when: lemonwood banquet, late at night, sunspear wedding; month 07 of 21 ac where: lemonwood, dorne who: harlan dondarrion & open
Westerosβ nobles being split into three different groups allowed Harlan to get some fresh air, even if this air was filled with the overwhelming scent of ripening citrus. With the smell, it brought prosperity for its people, but Harlan viewed it as stubbornness. He shouldnβt have viewed it as anything less than what he had inside of him, that same stubbornness.
There was something he loved to do at night, and he thought this would be the best opportunity to do so - to look at the stars. He had brought blank parchment, ink, and a quill with him for this very reason. He was the picture of perfect concentration as he jotted things down on his knee.
To anyone, would this be suspicious? Maybe not, but the way his eyes widened, refolding the parchment shut, risking smearing certainly could when someone else came by certainly could. "How long have you been there?" he asks, voice gravely.
