dearorphic

[dearorphic]

His smirk widens into a grin at the provocation of the nails bared in his direction, both brows raised as he lets go of the flask. " N'here I thought we were friends, Winnie. " A faux surrender and unfiltered arrogance which really only reared its head in pleasant company; a warm look, " "But if you’re aiming for the face, maybe avoid the nose. It’s the only part of me people find charming these days. " A thoughtful look and his own hand strokes the sharp of his chin, " or was it the beard ? " He shrugs, " doubt them little things are all bark, no bite anyhow. "

“  hell  to  survive  ,  easy  to  conquer?  “  lips  twitching  into  smile  adjacent.  not  that  she  would  ever  want  to  spend  more  time  in  winterfell  than  was  expected  of  her.  el  wasn’t  new  to  unfortunate  weather  but  her  liver  would  be  less  than  forgiving  about  the  amount  of  liquor  it  would  take  to  stay  warm  for  any  extended  period  of  time.  a  black  ,  stiletto  nail  pointed  in  his  direction  ,  roguery  leeching  into  amusement  that  lined  her  features.  “  careful  tony.  “  warning  uttered  as  siren  lifted  the  flask  from  his  hand.  “  or  we  may  just  find  out  how  sharp  a  nail  needs  to  be  to  stab  an  eye.  “

[dearorphic]

" Wouldn't say that now, " he snorts at the familiar audaciousness the youngest Stark possessed, though; a feat he'd have to give them credit for given how consistent they were with it, even now. It's the sound of silver on marble that has umber hues peering up in question to the other, brow arched. " More'f a country man then all that ...  " floured hand raises to gesture at the other's overall aesthetic, given he was at a loss for words. " You ever hear of Johnny Cash? "

It was hard to keep the smile from forming on their lips at the Mormont's reaction to their entrance. It was always nice to be recognized as trouble, after all. "I would'a begged for second anyway." His smile dropped at the rejection of free cinnamon buns, pout growing on his expression right away, ready to beg, to promise he'd be good, to blackmail if need be, however, once his gaze followed in the direction of where Antony was gesturing, he paused. Brows twitched upwards in surprise. "Huh. Almost like you were waiting for someone like me to come." He straightened up, turning towards the sink, then turning back towards the dough again, then repeating that dance a couple of times before he let out a quiet hum and started pulling his rings off instead, putting them into neat little piles by his phone.

[dearorphic]

He snorts at the sight of the annoyance pinching his younger brother's brow in a dark fury, " aww, c'mon now !! " Arms spread in a gesture that reconciled goodwill, but that grin on the eldest brother's face didn't so much dim in the light of it. Alaric made it too easy sometimes, that was one of his more tolerable sides. " Don't get all cross now just 'cause some water got all that gel in your hair messed up. " Lips purse and head tilts as he regards him, " you're still ugly to me, baby brother. "

in the spirit of the holidays, or at least as his manager puts it, he had to be here. he needed to take a break from whatever music revolution or rebellion he was trying to stage. alaric mormont needed to relax, or at face value look like it. having chunks of snow hitting the back of his head is far from his idea of relaxation. and whoever it was had to be somebody with a death wish, or martyn stark. he turns to look, brows knit and features riddled with annoyance, ❝ nice to see you too, brother . ❞ frustration does not melt, only became fervent as he rolled his eyes, dusting whites from his coat.

[dearorphic]

@vi0light

" Rhaenys acts like she’s a health goddess, but actually she’s a pretentious, greedy extortionist, " pointed look at the woman next he, unfortunately, had the displeasure of running into during his time off. A low sigh, arms crossed as blue denim perches on the back of the wooden bench. " Where'd the tabloids wrangle that idea from, I wonder? The candle that, and I quote now, 'smells like my vagina,' or was it the jade egg thing ? "

[dearorphic]

Softly said, a low 'oooh boy,' is muttered out when the familiar head of hair comes to darken the kitchen doorstep. A half smile at the fake as his hair flattery is offered, though, if only because Martyn was his brother's friend. Nice to be recognized as such. " Mean enough to have y'begging for seconds, " he quips, the edges of his smirk curling. " Which you aren't gonna get, " He gestures at the tray nearby, only enough stacked for him and his wife - a second helping currently being made because he had a sweet tooth. S'much as this one here, clearly. " Dough's already made, just gotta put in the work. So, don't hurt yourself now, know you're new t'the concept and all. " He chuckles, and peels off enough dough to plop in front of him.

Martyn passed the entrance to the kitchens. And then they backtracked almost as soon as the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon hit their senses, indoor sunglasses pulled off to get a better look at what was happening inside. Should anyone have been close enough, they would've seen his pupils dilate at the sight. Not Antony, he couldn't care less about him. No, Martyn was much more excited about the dough he was kneading. The hoodie of his black zip-up slowly got pulled off, revealing the overly bleached and purple shampooed white hair under it. "Well if it ain't my favorite Mormont!" They exclaimed with a smile as they approached the island Antony was working at, placing their sunglasses, their phone and their vape next to each other. The holy trinity. "How mean can you make those buns exactly?"

[dearorphic]

He nibbled on the gingerbread, the only snack he trusted, after taking a whiff of the eggnog to know that it had more than what was intended in the recipe - a prime suspect with ridiculous hair popped to mind, along with a heavy sigh. Attention shifts to the young Cerwyn beside him, arching his brow at the construction pieces before them. " Ah, " he hadn't actually intended to join in, but ... " A decent foundation to start, then the icing - if it's too wet, it'll collapse before we can even get the good part. " Finger points with a smile, " the gumdrop fixtures and I was thinking licorice lattices for the roof. " A rather pleased smile as he plops the said gumdrop into his mouth.

open starter ━━ ( 𝖺𝗏𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 ) ... 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: village restaurant.

manicured nails absently flicked at a rogue piece of tinsel as 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝗎𝖾𝗌 glazed over a pile of ribbons + sparkly gift wrapping at the far end of the room. dining tables had been hijacked with 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗮𝘆𝘀 of gingerbread icing , tangled decorations + colorful candy. taking another gulp of her 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗀𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗀 she turns to the seat next to her ━━ “ so what's the plan for our masterpiece ? considering most of our competition here are under 12 we might even win top prize. ” though unserious, the woman was now three mulled wines deep and so a 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗳𝘁 suddenly seemed rather exciting.

[dearorphic]

laina dayne + open

" Watch it!! " It was the snowcapped peaks that had called to her more, and she didn't shy away at the first instance to dive in with a sled taken from a stack offered at the base of the hill. The very same that had her hurtling downwards at a speed that had her laughing, even if she may or may not have crash-landed into the person in her way. With a flurry of snow settled in her hair, she shakes it from her legs and hair with gloved hands with a peek towards the person in question, " are you alright? "

[dearorphic]

[dearorphic]

Smirk curls as he tugs his jacket closer into his sweater, both tailored from a heavy blend of expensive wool, a practical luxury made to fit and designed by him. " Depends if you're trying to survive it or conquer it, " he quips. He follows close behind, slipping his hands into his own pockets as I tried not to look like the weather was kicking his denim-leathered ass. A scoff, as this was exactly the reason he left the North. " Y'know, unprepared southerners always freeze first, " he says as he reaches for his own flask, brandishing it a half smile as he takes the first shot of whatever concotion he had put up in ther. " And m'thinking you're already halfway there, southerner. " Nose wrinkles with a smile and waggles the flask.

“  winterfell  or  winterhell?  ”  remark  made  with  the  barest  glint  of  amusement  sparking  within  depths  of  blue  as  hands tucked  beneath  the  black  puffer  jacket  she  wore.  give  her  a  day  to  get  used  to  the  climate  and  enough  alcohol  to  warm  her  from  the  inside  out  and  she  would  be  fine  ,  but  until  then  she  was  as  bitter  about  it  as  the  cold  itself.  “  prepare  to  be  impressed  ,  old  man.  ”  lilting  taunt  as  boots  crunched  the  snow  beneath  feet  ,  heading  towards  their  first  destination.  “  if  i  have  to  freeze  my  ass  off  ,  i  don't  want  to  feel  it.  ” 

[dearorphic]

questions tba tba

[dearorphic]

Antony Arryn * open (1/3) Location: large  kitchens

The kitchens were the first place he'd wander into, half expecting a feast to already been laid out to pick and nibble from. He was pleasantly surprised to see it wasn't so, and with the fridges stocked with enough to make a decent meal, well, he may have lost track of time. Fingers kneading into the dough with its routine already kicking in, he seemed well at home. He registers when company comes in, nodding his head in greeting. " I've only ever had to do this back home, y'know. " Flour is sprinkled on the rising dough, half content at the situation at hand. " Alaric can't cook for shit, and neither do any of the others if they try and say otherwise. " Finger points to the person for added effect. " And that's how I found out I make a mean cinnamon bun. That's just a god-given fact. "

[dearorphic]

The winter nips familiarly at his hands, and he's only in the market stands to escape from it. A brow raises as the present company speaks, and Antony considers the options, his brow furrowing briefly before faint smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Glühwein," he finally decides. "It’s Winterfell. Best we keep the cold at bay, and gin won’t do that." He inclines his head slightly toward her, amusement flickering briefly. "Though if you’re braving the evening with both, I suppose I’d be impressed."

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧   𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫   ;   𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬   (   𝟎   /   𝟒   ) 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧   ;   𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬   𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭

the  twinkling  lights  strung  up  along  the  market  lit  up  the  ever  darkening  sky  ,  casting  its  vendors  and  those  who  wandered  in  a  warm  glow.  it  was  pretty  ,  elowyn  supposed  ,  but  she  hadn't  come  for  the  view.  no  ,  there  was  a  more  pressing  matter  of  a  sweet  tooth  that  needed  satiating  and  a  promise  of  alcohol  to  be  found  ,  the  latter  the  more  crucial  if  she  was  expected  to  survive  the  duration  of  the  stay  in  winterfell.  “  gin  or  glühwein?  ”  cerulean  hues  cast  towards  present  company.  “  pick  your  poison.  ” 

[dearorphic]

@wcrfcres * alaric mormont

Fancy coats didn't do much in this weather what with the snowbanks eating the wool along its hem, freezing in the air that bit at his hands. That didn't stop him from reaching down to scoop up a sizeable amount to pack in his hands, his attention fixed on a familiar head of hair that was a perfect shot for his aim. No preamble, or greetings, just a snowball being tossed at his brother's head with a huge grin that followed.

[dearorphic]

@sunlaid * odara karstark

[...] With her right arm no longer as nimble as the rest of her, she relied on staying in the shadows and spaces they wouldn't think to look; away from prying eyes and bloodthirsty spears. Gasp pulled from her when frame bumps into theirs, instinct prompting push to frame. " No, no, no — " Adrenaline and fear blur, and tears, unbidden, are palmed away until realization settles in. Her gratitude blooms and with both hands framing the liege's face, a breathless admission deflates all tension as she wraps her arms around their shoulders. " Odara. "

[dearorphic]

@insooth * adrienne arryn

[...] Paranoia was planted like a seed that wrought a heavy hand, an instinctual battle drive he's known since he first learned how to wield a sword. Tonight, the scent of violence mixed with the heady bloom of flowers made him sick, clambering inside for a moment's reprieve that was shattered like the sound of iron against iron, a different storm brewing inside. And he's called to act. For how long he'd been wandering was too long to have known, but tonight, here he stood. Ear perks, and he swings the brunt of his arm around in a pirouette - eyes widened at sight of tresses, of features ingrained into memory like prayer. Barely misses her as he adjusts, throwing his weight forward instead to direct the blow away to stumble into her. " Fuck fuck fuck " he curses at himself, doesn't stay on her for long when he scrambles up onto his knees beside her. Weapon discarded, his hands gentle on her as frenzied eyes survey the damage, " Stay with me… Gods, stay with me… Please. " quiet pleas, mind racing as her state is taken in with shock. He fears the worst.

[dearorphic]

@wcrfcres * alaric mormont

[...] Haphazard stitches weren't enough to stop the bloom of crimson on the linen wrapped around her arm, but it did slow. It was all the reason needed to break from the safety of protectors to seek her brother ; she'd find Alaric Mormont instead. Lithe feet, and ruined silk made her agile enough to slip into shadows, watching him make short work of the guests with a ferocity, unhinged. This was different from the tourney, this was combat without rules and there was something in the lord Mormont's gaze which frightened her to come close; perhaps it was pride, or even envy that made her prompted her to do as her cousin might, or her brother would. Fingers grasped around a sconce grabbed from wall, lit and blazing strikes down on an intruder looking to blindside the lord Mormont. A hiss of pain is all that's heard as she grabs at her arm. Her own attack did little but stumble the guest ; she was too weak and hardly a threat.

[dearorphic]

open * 2/2

[...] Instinctual surrender to the blade's kiss stung deep, and the blood that chilled beneath her and into the stone below was only felt with eyes clenched shut; or was it the tears that she had felt, pooling silently amidst the terrors that haunted the halls? Dead, she was sure of it. Yet, as she crawled to the nearest nook, something whispered—not dead, dying. She knew her right arm was failing, but gods, she hated this. Violet eyes dare to finally look down, her mouth eliciting a strangled gasp smothered in her palms when a noise is heard from her left. Whatever is left of her survival instinct urges her further into the nook, scrambling for the nearest blunt object to wield - strength failing in her right arm. Laina behind the heavy velvet drapes, slides her weapon under her thigh, sinks against the wall and wonders, why her eyes wouldn't shut to play dead once more ? Fear and adrenaline blur and the doe-eyed Dayne acts before the other does and lunges, grabbing the arm of the other that she bites into.