Resonant Symbols

“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience                                              what you really are.”

Blindspot 30 Day Favorites Challenge

Day 4 - Favorite Season 3 Episode

Episode 1 (Back to the Grind) - on first viewing this episode seemed too rushed, as if they were trying to pack two episodes’ worth of content into one.

“I’m fine” 

Blindspot 30 Day Hiatus Challenge

Day 6: Favorite Male Character - Main

Kurt Weller

catellynstark:

Ah yes, I do like Baratheon speculation. I’m going to take a look at TWOIAF again because I had an amusing thought I need to check on. 

OK, here are the descriptions of Orys:

Aegon’s fierce, black-bearded Hand

And Orys Baratheon he proclaimed to be “my shield, my stalwart, my strong right hand.”

…a black-eyed, black-haired bastard named Orys Baratheon.

Orys rose so high because of his prowess at arms

Compare that to a description of Argilac, the last Durrandon king

When Orys Baratheon came down the muddy hill with his own men, he found the old king holding off half a dozen men, with as many corpses at his feet.

Keeping this in mind

Argilac had grown older; his famous mane of black hair had gone grey, and his prowess at arms had faded

Imagine Argilac when he was young. He was holding off half a dozen men when he’s “old” and “his prowess at arms had faded,” He managed to wound Orys Baratheon in their one-on-one battle, and Orys is Aegon’s champion! Argilac had to be pretty impressive.

So yes, my amusing headcanon is that not only is the Baratheon look actually the Durrandon look (Orys had black eyes, not blue), but I think the tall and muscular build is also passed down from the Durrandon’s. I don’t think Orys was puny at all, but when I look at that description of the aged Argilac in battle that screams Robert Baratheon to me.

||LAST STORM||

It did not rain, he told her. It did not rain in Dorne, the day of his defeat, the inglorious defeat that led to him returning without his sword hand.

“Did you think you would have defeated Wyl of Wyl, had it rained that day? Because it rained the day you defeated my father?”

“There was a time, my lady, when I believed that it was you who summoned the storm that day. The storm that brought the rain and the howling gale that blinded us to the advance of your father and his men. Rhaenys and her dragon saved us that day. Had it not been for dragonflame, fear and dejection would not have set in the hearts of your father’s men.”

“I? Summoned the storm?”

“They said you were a witch. The Storm King’s maiden daughter, with her spells and her incantations, summoning the forces of nature against her father’s foes.”

She laughed, bitterly. “Had I truly been a witch, I could have held out against Aegon’s invasion and ruled the stormlands in my own right, like the Green Queen held out against Storm’s End and ruled the rainwood in her own right. Had I truly been a witch, I would not now, or ever, be Lady Baratheon. Had I truly been a witch -”

“- I would have lost more than just my sword hand in Dorne?”

I remembers my founders as clear as if I had met them only yesterday.

There was Helga. Helga, with her loving smile and giddy laugh. With her warming eyes and sunny charm. She reminds me of a tree, with deep roots and powers, ancient and strong. She was the thick bark to Godric’s fire, the soft leaves to Rowena’s Wind and the strong roots to Salazar’s Water. Warm, lovable Helga Hufflepuff. Hard working and loyal. She knew her worth, she knew her power. She never liked to use it as much as the others, but she was a force to be reckoned with. I can see her in the new students. Not a single one of them left me and my proteges during the battle.They stood together, fighting side by side. I know that Helga would be proud to see her children following her path. I wish they could meet her. I hope they know how proud she is of them. I really do.

Then there was Godric. Oh, Godric. He was so young, so wild and oh so caring. Godric, without a shred of a doubt, was fire. Fierce and impetuous. He was the beacon of light within the group, glowing and pulsating with the urge to prove himself. And just like fire, he could burn. Bright, yes, oh yes. So very bright. But also so very hot. His wrath was known to be like a seething hot sword. But as much as he was daring he was caring. The blaze in him could calm to glowing embers and soothing warmth engulfed me whenever I was in his presence. His descendants seem to have a nack for getting themselves into trouble. I can almost hear him laugh. That loud and hearty laugh that fell so easily from his lips. I know he is proud of his house. He was good at bragging, just as good as Salazar, but he was always laughing. And I know with ultimate certainty, wherever he is right now, he is bragging about his house.

Rowena, oh, Rowena Ravenclaw. There are queens and then there is Rowena. An empress as only known from far away lands, with straight noses and straighter minds. She was the cutting air and the singing winds. She was as fierce as Godric, but only in a hidden way, between verses and songs, between pages and lines. She favoured scholars, yes, indeed, but that did not make her dull. She was an adventurer in her own way. She was a dreamer and a builder. She was a world creator and she knew it. We all knew it. She was the ballad in the dark, gruesome nights. She was the poems that warmed a lover’s heart. She was the lullaby that chased away the nightmares. Rowena was the wind. As free and soaring as the west winds without leaving her study. If she could see her stundents now she might even bow her head to them. I think she is burning up with pride for them. Not that she would tell, but maybe, just maybe, she would sing about it.

How could I ever forget Salazar Slytherin? Salazar, with secrets in his eyes and mysteries on his lips. Salazar with his infamous mind and his sharp tounge.He was a though one. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was the softest of them all. For he protected what was his with such raging devotion that I wondered, more than once, who it was that had hurt him so. Salazar was water. He turned from roaring rivers to wrathful waves to soothing seas to divine drops. He was daring in a quiet way. Charismatic and hypnotizing with that smirk that was always flirting with danger. He kept to himself but he was good at making Godric laugh and roar with laughter. They where opposites, no doubt there. But they could make each other laugh as easily as they could set each other off. It was fun to watch, no denying there. Salazar will always be a riddle to me. But I know, that he would be delighted, truly delighted, to see that his students where still as devoted as he was. He would be happy to know that they were all trying to be as safe and happy as he was always trying to be.

I have seen a lot in my long years. Students come and go, faces appear and disappear. But I will always remeber my four founders. My earth, my fire, my air and my water. It is funny, how they all think their own house best when it is so obvious that they would not exist without the others. None of them is perfect, truly, they are far from it. But together? Well, that is a different story entierly.

For now, I just hope to do my job. I’ll honour my duties which my four friends bestowed upon me. I’ll keep their proteges safe. Safe and sound and happy.