#aeryl

Meme I posted with the text "Serikali on the phone tonight"

Oake born of Renwahl visual references, concept art for the prototype for Mercy in Overwatch and Joshua Sweet from Disney's Atlantis.

Straight edge practice of marking the back of hands with an X and putting all of a groups' hands in a circle, referenced in the ep.

Aeryl, facecast as Scott Glenn, specifically from the action thriller mountain climbing movie Vertical Limit.

Vahn Born of Renwahl facecast as Sean Harris from the King wearing the nilfgaard armor from witcher 3, with horns like the crest on The Dragon (there's only one) from Dark Sun.

The poster I tried to get Gavin to read that says "Sober living for the revolution"

“Today’s the day!” Rogue lips stretched wide into a brilliant smile, Aeryl sang to herself. Well, to be honest, it was more of a squeal than any verse in a tune. She was positively glowing as she continued to brush her wavy ivory locks in front of her dresser.

 “You seem, for a lack of a better word, happy, sister.”

Aeryl paused at her ministrations as she looked to her brother’s reflection in her mirror, amethyst eyes twinkling with barely concealed excitement.

 “Of course I am!” she uttered with her hands held together in delight. “It’s not every day you meet the man of your dreams!”

 “Um… I’m not entirely sure that –“

 “He will be my husband. It is only obvious for him to be the one.” She cut him off, not willing to be an audience to her brother’s constant doubts about her fiancé.

 “I’m just saying,” Khaigar pursed his lips as he scratched the back of his neck in discomfort. They have had this particular argument far too much. “He may not be who you expect him to be… I mean, I love you sis and I don’t want you to get hurt by some stranger, and by stranger, I mean the man whose name you haven’t even known yet.”

 “Oh come off it, brother. Its love! How can such a wonderful thing hurt me?” Aeryl turned around to meet her brother’s miffed gaze. “Now, why don’t you go and do stuff with father or something. You’re bothering me.” Aeryl dismissed him with a small wave of her hand.

  “It is because we love that we get hurt, you know?” Khaigar shook his head with an exasperated sigh but stood up to leave regardless. “See you at the Great Hall, sister.”

 A curt “See you.” Was said as she tried to ignore the hurt in her brother’s eyes.

 It was her day, damn it and she has waited far too long and fantasized of this day far too much. The day, as the stories the castle servants keep telling her about as she would often cajole them into telling a tale or two; the day she was going to know love. Oh how she knew it was going to be incredible.

  “You may enter, Lords of the House Baelish.” The stout stubbly squire bellowed with a voice contradictory to his stature.

 Lord Francoise Baelish strode in the Great Hall of Dragonstone castle with an air of arrogance as though he did not just take a foot inside a dragon’s great maw. He was tall, of a slim physique that was obviously not made for the rigours of battle.

 Although he did not look his age, his receding hairline belied his true years. With his aquiline nose raised in the air, steeple fingers upon his robe, charcoal eyes narrowed in determination, he addressed the hall of dragons.

 “My lord Jobaeron,” He gave a shallow bow to the head of the Targaryen House on his throne. He then tilted his head to his right, an almost dismissive gesture. “My son, Matthias.”

 Matthias felt cold sweat appear on his neck as simultaneously all eyes were suddenly upon him. Each of their gazes weighing upon the young man not unlike bags of iron onto his shoulders. His knees threatened to buckle due to the weight.

 “I…um. Good evening my lords and Ladies.” He finally managed, voice a bit hoarse and shaky, amber eyes blown wide.

 The longest minute passed for the young man.

 “You have raised him well, Francoise.” Jobaeron Targaryen finally spoke and a dizzying breath escaped him.

“He will do just fine for a son-in-law.” Jobaeron smiled directly at him this time, warmth creeping into the man’s violet eyes. “Now let us celebrate and feast in the honor of my daughter’s betrothal.” The silver haired looked towards the young woman to his right, a cup of wine held to a toast in his hand.

 His father gave him a wide grin and nodded.

 He looked across the table of silver dragons, towards his future wife and their eyes met. Amber and bright amethyst.

   ‘Oh Gods, he was looking this way!’ Aeryl practically vibrated in her seat. The sixteen year old gave the young Baelish lord a giddy yet shy smile, eyelashes batted a bit more than necessary.

 He was… he was. Not exactly what she had been expecting. He was not the wavy haired, purple eyed blond she had dreamed of. But this was her true love! He had to be perfect. He couldn’t be anything but perfect. Maybe she just didn’t know her true preferences yet. She looked him over once again, more appraisingly this time. The young man looked to the floor in her scrutiny.

 He was built like his father, slim and tall with a head of brunet hair, but that was where the similarity ended. His jaw was softer and his features far more gentle. He stood beside his father meekly, a foot posed as to turn tail, and shoulders tense as opposed to the man beside him. He had golden amber eyes that never seemed to hold her gaze for more than a few seconds when he gave her a small smile. He seemed afraid of something.

 ‘Though, what of’, she wondered. They couldn’t be that intimidating, could they? She knew they were called the Dragons of the Red Fringe, but honestly she thought the name was far too absurd for it contradicted the warmth she would feel in her heart when she thought of her family.

 Khaigar, her twin brother, stood to her right. Looking at the entire event with a neutral expression, back straight and demeanor disinterested; he had his political face on. He still wasn’t happy about her betrothal it seems. Her mother, Marhaena stood silent beside her father, but with a glimmer in her eyes as she took upon her daughter’s excitement as her own. Jobaeron sat in the middle of the long table with the air of a king as he gave yet another toast. Shaela was the same, a smile on her face but a cautious gleam to her eyes. Faey sat to her mother’s left, a gentle demeanor betraying her suspicion towards the Baelish lords. To her left sat her younger sister of a year, Niza, who was picking on her food, a bored expression on her face.