traces of exhaustion remain, they are faced with the reality of it. no excuse can be made against their coherence, nothing to hide behind. they sit near one of the chairs next to the window, and as their eyes look out to the view, they see little of the actual scenery. some moments pass; a decision is made. it's early enough that they do not think breakfast would be had, and asking one of the handmaidens to prepare a tray, they take it in their own hands before heading to gwyneth's chamber. balancing it with one hand, their knuckles rap on the door, waiting for a sign to enter. "liege gwneyth. it's jingyi."

[antagonistzz]

FATED  FOR  …  any  and  all.

FOUND  IN  …  the  courtyards,  following  the  funeral.

the  ebony  collar  of  their  jacket  scratched  unhappily  against  the  inked  column  of  his  neck,  only  irritating  him  further.  it  was  a  somber  drag.  funerary  and  travel,  punctuated  by  the  miserable  image  of  the  lady  lannister  trailing  after  her  husband's  clean  picked  bones.  death  had  always  bothered  the  reyne.  a  plague.  a  poison.  a  pointed  sword.  it  could  find  any  of  them  at  any  moment  —  reducing  your  achievement  to  an  insignificant  death.  we  shall  never  see  his  like  again.  words  muttered  in  passing,  empty  grief  over  a  corpse  they  did  not  know.  what  frauds.

“it's  all  fucking  bizarre,”  sevan  says,  features  reading  his  distaste.  tucked  between  pinkening  molars,  the  knight  chews  at  a  wad  of  sourleaf.  a  miserable  attempt  at  calming  their  frayed  nerves.  “everything  i  hear  about  this  damn  feast  is  a  curse.”

[qinwangs]

funerals are usually not the pinnacle of enjoyment; that much is clear, though mateo doesn't remember finding them this boring before. having so many royals in first place is stifling to say the least, and adding a funeral on top, with so many tensions pulling people at different angles - you can cut the air with a knife. they cannot wait for it to be over so that they can find the nearest tavern and have enough drinks to start forgetting the last couple of days. amidst all of this, hearing someone share the sentiment is somewhat reassuring. they do manage to fight off a grin ( perhaps the ends of their lips twitch for the shortest of moments ), and meet the other's eyes. "it is definitely not one of my top five funerals." perhaps this is too disrespectful, though they can always claim it is the truth. "do you think this is the last we see of this... curse?"

[qinwangs]

location : corbray chambers ⏲ pestilence from : jingyi corbray , liege of heart's home to : amahle arryn , liege of the eyrie [ @firercts ]

time takes an odd quality amidst four walls, as if it doesn't pass at all, yet everything happens all at once. it's difficult to remember their arrival in king's landing now, the harvest feast, the tightly wound up concern and anger that simmered low in their stomach. days had passed instead in a haze, a fever burning through most of their coherent thoughts, leaving shapes and memories of nightmares in its place. when they start feeling like themselves again, they learn more and more- but many pieces seem to still be missing. while it doesn't feel great to have most visitors when they still feel somewhat out of their element — this is not just another visitor. when jingyi is told amahle is at the door, their eyes light up, and they urge the guard to let her in immediately. there is still a pallor to their skin and a redness around their eyes, but the antidote had done its job. they felt better than they did in days, having showered earlier today and dressed up in their proper robes, seeking that normalcy again. when the liege of eyrie steps inside, a small smile spreads across their lips, slowly getting up from the chair they were sitting on, a small bow of their head. "amahle — it is so good to see you."