SEA / SERPENT.

[rcgna]

niightflyer‌

The Captain of the Nightflyer was just moseying through the camp, light eyes darting around for something that showed any interest in her at all. She had seen no familiar faces and nothing that could provide her with some kind of entertainment, which she needed. Stranded on land for this long was starting to tug the strings that held her sanity, soon enough she’d begin to fighting people just for fun - until her name echoed over the chaos of the camp.

Her head turned, looking over her shoulder. Eyes scanned the ground for someone who would know it but found only a face in the trees, and the sight of red flying in her direction. A grin slid across devious lips, hand raising to catch the apple, the palm of her hand stinging from the impact that the treat had from the throw. Bouncing it in her hand, she let out a little laugh, turning to begin heading back towards the familiar face, hidden amongst the trees.

“Why, Ragna, I never realized you were Captain of Climbing too.” She mused, tossing the apple up and down before she grinned, raising it to her mouth where she sunk her teeth into the juicy delight, relishing in the feeling of the sweetness that tainted her tongue afterward. “What on earth are ya doin up there anyway? Actin like your ships docked and ya’s just lookin down on everyone?”

“there’s a lotta things that a lotta people don’t know about me.” the bastard retorts with an easy grin. she had always found great comforts in the highest points. safe in the knowledge that she was beyond reach of others, able to look down on the people below her with no attachment. “do ya know… think i might see if ol’ captain vic might get me a ship with a wheel up high. ya know, let me steer from the crows nest. what ya think? reckon it’s been done before in the great grand histories of westeros?”

with the young captain one could never quite tell when she putting forward a serious idea or not. it was always best to assume she meant it, for there was very little that ragna pyke would not to do for no reason but fun. she laughs then, legs kicking carelessly in the air as if she were nothing but an innocent child, not the ruthless killer she’d grown into.

“can see everythin’ from up here, ri, might be you should try it, there’s plenty fun to be had outside of guttin’ mainlanders.” this much ragna knew, had to know. unable to quench her thirst for the things she knew and loved ( sailing, fighting, stealing ) meant she needed to find less disruptive ways to keep busy. “if you can make it up here maybe you can join me. maybe.”

[rcgna]

CLOSED STARTERS / ACCEPTING

@niightflyer / riyanna blacktyde

you wouldn’t have known the sea serpent had grievances with their elongated stay on land from the way she was draped leisurely from a tree branch. red skirts hanging either side as she smirked at those down below, as if she ruled the camp. still, she was bored. with each passing throw of her apple into the air she grew more restless, and with each catch came the urge to stir up trouble. she was dangerous enough when occupied, but with nothing to do it wasn’t long before the bastard of great wyk made fun for herself. no matter the chaos it cost.

“riyanna.” ragna’s voice carried across the busy crowds, indigo eyes fixed on another of her iron born kin. she could keep her entertained, at least for a short while. with a grin, the woman sat up straight, tossing the apple toward the other, “catch!”

[rcgna]

draqonmothcr‌

❝  men need such things , if only to prove themselves better than other men.  ❞  her mind falls back to the small rivalries in her entourage ;  daario and greyworm , daario and jorah.  she rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the memories.  instead of proving themselves better , they often hindered a moments progress.  perhaps if the world were run by women they would be as advanced as valyria by now.  for a moment she pictures herself on the iron throne , a small councel comprised of only women around her.  the scene causes a small smirk to come to her lips.  if only.  

❝  i’ve always had a fascination with ships.  they were what my brother chased after for years , intent on getting us home.  ❞  she was intrigued with the freedom that captians had.  how at a days’ notice they could be out on the open sea , sailing wherever they wished and away from all their troubles.  now she supposed she had her dragons for such a thing , but her character would never allow for abandonment.  

she had seen as much amongst her own crew. men so keen to prove themselves the best it was laughable to her. they, who seemed so intent on the smallest of victories, when it was women whose entire lives revolved around proving themselves everyday to those that sought to disinherit them from their own talents based on sex alone. “men have theirplaces.” her lips quirk then, a jest on the tip of her tongue. “unfortunately it might not be on the thrones they’re so bloody desperate for. best not to tell them that.” the only men she would relent to following were those of house greyjoy, men who had down more than earn her trust - but proving themselves worthy of her pledge.

“and rightly so, your grace. there is much to love about them.” the sea felt so far from camp, the land growing more tiresome everyday. she glances to the horizon, as if indigo hues might spy the sails of the iron kiss in the distance. instead she takes pleasure in relaying stories of her time at sea. “when i was a girl my brother would allow me aboard his ship. i’d watch and learn, and thought him the smartest person in all the seven kingdoms for everythin’ he knew. taught me everythin’ you could possibly need to know about captainin’ a ship.” her lips twitch at the few happy memories she had of childhood, “when i was finally tall enough he let me steer.”

[rcgna]

wolfmaid‌

it is with piqued interest that sansa watches one of the iron born captains,   riding along on a mare of her own   –   ships and horses were undoubtedly different,   though theon had never seemed to have so many troubles as the woman ahead of her.       once,   she may have snickered to the girls ‘round her,   made jests at the young captain’s struggles and rode on without a second thought.       but now,   sansa understands the implications of alliance and politics;   understands that though she should harbor a deep-seated anger for what had been done to her home by those with saltwater in their veins   …   that some things could be overlooked for the sake of the present.       it is with that in mind that she pulls upon her mare’s reigns,   guides her ever closer to the darkened head of curls and raises her voice loud enough to be heard.       “   i’m certain we could find you a wheelhouse to ride in,   captain.    ”

bringing sorrow to a halt,   sansa gracefully glides down from her saddle,   skirts billowing behind her as she offers a wry grin.       “     or you’re welcome to ride with me until we make camp for the evening,    i promise to be better company than most.     ”       she would not make such an offer were it not for the fact that she’s grown tired of being trailed by one of her brother’s men;   intent on tracking each hoof print in the mud and not offering anything more than pitiful attempts at flattery every few miles.        “       unless you expect your horse to come back,   in which case   …   you may make it north by the end of winter,   if you’re lucky.   ”

there is a marked difference between the princess of winterfell ( so graceful as she dismounts, the action looking no more than a minor inconvenience ) and the bastard of great wyk. and yet ragna finds a shred of admiration for the other. though she held no lovefor her new alliance with the northerners, for their men who spouted about nothing but honour and yet were the same as every other in breeches, she could at least respect another who she knew to have suffered in silence as she had. it would seem that bothhad found their voice since. “my men would mock me till the day they sunk my body in the sea, your grace.” wild curls are shoved from her face, managing a grin for the she-wolf.

indigo hues trail to the men that hover not far off, so filled with distrust for the iron born captain. smart to see her as a threat, though she was not foolish enough to harm the sister of her king. “now that is an offer i find almost impossible to refuse. reckon you’d get me to camp in one piece. sadly i doubt your friends would allow such. shame really, you’d be much safer under my protection than these oafs.” her smile is playful, all teeth and teasing. the sea serpent always testing the boundaries, so eager to push and push until it had gone too far. a snort leaves the woman’s lips, brows arching with surprise. the woman was as quick as she was pretty. “does my ridin’ really leave so much to be desired?”

[iamthebricklayer]

[rcgna]

krakenskiss‌

“If that’s the case, I suspect we are about to ride into battle with an army made up half of children.” The familiar action of sitting with his oldest ally, sharpening his axe and ignoring the world going past was doing wonders for the agitation that had followed him North. “Not jealous, as such.” Maron replied, brow heavy with disdain for the company they travelled with as he watched them milling about the site where they had stopped to rest for the night. “But I’d be lying if I said there was not a little envy for them in me.” 

Maron shrugged. “Makes you wonder how much better we might’ve turned out with saints for fathers.” He resumed his honing of his battleaxe, enjoying the wide berth those milling about nearby were giving the two ironborn sat alone, scraping metal and stone against each other to create a rather intimidating chorus. “If you could’ve been born a different man’s daughter, would you choose it?” 

an unladylike snort leaves her then as she holds the axe up to the dying light, eyes squinting at the edge until she deems it not yet satisfactory. “and is m’lord not excited to take on the role of westeros’ wetnurse?” ragna arches a brow, wry smile on her lips. it was not difficult for her to share in the other’s distaste for those they now named ally. the captain shrugs then, the easy admission falling from her, “i am. must be nice being that fuckin’ stupid and happy your whole life.”

a considered sigh is offered, nose wrinkling in thought as her actions are abandoned for a moment. it is a question that has haunted her more than she cares to admit. the two paths her life might very well have taken if only one small thing had changed. indigo hues fix on the fire they gather around then as she nods, “i would. if it meant i coulda been born with at least someone to want me. coulda been a bastard some place hot instead.” the jest is spoken in a low drawl, lips quirking for a moment before she glances across to her friend. “would you?”

[rcgna]

blood.

the sight of blood to this day does not bother ragna pyke. she had seen it splattered against enough walls, smeared along the razor edge of her axe, to feel no fear. when the sight of blood so often meant victory, it was difficult for her not to associate it with the thrill of triumph. how funny, then, that the first and last time it had bothered her, there had been no blood at all. only the imaginings of it. in the weeks after her mothers passing ( after she had held the figure who, for so long, had been no more than just a figment of a lonely girls imagination. held her as she had died brokenhearted in her arms. ) her dreams had been tormented by a hauntingly beautiful figure, with the same indigo eyes of her own. a younger version of her mother, she had known it on sight, covered in her own blood as she lay dying in a birthing bed. illness might have claimed her mother in the end, but she had been slowly dying for years since the day her sole child had been ripped from her arms. it had been her birth in the end, that had sealed her fate. a tragedy that could have been avoided had she not been born at all.

[rcgna]

even she had been told the stories of the reavers of old, men so fearsome that the lords of westeros would abandon their keeps in favour of their lives rather than face the iron born in battle. ragna had found her strength in those tales, eager to weave herself into the tapestries of time, her name alongside terrifying captain’s of the past. yet her ship was now docked, not to raid, but to work shoulder to shoulder with westeros mainlanders who thought themselves better because they the could swing a sword and sit a horse at the same time.  perhaps she could work together for survival, but no promises could be made that she would play nice. and that included the mare she’d been given who did not see eye to eye with the young captain.

“i said stop you bloody stupid beast.” still trotting along, ragna takes her wins where she can and swings down from the still moving horse. watching as it wanders off to gods know where. something she can’t bring herself to care about there and then. “spend so much time on land, you’d think some ideas woulda been tossed about for a better way to travel by now.” the bastard of great wyk grumbles, plucking the stray leaves from her thick curls.

[rcgna]

@draqonmothcr / continued from here !

“there ain’t.” the sea captain shrugs, corners of her lips twitching . “but just you try tellin’ the rest of them that. the mainlanders just love to fuss.” her assumptions of the rest of westeros had only been proven more accurate by the day at the summit. each member as small minded as the last, all so focused on their small patch of the world. ragna rarely saw eye to eye with others, but daenerys had seen more of the world than most of the lords and ladies that surrounded them. sights even she could only dream of. it was enough to garner the small piece of respect she was willing to give.

indigo hues never seem to settle on the dragon queen for too long, dancing from the long rows of tents to the flickering cook fires now being lit. for once, the infamous sea serpent found herself intimidated by another’s presence. and not for her skill with a blade, or a greater lust for blood, but by something that ran far deeper. a magic she could never possess, respect she would never garner. “t’is a long story your grace, and not all that pleasant neither.” lips curve in a wry smile as she glances toward the silver haired woman, “but you’re welcome aboard the iron kiss any time.”

[rcgna]

CLOSED STARTERS / ACCEPTING

@krakenskiss /  ❝ I wonder if anyone gets through childhood without being broken. ❞

indigo hues watch as her whet stone scrapes the edges of her axe. each repetitive motion going far to lessen the taut set of her shoulders. she did not belong this inland for so long, and travelling atop horseback did little to quell her nerves. if she clutched at her dagger a little tighter on the journey, it was with good reason. “doubt it.” a quiet snort leaves the sea serpent’s lips, brows furrowing in concentration. back and forth. sharp enough to carve out a heart if need be. “if ya skip through childhood singin’ songs of flowers without spillin’ a drop of blood then you’re a child still in my eyes.”

they had both been broken down in their youth. left as fragments they had pieced haphazardly together until they resembled something close to normal. but they knew, that deep inside, they could not be whole again. not entirely. and that, she was certain, was what growing up was all about. “why? feeling jealous of the little lords and ladies with a big fat grin on their face?”

[rcgna]

xandaxsand‌

“and why should i concern myself with opinions of those who’d rather take offence over my words then attempt to understand why i chose to put them there in the first place?” she smiled, knowing full well that she was wrong. southern were the sands, the seas, the heat. to the north belonged the snows, cold winds and dark godswood trees. but everything between the true north and true south was somewhat undefined, so it relied heavily on the experience of the people moving. “truth be told, i have never met a true northerner. well…” she recalled a man who’d once visited her at the brothel, with his heavy northern accent speaking of nothing but the heaviness of the heat and his longing for summer snows. “i’ve met one. back in dorne. – have you ever seen fish on dry land?” she laughs. that’s what he’d reminded her of. a person completely and utterly out of their natural habitat. 

“regrets are best reserved for those in power, i find. they can afford such luxuries.” to those left on the bottom, two options remained - stay on the bottom and hope that life of struggle and content does not cause any regret, or fight like hell with no regrets, no remorse. “wine we drink for the taste, ale…now, ale we drink to have fun, no? it’s very satisfactory.” her cheeks flushed as the heaviness of the alcohol reached her nerves and caused her to finally relax. “oh, i’m no lady but i find it flattering you’d think so…my lady?” she raised a brow, wondering the status of the other. “xanda sand.” she smiles at last, pulling in another long sip of ale which might just cause her to realise what regret feels like as she raises up tomorrow morning. 

“wouldn’t worry yourself about it, they’re not much fun, truth be told.” she thinks of all the northerner’s she’d had the misfortune to know, that seemed to multiply by the week now they were tied to them in an alliance, none of them had done much to stand out. all painfully boring in their own way, and obsessed with honour and valour. two concepts she was unfamiliar with, for they seemed akin to stupidity in her mind and did not go hand in hand with survival where she was from. lips pulls back to bare teeth in a wide grin, a laugh leaving them as she drops her head back. “i should say you’re lookin’ at one.” the sea captain jests, tipping her ale in the other’s direction. “but those fuckers never seem happy unless they’re buried up to their balls in ice. can’t trust a man that prefers a frozen touch.”

regret was not something she had ever shared in, and so she was rather inclined to agree with the stranger. cowards had regrets, those who were too afraid to take the leap and so were left to wonder what if. that had never been her, never would be, for she took every opportunity she got and had been leaping from chance to chance ever since. “now i’ll drink to that.” a wider smile is offered and soon she finds herself settling in with the new company. there weren’t many mainlanders she had found worthy enough to entertain her yet, all of them insufferable in one way or other. this one at least seemed game for a laugh. “aye you’re right there, ale only makes the best nights even better. can’t say i have much taste for wine mind you.” ragna snorts then, a hand waved dismissively in the others direction, though not unkindly. “shit no, ain’t no lady either. just another bastard here to enjoy this wonderful atmosphere.” she joked, gesturing to the dim and dingy inn around them. “ragna pyke, captain if it please you.”

[dayned-blog1]

Her arrival on Dragonstone had been a victorious one. She had made it back to Westeros, which had ultimately been her main goal, even if she was aware that the Lord of Light had plans for her, even if she knew that her role in his bigger picture was likely only to make sure that Daenerys made it from Meereen to Westeros safely, for why else would she have seen the visions that she had in the fire? Doubt did find her sometimes, as it did on this night, wrapping itself around her and clouding her vision. Doubt because she had stared into the flames of her master’s fires, and within it saw the face of a beautiful baby boy, crying in her arms. Saw a little boy with dark hair running amuck in the mud, saw a man holding a sword. The same boy, that whole time, her son: Nestar. She had seen those things, and yet, here she was all that time later, and she was not pregnant, an she was not a mother.

But she had no doubt in her Queen. She had bared witness to the miracles that the Dragon Mother had created. She’d witnessed her break slaves free from their masters, give them a new life and an original purpose, and expect nothing in return for doing so. She knew her Queen was meant to rule and knew what to do so she must get to Westeros. What the Lord of Light had withheld from her, though, was that upon their arrival to Dragonstone they would not be gathering with the great houses from all over Westeros just merely because of her Queens arrival, but because the dead were marching towards them.

And so her vengeance had been pushed off, again, to the sidelines. More grave matters at hand, she supposed, then bringing her house to their knees for their crimes against her. She would not be able to spit in their faces and call them traitors if she was dead. She would not be able to see Gerold’s head rolling on the ground if she was killed. So for that, she would have to assist in any way she could to make sure that the Night King and his army of undead did not interrupt her getting her justice. For it wasn’t just her life they had ruined, but they had created and ripped life away as well. Murderers, she saw them all as murderers. She had heard the lies Gerold had told, and the lies her family chose to believe about her disappearance:                        Ironborn, they whispered, had come in the middle of the night and stole her away. How had they not questioned any Ironborn ships in the sea? Or the lack of evidence that a raid had happened? She supposed her brother had covered his tracks reasonably well, probably paid people to go along with his story. Which meant there were more people out there, people that she wished to be dead. She’d only been on Dragonstone for a week when she began hearing the murmurs about it: one of the sailors that had kidnapped her took her for a wife, one had said, another said that they killed her, another said they were waiting for the Daynes to pay a ransom.

Eight years. Eight years of trauma and torture and suffering and none of her cousins dare to question her disappearance? Had none of them gone looking for her? Investigated the crime? Her blood, even now, boiled at the thoughts. The betrayal stung, for she had loved her family more than herself, and she had held that foolish, childish hope that someone would find her, hidden within a pleasure house in Lys, for three years. All hope abandoned only after the realization that it had been three years now, and her people probably deemed her as dead. The only way for her house to redeem themselves would be the way they had mourned her, but she had heard little to nothing about what happened after she was supposedly stolen away in the night.

She had changed though, for the better. Now a Red Priestess, she had an advantage above the rest of the people who had a hand in her demise. And once she was finished getting Daenerys wherever it was that her Lord of Light wished her to be, she would set out on her goal to kill each and every person who knew what really happened to her.

She strolled now through the streets, listening to the hustle and bustle fade into quiet discontent as the day melted into night. Head held high, the Priestess made her way to the fire that burned, surrounded by soldiers and civilians alike, both injured and healthy. There, she found herself finally slightly at ease, as she stared into the fire, looking to see if there was anything her Lord wished her to see: a death, a victory, anything would be acceptable. Though she saw nothing and felt nothing but company getting closer to her.

“We will win this war,” she mused to whoever was listening around her but did not break her stare with the flames. “I have not seen it, but I feel it in my bones. The Lord of Light would not lead us all here together for slaughtering, not when he is so intent on keeping so many alive.”

[rcgna]

a mocking smile is offered to the cup of ale she swirls in her hand, almost cruel in its cynicism. though she could accept easily the existence of magic ( she was the blood of old valyria, a bastard yes but the indigo hues were undeniable. and the dragons that sung long into the night were tangible enough proof. ), the idea that an almighty presence watched over them was only laughable to one who had seen far too much misery to believe there was anyone to hear broken prayers. what sort of god allowed so many to suffer alone, innocents? definitely not one she had any urge to follow. no, she preferred to place her life in the hands only of ones she could trust. her own. in the wind that carried her sails, the swiftness of her axe. only cowards believed their life, and the decisions they made, were left up to some omnipresent force.

“then why have so many perished, my lady?” her brow arches in question, teeth bared in a grin meant to instil chaos. whether it was harmless or not was very much up to the company kept, and the mood the sea serpent found herself in. “if your fire god wanted us to survive the dead men walking why does he let so many die? coulda used the numbers if you’re askin’ me.” ragna cocks her head then, worn leather boots pushing off from the wall she had settled against. stalking ever closer. how fortunate she’d found something to do, ragna pyke was a danger to any and all when bored. “but perhaps this lord of yours ain’t so good with the strategy. maybe pray for that instead.”

[rcgna]

❝ I do believe you love as well and deeply… as any man. ❞ from jae 😈

a near empty bottle is passed the other’s way after she herself takes a generous sip. her attention instead turned to the distant horizon as she drapes one leg over the edge of the dock, perching her chin on top of her other knee. “not a tricky achievement when men are incapable of such a feelin’.” the sea captain murmurs, the corners of ruby painted lips quirking upward in a wry smile. she had seen the supposed love of a man up close, and it was always an ugly and tainted thing. firmly rooted in lust or possession than anything true and genuine. she had no desire for it. a sigh leaves her lips then, indigo hues hardening for an instant before the look is gone and she’s once more gazing upon her companion.

“might be that i have a shred more ability in me than some bloke… but what’s it matter? s’all a con.” slowly, ragna arches a brow that sheds doubt on any idea jaeyi might have of her capabilities. love was for the fools of songs, not those like them who had seen the world for what it is up close. destructive. “surely your lady margaery told you that?”

[lukearnold]

favorite max dresses [requested by anonymous]

[highbcltage-blog]

why should i resolve things peacefully when i can fucking punch you in the face

[rcgna]

redjaeyi‌

“As it should be.” Jaeyi affirmed, a smile on her lips - no men to hold her back, to keep her from her true calling on the seas with a blade in hand and an order on her lips for her crew. 

Jaeyi sucked in a breath, feeling awfully naked despite her clothes. “He is the emperor.” She remembered a kind man with a round face sitting on the throne of Yi Ti - the God Emperor they called him, though he had let all his children call him father. It seemed so startling at first to her that he could have ordered the massacre as he had, but he was an easy man to take advantage of, and there were many in Yin who wished to see the lines of succession shortened. “Seven years since I left - it’d been five when the Lord Commander picked me up in Yunkai and let me join the Fleet.” That was the best thing that ever happened to her, being brought aboard the Iron Victory, given freedom, a ways to run, and met the sea serpent of Great Wyk who had been a sight for sore eyes as she stalked about the decks in her bright red skirts. 

“I have never had any doubts that you could not protect me, Ragna Pyke.” For there was no-one in all the Seven Kingdoms so ruthless or deadly in the face of a foe. “But I was the one who had to keep you safe this time - I didn’t want my father to come back for the Fleet, I needed to go before I put you, and everyone else, in more danger.” She had lived to see all but one of her siblings die, had left all she had known once in Yin and once when she had left the ironborn, and those things she had learned to live with - whether the same could be said if she had been responsible for Ragna’s loss of life, she was less sure. “I wish I had stayed, but Victarion Greyjoy is not the kind of man to argue with, and like you said, I’ve always been a coward.” Relief flooded her body as Ragna came closer, the predator in her calming in the face of an explanation she had not been bargaining for. This was the girl she knew, the one she liked so much, the one she dreamed of when there were soft Reachborn girls lying next to her in bed. 

it was rare in this world to find a soul you could place your trust in as ragna had with jaeyi and so few others. so many had wronged her she thought the ability for such had been stolen long ago. yet even after all the hatred she had harboured for the woman before her, that feeling still remained within. explanations going a long way to piece that broken trust back together. no, she was not entirely forgiven yet, and there would likely always be a stubborn part of her that would hold onto that grudge, but her blood no longer ran hot and that was a triumph in and of itself. “makes you way too fancy for me. no wonder the reach welcomed you.” it’s only a slither of mirth that makes its way through, a hint of a smile on her lips, but it’s progress. though soon her features turn sullen once more. she had often wondered aloud of the other’s past life ( sensing secrets beyond her reach even then ), never would she have thought her tale would prove just as lonely as her own. if not more. “all those years and ya never told a soul.”

shoulders are straightened as her jaw sets, fire glinting in her indigo hues once more. as if she needed to prove her strength, prove that she would have been enough to keep jaeyi safe, that her life should never have been something for her to trade a home for. “captain’s a stubborn fucker. he’ll be in some shit with me if he’s not careful.” it was almost childish the way her blame seemed to transfer onto the unfortunate victarion greyjoy. but ragna’s ire always needed some place to settle, and he seemed a worthy target no matter how at fault he was. now the truth was out, it seemed to hover in the air between them both, leaving the bastard of great wyk at a loss for what to say now when she had been so intent on a fight before. a rage that had left her as quick as an extinguished flame. the young captain’s fingers find their way to the clasp about her throat, to the volantene ruby bestowed upon her by her dying mother. “well i’ll forgive ya,” she already had, almost. “but ya gotta promise that you won’t bother yourself with somethin’ stupid like safety again. can look after myself, no reason for you to go disappearin’ on us.” she shakes out her raven curls then, the playful façade returning to her once more. “what’s so safe about highgarden? is your father allergic to roses?”

[ruinedchildhood]