olene tyrell reconvenes with her brother @faatedones
in the gifted tyrell tent, shortly after everybody's arrival in sunspear
No fortune ever seemed to come without its share of misfortune. Olene had left King's Landing with a sense that they were finally on the right path, with a seat on the Council and a long wrong righted... only for a dragon to blow them off course once more. Fortune had never favoured them, though Olene tired of fortune and favour both. They had made allies and friends they could turn to... and she had not been the one to turn to them, but felt the sting of it as badly as if she had been. Please help us, a dragon destroyed our things. Ridiculous. She was travel-sore and wind-whipped, and she could feel the salt still in her hair turning it crisp and dull as straw. It was the last thing she wished to present to all the court, gathered at the foot of Sunspear like a garden of canvas blooming between the city and the desert. She missed home. She missed the relative comforts of King's Landing. The thought of washing the salt from her hair in water as hot as the sun outside made her want to scream.
The tent flap opened, and Harlon entered. "I hope you thanked Lady Celtigar enough for the both of us." The tent was red. If she wasn't meant to be feeling so grateful she'd wonder what Maelora Celtigar was trying to prove. Wasn't her husband a Rowan by birth? A yellow-gold tent would not have been so much to ask for. "This is all very generous. I can't imagine the state we'd be in by the time of the ball without a tent in this blazing heat." Well. It wouldn't have come to that before she approached their other allies. That might just have been worse.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ the hand of the late king welcomes olene tyrell, the lady of highgarden, to the kingsmoot. the realm knows them to be independent and purposeful, but the master of whisperers has unearthed information that speaks to their sarcastic and impatient tendencies. to dream of them would be to dream of an acid tongue, quick to hiss and eager to injure ; the curved edge of garden scissors, separating rose from thorn ; the curled and ragged edges of fading dreams ; spine stiff and chin raised: a refusal to bow to jilted pride. they themselves dream of any house that supports her on the throne. time is an unwieldy mistress, and only she may tell who will sit the iron throne when the dust settles.
basics.
name olene tyrell. titles lady of highgarden. age two and thirty. alignment true neutral. motivations to ensure her brother is restored to his seat.
visuals.
height 5'5. eyes a flinty black. build not particularly tall, of middling build as well. notable features long hair that hangs down to her waist, loosely curling; lips often darkened to a deep rose red; strong brows, often furrowed, with a little line between them; bitten nails, a bad habit she cannot shake.
family.
parents grand maester mace tyrell; lady marianne tyrell née florent Ⅹ. brother lord harlon tyrell. extended family lord mors tyrell, evil uncle ; falyn and galyeon tyrell, evil cousins.
biography. always a wip
you are barely old enough to remember when your parents both leave you. it is not remembering that makes your early years kind: the joys and comforts of highgarden are no small prize, and you were born to this one. with time you learn of the circumstances that keep your uncle at highgarden's seat, but it seems almost not to matter: justice and chivalry are the code of the reach, and one day your brother will be restored to his rightful seat.
the day is slow to arrive, but you do not question it. your mind goes to other preoccupations; you embroider your sleeves and arrange flowers, and dance with slippered feet and clap for knights as they joust. it is knighthood and chivalry that you love best, as you collect their flowers and make favours at every tourney, and it is knights you dream of. when you are betrothed to one, no dashing dream in a golden suit, you beg and plead to be freed from it... and when that fails, you turn to your father. but what has grandmaester mace to offer you, a mere lady of highgarden?
rejection follows refusal; humiliation follows that. your dreams wither even as people whisper of the girl who brought such terrible embarrassment to the tyrells. you keep your chin up, and set your sights. rejection follows again. years pass, and the rose-and-gold hue that had set itself over highgarden all your life fades, as all false gilt fades in time. your uncle has no intention of restoring your brother. your cousins will take what is yours with impunity. your father has forgotten you both.
when the kingsmoot arrives, you have learned your lesson. your dreams have always been meaningless, and pride has been your downfall: you will swallow it, if just for now, for greater goals than love or beauty. this is no time for dreaming.
summary.
sometimes you get robbed before you were even old enough to remember it, and it ruins your whole entire life ! olene led a relatively charmed life as a girl, not exactly ignorant of her and her brother's position, but seeing everyone and everything in good faith. with years of disappointments, though, that has... really, really changed. olene is a little oversensitive, very quick to get mean, and sees the worst in everyone so she isn't hurt or wrong again. attempting to be more politically inclined hasn't gone great for her so far, but her endgame is to see harlon in highgarden.
