O BLOSSOM.

 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗲𝗱   𝗴𝗼𝗱  ,   she   hates   the   crownlands  .   hates   the   w i d e   cobblestone   streets  ,   the   darkened   alleyways   around   every   corner  ,   the   press   of   people   on   every   side  .   they   all   make   it   far   too   easy   for   her   wayward   charge   to   slink   off   unattended  .   it’s   with   a   scowl   on   her   face   (   coupled   with   the   sight   of   the   sword   on   her   hip  ,   it   sends   a   fair   few   people   scattering   away   )   that   nicolette   stalks   through   the   capitol  ,   searching   high   and   low   for   any   sign   of   lilyana  .   she   prays   she   finds   her   soon  .   the   girl   will   not   survive   long   by   herself  .   (   perhaps   it’s   not   the   kindest   thought  ,   or   the   most   generous   one  .   but   she   knows   the   lady  ,   almost   better   than   she   does   herself  .   she’s   far   too   trusting  .   it’s   an   endearing   trait  .   it’s   also   an   infuriating   one  .   )

 on   the   verge   of   giving   up  ,   heading   back   to   the   ruling   lord   and   lady   – -   they   will   have   her   head  ,   but   at   least   more   guards   will   help   in   the   search   – -   when   she   happens   across   a   little   gazebo  .   and   there  ,   in   the   center  ,   looking   as   though   she   has   not   a   care   in   the   world   — – -   lilyana  .   a   sigh   falls   from   parted   lips  ,   but   relief   is   soon   washed   away   by   fury  .   just   what   had   she   been   thinking  ?            ❛          i   would  ,   actually  .         ❜          she   says  ,   petulant  ,          ❛          i’m   upset   with   you  .         ❜          

                            THE AIR GROWS THIN   as realisation dawns upon just how far she had wandered . sanctuary blessed as it was for her sore feet , with foods and drinks and soft light   ----  the cushioned relief slowly drained away akin to the blood in her cheeks as her guard’s expression comes into view . all amusement leaves her , only to be replaced with a sullen sort of expression . the bindings of paper and small pouch of charcoal are settled upon the table before her , and lilyana reaches out her hands with upturned palms , almost beckoning  -- though mostly pleading .

𝐒𝐇𝐄   𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒   𝐀   𝐍𝐄𝐖   𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒   𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐘.   but   ,   that   seems   to   be   the   theme   of   each   day   here.   the   southern   fashions   are   a   touch   different   that   what   she’s   used   to   ,   but   she   finds   a   way   to   incorporate   the   iron   islands   into   her   style.   maybe   it’s   her   hair   that   catches   the   woman’s   eye.   the   braids   are   particularly   ironborn.   

❛   oh   ,   ❜   she   gasps   ,   ❛   i   hadn’t   realized   i   was   in   the   company   of   an   artist   !   so   long   as   you   think   me   a   worthy   subject   ,   i   can   find   no   reason   to   oppose.   ❜

selyse   offers   the   woman   a   sanguine   smile.   she’s   rather   flattered   ,   actually.   the   woman   is   gorgeous   ,   and   it’s   kind   of   her   to   even   ask.   in   truth   ,   if   she   were   in   her   place   ,   she’d   likely’ve   simply   began   to   sketch.   not   that   she   was   much   of   an   artist   ,   though.   painting   ,   and   drawing   …   well   ,   she’d   leave   that   up   to   those   who   were   blessed   with   the   talents.

                              LILYANA WOULD NEVER ADMIT  ---  it was a true selfishness that brought upon the need to capture the likeness of the woman before her . the gardens had brought a swell to her heart unlike one she would feel often , something saved for the brush of fingers to a beloved , or the days where she could run free on stronger legs in her godswoods . what had steadied such emotion and kept it grounded was thus :   the braids entangled in the stranger’s hair were familiar and strange all the same , the dress wasn’t entirely southern . perhaps she had tales to indulge , adventures for the young tyrell to replay in her mind’s eye once she was once again locked away .

Fast tiring of the company that she was supposed to be charming, the golden haired rose excused herself from one particularly enneui inducing conversation in the hope of sparing herself from further such encounters. Privacy was impossible to come by, another constant source of irritation for her, and yet as she walked she finally spotted one person whose company was not totally unwanted by her.

Lithe, graceful steps closed the distance between the two of them as one lyrical word fell from her lips. “Sister.” Rare warmth was present in her tone, a fondness that was almost entirely reserved for the young woman before her and occasional given to others who shared the same house as she did. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Concern rested within her gaze as much as curiousity did, keen to know that her sister had been afforded the respect that she deserved. “I take it everyone has been as polite as they should be.”

@thornd​

                            AN APPARENT FRAGILE THING  ,  the young lady was made to sit , coddled , watched with ever trained eagle eyes , hoping  ...  no , PRAYING with somewhat of a fervour that somebody might deign her enough to come chatter in her ear . and there had been a few . people seeking to bolster their ego , prattling on about titles and lands with what they would believe to be quite the well put stare or two . to these people , little lilyana would play faint or exhaustion once she had had her fill of all these people would have to say   (   which , to her , wasn’t very much at all once she’d had her image of sprawling lands painted mentally for later   )   ---   and then the cycle would repeat .

                            that was , until the tap of heels would be heard . ever purposeful , ever graceful and so in time to the ones lilyana would await to hear coming up the corridor towards her rooms back home  ...  the smile that paints upon her carmine lips is all too bright when eliana dearest came into view .

                            SANCTUARY NOW THANKFULLY FOUND   in the form of little gazebos and grand blooms , of little trays of silver with food stuffs and cool wines , the young tyrell had sat and busied herself with stretching her legs in front of her , beneath petticoats and embroidery . a flush to her cheeks and thankful smile to her lips , glossy black eyes begin to pry as they so often do  ---  strangers mill , but dressed differently now . that smile grows as she takes in each pattern, each colour , each style  --  and out from her skirts pockets comes a little book of bound parchment and a cloth of neatly packaged charcoal  ...   and without thinking ;

     henrik stark was never one to shy away from confrontation. he often got himself into trouble with what he said, so it came to no one’s surprise when the northern lord found himself getting into it with another for something he said. in all honesty, henrik couldn’t even remember what it was he had said to upset the man, but he trusted he deserved the punch he had gotten to his face.

     it’d been a few hours and the bruises on his face were as prominent as they could possibly be. he’d had worst injuries, so he wasn’t worried about them healing, it was his looks he was concerned with. “my face doesn’t look too deformed, does it? please tell me i’m still as handsome as ever,” he said with a chuckle and his signature smug grin.

                                SHE WAS CERTAIN SHE   had never seen such ease in the face of bruising . especially that to the face . the stranger , as smug as he may have been , surely could not have been so fine with such blemishes . certainly , lilyana was opposed to even viewing such a thing . this was no knightly joust where one could boast about their grand injuries  ---  after all , whispers of her guards had told her of the street brawls and pickpocketing that did go on in the golden city . so much for rose - coloured lenses .

She had been brought up to be proud of her home, to admire all that The Vale had to offer and now as its Ruling Lady she felt bound to represent it well. But she had never once thought that pride should cloud the truth and for all the great many things that The Eyrie had to offer, a garden such as this was not one of them. She had been stood quietly admiring it all when she heard some footsteps approaching. “The gardens are rather lovely, do you not think?” Perhaps not the most interesting topic that she could have chosen but she was hoping that the soft smile on her features and the hint of warmth in her tone might encourage some sort of engagement. “May I ask how you are finding your time here?” For all it was small talk she had never been able to be anything but genuine - always far too worried about how visible her heart was when she wore it on her sleeve - and so she truly was invested as to whether or not her new companion had been enjoying their time.

                                THE HUBUB OF THE MAIN GARDENS   was simply not for her  ---  never mind the fleeting glance upon the markets she had caught not a half hour before . so many people clamoured into one place without rhyme nor reason , no routine to stick to , had developed a fine layer of goosebumps upon her skin . lilyana was not yet used to this sort of life , the largest court seen was from a comfortable balcony chair in her own home , purposefully kept from any excitement . the tranquility and sheer comfort of greenery was more than she could ask for  ---  and the soft spark of conversation was nothing but a relief to her ears .

      ˋ     ⋅     ❀     ( ROSE WILLIAMS, 22, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER . )    could that really be ( LILYANA TYRELL ), the ( LADY ) of ( HOUSE TYRELL ) entering the keep ? king’s landing is sure to benefit from the fact that they’re ( GRACIOUS ) and ( OBSERVANT ), but beware, they’ve also been known to be ( UNDERHANDED ) and ( RECLUSIVE ). they hail from ( THE REACH ), and it’s said that they are loyal to ( HOUSE TYRELL ). only time will tell if that will last.