graeclings

[graeclings]

"The gods truly give their toughest battles to their strongest angels." Tywell spared the child a second glance, suspiciously searching for the odious traits many a child had -- hands sticky for unknown reason, a nose that never ceased to flow. "Do you intend to partake in his fun? I am happy to bury a broach for you to find --- let it never be said I am an uncharitable man."

"  he  will  be  just  fine  ,  "  shirei  momentarily  lifted  her  gaze  before  tearing  it  back  to  her  youngest  who  was  clutching  his  knee  .  "  it's  just  a  little  bit  of  a  scratch  .  he  got  too  excited  with  the  little  trinket  he  found  while  playing  hide  and  seek  .  "

OPEN  STARTER  —  location  :  highgarden  grounds  (  accepting  4  /  4  replies  )

[graeclings]

Tywell was glad this exchange was confined to the intimacy of their bedroom; for he could not have easily weathered any remarks regarding the flush of his cheeks, as Gysella lazily waxed sweetness to him from her perch. He brushed the delicate fingers that had gladly intertwined with his, ever so mystified by her feather light touch. "So long as my siblings do not seek my wisdom on their little dramas, I shall not be parted from your side -- will honeyed words continue as payment for my presence? I shall remain gainfully within your employ if so." Often deriving great pleasure from witnessing the effects of his words (namely a masochistic tendency to enjoy others indignation and annoyance), Tywell tilting his slightly now, speaking to silken covers, offered a rare display of shyness -- his likeness akin to a child of ten and three. "What modes of revenge would you take against me for such a demand? I ensure you, I have tactics aplenty to see you remain here, languid and resting." As she drew his hand close to her form, Tywell found purchase to meet her gaze; he remarked privately, he would never cease to be unnerved by his own affection and devotion as a married man. "You know me too well --- for I love nothing better than a threat and promise married as one. If I ever displease you and thus meet an untimely death, I expressly forbid you for making such a promise to my replacement; who must be dark haired, as I must remain the only blonde in your life."

Gysella  woke  slowly,  stretching  in  their  bed  and  covering  a  yawn  behind  the  sleeve  of  her  silk  nightgown.  Nothing  was  as  comfortable  as  Casterly  Rock,  half  because  she  had  worked  so  hard  to  get  herself  there,  but  there  were  worse  ways  to  wake  than  Tywell’s  voice.  She  had  become  rather  fond  of  her  lion,  the  husband  she  had  fought  for.  She  intwined  her  fingers  with  his,  though  made  no  move.  She  had  found  herself  fond  of  the  comfort  she  was  kept  in  now.  "As  long  as  you  promise  to  remain  by  my  side.  The  barbs  are  never  so  sweet  as  when  I  can  share  a  glance  with  you,  after  them.  And  there  are  few  here  who  inspire  me  like  you  do."  She  thought  herself  luckier  than  most,  for  a  husband  who  understood  her,  who  asked  her  not  to  change,  but  instead  indulged  her.  He  had  been  a  careful  choice,  and  she  was  more  than  content  in  it.  She  pulled  his  hand  close,  a  spark  of  warmth  in  deep  brown  eyes  reserved  only  for  him,  and  only  in  these  quiet  moments  together.  “Any  attempt  to  keep  me  in  this  bed  would  be  terrible  for  your  health.”  She  gave  a  dark  little  grin  at  that.  "I  can  assure  you,  Lord  Lannister,  I  will  remain  by  your  side  for  many  years  to  come.  You  can  take  that  as  both  promise  and  as  threat."

[graeclings]

"That depends -- are we completely sure that you are old enough to indulge in spirits? I don't believe I've spotted a single whisker on your cherub features." Tywell took pause, his hands holding a glass decanter -- he had reached to pour Lyonel a glass, but the tone of his own voice had offended him greatly. He had wished to deliver his remark in his usual sing-song, unsettlingly gleeful refrain; yet Tywell's words had been delivered with a touch of melancholy, fondness perhaps, for the years his brother had clung to his ankles, finding purchase in him. "Is it the joust which pains you, or your union, undoubtedly growing closer, that finds you so wonderfully morose? I confess, I've had a small change of heart -- I shall give you a wedding gift you shall not be bade to share with our sister. She however, will likely be receiving a very nice candle stick."

closed   starter   :   lyonel   lannister   &   tywell   lannister   @graeclings

"are  you  not  going  to  share  the  wine?"  it  wasn't  often  the  raven-haired  lannister  sought  out  his  older  brother,  but  after  his  betrothal,  he  found  it  easier  to  be  with  tywell  than  his  twin.  perhaps  it  was  because  he  knew  that  soon  enough  he  would  leave  for  essosi  shores  instead  of  home?  there  was  no  escaping  that  the  truth  of  his  mother's  decision  would  reach  lucretia's  ears,  but  as  long  as  he  could  avoid  bringing  such  sorrowful  words  to  her,  he  would.  "share  some,  I  am  certain  I  am  in  greater  need  of  it  than  you."

[graeclings]

"I try and avoid such a headache whenever possible -- you may find such a notion unfathomable, but I do believe I irritate her senses greatly." Though his relationship with his step-mother was far from acrimonious, their temperaments were more akin than they dared admit; the end result, being poorly executed cat-fights." If Lyonel intended to cause a stir with his pronouncement, his mark hit its aim -- half-vexed at being ill-informed, half amused beyond measure, Tywell's features twisted and turned, each feeling fighting for dominance upon his countenance. "How wonderful for you brother -- may I now presume it shall be a double wedding? I shall only need to buy a singular gift, for the two of you to share. A large mirror, maybe?" Though Tywell spoke with unbridled delight at the notion, his eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Lyonel's face, seeking to discern his brothers true sentiments on the prospect of being wed. "Come now, must there be a need for such theatrics? Marriage is a wonderful thing." Tywell sighed, returning to his former position, letting his limbs lay comfortably across the loveseat. Lyonel had well mastered the Lannister art of causing a scene, and masking all emotions, beneath a well-crafted sneer - Tywell could not distinguish his brothers true feelings. "Is this your way of saying you shall miss me terribly? I am flattered, of course. Or do you truly not wish to be wed?"

there  was  little  that  vexed  the  raven-haired  lion  more  than  his  older  brother.  the  smugness  of  his  demeanor  and  the  claws  which  always  scraped  against  skin  to  taunt.  for  once  he  had  however  invited  him  to  tea,  of  course  not  back  at  home  but  in  a  foreign  castle.  "why  do  you  not  speak  to  mother?  it  seems  the  news  has  slipped  your  ears  dear  brother-"  it  was  such  an  annoyance  to  see  the  older  lion  smug  and  satisfied.  perhaps  what  lyonel  had  always  wanted  was  to  be  like  him?  perhaps  even  the  better  version?  putting  his  cup  down  his  eyes  drifted  away  from  lion.

"mother  has  made  a  deal  with  house  rogare,  i  am  to  wed  perrin  rogare."  he  prepared  himself  for  laughter,  for  the  mock  of  the  elder  who  had  the  world  at  his  hands  regarding  their  home,  their  titles,  and  would  take  mother's  position  when  she  passed.  "she  has  made  sure  you  will  get  rid  of  both  lucretia  and  me."  a  imitation  of  a  smirk  was  upon  his  lips  as  he  delivered  the  joyous  news  to  his  brother.  "your  prayers  have  been  heard,  dear  brother."

[graeclings]

for: @morewoe

location: lannister quarters; their bedroom, early morning

 Tywell's eyes were always expressive -- they looked to his wife now, bright with the revelation of warm feelings. His eyes were all kindness; he prolonged the moment, sitting dutifully on the edge of their bed where she artfully lay, still stirring from the vestiges of sleep. The events of Kings Landing had a mellowing effect upon his spirit; in truth, Tywell had been troubled by the notion he had come so close to taking up the mantle of a bereaved husband. He did not care to ever play such a part; though by nature a great thinker and not a feeler, Tywell's faith to Gysella could never be doubted. Reaching for her hand, Tywell sighed -- in part, disgusted by the notion he only wished to speak honeyed phrases. He spoke now, his voice indulging only in shades of benevolence. "The day is new, beloved --- there are young lords and ladies aplenty for you to reduce to tears. Shall we take to the garden? I shall craft you a perch, and you can hold court." The offer was made with a great deal of glib, but gladly Tywell would take to the task; though wounded, Gysella's spirit remained unmarred. For this, Tywell thanked the gods; a rare occurrence, as Tywell worshiped no figure as greatly as he did his own reflection. "Though perhaps....resting here, would be best. You know how much I admire your relentless endeavours -- but they would not be worth the cost of your health."  

[graeclings]

for: @flamedreamt

location: a small garden

"Can you forgive me for interrupting your solitude? I would contest my presence severely outweighs whatever lays in your book, but I fear you would be too shy to agree with my assertion." Carilyn's moods were never readily discernible, but Tywell spoke only in jest, in regards to their estimation of his worth; for his part, he felt little could rival the golden sheen of his hair beneath a high noon sun. He had taken to a stroll in part to let his peers enjoy the bounty of his well-groomed mane, and in part, to seek conversation, for which he could gleam better the sense of morale amidst the court. Carilyn, rooted to a bench and well-occupied by reading, had the misfortune of being the most interesting figure his gaze came across. "I should wonder what you make of the misery and bloodshed that has befell us all -- your eye is always keenly observing."

[graeclings]

for: @divinitics 

location: a quiet courtyard under a borough of trees

Stood deep in the shadows cast by a cascade of leaves, Tywell indulged in a rarely witnessed moment of quiet reflection. The oppressive heat did not deter flowers from seeking to shine in the best phase, their full bloom quietly defying the stilted air, the product of a thousand breaths still held in fear. "I have no doubt you have words of wisdom to offer in these trying times -- I dare say you have begun to give our family a name unassociated with impertinence, though I have not yet decided if the notion vexes me." Tywell had long ago learned his usual manner granted him little satisfaction with Cersha, who possessed an irritatingly precise ability to turn his most ghoulish sentiments into passive thoughts of intelligence. He had sought her company to offer his thoughts reprieve from notions of doom and half laid plans for vengeance. "Do you think of what our forefathers would make of these events? I believe above all else, they would be terribly disappointed I had no hand in them."

[graeclings]

for: @sapphircd

location: lannister quarters

"I trust you remain unflustered by recent events; save perhaps, for our sister's happy news? Shall you be counted on to arrange a celebration to herald such a blessing?" Much akin to neglected wife of middle aged with little to occupy her time, Tywell was draped across a sofa, his hand lazily supporting a cup of tea. Had he not invited his brother for a tête-à-tête, he would have sought to employ a court painter to capture his grace. Naturally, Tywell was burdened by the wild passions and fears that gripped the lands -- the violence of dragons held a vice grip upon his heart, but little could be done by his hand. His siblings however, remained an unaltered source of great amusement. "Can I pray for it to become a double wedding? One of our sisters dear friends could make you a handsome bride."

[graeclings]

"I would hate to see you burdened by the lack of intrigue your self-dialogue affords you; drinking alone can surely not bring you much." Though Tywell's words were perhaps, well-marked as a biting reply, he breezed into an opposing seat with an air of geniality -- it was merely his custom, to extend an offer of superficial discourse to all, in the hopes he'd receive a dutifully searing reply. "I grant you that much is done with my illustrious company -- I shall gladly take your offer of a drink, and companionship. Perhaps there is some matter in which I can be of assistance? It can never be said I am not a man who is not unflinchingly generous."

"  i  usually  prefer  enjoying  my  wine  in  peace  ,  "  he  said  ,  taking  a  sip  from  his  glass  .  he  couldn't  even  recall  how  many  he'd  had  ;  quite  frankly  ,  there  was  no  end  goal  to  his  drinking  .  he  just  drank  .  "  —  but  as  i've  learned  in  the  past  few  months  ,  some  things  are  better  done  in  the  company  of  others  .  so  ,  feel  free  to  pour  yourself  a  glass  .  "  matthos  did  not  want  to  be  alone  .

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑  : @flamedreamt , @luvburn + accepting 3/3 replies

[graeclings]

"It may well prove to be a fine morning -- but that depends entirely on you." Tywell had thus far managed to view the Lord Commander in dusk and profile; he did not know whether Theodore sought dark corners to cultivate an air of mystique, or he merely envisioned all who bore swords in a perpetual cloud of dirt. "I found it inadequate to my tastes we have shared few words without an audience -- would it please you if I came for a sword lesson? Alas, I have no desire to leave my nails and fingers in a state of disarray; it is politics, that brings me to your door."

CLOSED STARTER ✦ tywell lannister ( @graeclings )

house lannister had a ... reputation . even in his youth , there were incessant whispers in tourneys of how they have wielded control in the shadow . there is much gold can do . in the right circumstances it can push a man to strike a bargain , sell his loyalty and devotion — even his life . ❝ good morrow , lord tywell , ❞ and the lions of the west , they have an abundance of such power . he held no desire for such power , but he understood its importance . and regardless of his beliefs , he was not one to let his suspicions be known . the presence of the ruling lord of casterly rock in the red keep brings an unsettling feeling rise within him . ❝ to what do i owe the pleasure ? ❞

[graeclings]

"Much about the Red Keep may be marked as terribly disappointing; have you thus far noticed the dullness of its exterior, is outstripped only by the subfusc of all dinner conversations?" Had he, Tywell Lannister, been allotted the mantle of King, there would be no display of opulence to rival his seat; save for the ornamentation of his wife, whom had no equals. "One would think there would have been greater efforts to line with Red Keep grandeur, as to compensate for the pitiful faces gathered in its halls. I would beseech you to endeavour in an act of charity and socialize with those ignorant to their failures in fashion and countenance, but I would not condemn you to such a cruelty." 

closed for @graeclings // gysella & tywell

"I  thought  the  Red  Keep  would  be...  Impressive."  Maybe  Gysella  had  simply  built  it  up  in  her  mind,  but  it  didn't  feel  more  opulent  than  Casterly  Rock.  No  more  comfortable,  either.  She  didn't  know  exactly  what  she  had  expected  of  the  castle,  but  it  didn't  live  up  to  the  expectation.  "Instead,  I  find  I  am  quite  disappointed."  It  was  not  an  opinion  she  would  voice  to  anyone  but  her  husband,  even  as  bland  an  opinion  as  it  was.  She  didn't  wish  to  leave,  of  course,  too  much  to  be  gained  by  their  presence  in  the  capitol,  but  it  didn't  mean  she  liked  it.  "For  the  amount  spent  on  fixing  it,  I  expected  more."

[graeclings]

"You answer wisely, and correctly. People who say vengeance is worthless are those with split ends and weak wills." Revenge was an inelegant term; Tywell preferred retribution, and righteous action. For within his own mind, schemes to settle Lannister scores from long ago festered -- his was not a family that was quick to forgive even the most mundane of slights. "I do not believe many capable of kindness on such a level, but I would not go far with such an optimistic view of the human condition. There are however, those who lack the imagination to produce a well-fitted scene of revenge. I dare say an in-law or two still believes they'll pull one over on me one day." Tywell gave a simple shrug; it was simply his person, to view feuds as a mere trifle. "And I do believe you to be such an underdog; I do not accuse you of harbouring dark schemes, but I would have to work hard to feign surprise, should I see you gain the upper-hand." 

"Never." The word dropped from their lips without second thought, but it was the truth. Whether that insult came from a dragon, or a sibling, there was no version of reality where Jonquil would not seek vengeance. Not for the wedding, for she cared little and less for that, but for the humiliation. If she had committed herself to a new life, to the death of her old, just for it all to be snatched from her at the last second, and in front of the entire court, she would never let them forget it. "But would anyone? Is anyone so kind, so forgiving?" They asked. "I'll have to remember I'm being watched, then. I suppose an underdog is just that, underfoot until the right time comes."

[graeclings]

"Severity is certainly an attribute you possess an ample quantity of -- you take great pains to remind me of thus." If this was to be his lot with his own children, when they reached seven and twenty, Gwyn would best prepare herself to parenting of a singular nature -- youthful petulance would not grey his hair. "If that were so, I would offer you a brotherly token of affection; a hearty pat upon your shoulder. And then I would consult your twin on what gentleman you like second best, and set a match."

eye   roll   proceeds   her   words,   scoff   slipping   out.   "    perhaps   it   is   not   a   sense   of   humour   that   i'm   lacking.    "   rather,   he   does   not   make   her   laugh   -   not   as   he   might've   done   once.   he   stands   separate   —   as   with   her   sister   —   part   of   her   by   half,   but   not   enough.   not   enough   that   lady   mother   deems   she   let herself grow close   —   not   enough   that   she’d   allow   herself   to   be   read   so   easily.   for   how   mother   would   spite   her   for   it.   "    does   your   wife   know   you   speak   of   her   kin   like   that?   i’m   not   so   sure   she   would   be   pleased   to   hear   it.    "   despite   it’s   necessity,   brother   speaks   so   cavalier   on   the   matter.   and   so   she   allows   saccharine   to   slip   from   rouged   lips,   jest   in   tone.   "    and   if   i   told   you   it   had   been   the   very   prince   whose   rites   we   attended?   what   might   you   say   then?    "

[graeclings]

"Gwyn  dear,  the  eagerness  you  display  for  me  is  wonderful  but  there  is  a  need  for  some  decorum.  I  already  know  that  you  thank  the  gods  for  the  privilege  of  having  me  as  your  husband."  When  Tywell's  eyes  settled  upon  Gwyn's,  her  glance  was  at  once  animated  and  modest;  when  discussing  her  palpable  interest,  her  eyes  satisfied  him  on  the  point.  He  would  have  made  note  that  her  restraint  was  perhaps  a  cruel  symptom  of  her  natural  Harlaw  reserve,  but  he  did  not  wish  for  her  to  wield  her  hairbrush  against  him.  Tywell  was  no  neutral  judge  on  the  expression  that  crossed  his  face  was  likely  one  of  mirth  and  content;  he  was  a  beacon  of  satisfaction  as  her  feet  dragged  towards  him  ---  a  bemusing  performance  of  indifference  to  his  loving  ministrations.  He  had  no  interest  in  answering  the  charge  of  self-aggrandising,  for  it  was  bound  to  be  a  guilty  plea;  rather  Tywell  continued  to  smile  upon  Gwyn  as  if  she  was  a  seraph  sent  for  his  salvation  alone. "Well  you're  too  bashful  to  compliment  me  -  what  am  I  to  do?  I  compliment  you  often;  it  is  notable  you  are  too  coy  to  return  the  favor." Gladly  Tywell  would  have  ruminated  on  his  machinations,  accredited  his  brilliant  manoeuvres,  but  his  proceedings  were  at  the  present  better  satisfied  by  romantic  notions.  "I  do  not  know  of  what  you  could  speak  of,  for  when  am  I  ever  the  source  of  strife  or  discourse?  Perhaps  I  am  pleased  to  be  alone  with  my  dear  wife,  whose  beauty  I  have  not  had  to  myself  in  a  good  deal  of  days."  He  took  refuge  in  her  touch,  removing  any  trace  of  open  air  between  their  bodies  as  he  pulled  her  to  his  chest;  Tywell  would  never  be  marked  as  indifferent  when  it  came  to  his  passions.  

there  had  been  cats  abroad  the  ship  that  had  carried  her  from  the  islands  to  lannisport  ─  fattened  felines  that  flopped  onto  her  thin  mattress  with  little  intention  of  moving,  kneading  holes  into  the  sheets  with  their  claws.  as  their  eyes  met  through  the  mirror,  her  husband  lounging  lazily  on  the  bed  as  she  battled  with  the  thick  length  of  her  hair,  twisting  it  into  a  pile  atop  her  head  that  would  be  secured  with  a  hairstick,  gwynesse  was  reminded  of  those  demanding  creatures,  sharp  teeth  nipping  at  her  toes  until  she  paid  them  with  affection.  unlike  those  felines,  who  had  inspired  some  adoration  from  her  with  their  persistent  mewls,  he  is  met  with  an  exaggerated  noise  of  disgust  for  his  compliment,  though  she  does  a  poor  job  at  hiding  the  smile  that  his  words  evoked  as  evening  routines  were  abandoned  to  answer  his  silent  call.  ❝  do  not  tempt  me.  i  would  have  pushed  the  new  princess  of  dragonstone  from  the  altar  if  you  were  not  headache  enough  to  make  me  swear  off  marriage  entirely.  ❞  she  grumbled  softly,  dragging  her  feet  towards  him  until  she  was  just  far  enough  that  effort  must  be  exerted  to  pull  her  closer.  ❝  it  is  hardly  a  genuine  compliment  when  it  is  self - praise,  shameless  wretch.  ❞  it  was  as  fondly  said  as  she  would  allow,  still  restrained  with  her  tenderness  under  the  burning  light,  though  the  bitter  darkness  of  her  gaze  softened  slightly  as  she�� passed  a  hand  over  his  hair,  nails  gently  scratching  at  his  head  like  the  overgrown  house  cat  that  he  was.  ❝  what  trouble  have  you  caused  ?  you  are  overly  pleased  with  yourself,  more  so  than  usual.  surely  this  is  not  solely  on  account  of  house  targaryen's  humiliation.  ❞

[graeclings]

"The injured party suffers now, but I imagine their shame shall shortly be eclipsed by far greater emotions; would you suffer such an injury, without action?" Tywell listened to Jonquil good-naturedly, laughing openly with indifference at pending subterfuge; it would not touch his shores. "Do not diminish your own promise; I for one, will look keenly to your actions. But I never trust one who says they lack ambition or power -- are those not so often, the figures who emerge victorious, a crown in hand?"

"A royal wedding as always meant to be the centre of conversation. But not these conversations, no. And there is at least one person who would not call this marvellous." Jonquil gave half a laugh, before controlling her face. From the looks she'd seen at the wedding, the whispers she'd heard, she doubted this was much of what the Royal Family had wanted at all. "I doubt there are many waiting to see what I personally am going to do. There are a great many players in the Red Keep at the moment, my Lord, all of whom hold more power in the palms of their hand than I can hope to achieve."

[graeclings]

"Come sister, what is a Lannister without a sense of humour? You may as well be a Harlaw." His siblings forever rushed to display their firmness, eager to display their superiority to his taunts; a difficult task, for Tywell remembered well their days of being inseperable from cloth animals, or crying when their mother left a room. "Tell me then - what gallant prince, or handsome lord, has caught your eye? It could not be said I am not a loving, generous brother; I shall take your paramours into consideration." 

was   your   mother   when   she   stayed   within   the   keep,   burning   along   with   her   peers?   lingers   behind   her   lips,   but   she   dares   not   utter   it.   it   is   a   cruelty   he   does   not   deserve   —   one   taught   by   her   own   mama   when   jealousy   bloomed.  “     mama   knows   i   deserve   only   the   best   —   and   if   you   would   have   me   marry   a   tavern   owner   you   must   believe me when i say   i'd   be   dead   by   morning.    “     

[graeclings]

"Do I appear worried, my lord? I do fear that I have upset you, a beloved fixture of the court. Or maybe, it is the odious topic of weddings, that continue to foul your mood." Would it be scarlet or crimson? Tywell aspired to whatever phrasing would induce the hue of true scorn across Antony's features. Seeking to induce moral paralysis in his companion was no personal endeavour; it merely pleased his mood to dare the anger of the man seated to his left. His tone was light, as if to make amends -- an all beginning salute, save for the snarl of his words. "I was unaware you were a man of aspirations -- I shall certainly make sure to pass along your lofty ambitions, to your dear lady's third husband. Do you think she shall make height a requirement?" 

" Hm. " It's all he says, a single word that meant he's glad for the attention to shift from wife to the second husband, a bear in the court of falcons; this was familiar grounds, and Tywell seemed well at ease here. " Indeed. From someone whose own good fortune has already been so far receded, that is actually something worth worrying about. " Own hand reaches for the supposed vein on temple, glancing back at Tywell's own hairline. Maybe it was the Dornish red, or the way Tywell knew exactly where and how to find the chink in his armour; a wounded pride, and a wife's honour to defend. Hm. It's moments like these he mustn't forget himself, not yet anyways. " My thanks to you, Lord Lannister, for being the cautionary tale of what one shouldn't aspire to. "