BAD men doing BAD things that’s common; ordinary unremarkable.
it’s when g o o d men do EVIL deeds that the devil smiles.
EDMURE TULLY. 42. HARBORMASTER. ADMIRAL
Edmure’s finger hovered over the doorbell of his sister’s house, or rather, Robin’s now. With the last interaction between uncle and nephew not being one of great amiability, the older man hesitated as he collected his thoughts. His nephew’s words of ‘then do something about it’ had struck him a bit harder than he thought they would, and he found them echoing in his mind for day after. The doing of things always seemed to be where Edmure faltered, to the seeing of things through. But not this time. While before he had been concerned of the weakness that would be assumed if he spent too much time grieving his sister’s death, he now realized making sure those who caused it payed would be only a show of strength. A reminder to all that the River Kings were here before them and would be here after, because they look after their own, regardless of changed names or syndicates. So he would do what Robin had asked, avenge his mother, but first he had an offer to make him. So finally, his finger depressed that small white button, and he listened as the bell rang out, and he waited at the door step, eager to see what his nephew’s answer would be when he asked.
Everything about Edmure screamed that he was out of his element; from his work clothes that suggested blue collar (despite being what all would consider white collar), the way he uneasily took one step in front of the other as he travelled between the pieces unsure if this is how one perused a gallery, to the fact that his quick glances at the art before moving on to the next showing his lack of interest or knowledge in the matter. But he wasn’t here for him, he and his fiance’s anniversary was coming up and they were someone who enjoyed these things, so Edmure attempted to care as well (although, could one really call it an anniversary if it was simply a year since their parents suggested an arranged marriage to shore up business?). Despite his attempt to care about what he was purchasing, he was still completely vexed on what made a good piece of art, and found himself leaning to his right slightly, prodding for the opinion of a nearby stranger. “What do you think of this one? Is it any good?”
Edmure was in search of answers, ones that he so far had been unable to find by his own means. He had sent his people out looking for them, for the reason of the wedding massacre, and more importantly, for Lysa’s death. And despite finding no real reason, he considered himself sated with his efforts, that is until his own nephew asked him just what he was doing about it. That’s when he knew sending his people out wasn’t enough, and that’s how he found himself in the back corner of the Red Keep, eyes searching the crowded bar for a painfully familiar face. He was a bit paranoid about being seen with Addam in public, but he figured a rowdy, busy bar with views constricted by the large boxing ring in the middle and the industrial pillars every few feet, a corner booth in the back was inconspicuous enough. His fingers traced the rim of his scotch glass (he was normally a beer guy, but was in desperate need of something a bit more numbing), mind caught up in exactly what he’d say to the man who he had such a long history with, enough so that he seemed to have missed his approach.
Why had it taken him so long? His mind provided the thought for him, though the thought did not burn his tongue. Wasn’t family supposed to look out for each other? Or was it just because he had a different last name? How he hated the way this city was run; how he hated how it pushed him away from everyone else, the only survivor of his immediate family. He had never felt so alone before. “How does it look like I’m holding up?” Robin snapped in response, the poison touching his lips despite any effort he may have made to hold it back. He knew he certainly looked worse for wear; even though his clothing was as fine as ever, he had yet to touch any garments in his closet that had any touch of color aside from black. He was very clearly still in mourning. “Where have you been, exactly, Uncle? If your intention was to make your priorities clear to me, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”
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It was fairly clear from Robin’s face that Edmure’s absence had been noted and taken down in a spreadsheet of wrong doings, and with that realization he sighed. Of course he had attended the small, private funeral held for both Lysa and Peter, and while his sparse appearance may have seemed perfunctory, it was anything but. He had so deeply wanted to stay (well, he wanted to do more than stay, he wanted to rage, he wanted to wail, he wanted to shake his fists at the sky), but as Admiral, with the RIver Kings so deeply in disarray, weakness could not be tolerated, and he knew if he spent any additional time with his family, it’d be seen as just that. He had things he needed to attend to, and to push them to the side for even a moment could spell quite literally death for Edmure, or even for the River Kings as a whole. “Well, let’s put it this way: You look how I feel. Not great.” He and Lysa had never been particularly close, and had drifted even further since her move into the Valemen, but he still loved and cared for her, she and Catelyn both had such a strong hand in raising him that of course he was grieving, despite his outward appearance. “You know I would have been with you if I could.” he whispered strongly, both trying to be discreet but also let his passion on the topic be known “--But ever since your grandfather died I don’t have that luxury.” How childish would he sound if he said all he wished for was his father back? For him to help him with all these newfound responsibilities that he know bore as Admiral? “---But I’m...” Sorry didn’t feel like enough, it felt hollow. “...Just let me know what you need. If you need help, or for me to leave you alone, or with packing up the house, whatever.”
He didn’t want to be there. In fact, the very last place he wanted to be was mingling with King’s Landing’s elite. How pathetic this whole thing was, so soon after the murder of his mother and they were all pretending like nothing had changed. Just another ordinary evening in King’s Landing, another boy orphaned without a second glance. As he sipped from his complimentary glass of champagne (slowly, he wasn’t willing to give money to anyone or anything that he couldn’t completely trust) - he let his eyes wander the room. Enemies, all of them. Unless someone could prove themselves a friend.
The event had been Edmure’s first real outing other than work since the so-called wedding, both out of grief and fear that he would’ve also been killed if he had been in attendance. And despite his easy smiles and conversations where his charm was laid on thick, Edmure had a knot in his stomach the entire time. Sure, this wasn’t a gathering of the families, it was a public event, but who was to say something couldn’t happen here just as it had at Lysa’s wedding? After mingling for awhile, this feeling of inevitable dread drew him into closer and closer orbit of those he knew, and eventually he found himself next to his nephew. He really wish he could have been more present in the last weeks, but despite Lysa’s role in the Valemen, the River Kings foundation still cracked in the wake of her brazen murder, and Edmure had been spending a great deal of time paving it all over, trying to make sure a crack didn’t become a fissure. “How’re you champ?” he questioned. It was stupid, he knew, but he didn’t really have the words to comfort a son grieving his mother, so brutally murdered. “How’re you holding up?”
location: hotel royale, BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE mini-event
open to: anyone
For the most part, Edmure liked to present himself as a man of all virtue and no vice, but he never could resist the call of the blackjack table...Or the craps table, roulette wheel, or really anything that could be found in a casino and a large amount of money could be lost. Granted, he never went too far, he knew when to cut his losses and go home, but there was something exhilarating about the absolute chance of it all for a man who rarely took them. And for charity? Well it just seemed like a win-win situation. He also knew it was about time he showed his face after the wedding massacre. He had been trying to lay even lower than usual, still somewhat convinced that if he had been in attendance he would have been on the list of those marked for death. But he was the had of a syndicate, of course people wanted him dead. If he refused to venture into public every time there was a conspiracy, he’d never leave the house.
“C’mon, blow on them for me.” he pleaded of his craps table neighbor. “It’s a tradition. And hey, if I win big I may even cut you in.”
Even with his new responsibilities as acting governor keeping him busy and on his toes, he still found time to go back to the familiar. He would always be drawn back to the places that he felt at ease and those would always be wherever there were crowds. Sociable by nature he thrived on interactions with others, new dynamics fuelling him and the little flickers of triumph over insights that he gained sustaining him. It was his element and the confidence that he exuded made sure that everyone else knew it too. Languid strides carry him over to the bar, as though he has all the time in the world. With a smooth movement he leads against the bar, easy smile settling on his lips as the bartender greets him. “I’ll take your best scotch, neat.” Casting his gaze around for someone he might entrap in a conversation, a warm offer was made to the person next to him. “I’ll happily make it two if you’d like? Or something that’s more to your liking.”
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With a job that starts as the sun rises, it was a rare occasion to see Edmure at a bar any time that they might consider their ‘busy time’. But, after all that had happened in the past weeks, he thought he deserved it. After Lysa’s death, and the idea that he could have also been six feet under, Edmure felt more loosely mored than even before, unsure of what next moves to take. He didn’t want to be home, he didn’t want to visit his sister or his brood of nieces and nephews, he just wanted to be. An impossible thing for someone who carried his last name and title. And while he’d never show it, he was a bit miffed as the few moments of solitude and staring into space had been interrupted. He debated whether just to ignore the person in hopes that he would get the message loud and clear. But he knew Minisa Whent would’ve never stood for it, and he would’ve probably gotten a flick on the ear from beyond the grave. Turning to the man, he brandished a smile, not quite the dazzling one he was known for, but it’d have to do. Sighing, he shrugged “Well, I’m not about to turn that down. Scotch is fine.” He knew he was, of course, he’d be negligent of his duties if he hadn’t.
Ever since that Gods forsaken wedding, Edmure couldn’t help but look over his shoulder wherever he went. It seemed like heads from every major family were targeted, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Lysa was targeted as a Tully, an Arryn, or both. And would things have been different if Edmure had been in attendance? Had he been on that list of those with warrants for their death? There was another thought as well, festering in the back of his mind, feeding the suspicion he felt where ever he looked: the Krakens had killed their own, i what seemed to be a grab for power. And Edmure couldn’t help but wonder if something similar could happen to him. Despite what people thought, the man wasn’t stupid, he knew in the 8 or so months since his father’s passing, and since his ascension to Admiral, that things had not progressed the way some had hoped. But he’d be damned if let his father’s legacy slip through his fingers, in fact, said fingers would have to be cold and stiff for someone to take it away from him and the Tully name.
That being said, one of the only places he felt like he could take a breath, release the tension that rolled through his body, was at Catelyn’s. Even more so than his own apartment, although why he wasn’t sure. Ever since Catelyn had left the family home, Edmure would always find himself at wherever she was when he was stressed or needing to escape the oppressive need of pleasing everyone around him. So at this point, he rarely bothered knocking.
The man let his body melt into the chair across from where she had stationed herself. “What’re we drinking tonight, Catey-Cat?”
financial status: comes from wealth (earned and illegal)
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.
face claim: Eric Dane
height: 6′1
physical build: broad shouldered, heavily muscled
eye colour and shape: icy blue, hooded
hair colour and style: light brown with peppering of gray in the front and around the temples, short on the sides, longer on the top and toussled (pretty much a grown out ‘high and tight’ style popularized in the navy)
accent and speech style: fairly deep and gravelly voice, that you can always seem to hear a smile in.
distinguishing marks / characteristics: EGA tattoo on his right bicep, small scar on left pectoral, bright blue eyes
clothing style: working on and around the docks, his general style is nothing too fancy, generally some sort of jean or construction pant (such as carhartt) paired with a button up to keep him looking professional enough when he has to deal with more important matters. when off work, he usually sticks to basics; jeans, t-shirt, jacket (weather depending), boots. and while it’s a rare occasion he gets to wear one, edmure does love to wear the hell out of a suit, and usually goes for three piece, highly tailored suits.
jewelry and accessories: diving watch that his father gave him when he left the navy and officially joined the ‘family business’
FAMILY:
father: Hoster Tully (adoptive father)
mother: Minisa Tully (née Whent, adoptive mother)
siblings, if any: Catelyn Stark (née Tully), Lysa Arryn-Baelish (née Tully, deceased) both adoptive siblings
extended relations: Arya, Sansa, Bran, Rickon, and Robb Stark, Robert Arryn (nieces and nephews), along with the in laws from Catelyn’s marriage into the Stark brood
significant other(s): Roslin Frey, fiancée
children: N/A
household pet(s): TBD
FAVOURITES.
colour: deep blue-green
weather: sunny with a few clouds, warm but not hot, with a good amount of wind (AKA, perfect sailing weather)
food item: sushi (any kind, really)
beverage: black iced coffee
time of day: sunrise
television genre: reality tv (more along the lines of deadliest catch, dirtiest jobs, etc than keeping up with the kardashians and the like)
PERSONALITY.
hobbies: sailing, cooking, piloting (he’s in the process of learning), crossword puzzles, movies
pet peeves: lazy workers, not cleaning up after one’s self, half full and cold coffee left out
phobias: none that he can think of off the top of his head (unless you count his abject fear of disappointing people? too deep? too deep.)
allergies: N/A
positive traits: dutiful, well meaning, eager to please
negative traits: impetuous, cocky, passive
morning routine: edmure is forced to be an early riser, as he has to be at the docks by about dawn, to oversee the first ships being unloaded, so depending on the time of the year, he generally wakes up about an hour before the sun starts to rise, makes a coffee, eats usually some sort of scramble of what is leftover in the fridge, and heads to work, fairly simple
beauty routine: the most edmure does is throw some product in his hair if it’s been awhile since it’s been cut and needs some structure to stop it from flopping everywhere
sleeping habits: a bit of an insomniac, although thankfully he’s one of those lucky bastards that doesn’t need too much sleep to function. having to rise early a good night would be asleep by 10, but most of the tiime it’s not until midnight or later. at this point in his life he’s given up on trying to stay in bed and force himself to sleep, and often times he just either gets up for the day (depending on the time) or does things around his apartment or extra work until he feels tired enough to try sleeping again.
living space && home: lives in a fairly large apartment, with views of the city and his favorite: the harbor. lots of glass windows to let the light in. his time in the navy left him a neat and orderly man, and you’ll rarely find things out of place unless it was a particularly rough night. he prefers clean lines and colors, with lots of brushed metal, light blues, greys and whites.
✦ ▓ AND WHO GOES THERE? oh, it’s just [ EDMURE TULLY ]. some say [ HIS ] resemblance to [ ERIC DANE ] is almost uncanny, but the [ FORTY-TWO ] year old has been in the capital for [ FORTY-TWO YEARS ]. many suspect that they are the notorious [ ADMIRAL ] of the [ TULLY ] family: perhaps that has made them [ IMPETUOUS ] && [ COCKY ] of late, when they used to be so [ DUTIFUL ] && [ WELL-MEANING ]. during the daylight hours, [ EDMURE ] can be found working as a [ HARBORMASTER ], but when night falls over king’s landing, they are best remembered listening to [ BRANDY (YOU’RE A FINE GIRL) by LOOKING GLASS ]. may the gods be with them in these dark streets.
T H E Y O U N G T R I D E N T ;
Growing up with the knowledge that you were not the favorite child was the perfect tool to make that chip in the shoulder that people so often mentioned. Adopted by the Tully’s at the age of 5, Edmure didn’t have the language to describe how he felt at first, but that feeling was always there, festering in the back of his mind. As he grew, he would falsely believe that feeling of being less than, of being other in the Tully family despite their warm and ardent love was due to him being not of their blood.
These feelings flared whenever in the presence of Hoster, who by all accounts was not a warm and fuzzy man to begin with. But now Edmure realizes it’s because even as a child, Hoster saw it in him: weakness. Edmure would not be the Tully child to bring glory or pride to their name.
But he tried, Gods, he tried. Edmure’s entire life from his teens on were spent devoted to the mission of trying to make Hoster and Minisa proud, to make himself useful to the family. Extracurriculars were taken to secure a place at King’s Way, hobbies were not so much hobbies but preparations to take a place somewhere in the family business. Majors in university were dual; marine biology and business. He joined the Navy, he became decorated for legitimacy.
And while both Minisa and Hoster were always sure to congratulate him on his accomplishments, encourage his endeavors, he just had this aching feeling deep in his chest that he wasn’t able to make them proud. Because he saw how they looked upon Catelyn and her choices, and it was not the same faces he saw when they looked at him. Perhaps he truly was picking up on something, or maybe he was an over-sensitive boy feeling wilted in the shadow of his intimidating and strong elder sisters, older than him by many years and already moving on to greatness of some sort, helping the family in their own ways. And he was just the little brother, sure he held two degrees, he had medals, but what was he doing to further the River Kings? The Tully name?
After graduating, he was offered a position in the family company, and while all Tully children had been offered the same, for some reason to him it felt different, it felt more of an obligation rather than a true desire to see him in the company. In this case he was most likely playing into his own worse insecurities, as with his degrees in marine biology and business, even if he didn’t carry the name that was in the front door, he would’ve been a great candidate. And he did prove himself, he moved up through the ranks. At some point though, upon seeing the need for an inside man in a high position, without speaking to Hoster, Edmure got himself the job as the harbormaster of King’s Landing. When he told his father, it was the only time Edmure thought he caught a glimpse of that same look he gave Catelyn.
Because that was all Hoster wanted from his son, he didn’t need him to please him at every step, do exactly what was expected of him. He wanted Edmure to have a mind of his own, to have the confidence to take steps forward without questioning them, and to take control and do what needed to be done. And in that moment, he had done that.
That moment seemed to spark something in Edmure, and he began to move up through the River Kings ranks as well; Hand to Lieutenant to Commodore. He became his father’s right hand man. And while in moments of insecurity and possibly even clarity, he knew his father wished it was the child that was the mirror of him, Catelyn, who was by his side. But overall, the two worked together well enough. Although, often times they had differing opinions, and in one case, it even caused quite the blow out between the two. Words were said, insults thrown. Perhaps if Edmure knew that was going to be the last time spoke to his father he would’ve refrained. A few days later Hoster Tully would be found dead of natural causes. As Commodore, it was Edmure who was to take over power, and was named Admiral not soon after.
It’s been almost a year since, and to say it has been a rocky start would be an understatement. But he’s trying. Now more than ever Edmure’s desire to make Hoster proud fuels him. But there’s that weakness. The inability to act with any sense of immediacy. Scared to spill blood. He needs to toughen up if he wants to keep The River Kings in the family, because there are fish bigger than him out there waiting for their time to bite.
W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S ;
SHARKS ; They’re circling, waiting for him to mess up well and good enough that they can make a case for casting him out. But not all sharks bare their teeth, and Edmure if having a hard time telling who’s friend and who’s foe, even within his own syndicate.
GUPPIES ; But not all those in the water are dangerous, and Edmure does have some supporters. Whether it’s because they simply do not care and have no hunger for power, or believe in the man and want to give him more than the short time he’s had to adjust, or are simply hedging their bets? Who knows.
FLOUNDERS ; Everybody needs a flounder in their life, a good friend. Whether they have been friends from childhood, met in university, in the service, whatever! They don’t even have to be a member of the RIver Kings, although someone Tully aligned or neutral would be preferable. He’s a man that’s easy to get along with, so would probably have quite a few
SUCKERFISH ; Fair-weather friends, people who have emerged from the cracks and crevices since Edmure has taken over as Admiral, and only now want anything to do with him.
SEAHORSES ; Exes. Edmure tends to try and get the love he craves from anywhere he can find it, so this could be a long list. It could have been a fling, it could have been serious, perhaps they were the person before he got engaged. It could have been a mutual splitting up or perhaps someone got their heart broken.
