#leo 001

WHERE: Tumbleweed, countryside

WHEN: Country Music Day, September 17

No matter how busy his week had been so far, Cage knew that he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to head out to the bar to listen to some honky tonk music, enjoy a beer, and unwind for a little bit. A popular idea, no doubt, which he noticed as he pulled open the door and was met with the buzz sound of people inside, enjoying themselves. Heading straight for the bar, he flagged down the bartender, offering a quick smile before ordering a PBR, sliding into the stool with ease. Glancing to the side, he recognized a familiar face and smiled, "well hey, Leo, you out to enjoy the music, too?"

the celebration in riverrun was always bigger than the smaller, more intimate celebration they shared in stone hedge: perhaps one felt more orientated around family and close invited guests, whilst the other felt more like a formality. there was a noticeable change in the master of laws the moment he passed through the the lands of the red fork into lands that were not his own - ronan became lord bracken, though he never let one become the other permanently, he knew what it was he needed to do. the blood feud was something he understood would forever remain; his wishes to someday make peace burned alongside the crops of the riverlands.

and now, there was much the master of laws put his mind to; his mind was always at work on something. some personal project, some deeper investigation into what the concept of law was, and what breaking it was. what should the penalty for law breaking be? how far was too far? those thoughts clouded his mind as he sat at the table, half listening to the sound of music filling the hall and the chatter. there was another matter pressing his mind - that of the investigation he had started whilst in kings landing. the encounter, in which a bracelet had been left behind as a woman with bright red hair fled into an awaiting wagon.

there was only one small, petty house in the westerlands whose house symbol was a strawberry. in his conversations with calla lefford who sat beside him, he asked her briefly on whether she knew any ladies of house turnberry - his conversation subtle, but the pieces matching together in his mind? anything but subtle. to find out lady turnberry was a lady to the lefford sisters was something he had not been expecting. a lady that had attended kings landing with them. he definitely was not expecting her to be present in this very hall, and as his vivid dark orbs moved to her briefly, he knew the game was us.

the flaming red hair that he caught a brief flash of a glimpse of. as the night went on, he found himself alone beside lord leo lefford. the others had briefly left the table, and ronan used the moment.

and it was a normal day within the household of the princess, who had taken her prayers privately within her own chambers with her childhood septa, rather than attending the service being hosted within the great sept of lannisport. how strangely peaceful it felt, knowing she were the only lion within the rock at this very moment in time; as though for the first time in forever, she could breathe a sigh of relief without being overheard, or looked at.

the woman was sat within one of the many rooms in her series of apartments, penning a letter of correspondence to the governess responsible for the household of her son, jasper. in it, she promised additional funds to ensure he went without anything; perhaps the sea wind on fair isle would only make the drafts cold. whilst the baby was currently within her household, she wished everything to be ready for when her baby was to leave her. 

even now, she heard the sound of her ladies attempting to ensure the child was able to sit up on his own, without falling to his own weight. that and the sound of a page she had taken to her household upon her return to the west, his voice sounding like something of angels as he praised the seven themselves. it was a peaceful scene. until it was not.

the sound of multiple feet thudding, the sound of spears being put upon the floor, was enough to make her look up from her parchment; she heard the singing stop, and heard the sounds of her ladies shoes moving on wooden floorboards. and as she emerged from the thin curtain that separated her from the main area, she watched one of her ladies quietly slip into another room with the infant.

the sound of the wedding flutes and the bards were ringing through the majority of the night, taking multiple courtiers of various realms onto the dance floor that seemed to stretch on endlessly: wherever she looked she saw dancing silhouettes and heard laughter. for years she felt as though she had been looking forward to such events again, royal weddings where people could find it within themselves to merely allow themselves the chance to be happy, even for the briefest of moments.

there was something beautiful about seeing people reunite, even for some moments: roars of laughter and giggling that resulted in hearty hugs.

only a few months ago brianna would have been one of the woman to be excited to see a companion of the heart, separated by distance. she had embraced her closest friend in the falling snow of white harbor, both of them wrapped up in furs, insisting that they both looked like bunnies.

the sight of a familiar pair of lilac eyes amongst the crowds of the crownlanders and stormlanders within this hall was enough to make her remain by the side of her brother for the majority of the night, feeling as though there was someone utterly missing from her side. she missed talking about poetry, she missed trying to understand the beauty of poetry and asking what writers meant. she missed a celtigar's laugh, telling her she was not being open minded enough.

she looked briefly at the sight of brightwater whiskey within her goblet, which none would truly know was not wine unless they peered into it; she took a sip, feeling the familiar fire run down her throat.

dark eyes looked around the room toward the feasting table, feeling her stomach rumble slightly: and the sight of the cheeses on the table were enough to capture her attention. her brother, lord ronan bracken, asked her to save him a seat beside her - she insisted she would as she made her way toward the feasting table, looking for an empty chair. and she saw it, directly opposite a pair of golden curls she recognised - a face she knew well. she felt her heart instantly begin to thump, taking another drink of the brightwater whiskey within her goblet.

why was she nervous? why was she like a bloody child, nervous over the sight of a man she found attractive once upon a time? was it because it had already been discussed within the family that they would prefer her to marry within the westerlands? and here was lord leo lefford, ruling lord of golden tooth: unmarried. she walked to the chair, putting her hand upon it, as though to steady her nerves. and yet on the outside, she seemed entirely confident and relaxed.

"seat taken, my lord?" she asked, her riverlands thick as her gaze met his own for a moment. striking emerald. she suddenly felt the urge to clear her throat. he indicated for her to sit, and she took a seat, putting down the goblet of whiskey. what was she supposed to say now? why was she so nervous? what was she supposed to say that would leave an impression?

House Lefford had always held significance within the Court of the Westerlands; Golden Tooth being the gateway to the very land from the East, almost as though it was them who bestowed the first impression upon any wanderers that had found themselves too far from home. They were the kin of the King, sharing blood ties; meaning in their representation of themselves, they represented the name Lannister by extension - their own mother was the last piece of  a time Tyland could look at when the family still felt entirely whole and united. 

United in the understanding of what it meant to have the name Lannister. To have the blood of Lannister.

There was no use in only displaying a united front to obtain revenge or in times of hardship; the level of adherence to what it meant to be Lannister upon the murder of Lanna Lefford was an expectation. There was more to being a member of the Court of Lions than displaying tendencies of needing urgent, rage filled revenge; there was the other side that came with such ferocious loyalty - it was impossible to have one without the other. There would be less times of hardship if all members of this family played their role, and played it correctly.

Leo, as the Ruling Lord of Golden Tooth, seemed to understand that balance; and seemed to understand the weight in which House Lefford had been slighted, but also the weight in which House Lefford had allowed itself to be disrespected. It were not as though the cunt Hightower had dragged his cousin from her bed and into his own; no, if anything there seemed to have been a foolish trend among the women of the family to seek out love. How it had meant utterly nothing in the end.

"The Hightower betrothal with Guinevere will not stand." He spoke, watching his cousin sit down opposite him on the desk - no, Tyland knew exactly where he was to place Guinevere in a place that her mysterious and ethereal nature would only work out better for her, and thus for them. Had he told his sister this? No, of course not; she would come to terms with doing her duty regardless of who it was she was wed to. "I need her there as a personal sign of our alliance with Cedric Tyrell - it is he who is the rightful King of Thorns and Roses."

Leo would not feel slighted. House Hightower would not gain a Princess from the shame of House Lefford; the very thought of red curls was enough to cause an expression of disgust to cross over hardened emerald hues. "You too need to take a wife and secure your house." His words were utterly natural, the instructions and authority stemming naturally from him. "Securing a powerful match can do well to wipe the slight she has caused upon your family - do not allow for any visitors." Little did Tyland know Arron, of all people, had already been.

Zym rarely felt the need to follow people she was not being paid to follow, and it was rarer still for her to be unable to place the face with a name or a specific job, but the human had caught her gaze and for the life of her she couldn’t remember why. So, logically, she followed them through the gently bustling crowd of Myrefall. Restaurants loomed throughout the street and once the lunch rush began the walkways would become flooded and stifling. Finally, after much darting and some minor shoving, she found herself stepping in front of her quarry and blocking their path. It took a long moment of wide-eyed staring before she snapped her fingers. 

“You!” she squealed. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere!” she exclaimed, bouncing in place in her triumph. “What are you doing here. I kinda always pictured you forever stationary behind a shop counter to be totally honest with you.” She shrugged and brushed errant strands of hair from her eyes. “People always say they think their teachers live at the school, you know, but it always felt like that with shopkeepers.”

Now that he’d lived in Hegaehend for nearly a year, the Dead Nightingale had lost a lot of the appeal that it had when he’d first arrived. Avi and his friends had found the tavern to be entirely too busy most nights, and had opted to frequent smaller taverns with less novelty to them. Tonight, however, he was entertaining a new recruit who’d grown up on the opposite side of the country. At least - he had been entertaining them, before they took a bet with a stranger and ended up throwing back an entire tankard of Demon’s Blood. Tonight was, undoubtedly, going to be an awful night for them. 

After helping them to the bathroom and dragging on for a few minutes about the best ways to handle the effects of poison, Avi was asked to leave. Admittedly, the new recruit, Faric, had been a bit rude about the whole ordeal, but he did his best to excuse the behavior on account of the awful sickness wracking their body. Only a bit dejected, Avriel returned to the crowd of the Dead Nightingale. He supposed he could wait here until Faric exited the restroom and was ready to return to the barracks. He didn’t mind crowds, really, as long as he knew he always had a way out of them. For that reason, he didn’t return to the bar stools, which were mostly occupied except for a couple that were surrounded by dense groups of people.

Avriel quickly searched the faces of tonight’s patrons before settling on one at the end of the bar that was both familiar and unfamiliar. He’d never met the human, but he definitely remembered their face; it was entirely too well-sculpted to forget. Usually, when he saw this nameless stranger at a tavern he was surrounded by people and unable to make his way over, so it had to be more than coincidental that they were here now. If the same two people showed up in the same place this many times, it had to mean something, didn’t it? Avi wasn’t sure. He decided to follow his gut anyway. 

Leaning over the edge of the bar, dangerously close to where the handsome stranger was sat, Avi waved over the barmaid. He spared a glance toward the human, offering a lopsided smile before turning back to the barmaid. “Two shots of glowglass, please!”

She feels dizzy. It was her fault for not sleeping three days straight , but she thought she is used to it. She should have been skipping classes now. There’s no way she can survive in this class. 

Half way to her university, she decided to go to the park instead. Her old habit seems not going away.