open starter / with anyone (up to 6 different muns) on day one, during the evening's feast.
he stands silently, one hand ghosting over the hilt of the sword on his hip, eyes continuously darting around the room. twenty five years, he's heard - that's how long he's been there, long after aerys' torment. jaime hasn't thought about that in quite some time, even with his affinity for reminiscing on the past. he only likes to remember how the chaos ended... with his sword through the mad king's back. too many deaths have happened in the very room they now feast in. the tension in the hall has him on high alert, even if he would not mind a bit of action. various conversations are overheard with none being of any substance. he glances over the elaborate decorations and decides if there was ever a celebration to be seen as a nightmare, this was it. his armor clangs as he paces, walking in strides along the table to hide himself at the end. unfortunately, wherever he is, jaime sticks out like a sore thumb. " how... historical, to be celebrating our fierce some rhaegar in this very room, " he speaks to no one in particular, merely voicing his thoughts aloud. noticing he's caught someone's attention, he continues. " do you believe in ghosts ? "