𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖘

[redkiings]

lady sybelle bolton — a study in girls who dream only in shades bloody red, stained hands from a stained heart, hunting tactics, grief that turns into hatred, ambition like a sharp, cold knife.

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[theconqueringhq]

open starter - open to all, no cap, day one.. during the feast

It may have been twenty-five years since Rhaegar's victory and the start of his reign - it has been twenty-five years since Brandon Stark has ever set foot in the red keep since he and his loyal companions marched on through, twenty-five years since-- the reason he is still haunted by the ever-cycling past. Passageways filled with gloom and doom of the past are now filled with cheer, gluttony, and celebration. Brandon knows that he should rid those echoes, it is a time of celebration and peace. He leans his back against the lavish wall as he watches the joyful merriment continue on, "I wonder-- how long do you think it will last until someone loses their gord to the drink and picks a fight?" his gruff voice mutters out to the closest person next to him.

[redkiings]

sybelle was not one for celebrations — though, in sooth, she was not one for much. the things that pleased lady bolton were few and far between, and even then, only in a fleeting sense. a feast to commemorate the targaryen king was not one of those things. she was loath to leave the north, longing for the familiar grey stone of dreadfort, the faces and voices of her people. still, there was wine to be had. that was at least bearable. “not much long, i hope.” she answered, a sly smile appearing on her lips as she took a sip of her own drink. a fight would certainly be one of the few things that amused sybelle. "with enough mead, i believe we could have a jousting tournament in the middle of the banquet hall, my lord. now that would be a sight." 

[redkiings]

ashes  to  ashes  ,  will  cry  the  bards  ,  before  they  sing  the  song  of  LADY SYBELLE  .  behind  them  fly  the  banners  of  HOUSE  BOLTON  of  DREADFORT  .  known  throughout  the  land  for  their  INTELLIGENT  ,  UNRELENTING  &  UNSTABLE  nature  ,  the  people  are  eager  to  see  how  they  act  in  the  dragon’s  court  under  the  watchful  eye  of  the  king’s  guard  .  their  name  alone  brings  images  of  BLOOD SOAKED HANDS FROM A WILD HUNT, FORGOTTEN PRESSED FLOWERS FROM A SUMMER LONG GONE, GRIEF TURNED INTO HATRED, HOLLOW HAZEL EYES  .  they  are  notably  AGAINST  the  targaryen  rule  .

name: sybelle bolton age: twenty six gender: cis woman pronouns: she/her sexuality: bisexual faceclaim: adelaide kan positive traits: quick witted, intelligent, introspective, charming negative traits: unstable, selfish, self destructive, impulsive, filled with barely concealed anger, quite cruel without ever meaning to be character inspo: chiyoh ( hannibal ), shauna shipman ( yellowjackets ), mary tudor ( real life history lol ), claudia ( the vampire chronicles ), lady macbeth (shakespeare)

alas, a crimson river of warm blood, like to a bubbling fountain stirred with wind, doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, coming and going with thy honey breath. ( titus andronicus, act ii, scene iv)

(tw: deer hunting, mentions of blood)

sybelle bolton is a quiet infant. at least if you ignore her propensity for biting everyone that gets too close to her face, strong enough to draw blood. she is also lonely. when sybelle is a child, her most well loved, most loyal and trustworthy companion is a doll called jeyne. she has silky dark curls, and splashes of rose and gold in her perfectly rounded face. sybelle and jeyne are always together, a level of codependency no one quite understands but also doesn’t dare to interfere with, lest they be victim of the little girl’s temper. for years the doll is less of a toy and more of a permanent fixture on the household until one day, in a fit of anger, sybelle smashes jeyne with her bare hands. she never has a friend she loves quite as much as that one. her favorite childhood memory is how the blood looked against the porcelain. 

not much interests sybelle growing up. she doesn't care for needlework, finds politics tedious, and music utterly trite. only one things is able to capture her attention: hunting. some of her earliest memories are of accompanying her father to a hunt, watching as the dogs chased a deer, wetting her hands in the blood of the animal before going home to eat venison in the finest meal her little mind could imagine. at that time, she almost convinces herself that the slaughter is just about survival.

sybelle grows from a quiet, angry child into a bright, volatile young girl. her mother dies when she is sixteen, and she cries for an entire month before the tears dry up and are never seen again. there is kindness within her, a wild bird living underneath muscles and ribs and lungs, and she squeezes it. sybelle is not cruel, even when her smile turns malicious and her mind wanders away. sybelle is not cruel, even when she is taunting and biting, even when she is pushing people away, even when she finds herself utterly alone. sybelle is not cruel. she clings to this belief like a dying man clings to the old gods. the future is a nebulous nightmare sybelle doesn’t bother with. she has enough nights of screaming into her silk pillows as it is, enough visions of blood and death. sybelle is not a child anymore, and she knows what she wants. what she needs. power.

[dailyreigngifs]

Adelaide Kane as MARY STUART REIGN (2013 — 2017)