— TWO'S A CROWD!

he was never too sure what to do with emine. to leave her be? to seek her out? tharon’s logic brain never did last too long when it came to a beautiful person, a beautiful woman on top of that being his absolute weakness. her words earned a chuckle, “you know i’m no lord.” is his only response. he won’t answer the real question, they both know his response so he doesn’t wish to let any listening hear it. “well enough.” he bites back the emotion that rises at the thought of warik, having spent all night consoling the man. the conversation with emmy wasn’t about that. “and you, my lady?”

        HE MOST CERTAINLY WAS NOT  a lord, at least, not by birth. still, he surely held every personality trait of a lord save the bluntness. a womanizer, like most noble born men. that, perhaps, was every last bit of noble blood in him or maybe that was the sore point in his traits. the one that stood out, the one that held all the potential to hurt her unless she hurt him first. and so she did. ❝ no... you are not. ❞ emerald orbs remain bright with mischief even as she does not further push for a verbal confirmation of all she knew. 

closed for emine mormont // @rosereach·

he wasn’t the best at letting go of a fun thing, despite the initial pain of learning she’d cheated. ultimately tharon had no room to be upset, no room to judge. he saw it as karma for what he’d done to not one but two wives before emine. yet their divorce hadn’t been an argument, he immediately agreed when she asked and the few months since had involved random trysts between the sheets. tharon knew he should probably stop, knew that the buried emotions of pain and betrayal were still there, but he was a hedonist at heart and focused purely on their physical chemistry. emotions were a problem for future tharon. “evening, emine.” came his greeting when he saw the all too familiar form of her figure pass by his seat on a set of steps outside the castle.

         GRACEFUL STEPS HAD SLOWED  the moment the familiar features of her once lord husband had found itself in her line of sight. there’s a mocking shift in her step, teasing even, as she slips past his seated frame. he says her name, as though it is the most natural part of his vocabulary. slim digits smoothen the skirts of her dress and cloak while she sits, emerald gaze finally finding the ice of his own gaze. though, she is first watching him through her lashes.

Yara… Yara Tyrell, right, she had heard her name before but hadn’t yet met her in person. “No, it’s fine,” she reassured her with a small smile, “I’m easily startled nowadays so it’s nothing you did,” she reassured her, wondering when she would go back to her old self - if she would ever go back to that Gianna. The Gianna who was care free and enjoyed every little thing. Where she could find happiness even if there was was possibly no hope left. It felt like she had been drained of all that she was made out of. “I apologize for my state, I’m not myself right now”

        THE GOLDEN HAIRED WOMAN SEEMED  like she could very well use a friend, some kindness in this sudden wave of tragedy. not pity but definitely understanding. hazel orbs find the light green of the other’s hues, a delicately warm smile finding its way onto doll like features. she knew of the current events, of course - but she was not the type to push someone who clearly did not wish to elaborate.

*     ──      *   *     ──     in  the  frays  of  king  aerys  iii’s   reign  ,  therein  remains  emine  mormont,  the  twenty  seven  year  old  lady  of  bear  island  .   rumor  has  it  that  their  loyalties  lie  with  house  mormont  and  they  are  neutral  to  the  targaryen  reign  .   they’re  so  amiable  +  welcoming  that  it  makes  sense  ,   but  most  seem  to  look  past  their  sphinx  like  +  distrusting  nature  .   when  they  come  up  in  conversation  ,   i’m  always  reminded  of  the  sound  of  snow  crunching  under  feet,  raven  locks  framed  with  freshly  fallen  snowflakes  and  bright  emerald  orbs  .   

@rosereach·

She couldn’t sleep, her dreams haunted by the horror’s Erik had committed. Her dreams being visited by the king and Lord Stark themselves. She felt guilt, guilt for not knowing he was behind this and telling someone sooner. Sighing, she assumed there’d be no one outside at such a late hour and grabbed her shawl to cover up from the cold. Walking around, everything seemed gray to her - as if all the color had been stripped away from her eyes. Hearing a noise, she quickly turned around to see who was coming near her, “who’s there?” she said, looking around

          THERE WERE MANY THINGS ONE  would surely learn and come to terms with when the harsh winters turned kind, barely but a breeze and flowers would surely bloom, when the blooming of flowers slowed and the air grew warmer, when the flowers withered and the leaves shifted in color. change was everywhere whether that was within someone or surrounding them... change was still everywhere. the youngest of the tyrell clan knew not erik forrester, at least, not very well. what she did know was that he had failed in killing the northern king and had, in turn, sealed his own fate. 

*     ──      *   in  the  frays  of  king  aerys  iii's   reign  ,  therein  remains  yara tyrell,  the  twenty three  year  old  lady  of  highgarden  .   rumor  has  it  that  their  loyalties  lie  with  house tyrell and  they  are  neutral  to  the  targaryen  reign  .   they're  so  tender  +  compassionate  that  it  makes  sense  ,   but  most  seem  to  look  past  their  calculating  +  blunt  nature  .   when  they  come  up  in  conversation  ,   i'm  always  reminded  of  the scent of fresh bloomed roses, muffled melodic laughter following the patter of bare feet and the comforting sound of falling rain .