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.