Discover Top Posts Tagged with #m * sevan reyne.

FATED FOR … any and all.

FOUND IN … the courtyards, following the funeral.

the ebony collar of their jacket scratched unhappily against the inked column of his neck, only irritating him further. it was a somber drag. funerary and travel, punctuated by the miserable image of the lady lannister trailing after her husband's clean picked bones. death had always bothered the reyne. a plague. a poison. a pointed sword. it could find any of them at any moment — reducing your achievement to an insignificant death. we shall never see his like again. words muttered in passing, empty grief over a corpse they did not know. what frauds.

“it's all fucking bizarre,” sevan says, features reading his distaste. tucked between pinkening molars, the knight chews at a wad of sourleaf. a miserable attempt at calming their frayed nerves. “everything i hear about this damn feast is a curse.”

#m * sevan reyne.#103:starter #death tw #drug use tw #i mean its sour leaf #a * the pestilence.

FATED FOR ... a few ( @firercts , @graveruins , @bethemouth . )

FOUND IN ... the reyne tents, where all are subjected to sevan's whining.

sevan sprawls outward along the straw cot, laid out for them in their stupid tent city. it was unbecoming for the reyne to slum it so, used to their plush featherbed in the cool wealth of their keep. damn the fucking martells and their stupid gate. while they had certainly been relegated to tents in the age of tourneys, touring the seven kingdoms in search of glory, it did not mean they enjoyed such arrangements.

“wait—!" the knight calls out, pretending to be weak from the heat that bids him to be rid of a shirt. they croak, “bring me the ale.” then, drawing their attention, he gestures next to the flagon by the entrance.

#m * sevan reyne.#firercts.#graveruins.#bethemouth.#a * the pride of sunspear.#alcohol tw #u think i gaf if theres a phone in da gif #NO #anywya its not as if the tent is locked so feel free to answer with whomever HAAHAHAHAH

FATED FOR ... rosamund lannister ( @ofaeth3r . )

FOUND IN ... in king's landing still, in the days yet to be betrothed ...

in the days leading to their departure to dorne, blunt arrows found themselves in the lannister quarters, trim love letters scrawled in sevan’s messy script tied to the ends of them. after all, he did not want rosamund to forget her saviour too quickly. while myles was the pen between the brothers, sevan still had their own wits, capable of wooing a lady still. though, it had taken sevan a day or two to locate exactly which window led to the youngest lannister's chambers.

“lady rosamund,” they offer warmly, signed with the signature upturn of mischief in their pink grin, coming to walk alongside her. “i must admit, i am disappointed to see that you no longer bear my name across your chest."

#m * sevan reyne.#sr * rosamund lannister.#ofaeth3r.#a * the pride of sunspear.

FATED FOR ... myles reyne ( @faatedones .)

FOUND IN ... aboard their ship, en route to dorne.

distaste lingers like dirt under nail, the grime of irritation clinging still. the secret of coupling with his brother’s bride tucked into his pocket, sheathed like a sword in a scabbard. it means nothing to him now — after all, sevan has a lannister to woo and wed — but, they still detest the way that they must share. never mind that they had not shared the fact with his brother, but myles had been there at the lord hand's party, perhaps head too far deep into his strings to notice the trio. the eldest reyne had always loved his music so.

it is proven now as sevan spots him now, working on his instrument. as always. “which lady do you write for today?” sevan laughs, rattling myles by his shoulders, as if nothing is amiss between them. “your bride?” sevan's own betrothed is sleeping still, he imagines, just below deck.

#m * sevan reyne.#sr * myles reyne.#faatedones.#a * the pride of sunspear.

⋆ ☼ THE PRIDE OF SUNSPEAR ⋆

now announcing … LADY SAERA GREYJOY of PYKE

truthfully, the dress is picked only for the fact is clean and unwrinkled. saera cannot recall where the silver baubles are from. they imagine they were paid in iron.

now announcing … LADY VAIORA REDWYNE of THE ARBOR

how absolutely dornish everyone has chosen to dress this evening! vaiora's style has always been her own, dressing as she pleases, picking and choosing from the culture of her wardrobe led purely by whim. the cut of her dress is certainly not dornish, but it is certainly vaiora with the flowy swish of her skirts and the chime of her hair ornaments.

now announcing … SER SEVAN REYNE of CASTAMERE

oh, they could have worn red — yes, pride in one's house and all that. sevan remains proud, of course. but, it feels overdone in this … sunspear. they select green for the simple fact that they look fantastic in the shade.

now announcing … SER DONNELL SWANN of STONEHELM

in spite of the heat that seemed to infect the men of the seven kingdoms, flaunting their physique with open robes … donnell thinks to save them all the sorry sight of his own. still wrapped in bandages, his choice — rather, his little sisters' choice — of outfit reflecting that.

now announcing … DEFNE RIVERS of HARRENHAL

four and twenty, though feeling much younger than it, defne must admit she is a bit shocked by the skin exposed tonight! already feeling daring for showing her elbows … her gaze falling askance at the low-cut dresses and the open jackets. though, it has given them much opportunity to admire their new slippers. how wonderful that they match the orange accents of her dress!

now announcing … LADY ACHARA QORGYLE of SANDSTONE

there is very little gold left in sandstone, save for what is worn on their person. achara is desperate for normalcy still but it is difficult to feel it, knowing that in years past, this would have been an occasion for new robes. it isn't as if their visitors will know.

#a * the pride of sunspear.#m * saera greyjoy.#m * vaiora redwyne.#m * sevan reyne.#m * donnell swann.#m * defne rivers.#m * achara qorgyle.#musing.

“My father told me you should never talk to a horse.” / grover to sevan

it takes the reyne a moment to frown, realizing — "me?" they croak, guffawed by the accusation. "am i the horse?" preposterous! how dare he speak to him in such a manner? sevan was a skilled knight, one of far greater renown than any tully, their name sung in near every tavern they entered. "lord grover," they warn, brow furrowing in the manner of a brewing storm, deciding yet if they should be offended.

#m * sevan reyne.#sr * grover tully.#liver y.#musing.

you're gonna have a very hard time getting rid of that one. (Maekara & sevan)

even at the distance kept between them, sevan could see how the lord's breath trembled when their eyes met from across the room. he would do for the night, they supposed to themself, pocketing the information for later. that decided, his gaze moves towards the bountiful spread laid before them. "that is a problem to solve in the morning," they grin, glancing upward to the targaryen, pleased to know they do not imagine the interest. "one should not complain when the game chooses you. the forest is not filled with ivory stags."

#m * sevan reyne.#sr * maekara targaryen.#bethemouth.#musing.

“He's just mad that he lost.” (amerei to sevan)

"he is just mad that he lost."

dark eyes pull from the simmering lord, peering down at the tully's wide, sweet features. they laugh at that, charming as a liege should be with a beautiful lady in their arms, forgetting such pettiness. "no," sevan corrects gently, guiding them through the steps of the dance with a practiced expertise. "i suspect that he is mad that i won with your favour on my lance, lady amerei." his grin is wolfish, arrogance earned by the title of the tourney, another victory under his belt. they lean forward, pulling the lady to him by the thin of her waist, whispering into the shell of her ear in a conspiratorial whisper — "but more than that, that i dance with you now."

#m * sevan reyne.#sr * amerei mallister.#valarrghulis.#musing.