#redjaeyi

[dyncstys-blog]

@redjaeyi

Kyra knew there were women in the world who went against the grain, who were marvelous warriors, soldiers. Hell, their monarchy was plagued with women who were strong enough to defend themselves. It made her wonder why so many men feared when little girls picked up swords. Was it because of these warrior Queens that these simple men thought that if they allowed their daughters to pick up the sword instead of their sons, that they would find themselves overthrown? She knew that there were definitely men who had a perfect reason to fear the women in their lives. Some men were cruel to their girls. Some men did unspeakable things, expected unspeakable things... And given a chance, no doubt their women would cut their heads clean off their shoulders. But that could not be the reason her father feared her having her own dependence. He had always been kind to her and Kyra held all the love in the world for him; he helped give her life and provided for her wonderfully throughout her childhood. He was her family, and despite how he disrespected her decisions now, she would still go to war for him. Perhaps it was just because the people around him looked down upon a fighting girl. Either way - it hurt not to be accepted.

That was the reason she had never received proper training. Her brothers all had, and her eldest had done his best to teach her how to defend herself, knowing that she needed the pure knowledge purely for the fact that she kept picking fights with the boys. But he had not been allowed nor qualified to teach her the real art of battle. Instead, she learned basic defensive movements and archery; she knew how to fight but only dirty. She bit kicked, tore at peoples eyes. She could throw a punch no doubt, and she could take one too. But she didn't know as well as the rest of the men she decided to take on. Perhaps that made her stupid.

Watching the warrior woman train, Kyra quietly observed her curiously. It seemed that she had been doing so for quite some time, and it was clear that she was definitely skilled at it. "So, you are a warrior?" The question was rhetoric, Kyra pushing herself off the tree and carefully letting herself get carried closer to the practicing sword. "How did you learn?"

[wiiildliiing-blog]

“is there somebody who can love you?” from jaeyi

The words bring back a flash of faces. A boy who loved her but who she could never love the way he deserved, a woman who viewed her as her sister who loved her so hard that their lives became so intimately intertwined that when she died, so did Kalena. And two little girls, two little girls with mixed features of a brother Kal adored and a woman who was her soulmate. Two girls who now were leagues away from her, waiting for her to come back to them. She would only see them once more before she threw herself into the mercy of battle, where she would hack her way to Karsi's walking corpse, where she would finally give mercy to the woman who taught her what love truly was meant to be. Where she would continue hacking and slicing until she got as close to that damned Night King, where she would kill him,  should live long enough to see it.

The words sting, but only slightly. Kalena had long since accepted the fact that no one could love the woman she'd grown to be since Karsi's untimely death. Since the cold wrapped its way around her once the gentle heart and squeezed, squeezed until it popped. Until it no longer existed, and in its place became ice. Beating within her just as it beat within the death of her loved ones. The wild woman blinked, batting her eyelashes for a moment in thought. Then those cold eyes lifted to squint up at the sky.

"No. There is no one living who can."

@redjaeyi

[dyncstys-blog]

❛ So I may roam wherever I wish until the dawn. ❜ from jaeyi

Admiration. That was what she felt every time the warrior opened her mouth. Kyra was beyond thankful for the opportunity to learn the art of swordsmanship and was even more grateful that not only was a skilled warrior teaching her, but it was a woman who was doing it. Just proving to her that she could become a force to be reckoned with, despite having the soft body of a Lady. She could and would become a storm that men all across Westeros knew not to tamper with. Sparkling emerald hues rest on the warrior woman a moment longer before she spoke.

"I have always done whatever it is I want." She admitted, nodding her head. "My father disapproves of many things that I do. But I do them still, for I am not on this earth to please any man, blood or not... I am the owner of my own body and my own thoughts. And I am glad to have found another woman who thinks so similarly."

@redjaeyi

[xwyllamanderlyx]

“  what  hideous  sin  have  you  committed  lately?  ” from jaeyi

@redjaeyi

Not a word of it had been said with malicious intent.  Wylla’s mind was a quick one, and her words all the quicker; those wild or unconventional thoughts that burst in her mind did not tarry overlong on her tongue.  It was not with ignorance or a desire to sow chaos that Wylla said such things, although…there was a bit of satisfaction in seeing the horror on the southron faces nearby when she’d burst out with such colourful commentary.  Gods take her for that, and even more because she was not truly regretful.

A voice interrupted her angry moping, and a sharp glare was sent over her shoulder to cast her gaze through the shadowed garden.  Ah, the Tyrell girl’s sworn sword had followed.  Wylla had the sudden suspicion that she was about to be challenged to a duel for forsaking Lady Tyrell’s honour, but fear never rested in her heart for more than a few minutes’ time.

She huffed in undisguised annoyance, her dark eyes darting back to the distant shoreline.  “Were you not privy to them, just now?  I believe I said something about how southron men were of weak stock, and how flowery men would find no favour with the North.  I’m sure you’re here to…what?  Take one of my hands in recompense for my insult to your Lady’s family’s honour?”  Her fingers drummed irritably on the stone railing beneath her hands.  “In honesty, I do not regret it, so perhaps that is fitting.  Do what you will, I shall not apologize to moronic, soft-handed idiots that speak one thing and mean another.  There is little in this world that irritates me more.”