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» WILDEST DREAMS, TYB!
ELYSE ARRYN
 Posted: Oct 26 2015, 09:16 AM
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15
years old
It's hard to keep your feet on the ground when you live as high up as Elyse does. Something she has always struggled with, but never truly achieved is differing her dreams from reality. Being cooped up for so long can't be good for anyone's sanity.
from the Eyrie
played by: os


Caught between a rock and a hard place. That was the saying, was it not? However, as the hills of the only home she had ever been privy to know. Wide and luminescent hazel gaze searched the new land, being able to map every rock, tree, bird and road. She did not think that anything could make up for the time she had lost being kept up in her nest. So in an attempt to see it all before she got there, it encouraged bouts of unexplained silence. Seemingly drifting in and out of the conversation that was passed around her, unable to fully focus her entire attention on any small snippet. It did not matter how interesting nor dull she found it. The sharp and jutting lines of the Eyrie gave way to more mountains, yet these did not lead to the ravines she was so familiar with.

Instead the mountains shielded the land which lay behind it, the open chatter of Allister beside her was enough to fill the lonely void the large natural towers cast. Elyse let her horses feet drag, allowing the two members of her family ride a head. Let them blame it on nerves or whatever else that occupied her spans of mind. Distracting herself with the ever evolving landscapes and slopes around them, it helped her mind drift to the anxiety that was waiting beneath the surface of her flesh. For if she let her mind settle on it for too long, it started to worry over things that were out of her control. Such as the delicate threads that was webbing her future together. It threatened to swallow her whole, the idea of all the possibilities that lay before her. Surely she had written letters to her future betrothed. But was that enough? What of the place she was going? The people? What if she were not what he had thought in her scripture?

"Do not go too far, Elyse." Hastily pulled from her thoughts, the steps her garron had taken to the side were tightened. The horse nearly felt as weary as she, both had long since become accustomed to the sharp directions of not to leave the trail. To stay close. To focus more on the road. The young falcon felt particularly suffocated, for lack of a better euphemism, all she had wanted to do was spread her wings among the sharply scented air. As much as she adored her family, Elyse was attempting to come to terms with their ideas of sheltering. The irritable Arryn could not see how their pandering was protecting her along the road. Becoming warmer to the idea of being killed with kindness.

A clatter of hooves against the stone lined pathway, causing the guards that rode abreast before them shift in agitation. Hands moving to where the girl could assume their weapons were holstered. A scout that was clad in their colours seemingly as out of breath as the beast he rode. "Riders -" A large heave of his chest, tapering off the message. "- Ahead, they wear Lannister colours." Glancing between the fickle coloured Arryn's before him. Elyse's heels found purchase against the side of her mount, gently urging it to pick a faster pace along the rock strewn road. "Then we shall meet them." Her tone rang decidedly, daring the courier to argue with her. After a moment of glancing between the three, he dissipated with a shrug of his metal clad shoulders. Back to the hills to keep a silent vigil. Shifting anxiously in her saddle, the press of the leather becoming more known, as her fawn coloured gaze peered ahead. The anxious beat of her heart decided to play it's chorus, idly wondering if Lord Tybolt would keep to his word to meet her. Or if this was an envoy sent to meet them from the higher officials.


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TYBOLT LANNISTER
 Posted: Nov 1 2015, 02:53 PM
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17
years old
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
from Casterly Rock
played by: Lola


Smooth was no longer the rhythm in which Tybolt Lannister’s life was carried. Upheaval had disturbed the Rock, Tywin Lannister’s death had caused whispers to stir in the night, forked tongues to lick eager ears and fill naive minds with malicious musings. There’d been tears, screams, arguments and slander thrown from the high-heavens to the pits of hell. It had been impossible to read the true emotions of those that came and went through the keep, those who offered their condolences, their greatest sympathies and came to honour the late Warden of the West. It was an amusing thought that his grandfather had committed the act himself in spite of the Targaryen anniversary, it was a thought that brought a smile. A simple, pleasant thought capable of taking the edge from the true pain that trembled beneath the surface. For Tybolt was more than aware his grandfather would never have taken his own life, or at least he refused to believe that something so cowardly could ever be associated with Lannister blood.

Send a damn envoy, now is not the time to be riding off into the mountains!” It was an opinion Tybolt didn’t care to contemplate, for the Lord had no intention of breaking written promises. What sort of impression would that create? What sort of man would he be if he was incapable of keeping such a simple oath, the first one he’d given? “I didn’t ask for an opinion on the matter. I asked for my horse.” Not usually one for an unforgiving tone, the golden-haired Lord couldn’t quite contain his vocals from falling into ice, his patience worn thin from the consistent badgering of incessant voices barreling into his ears. His usual colourful attire had diminished into a veil of mourning, his tunic coloured black with thin wispy strands of silver curling into intricate patterns throughout the material. His armour charcoal, bringing out the brightness of his hair, the emerald in his determined stare and the gentle bronze glow that simmered against his cheeks. Would they have heard of the passing? He wasn’t even sure. Clutching the hilt of his sword, carved into the marble duplicate of a lion’s skull, the boy would arrive in the courtyard without further discussion, the sun still not yet apparent with the stars of nightfall bright overhead.

Within moments the sound of hooves echoed with the might of thunder against the cobbles, with one hundred riders at his flank a burst of dust was left to simmer in the wake of their exit. Riding came naturally to the Lord, his horse an extension of his being, the movement second nature as they barrelled across the landscape. Lazy, gentle ravines progressed to the east, splitting the grassland in places before clusters of trees and stretches of shrubbery disguised the water-features within their midsts. It was however the mountains that looked the most spectacular, their sharp faces cutting through the darkness, their silhouettes illuminated a deep, devastating red with the rising sun. For the first time in a long time however Tybolt Lannister couldn’t fully appreciate their magnificence, couldn’t quite comprehend their beauty, for something far more spectacular danced through his conscious, blinding his thoughts with one sole focus. Elyse Arryn. He’d heard her description, listened to the details given from others, fallen into a state of infatuation with scripture. Could one be so enchanted by nothing more than words? He so often imagined her voice, played several scenarios over and over again in his mind until he’d driven himself in a state of restlessness incapable of falling asleep. Was it nerves or excitement? Could they be one in the same?

With the pace quickening under the midday light, Tybolt’s mind continued to turn. He’d met hundreds of people, attended events, won tournaments, partook in hunts and feasts, yet there was something daunting in meeting this woman. Something that made his heart beat a little faster, his breath stagger just a little more. It seemed like a lifetime before the shadow of a man was caught through the hills, the glimpse of his retreating horse enough to draw the party onwards with a sense of caution, for no one could ever be certain of what roguish souls possessed the land and lurked behind oversized rocks. However within an instant the uncertainty was settled, the Arryn banners soaring on the wings of a gentle breeze were recognisable at a distance and distance proved itself to be little trouble as the land was swallowed with the quick, graceful bounds of their mounts.


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ELYSE ARRYN
 Posted: Nov 14 2015, 11:59 PM
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15
years old
It's hard to keep your feet on the ground when you live as high up as Elyse does. Something she has always struggled with, but never truly achieved is differing her dreams from reality. Being cooped up for so long can't be good for anyone's sanity.
from the Eyrie
played by: os


Elyse's mount stirred restlessly underneath her, the entire journey it had seemed to be a mammoth effort to encourage the beast into anything that could be considered a spirited pace. On the whole it had been a pleasant journey, perhaps she had been handed the creature who lacked flight and speed for that reason. The arbitrary falcon, nestled high in her seat. Felt as though she had been swapped in cotton her entire life, even if it had not been for such a long stretch of time as she made it out to be. To be shielded from the bumps and bruises that life tarnished upon ones skin. It was only now that she was just peeling back the layers, and the tarnish glow of the sun was finally spilling over her flesh for the first time.

The cluster of horses that rode to meet them echoed across the landscape. Though it was a small riding party, their colours were easily recognisable. A murmur beside her stirred the air, "Something has happened." Or the general consensus that something was wrong. It spread across their small party like wildfire. The collective movement of the Arryn party pulled short. On a wide section of the road, flattened by the stretch of dirt that had been so well travelled, it was only the sun that kept the dirt from transforming to mud. Elyse was naive enough to think that they were in fact there for them, or even in shallowness, that it could have been for her. For the curves and arcs of his letter still loomed clearing in the forefront of her mind. But she did not wish to speak it aloud, for the hopes and small bloom of of light that was flickering weakly within her.

It was only then did she notice the colour of the clothes the group donned. While their flags blazed the colour of life and gold, the group finally converged with theirs. Feeling the tension trail down her spine, straightening it with a simple embrace of cold fingers down the ridges of her vertebrae. Elyse felt as though she stood out from her fellow companions, seeing as the only other woman travelling with them was her mother, and more than a few years her senior. Yet her bejewelled gaze slipped and scrambled over the troupe that was riding to join them. Absorbing the few facial features of the bannermen, the colour of their hair, lines of their jaws. However, when the halo of blond hair swept into her view it was enough to give her pause. The stranger looked as though he had walked from a dream, all dark shades and sharp lines.

"Lord Tybolt?" Her colours lips questioned quietly, albeit hesitantly. Almost stumbling over the words, as a tedious drum began to beat its rhythm within her chest. Words were mingling about them from the others, Elyse finally pulled her beast to a halt alongside his steeds neck. Molten gaze met his emerald coloured hues with what she could only be perceived as shyness. "Is this you coming to be assessed?'" A grin threatened to break the surface of her expression. Yet there was still worry lingering in her glance, the voices around them. No matter how hushed or quiet seemed particularly distracted. Ebony brows pulling together as an afterthought, her voice still remained soft, feeling somewhat displaced. "Is everything - did something -" Taking a breath. "Are you alright?" Her hands tensing around the reins in a brief moment of panic, the idea of asking inappropriate questions too soon becoming all too clear to her.


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TYBOLT LANNISTER
 Posted: Nov 20 2015, 02:00 PM
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17
years old
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
from Casterly Rock
played by: Lola


They’d wondered what had possessed him, what had called him from the chaos of his homeland to slink into the mountains. What possible cause could there be to disappear in the midst of turmoil? What could be more important? They’d asked him on their journey, those that rode alongside the Lannister heir, those he considered friends. Naturally his mouth could find no answer besides the simplicity of the notion that he’d made a promise, a commitment that he’d honour despite the presence of death. But upon finding his eyes settling against the young feminine face surrounded by a blizzard of facial hair and armour, he knew they’d understand. Had anything ever been more perfect? The soft supple curve of her mouth, the definition that heightened her cheeks and drew a youthful red to simmer on the surface. He’d imagined those eyes in the dead of night, starred into the stars and watched them burn atop the ocean wondering how they’d appear… Yet nothing in his imagination could compare to the reality, not one half-remembered dream or pleasant thought could rival the striking serenity that brushed across his face and returned his pressing stare. There was innocence amongst a wildness, a certain quality he couldn’t quite fathom hiding just beneath the peak of her cheek.

Tightening his hands upon the reigns he’d slow his mount, the motion effortless as the beast shifted with caution between his thighs before settling to pause before the woman whose script still danced beneath the light of a flame in his memories. “Lady Elyse.” The words countered her question with a gravelled ring, the natural depth to his tone echoing through the timbre of his throat until the tune brewed between them. It was strange to hear the commotion ruffle about them, whispered greetings accompanied with disconcerting stares. Without effort he blurred them from his consciousness, dismissing the weight of watchful eyes roaming across his shoulders to settle on the black attire, their speculation ringing in his ears. Instead the emerald of his stare shifted, the speckled green floating across the elegant features he’d anticipated, his mouth smoothing with ease to find that natural half-smile that sat so well against his jaw. “Of course, I promised that I would.” Tilting his head slightly he’d lift his mouth a little higher, the rare sighting of shielded whites lifting to peak at the surface, the grin brief yet bright as he swallowed the anxiousness gathering in his throat, “I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times and yourself a thousand more. Yet my mortal thoughts pale in comparison to the reality.”

It came naturally, the words spinning between his teeth with the sweetness of silk. The truth was easily configured into words, for it was nothing short of what his mind thought. However within a moment he caught the uncertainty within her glance, the worry skim the surface of her lips and twitch the length. For the briefest of seconds he found his heart falling, the weight sinking into his stomach, the deafening pound bouncing to beat against his tongue. Was it him? Had he said something wrong? It took only her words to tame the creature causing havoc behind his ribcage. As she spoke the beast stilled, his chest tightening as he lifted his head to assess those that fell silent, the men surrounding their encounter shameless in their anticipation. He couldn’t blame them of course, anything could have befallen the west. He would be curious too. Clearing his throat with the hustle of a forced cough he’d return the softness of his stare to study her features, his tone levelling to a chime of comfort, soft yet steady, low but loud enough for all to hear. “I’m alright… There was an incident.” Pausing slightly he’d contemplate his words, the appearance of his tongue sweeping the surface of his lower lip brief as he’d chew the options lingering between his teeth. “The Warden of the West is dead. We do not yet know the cause…” Murder. Tybolt was certain of the fact, but he would not claim it. Not out loud. Not without the evidence he waited for. As the silence hung his heart throbbed a little louder, could she hear it? “But I do not wish to burden you with such terrible tales. I just pray you will still find the beauty in a place that has fallen into mourning.”


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ELYSE ARRYN
 Posted: Nov 24 2015, 07:20 AM
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15
years old
It's hard to keep your feet on the ground when you live as high up as Elyse does. Something she has always struggled with, but never truly achieved is differing her dreams from reality. Being cooped up for so long can't be good for anyone's sanity.
from the Eyrie
played by: os


The youngest falcon did not know what she had truly thought their meeting would pan out to be. She was not so subtle to wish for doves to take flight from a nearby shrub, or perhaps for the celestial lights of heaven to peel through the clouds. Actually, the sky remained rather stagnant in the gathering greys and slithers of the blue lined sky behind them. It was not as if her imagination was lacking, actually she had envisioned quite a few scenarios. One did involve a group of bandits, the other involved a troll the dwelt beneath bridges. What? She had little else to cloak her mind in, not to mention that in on her the scenarios that played out on her minds stage was that she was quite taken with the troll has little to do with anything else. It was a surprise for both of them, in turn.

Although, even Elyse had to admit the colour stained her cheeks when her brother had asked what had entangled her thoughts so. Openly letting the words pass her lips that her mind was entertaining a fable was not something she wished to utter so soon. Gods if they did hear her they would most certainly be cemented in their decision, that she was not ready for anything other than girlish duties.The thought itself was enough to compose her features and to idly pretend that she was thinking of the more serious matters that pertained to a lady of her rank. Such as coloured tapestries and planning which coloured gown could best suit her mood in the moons to come. The sardonic thoughts seemed to only poison her thoughts further, all were quelled in nervousness, however seemed to fade from focus. As her whiskey coloured gaze nervously settled on the stranger before her.

“Of course, I promised that I would.” Swallowing whatever remark she had to the contrary, bemusement dyed her lips a tranquil colour. Betraying the thoughts she had hoped to keep close to her chest. "That you did." Admitting in agreement, yet she could not deny her surprise. How was she to tell the cut of someone from their written word? Yet he spoke to her as if they were taken straight from the page, each word curled like it were an elegant script. Enough to startle the blood and pool it in her cheeks."You yourself prove to be quite the disappointment," Raising an ebony brow with relative ease - despite the nervousness in the pit of her gut. "for you are exactly as you promised to be." Twitching the worn leather reigns in her hand, the corners of her lips threatening to betray the whites of her teeth. "And something I cannot surely match up to." Clearly teasing him now, however as soon as the words rolled across her tongue, Elyse wished she had not spoken them.

There was little doubt in her mind that she had said something wrong, or walked into a place that she had no business being in. The words loitered on her tongue. Wishing to snatch them back from the air that hovered between them. As it was, there was nothing yet that would let her recall the intangible foolishness that seemed to slip past her teeth at any given moment. A sharp breath was drawn through her nose, the remorse concocting an elixir of sorts across the high planes of her face. "You should not have come!" The scolding tone was stolen from her before she had the time to think better of it. Quieting her tone, with some effort. "You should be at home with your family." Elyse amended softly. Molten gaze filled with a plush tenderness, suffocating under the weight of wanting to do more yet the lack of knowledge crippled her with the inability to do anything more. "Are you sure you wish for us to still come?" Hushed tones inquired delicately. Surely he should not be wasting his time on them. Gods, she should be the last thing on his mind at this point.


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TYBOLT LANNISTER
 Posted: Dec 13 2015, 02:18 PM
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17
years old
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
from Casterly Rock
played by: Lola


Peculiar feelings roused in the comfort of the Lion’s mind, a strange sensation of nerves beating back a more primal manner of thoughts. She was beautiful, everything he could have possible imagined, more striking than his imaginings, more elegant in appearance than the thoughts in his wildest dreams. He’d seen mesmerising women before of course, beauties that could steal the words from a man’s tongue before they’d even had the chance to brew in the back of their throats. Women that could shame the sun and burn brighter than the sharpest star in dead of night. Yet there was something more in her features, something more pleasing, something more memorable than any being who’d come across his sights. Perhaps it was all in the eyes, two elixirs of melted honey, of whisky before the fire, of gold against the flames. He wasn’t sure of course, but her voice floated towards him, brushed his cheeks and caressed the drum of his ear with such sweetness he felt his heart stammer within its shackle, a defiant thud beneath the bone. For a moment he didn’t consider responding, instead his gaze remain transfixed, roaming softly across the glow in her cheeks before sweeping down her throat and across the peak of her collar. However it did not lower itself further, instead his mouth curved into a familiar half-smile, the motion infamous upon his mouth for it rarely reached an entire grin, always half-serious, always a prominent reminder of a grandfather whose influence ran deep into the boil of his blood, “Would you have preferred me to be otherwise?”

Tilting his head contently he’d find himself withholding laughter, his brow lifting with roused curiosity as he brought his hand forward to pet the neck of his impatient steed, the air hot as the beast blew a breath through its nose. “Did you expect a group of guards equipped with a sincere and heartfelt apology my Lady?” Straightening himself neatly, he’d run his thumb across the leather of the reign, his head tilting as the idle touch of his other digits would lift to push the blonde from the curve of his face, sleeking it backwards to smooth against his head, “For I could not be a man who does not keep his word.” It was a certain fact, Tybolt Lannister was a man loyal to his promises. His word of course could be misjudged, manipulated and reconstructed to suit a different purpose, but a promise to a woman who’d captured his nerve would not be one spoilt or squandered. “Something you cannot match up too?” Her words brought his lips to twitch; a cheekiness to burn bright beneath the surface but appear as nothing more than a slight change in the position of his mouth, a slight glint in the depths of his feline stare. “I highly doubt that Lady Elyse, for I believe you’re capable of exceeding any expectations placed on your head, by myself or any other.” There was a suaveness about the Lord, a charm which radiated despite the seriousness which held his expression firmly together, a warmth under the composure, a kindness under the potential threat. A Lion in all sense, magnificent yet not a creature to underestimate despite the prettiness of its exterior.

There was amusement to be found in watching her expression contort, a look of error seeping beneath the brilliance of her lashes, something which enchanted him to look a little harder, plunging into the molten pools for a moment more. It was when her tone changed that he found himself brought back to the present, crashing thoroughly into the realm of reality. Why shouldn’t he? Tybolt could find no reason to dwell at home, to sit helplessly while people spat rumours over the shoulders of their comrades and whispered strange sentiments in the others. The Rock was not filled with the most pleasant of conversations or the most tolerable beings after the incident, but the Rock itself was still worth a visit, it still shone a brilliant gold and looked upon the ocean like a beacon in the mist. It was rather infatuating to be scolded, it had been a long time since he’d heard a woman raise her voice in his direction, perhaps the last had been his mother. Or perhaps a broken heart left recklessly tarnished in the wake of his years in the Reach. No matter it provoked a sense of thrill, an excitement which throbbed brilliantly within his chest. It was a sound that calmed him, a sound which enticed him more than anything else. Of course he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was true all the same. “My family is otherwise engaged. I would do more harm than good getting caught beneath their feet.” It wasn’t quite true, Tybolt had been the first to give orders after his Grandfather’s death, he’d been the one to take charge, the one to shine in a moment of darkness. But it was his father’s duty, not a weight to burden the broadness of his own shoulders, and so he’d respectfully bowed out, allowing his father to take control of the situation while he monitored from a distance. Criticising some aspects while admiring others. “I would wish for nothing else more than that.” There was sincerity in his tone, not an ounce of forced interest as the timbre brewed within his throat. “I can think of nothing more capable of mending my heart than spending whatever time you can offer me in the light of your presence.”


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