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The elbow to his side elicited a wince, though undoubtedly Mathos Tyrell cared little about where his careless seating and poor posture landed him. Loren shifted in his seat so a few more inches of distance sat between them, and he was safe away from the risk of companionable claps or any other physical demonstrations of Tyrell's garrulity. "I don't think anybody would enjoy watching a weasel ahorse. They're bloodthirsty creatures even without such speed. A friend of yours?" he asked, scanning the field again until he caught the Varners' black and white. The lady was short, lithe, nearly disappearing behind her horse's head. "The race itself might be decided by what you say, but when the race begins, what will anybody be watching? The horses, or their riders' thinking?" he asked flatly, brows raised.
He looked at the wineskin, then back at its offerer. He had little fondness for wine, though he could on occasion appreciate a fine full-bodied gold. He doubted whatever lay inside this wineskin was either fine or full-bodied. āIt is barely past noon.ā
A strange sort of giddiness passes through his spine as the his fellow lord moves the slightest bit away from him, perhaps a type of thrill emerging from his poking of a sleeping lion. Rouse me not, He thinks to himself, then, No, that is House Grandison. This is hear me roar. Fun house words for such a boring, boring man. "You focus too much on the details, my lord. Though certainly, Lady Megga is a friend, in that everyone residing in the Reach has the pleasure of my friendship. I am certain you feel the same towards your own vassals, no?" Mathos does not recall seeing the man with anyone outside of House Lannister. How pitiful for him!
He shrugs as he pulls his wineskin back towards his chest, before raising it to tip it over into his mouth. His face immediately twists in displeasure; Dorne may now be considered friend rather than foe, but that does not mean they have to switch out all the wine in King's Landing! He coughs, once, twice, then takes another long swig, determined to figure out what spices were being used in the mix, but all he has to show for it is the shaking of his head as he lays the wineskin across his lap, mumbling, "You had the right of it, my lord." He allows the irritation to remain upon his face for only two moments more, before he breaks out into a grin, "Though, I do not agree with your supposition. I, for one, will most certainly be watching the riders." Though, perhaps not their thinking, exactly, but that is not for Lord Loren to know. "Will you not be participating in the events?"
įƽāisabela merced, female, she/her, twenty-four ā¦ #NOBLE // the seven beckon LADY TEORA LANNISTER toward them; a cowardly, lion of HOUSE LANNISTER. the seventh born lannister daughter feels their soul flay open just as judgement is shackling to a evasive nature, gripping it tightly as mercy fights with earnestness. traits guidance sees in the dreams of a rebellion with an accompaniment from strength and courage as they offer a pouch of gold, enough to buy any weapon she desires. all while innocence encapsulates memories of them ā dresses of red and gold made of the softest fabrics; a drizzle of honey crawling down pursed lips; desire for more twisting your insides, leaving you constantly unsatisfied; the least worn item in a polished jewelry box ā so they are remembered when the unknown flickers into view, dragging them towards their end, being found to be useless, insignificant.
basics.
NAME lady teora lannister
TITLES a lady of house lannister.
AGE four and twenty.
MOTIVATIONS marry a firstborn <3. establish herself not just as a woman but also a lannister worthy of note among the court.
visuals.
HEIGHT tbd.
EYES light brown, with the tiniest flecks of green stolen from her father.
HAIR long, black, and waist length. she will splurge on headpieces, but you will find that they are quite simple, which makes their cost all the more baffling.
NOTABLE FEATURES tbd.
connections.
PARENTS lord terrence and lady mirelle lannister.
SIBLINGS lady lucretia, lord loren, & four more.
OTHERS princess laena targaryen (attending to).
WANTED childhood friends/acquaintances from the westerlands; people at the red keep she takes issue with (whether one sided or mutual).
by the time teora is born, house lannister (and the westerlands as a whole) are already waiting for her older siblings to make arrangements and have babes of their own. a seventh cub is nothing to take note of, especially not after the lord lannister's new wife had given him twins, always a fun circumstance. she was never truly denied anything, in that her wishes had never been thought of much at all. her education was spectacular, her horse impressive, her dresses regal and costly....her opinions relegated to the importance of a dove cawing or a cow mooing. the older lannister siblings were taught to govern, to command respect...teora was taught to sit down and be pretty (and stop making those irritated faces, for seven's sake!)
her siblings are old, out of her reach; her father, larger than life itself; her mother...well, teora had more of a connection to her nursemaid as a child than she did the woman.
she had reached a level of boredom known to send young ladies down terrible paths, but instead of seeking such temptations, she had begged lord lannister to send her as a lady-in-waiting to one of the princesses, and luck should have it she had been given to the princess laena.
on the off chance that luck should find her once more, teora hopes this.....friendship will lead to a well made match (no second sons, please) and the chance to save herself from being forgotten amongst heads of gold (by throwing herself into the midst of heads of silver) and being written off as wholly insignificant.
who: open to all three ! [ 3 / 3 ]
where: in the stands, during the horse races
A round of racing had just ended, and squires and groomsmen had taken over the field, aiding knights who ought to be capable of dismounting their own steeds; scrubbing clean armour and dust from eyes, calming the horses. Three had wandered close to the stands where Loren sat; from his high angle he could see the foam in their mouth, ruining what would otherwise be beauty with the lather. He pitied the creatures. One looked up as its groom attempted to remove the bit from its mouth, and locked eyes with Loren. If it were not a horse, he would think it a look of pained humiliation. He had never enjoyed being scrubbed down the neck from his own lather. Loren looked away and allowed the thing its privacy.
Preparation for the next race came to a close, and those that had wandered away for refreshment climbed into the stands once more. There are a dozen or more empty seats, he thought irritably, but somebody took the seat beside him regardless. Irritated, Loren inclined his head a few degrees in acknowledgement. In the field, a trumpet blared, and riders began to mount their steeds. The crowd cheered as Ser Connington, a favourite for the races, climbed on. Loren scoffed. "It is the horses we ought cheer for," he said idly. āWere they truly allowed to run fast as they could, the riders could do no more than hang on for life.ā
The crowd cheers, and Mathos cheers with them as he makes his way across the stands. They are mostly empty, which is a shame, but a head of golden hair immediately catches his attention, and thus he has found his companion. He elegantly plops down in the seat next to the Lannister, as elegantly as one can, anyway, eyes already alight with amusement at the man's somber attitude. "And what fun is that, my lord?" His chuckle is loud, radiant, stopping once he notices a young maid of five and ten climbing her horse. "Why, if it isn't Lady Megga Varner! Have you ever seen a weasel ride?" He deliberately bumps an elbow shrouded in dark green silk against his companion's side as his other arm raises to wave at the girl when he catches her eye, though the touch is light. Just as he knows the names of most of the nobles within the Reach, he has enough information to get around the children of the great houses. No use in creating enemies, right?
"They can roam free outside of events. We are here to regard the riders' control and quick thinking. What am I to do when a horse wins a race of its own merit? Does House Lannister offer its horses pouches of coin to feed on?" He holds up the wineskin he'd purchased from outside the stands, "Have the first sip, my lord?"
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There is no use in lying to himself; the merriment has, as is its wont, affected him, seeped into his bones, caught fire to the dregs of what happens now? and what must I do? and who must I become, in this new era? that linger about his mind like gnats. Nothing remains in his mind but a restless humming, spurred on by the three....four....five? goblets of...Well, he is not quite certain what it was, certainly nothing as good as what they make in the Reach, but strong enough that he has no reasonable complaints to make.
He is, after a brief respite, steps away from leaping into the crowd of dancers, when a voice reaches his ears from down, down below. Surprise clouds his features, eyebrows raised, mouth falling into a slight o. She is a small thing, this lady, and Seven knows how her voice, soft and sweet, had managed to carry over the crowd and reach his ears. "A lady so fair need not concern herself with how to join a dance. I am quite certain lords and ladies aplenty would cherish a spin with you. Allow me to demonstrate," He angles his body in her direction, bows deep, extending an arm so that she pay press her hand into his own. "Will you give me the honor of a dance, my lady?" His grin is wide, his hair falling in dark waves across the ruffled, light green collar of his tunic, eyes glimmering under the hundreds of candles that light up the dance floor.
HighgardenĀ is a castle which serves as the seat of House Tyrell, the regional capital of theĀ Reach, and the heart of chivalry in theĀ Seven Kingdoms. It lies on theĀ Mander where theĀ ocean road meets theĀ roseroad, making it an important crossroads.
āāchai hansen, male, he/him, thirty-three ā¦ #NOBLE // the seven beckon LORD MATHOS TYRELL toward them; a golden, dancer of HOUSE TYRELL. the heir to highgarden feels their soul flay open just as judgement is shackling to a crafty nature, gripping it tightly as mercy fights with spiritedness. traits guidance sees in the dreams of a rebellion with an accompaniment from strength and courage as they offer a saber, curved and delicate, with a golden handle on one end, and a touch of venom on the other. all while innocence encapsulates memories of them ā tourney crowns of molten gold, peacock feathered fans flaming years old rivalries, bundles of hemlock dotting the altar of the mother, laughing knights riding through endless mazes ā so they are remembered when the unknown flickers into view, dragging them towards their end, death. just death. anything else, he is certain he can bear for the world is not so harsh. death, though, is unknown.
basics.
NAME lord mathos tyrell.
TITLES heir to highgarden and the reach.
AGE three and thirty.
MOTIVATIONS win some tourneys, have some kids, rule the reach upon his mother's death (may the stranger keep it far, far away).
visuals.
HEIGHT tbd.
EYES dark brown, always sparkling with life šš.
HAIR just above shoulder length, black in some lighting, dark brown in others.
NOTABLE FEATURES a mustache and light beard he is quite fond of; light freckles from ages spent in the sun; multiple scars across his body from tens of tourneys; a peach colored birthmark along the left side of his neck.
connections.
PARENTS lady lynesse & lord othell tyrell.
SIBLINGS lady sava, lady leyla, & one more.
AUNT queen consort jeyna tyrell (deceased).
COUSINS a gaggle of dragons and their pet humans.
WANTED a former squire turned knight by his sword; some exes of any gender; others who squired in king's landing or were ladies in waiting during his boyhood; any type of connections within the reach; a bitter rivalry he hasn't let go of.
cw lowkey mentions of death and injuries and drink
there is nothing one must know about lord mathos tyrell other than the fact that he is charming, gallant, knightly, and, of course, handsome. he loves a good bit of fun: a goblet of hippocras, a walk through the beautiful gardens of highgarden, a tourney won, a hunt with friends...
if some of these activities lead to the brutal end of any of his friends, that may or may not leave him with a scarred mind and some secrets to keep. it happens to the best of us, and mathos is, in fact, among the very best of us!
the title of heir to the reach may have been given to him based on nothing but the woman he was born to, but mathos will have you know he has worked very hard during his years squiring in king's landing, and that his knighthood was earned and not gifted. now, tourneys also have their sacrifices, a scar here, lack of mobility there, some brutal ends if you are not good enough...mathos is good enough.
nothing can weigh him down. he has never fallen into the throes of sadness, and he never will. life is peaceful, wonderful, meant to be enjoyed. he will enjoy it to the fullest. his mind is not a horse running in circles with plans of anything, at all, ever, actually. only think of the good. he loves his family (his mother is the most beautiful woman in westeros; it is known.); he adores his friends (all of them, even those who are no longer with us..............). the world is the garden in his backyard.
if you see a knight laughing, dressed in armor of gold, say hello! he may give you something beautiful.
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šš¢š§š¢š¬š”šš ššØš¦š¦š¢š¬š¬š¢šØš§! By clicking THIS LINK you will be directed to 330 gifs of Chai Hansen from Shadowhunters season 3. If youāre interested in commissioning me, you can view the information here. If you like these, please consider tipping me!
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