#iii. written.

[soothsaver]

@kingcdoms

whenever the keep is filled with guests from any parts of the known world, saera finds herself drawn to them with such gusto she almost forgets everything else — almost. goldwing lurks on the corners of her mind and fuels her self, so she refuses to be remiss at visiting the beast before the rest of the keep awakens. today, there is another other than the dragonkeepers, a face less enjoyable, too. still, the youngest greets her sister with a long gaze. "i thought i had seen a spot of green above." she knows all of the living dragons by heart, even those yet unmounted, so she recognized one of the biggest ones with some distaste. "how's the old lady?"

[soothsaver]

@chaosxkids

with the tourney in only a few days, the keep is in a buzz. it has been far too long since they've receptioned a large number of guests, and while saera can't wait to see whom will come and what they will bring, she will miss some of the liberties that comes with the day to day — like observing the knights training without a hint of shame. not unusually, she makes her way towards the courtyard when they seem to be finished and, approaching a certain knight, she raises a handkerchief. "for all the sweat you've broken." voice remains cool, as does her expression. she knows better than to give it all away. "it does not mean you can have it as a favor, though."

[soothsaver]

@wolvcs

for all of the amusement that having guests brings her, sometimes the selection is incredibly off. maybe someone could compare it to wine flavors, how different they are to one another and how there is always a certain wine for every person but saera only cares that it makes her tipsy, and it is no different when it comes to companions. these just aren't it. how has she gotten enrolled into talking about dead crops? "lord stark," she breaks another's words by raising her voice, periwinkle eyes turning towards the tallest man between them. "tell me anything interesting before i wilt from boredom, please."

[soothsaver]

@tolvajok

the small purse's contents jiggle as she walks, leather heavy between her hands. there is little about tournaments saera dislikes, but over the years she has earned the right to be enthused about the betting that occurs — ever since she saw her kingsguard do it, oddly excited, she had made him also take her bets towards every small or big event happening in the city, something that has brought her some loss but also some gain. this time, however, she intends to place the bets herself, on the inviting little stand by the courtyard. "martyn! have you been listening to drunks long? tell me who are the better bets. and don't tell me you're betting all on yourself, please. i'd rather you did not bring me to bankrupcy again."

[soothsaver]

@shan-of-three-ravens / @jorah-stark ( up to you ! )

she still reeks of dragon as she walks down the corridors of the keep. goldwing was restless and wished to roam souther than king's landing away to dragonstone, and she had to tighten the reins not to return to that hell hole — something he did not entirely appreciate, but bent to his mistress' wishes neverthless. why would anyone desire to escape the red keep is beyond her, but it is the steps of another draws her from her worsening mood; coming from within an alcove, she follows the sound in hopes of seeing who the snooper was. "you know, these are the very halls ceryse hightower had her tongue ripped out. some says she still wanders these halls... is it my dear aunt out there?"