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open starter @reignrbs

location: the gardens

"that's called a lapis lazuli," he nodded, gesturing to the blue flora that decorated the bushes just outside the castle, "they surround the grounds at brightwater keep, so much so that some ancestor chose to include them on our sigil." glancing back towards the garden entrance, he was pleased to note the lack of prying eyes, and therefore began to transition the conversation (albeit not entirely inconspicously). "the tyrell's may have good taste in vegetation, but i'm afraid their desire for peace comes easier in their dreams than here in reality - and i consider myself an optimist." he grinned, taking the opportunity to saunter just a bit closer to the stranger. reaching down, he snapped the green stem of the nearest flower and held it between them; the breed was practically given to the tyrells by the florents, he could do what he damn well pleased. "your name for the flower?" ah, but of course he already knew. after all, a man with an agenda makes use of his connections. of his allies. and of his adversaries.

#-ˏˋ. ꜱᴇʀɪᴏɴˊˎ- ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ #rfms.start #rfms.event06 #arc4

open starter @reignrbs

location: the markets

in the midst of the bustling market, cerlina's fingers danced along the glittering treasures adorning a merchant's stall, their heart thumping wildly as they beheld a small silver ring, its delicate band adorned with a mesmerizing sapphire. the ring, like a hidden treasure, held a mysterious allure that called to her very soul. but destiny, ever mischievous, had other plans. with a fateful twist, the ring slipped from cerlina's grasp, twirling through the air like a playful sprite. its descent, guided by whimsical forces, led it on a journey down the market path. of course like any good samaritan, she followed closely behind it, cursing her luck as she knew the merchant would surely make her pay for it upon her return. jogging closely behind the trinket, she reached out with the intention of snatching it off the ground - until her head collided harshly with...a torso? cheeks aflame, they straightened upright, bottom lip being tugged between two rows of teeth in an attempt to hide what they knew would be a not-so-apologetic grin despite the current throb of her forehead. "my apologies," she acknowledged, amusement evident in her tone, "it seems the ring has taken an interest in your footwear...and my head, you."

#-ˏˋ. ᴄᴇʀʟɪɴᴀ ˊˎ- ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ #rfms.start #rfms.event06 #arc4

⟨ aaron taylor johnson. cis male. he/him. 30. ⟩ we welcome serion florent to highgarden , the ruling lord of brightwater keep. keep an eye out for their mercurial nature, they tend to cover it up by acting charismatic. rumor has it they are against the peace treaty, and their loyalties lie with houses targaryen and tyrell. you’ll know it’s them when you get flashes of ink-stained fingertips, warmed from the flame of a nearby fire + flowery promises whispered against the column of your throat + an unwavering gaze despite a perpetually empty chalice.

#-ˏˋ. ꜱᴇʀɪᴏɴ ˊˎ- ɪɴᴛʀᴏ #rfms.intro

⟨ jessie mei li. cis woman. she/they. 24. ⟩ we welcome cerlina pyke to highgarden , the bastard of ten towers. keep an eye out for their meddlesome nature, they tend to cover it up by acting lionhearted. rumor has it they are against the peace treaty, and their loyalties lie with houses harlaw and greyjoy. you’ll know it’s them when you get flashes of wind-whipped cheeks and tangled masses of hair, courtesy of an unforgiving morning at sea + a finger pressed softly against their mouth, lips threatening to release boisterous laughter + the seed of envy planted in her gut, unbeknownst only to herself.

cerlina despises established roles. she always has. as a woman she must be knowledgable, but not too intelligent. they must have a level head upon their shoulders, but must be willing to obey her partner's commands. speak your mind, but not too loud. "a woman's place is beside her lover, not horseback." twirl in pretty circles. tend to the children. but they find it all so mundane. their interests lie in political discussions. on the battlefield. she supposed she ought to be grateful for the life she's been able to live, courtesy of her lack of title. the attention and adoration shown to them had always been out of pure necessity. nothing more. she would never be used as a pawn to secure alliances via marriage; there was no incentive to keep her at arms-length. and so, she would climb trees with her elder siblings. slosh around in muddy lakes. sit in on the swordsmanship lessons of their brothers. to their own delight, they quickly picked up on sparring and sailing. they were free, certainly more so than the average daughter of a lord. but salty sea air and iron daggers can only bring so much comfort. when her companions left to perform familial duties, tend to confidential matters, wed and produce heirs - unbeknownst to her, each incident planted yet another seed of envy within her gut. where was cerlina's betrothal? when could she find her seat beside her siblings at the family table? on nights when sleep evaded her, she tried to imagine what life would have been like had their mother lived to see her daughter's first breath. first cry. first heartbreak. would cerlina have called the north their home? the south? the lack of answers are a direct result of her father's lack of questions. one night with no questions asked, not even a name. and yet somehow they were meant to appreciate being taken in by their own father. feeling unloved. unwanted. but she'll continue to smile. to laugh. to tilt her head and braid her hair and throw her hands in the air when the music begins because this life is all she's ever known. and she loves it. she thinks.

#-ˏˋ. ᴄᴇʀʟɪɴᴀ ˊˎ- ɪɴᴛʀᴏ #rfms.intro

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