#firedreamt

[fromashe]

closed for @firedreamt (for knuckle mor <3) setting: guest chambers for the tully, days after the harvest festival

aila grew stir crazy as the days dragged on. the news of any sickness is hard to swallow but there are mny among the ill who aila worried for in particular, aybüke, lady helvis and lady arryn, makoa's sister as well. while not particularly religious, they would pray if it'd help. may the gods old and new protect the bedridden nobles, may each of them survive and have a full recovery. but prayers did not work that way, did they? if sheer will could keep someone alive (though their grandsire may be that exception for their iron will had them far older than most in the realm), then her aunt would have been spared. perhaps her birth parents would have to. if you could simply beat the stranger in a game of sheer determination.

it'd been days with no improvement and they understood the need for precaution but there was nothing aila hated more than being useless, powerless, forced to sit idle when something, anything can be done. uncle mor had mentioned in passing of wanting to aid the sick, keep them company at the very least. but aila could see the toll on the older tully. their aunt's death had been devastating to the family, their cousin and uncle most of all. but of course, it would not be proper discussion and life went on. though there are days, aila swears it seems that their uncle is stuck in the grief. it's not something she can understand, not really. too young when she lost her parents, too inexperienced to know that type of love, too afraid and too sheltered to witness her aunt's deterioration. that is a nightmare exclusive to others.

the proper thing would be to take a page out of aunt saby's book. but when has aila ever done the proper thing?

"i don't know how... but i'd like to help too. if you teach me or showed me how, i'd like to do something." anything. aila fiddles with the edge of her sleeve, summoning the courage to ask the harder question. "... are you alright, uncle mor? i know it can be..." they don't know though, not really. hope to never know.

"you don't seem to be taking care of yourself." they finally blurt. "and i feel you should probably care for yourself as well in order to help others."

[fromashe]

closed to @firedreamt (for taliesin) setting: the red keep after the antidote has been delivered

their arrival to king's landing is the first taste of freedom she's had in over half a year. the culmination of her father's plotting and supposed divine timing if you could believe it (she didn't). it took some coin and additional bribery to escape the constant surveillance. she had half a mind to make a sprint for the stables, steal a horse and ride as far as she could manage. the master of laws would have far more important things than one missing daughter.

instead seraphina finds herself searching for some type of library in the keep, anything to occupy her time. during her scout, she spotted a familiar figure. a wiser woman would turn her heel and walk away. but sera was so starved of entertainment. it'd be a treat, would it not, to revisit simpler days... before the deaths of her siblings, before the discovery of her private life, before the involvement in the realm's politics. when there was a young woman named phia who had no escorts and could eat, sleep, and wear whatever she pleased.

she wondered if talisein knew what that brief reunion in oldtown cost her. a mere insinuation that they were familiar with each other. oh the scandal. then an eight month imprisonment. there's a tension in their shoulders, she wondered if there was someone among the sick whom talisein knew.

"you seem troubled. though i'm quite sure, not as troubled as i have been these past moons."

"still, i hope all is well. it's a pity to see a frown on your face."

[fromashe]

status: closed to @firedreamt (for gwyn) setting: the harvest feast

It was an odd display to say the least. This feast where major families have gathered under a single roof, enjoying libations and delights, a facade of merriment when a better description would be the prime opportunity to conduct some reconnaissance. Yerin refrained from displaying disgust at those gorging themselves without care in their conduct. Every pleasantry, every gaze, every seeming mundane greeting was laced with meticulous intent, bits of ammunition building a case in favor or against every house present. The ruling lady of Ten Towers never faltered in these tedious affairs, even with sapped stamina since the loss of her son.

She could manage the conversation with this lesser noble with her eyes shut and a blade pressed to her throat. The usual tactic to disarm, charm, then plunge a proverbial dagger for a fatal blow before anyone could process the harm. It's the figure towards the back of the hall that earns one of her first genuine smiles in the past weeks, if not months.

Excusing herself, Yerin sweeps across the hall with practiced grace and steady steps, never too eager, even if her heart rejoices at the prospect of being herself, if even for a moment with an old friend, a term she could not find it in herself to use with ease anymore. "I'd heard rumor of your family's attendance. Glad to see they were true." She dipped her head, a playful show of respect, eyes nonetheless betraying genuine relief. "Though I trust your lord father has much faith in you and your lord husband presenting the family's best interest." The silent jab illuminating Yerin's continued distaste for Gwyneth's father. Children were not pawns to leverage for one's ambitions, and yet Yerin had doomed her own son anyways.

[sheslegit-archive]

@battleslcst (becky) !

               “I hope you know this is all YOUR fault. Becky ‘butterfingers’ Lynch couldn’t unhook the briefcase when she had a whole twenty seconds up there all by herself so now us women on Raw are stuck having to deal with Little Miss Bliss as champion yet again.” She was quick to point the fingers and place the blame on someone else. In her mind, from what she saw when watching the ending of the match back, Becky was the reason why the Money in the Bank match ended the way it did. “Like... seriously? Are you so accustomed to losing that you don’t know how to win a match anymore? Ugh!” Sasha groaned and pushed past the Lass Kicker, bumping into her shoulder with her own totally on purpose. 

[emulatcr]

firedreamt replied to your post: imagine being fearless enough to message your...

mood

truly man. that’s right up there with like , actually messaging mutuals or having a mutual that you know you’ll have great things with but y’all literally never talk long enough to get something popping off ... like no matter what ... and there’s no actual reason behind it , because y’all never written enough to know if the chemistry is off or anything , it’s just for like the life of y’all ... y’all can’t hold a single conversation down.

roleplaying is too hard i wanna tap out lol