set within the pride of sunspear, days before the ball. the lady goodbrother is perusing planky town, a skip in her step as she smiles at everyone she passes. across the way, she spots someone — @firedreamt, @graveruins, @retrouviel, @ofglcry — and pulls them towards her with her voice.
freya had made a home upon the waters of the summer sea for the last few moons. her and her brother's vessel filled tight with treasures they had not only found, but taken. oh, she loved to be an ironborn! whatever she wanted she got to have. how silly was it to believe these people would give away such beautiful prizes! (they did not, she took them, stole them.) "you!" her voice is sudden — loud, like it always was — as she calls across the narrow street, her finger rudely pointing to the person she had just pulled into her orbit. a silken dress that matches the olive tone of her skin perfectly pressed against the other linens she adorned in a show, "do you think i would look good in this? answer wisely!" there is a slight threat to her tone, but she smiles brightly and laughs like it wasn't there at all.