— GILDED THORNS.

♛ TASK: 010. ‘ PROFILE UPLOAD & PERSONAL AESTHETICS ‘“ 

BASIC QUESTIONS

first name: alysanne

maiden surname: tyrell

married name: alysanne redwyne

middle name: n/a

nickname/s: aly, alys

year & month of birth: 5th month of 477 AC

current age: 28

star sign: taurus

AT A FIRST GLANCE

height: 5'7" / 170cm

weight: 59kg / 130lb

physical build: she is taller than the average woman of the time, and with a longer bottom half than upper; her lower body is also thicker, with visibly wide hips, which accentuates her waist--it used to be very slim, but motherhood widened her girth lightly, and has made her more voluptuous

hair colour: warm chocolate

common hair style: owner of the characteristic tyrell curls, her goal is to accentuate them in every hairstyle, which changes accord to the latest fashion or her latest whim; that being said, she usually goes by the half-up, half down hairstyle, letting the thick curls fall by her back. the details -- flowers, roots, feathers, precious gems and intricately decorated veils -- are the defining change in the look.

eye colour: green, overly bright, as if always glinting with a mischief only she understands

eye shape: deep set

distinguishing facial features: eyes, thick lips, toothy smile

skin colour: pale; she at times wears rouge to make herself look younger than she is

DESCRIBE DETAILS OF THE BODY

scars: the most prominent ones would be due to childbirth, mostly stretchmarks around her hips and thighs that have yet to completely fade

birthmarks: she has freckles scattered around her body, mostly arms and torso, but there is a single small one on her neck that stands out as it is the only visible one

tattoos: n/a

physical handicaps: n/a

body language/mannerisms: her upbringing inflated her with self worth -- more than she should, some could say -- and the way she walks reflects that: always with her nose up, her eyes looking from above, her body straight; the rigidness is watered down by her dynamic disposition, years of learning dances have taught her when to act, and how to be quick at it, and also a grace in posture that makes it easy for others to assume warmth. that image is aided by the brightness of her eyes and the easiness of her smile, although there is a nefarious glint often hidden away beneath well rehearsed body motions. 

chest/breast: on the smaller side

their hands: small hands, medium, slender and delicate fingers, large palm; they are soft, as they never knew labor, though it’s not all uncommon for her fingernails to appear ruddy -- she has an habit to crush things beneath them and to dig them into her palms, thus why she keeps them mostly short. she washes her hands often in rose water and beauty concoctions, which makes them always smell pleasantly

their arms: although they appear thin, they are a bit wider than she would like, and soft with the excess of skin, but they are still supple and willowy; they have little strength, albeit more than it seems to be, as she is not unfamiliar with picking up her kids, even when they are no longer babes.

their legs: very long, which gives her a large stride; they are also thick, with her calfs being particularly stiff

their feet/shoes: 8 US sized, which is rather small for her height, even if may not always look so, because they are long and slender.

A TOUCH ON THE SENSES

smell, what do they smell like and why: flowers and fresh fruits, the main ingredients to her infusions, beauty concoctions and perfume waters.

touch, what do they feel like: she bathes in milk at least once a week, which softens the skin.

sight, at a distance what do people first see: the thick tyrell curls most likely, or the flamboyance of her clothing -- she knows little subtly, and often wears reds and purples and overall eye catching, rich clothing details.

sound, what do they sound like: usually deep and softspoken, she wishes to portrait warmth and erudition, so she enunciates well and often attempts to show (fake) interest in who she is speaking with; her voice is quick to show emotion, and with as much ease as she offers a gentle and empathetic tone, it can become quickly grating and high of pitch when she is affected.

The queen felt unsure of what to do with herself in the presence of her old flame, she had a million thoughts at once, but they were so jumbled that she could not focus on one. She had thought about Alysanne after her relationship to House Tyrell soured, but she had no hope that Lady Redwyne would stand up for her. Why would she? “It seems all the Tyrells have decided to join in the festivities,” Rhaena stated with a strained smile. “You are welcome, of course.” She was more welcome than her siblings, but she still felt unsure about her presence. This woman knew sides of her that many did not and now she could be considered the enemy. It was worrying. A dark reminder of why she had never truly opened up all the way to anyone. 

Rhaena wanted to remind her Alysanne they did not have a life together, not one that could be in anywhere compared to her life with her husband, at least. They were only letters, she told herself, as she had told herself many times. She had been so young and innocent back then, but she was different now, she had grown and shed the scales of the dragon princess she had been before. “I see.” She remembered the letters and she knew Alysanne’s marriage had not been a happy one, but it had certainly been blessed by the gods. While they lost contact years ago, she knew of the children born. “Be sure to bring them my sympathies,” the Targaryen requested. 

She fell silent as Lady Redwyne spoke of Aemos. Ah, so no one had told her yet. In the darkest parts of her mind, she imagined the Tyrells were happy about the loss of the prince, happy that they would be forced to step down to save his life. It was most likely untrue, something she realised when the fog in her mind lifted, but it did not stop her from imagining it. Her lavender gaze fell to the ground and she stood wringing her hands. Suddenly, she felt tears sting her eyes, and she almost panicked. No, she would not cry in front of a Tyrell, no matter their past, she refused to let Alysanne see her weakness. Despite her inner protests, a tear escaped and she was quick to turn around. “I am afraid that is not possible,” she admitted with her voice shaking while furiously wiping away her tears. Slowly, she turned to face Alysanne again, trying to look brave. “He has been stolen.”

        alysanne could not blame the targaryen queen for holding a grudge towards her family -- although it seemed rhaena and her family were the root of the unfortunate events that had spiraled and made the kingdoms part, the tyrell could imagine it should feel like an affront to have so many enemies cornering her at once. alysanne pitied her, and despite the offense she felt about the distance forced between them, she failed to put fault entirely onto her once most darling dragon princess.

the chilly encounter causes lady redwyne to consider excusing herself. it certainly would be kinder, and the most chivalrous (genuinely so, not just to appear the higher person as she usually does) move in case, but before she could dip her head in a respectful bow, her old friend’s appearance glooms. she had mostly seen rhaena as someone prone to introspection and melancholy -- which sometimes is a charm on itself -- but right now it was worse, to the point alysanne swore she had seen tears staining her ivory skin before the woman had turned. the tyrell’s eyes widen and her lips part lightly, but she does not move immediately. there is a part of her that is thoroughly self centered, and imagines the targaryen queen might be as shaken as she hoped she would be, because of her presence, but then rhaena speaks and alysanne’s heart shatters.

“oh, rhae!” she gasps, in a heartbeat slithering close to her silver queen and wrapping an arm around her, careless of what is proper and whose family betrayed whose. rhaena may be a lannister queen (what a revolting, disgusting thought), but she was a woman, still as petite as the first time they met, and now she was a mother in pain. alysanne’s thoughts wander off to her own children, and how despaired she would have felt if she was the one in rhaena’s shoes; then she wonders if emeric knew. 

oh, how it must have taken strength for her friend to still be standing here....

lynesse remained quiet, letting the lady instruct her on what to do. she was still intimidating, and had a certain iciness to her that every trueborn tyrell seemed to possess. lynesse often wondered if there was a reason for that outside of blood, but she knew better than to ask. her eyes did, however, focus heavily on the young boy with red hair. it seemed to make her uncomfortable and her stomach turned as she watched him be a child.

she took a seat where she was instructed, smiling politely. her posture was rigid, and her arm remained over her stomach. still far from showing, she could not risk someone who was familiar with the condition catching on. persephone and emeric now knew, but for some reason the idea of alysanne and worst of all cedric knowing was far from comfortable for lynesse.

“you seem very well, m’lady. have you been feeling well? i am sure…it has been a lot, no?” she tried not to pry too much. lynesse was far too young to imagine what being a widow must feel like. but she had no idea how the late lord redwyne was as a husband, and she was not about to assume. her head shook at the question for wine, though. “unfortunately i have had too much of it too often and my stomach cannot bear it any longer,” her voice carried a nervous laugh. “i do appreciate the kindness, though.”

        they had not met many times, and alysanne thought she was perhaps the most distant of the tyrell lot, but alysanne considered herself acquaintanced enough with this girl to know something was off. all the times they had met, lynesse was lively--too much so, the redwyne had heard the girl’s own father speak. but now, the contrast screamed to alysanne that something was off. she had been taken, as her queen had, so alysanne tries to convince herself that, for now, that would explain it.

“yes, a husband’s loss is heartbreaking.” her voice is monotone, and the way she was lethargic in settling her own arms against her lap was a tell that she had decided not to care for the grieving widow facade with this one. “the children miss him. he was their father, after all. i am not certain you are familiar with children, young as you are, but do you believe the change of airs might aid in that longing?”