#c: devani

[myriamas]

who: @devanitoland when and where: during the lann's day festival, the newly-wedded and pregnant myriam allyrion finally seeks out an interaction with the infamous devani toland.

it were impossible to not have heard of the name devani toland in recent months: her return shortly followed by the reveal of lord dante uller as being the one responsible for the death of her former husband, lord mors martell, seemed to mean that the lines blurred and responsibility was placed on the other. she did not know devani toland enough to dislike her, and whilst myriam's temper was known throughout dorne, she was also not one to look down upon another woman of dorne lest she make her own judgement of her.

the recent months had been blurry, as had devani in the faces of sunspear's courtiers - incident after incident seemed to occur, and she continued to feel a sense of burning pride in the face of jaehaerys targaryen's actions.

the last the rest of westeros had seen her, she had been the princess regent of dorne; standing before the dragon king, and their altercation had resulted in a greater conflict between dorne and the era of new valyria. she was a widow, a mother of a three year old princess with a new political landscape to learn - that had been what her life had been shaped for her as. myriam had all but set fire to the path that had been paved for her; not again, she remembered telling herself.

now, the continent saw myriam once again; newly wedded to the sword of the morning, and judging by the light swell of her stomach, reinforcing a permanent link between house martell and house dayne by making their heirs half siblings. she had tossed aside the expectations that a rouyal widow was not to remarry, and instead she were here; adorned in dornish outfits and gold in the conservative land of the west, her thick hair straight on either side of her.

she saw devani toland speaking to some westerman as she walked by her, and decided now would be the time she would finally meet with the woman of house toland. as she walked by her, they briefly made eye contact; and the princess mother pulled a slightly taunting face and lowered her thumbs in the direction of the man behind his back. she continued to walk, a hand resting proudly upon the curve of her bump; knowing all seemed to wonder how it was she was married and pregnant again.

[ruqaiyahdayne]

who: @devanitoland when and where: sunspear, shortly following the murder of dante uller by baashir dayne and the introduction of ruqaiyah dayne to the court of sunspear. there is a grand feast going on with specifically assigned seating, and ruqaiyah finds herself sat at a table with a very, very, familiar stranger. tdlr: that feeling when ur 10 year long situationship shows up

her visit to sunspear would most likely be permanent this time, and it was something she had not fully thought through until the wagon was already days into the journey - she found herself wondering whether that had been intentional, to make the change of setting as easy and minimal as possible. ruqaiyah hoped not, for she wished her departure from her home to be full of emotional theatrics, with elephants adorned in colourful fabrics and colour filling the air.

now she was here, back in the capital city: where she had been before, though it felt like each time she arrived, there was some update. someone had died.

there was assigned seating at this table, and she noted there were multiple notable women of various houses of dorne: and she did not pay enough attention to one of the names that would have been enough to cause her to get up and demand to sit at another table. perhaps because she was too engrossed in gossip about what the princess loreza martell was wearing, she was within such conversation when another face appeared before her.

"my eyes are increasingly fixed on one person." "don't say that." "but i did." "who?" "you've run out of questions now, ru." she had seen it, and heard it, through a rose coloured haze.

one would be able to see her expression change ever so slightly as she looked upon devani toland for the first time in over a decade, as though she had risen from the dead: of course she had heard of her return and all the rumours attached to them. a flicker of realisation, her words slowing for a moment, before she simply looked away; acting as though she was not at the table at all. none would have noticed the way her heart was thumping, and how suddenly increasingly numb she began to feel.

a door slammed. "you said your eyes were fixed on one person. one. person." "did you take it seriously? we were drinking." "but you said it." "so?" "do you tolands know how to count?" she had seen it, and heard it, through no haze.

how she wished to get up and demand to be sat elsewhere. she found herself looking anywhere but at her, speaking to women and aunties of various social circles as they walked by her; and still, she had not said hello. she would not say hello first. she refused to say hello first.

and if devani toland did not say hello first, then devani toland was not sat opposite ruqaiyah dayne. it was an empty seat.

[ruqaiyahdayne]

who: @devanitoland context: set before devani toland's conversation with armaan yronwood, ruqaiyah dayne decides to push a few buttons. as per usual. what: good luck babe ft attention seeking.

there were multiple things ruqaiyah dayne could not care to stand for in this wide world; when the tailor did not get her measurements exactly correct, or the state of her hair after the third day without washing it. not being the centre of attention was entirely one of those things, something that very quickly caused the room's surroundings to sour as she devised a plan to once again become the centre of attention; and right now, that spotlight was once again being taken by devani toland. she was never that funny, so she could never fathom to understand how it was she managed to get so many people to surround her in these social situations, and laugh as though they were going to explode from their sides.

she also did not understand why, or how, her laugh still remained so utterly pretty, even so many years later and even when she could stand her - but still, ruqaiyah stared from the side of the room as though she had vengeance on her mind.

there was one thing she could always do better than her, and that was her outift; and truthfully, there were elements of devani's style that inspired ruqaiyah's outfit this night, knowing it would possibly get her attention. or, she simply was too daft to notice it - still, the halter neck style she wore draped over her body as her silks moved like the stars at twilight. it did not take her long to slip her back into the centre of the room, lips glossed as she made brief eye contact with the lady of ghost hill - only to roll her orbs away from her, wanting to ensure the other knew all too well how she felt. it did nothing, for the other still did not approach her.

the night rolled on, and the wine no longer enticed her; the slight buzz and tingle she got had slowly crumbled during the evening. now, instead, she found herself growing increasingly more pouty - despite how attractive she no doubt looked this night, the one person she wanted to approach her had still not. how long would she wait around before having to exercise her absence in devani's life? did none of it matter to her? the click of her fingers meant that she was given more gloss to apply to her lips, silver bangles ringing as she looked within the mirror, ensuring to move her hair from her face.

it was then she noted the other slipping behind her, shades of bright orange and yellow leaving the grand doors - she swept over, carefully prying through the door to look. was she meeting with another?

no - she was reading a letter. and whilst she knew she should turn around and slip back into the hall, she found herself overcome with the intense urge to have devani's attention in any form - whether it be positive, or whether she made her vexed with her. there was also a small, jealous flame ignited in her stomach: who did she receive love letters from now? why was there always some other? she did not want devani back in her life, but she wanted devani to miss her in her own - was that too much to ask? she watched as devani opened the letter fully, and began reading - and the conceited lady of starfall did not even notice the other's expression fall slightly.

"ugh. it's you." ruqaiyah said openly, her mouth remaining in a slight o shape as she knew that was how her lips looked best - it appeared as though she only now had walked through the doorway. of course she'd known all along devani was there.

again, she was not happy with the other's reaction. not enough happiness to see her. "the party is inside, don't you know that?" she asked her, her voice sarcastic as she remained fixed on her spot - her eyes darting to the letter that devani then moved. to try and fold. hide. what was she hiding? she did not like not knowing things. and suddenly, like a misbehaving feline, ruqaiyah had moved forward with a speed most unnatural except that of a nosy woman, and grabbed the letter from the other. there was a flurry of movement and the sound of bangles as she ran to go behind the pillar, ensuring her laughter was heard as she hid from the other.

"what's this then, hmm?" she called over her shoulder, the sound of her heels against the marble beneath their feet. "new lover already? who is it." she asked, her gaze sharpening as her brows furrowed, but her question sounded more like a command - and for a moment, her hands made to reopen the letter and begin to read. if this meant she had the attention she craved, wanted, needed, then this would be it.

[jasveerofthetor]

who: @devanitoland setting: the concord within highgarden, prior to devani's conversation with armaan yronwood and she needed to leave as soon as possible, devani toland stumbles across a different sort of party.

the banks of the rushing currents of the mander this night had become the scene of merriment personified; under the glow emitted from lanterns that were soon going to flicker out, there was a group of individuals sprawled across the muddy banks that had no doubt been in more sober states before. the scene was not one of danger or anything that made passers by peer anxiously; no, for one of the men had taken to sitting closest to the bank and ushering away any who had danced too close to the edge. the last thing they needed was this night to end in tragedy, with the current dragging a member of their group away - who would have to take on their shift in the morning? mir slapped the mud from his hands as he paid no attention to the mud on his clothes, using his foot to kick away the particularly rambunctious braavosi woman who had all but adopted them from the river's edge.

"what did i tell you about the edge, eh?" he called from his comfortable position, sprawling back on his elbows as he accidentally sent an empty bottle of wine to slip from the bank and into the river; he half went to try and grab hold of it before realising halfway through it was not worth it.

he was done dancing for the night, and pretended not to notice two of his coworkers at the pottery stall sneaking away from behind the trees; as though she had not insisted that she would go and look for him upon him announcing his need to pee at least half an hour ago. it was then he heard more joyous whooping and his somewhat blurred gaze followed to find the sight of more workers bringing some instruments, a range; yet there were two that caught his attention almost immediately. the sitar and the tabla, both originating from across the narrow sea opposite his homeland of volantis, and instead from the rolling dornish dunes. they appeared of interest to him, and whilst the dancing continued and the sounds of laughter rung through his ears in the best of ways, he left his defensive spot by the river bank to move toward them, wanting to see them closer.

the strings of the sitar appeared normal, and when he tapped the back of the tabla and checked the tightness of the chhavani against the base, he knew they were instruments of good condition.

"...these are expensive?" mir stated, yet his words ended up sounding more like a question - this would have belonged to merchants at least, and if not, nobility. the set of mischievous twins before him shrugged, rambling something about selling them to make money from them; and it was only then his gaze lifted to the sight of the barge on the mander itself - a different sort of party. for those who lived in the world above them, always above them, needing even the water to separate them from their lessers having their own celebrations on the bank of the river during their one night off this week. it was then his half drunken mind realised the both of them were soaking wet, and it had not taken long for him to put the dots together - the impish fool had all but managed to swim to the pleasure barge and hoist himself up, somehow bringing back with them not one expensive instrument, but two.

"you'd drown over some goat skin and strings? you idiot." he asked one, cleanly slapping him around the back of the neck, however it was then he wondered just how the twins had managed to bring them back dry. had they held it over their heads as they swam? how did the river not kill them?

the other bolted before he could give him a whack, laughter echoing - and when the pleasure barge grew closer, he noticed the silhouette of a woman rummaging through something, only being able to tell it was a woman due to the length of her hair. he suddenly found himself knowing he needed to spin some tale, or be accused of theft - whilst being completely dry. it was obvious he had not swum across, especially because he was not the best of swimmers - but gods knew what these nobles could do. "my lady!" mir called from across the currents, hoping his voice carried both over his music and her own - but he waved both of his arms as though he needed saving. she did not see him, and so he began waving more.

"hello?" he yelled again, bringing back of his hands over his mouth to ensure the sound carried. it was in that moment he threw a rock to try and get her attention via the water splashing on impact, and when she finally looked up, and a feeling of relief came over him as he waved again. far too casually and relaxed, some would say. "are these yours?" he yelled, wondering whether she could even hear him - still, he clearly extended the instruments toward her. how would he explain why they were far too dry to have somehow fallen into the current and swept up to him on the bank?