leopardsylva

[leopardsylva]

NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO on instagram !

[leopardsylva]

— 💌 renly & sylva

renly: well, no but he's very busy. movie star and whatnot. plus I am attempting to keep my cool and not immediately text him utter nonsense and scare him off.

renly: that's still a 10% margin of error. tell u what i'll hit on her and if she hits me then ur margin of error's down to 98%. 2% is statistically a go-zone and u can just assume lesbian

renly: yes, because that's my brother: ever the understanding and forgiving sort. unless u mean my cat, in which case, also not the forgiving sort.

sylva: good plan, better wait to send him nonsense and scare him off

sylva: that test wouldn't prove shit - she could just have taste 💁‍♀️

sylva: and besides, historically, lesbians love to date u

sylva: the fact you two are even related really fuckin blows my mind on the daily tbh

sylva: im coming down to storm's end sometime to meet this unfortunately named new addition to ur fam i love a cat it must be said

[leopardsylva]

— 💌 renly & sylva

renly: did u really try to talk to me at one point? i don't remember this. u know what, i shouldn't have said that it proves ur point why am i sending this fuck

renly: listen i already gave him my number and i have no self control u know this about me u heathen

renly: no but i certainly can know her if u need a wingman or a wake-up call is she even gay sylv did u establish this don't make my mistakes

renly: will u be buying drinks for the whole club then?

sylva: renly 0, sylv 1

sylva: has he..... texted u? 👀

sylva: at this point i am.... 90% sure she plays for team lesbian but the verdicts still out

sylva: if there are cute girls there then absolutely - pass on my apologies to stanny b the morning after pls im sure he’ll understand

[leopardsylva]

— 💌 renly & sylva

renly: yeah i still can't believe you actually did that. i mean, i can, i know u, but also i can't.

renly: How do u know about loras?? i didn't say anything about me and loras was i truly THAT obvious at the party? which cousin tho i know a few do u need me to put in a good word?

renly: i will foot the bill don't worry. i just don't want theon to have to be alone too much rite now y'know?

sylva: i have a brand and that brand is chaos

sylva: u were googly eyed for him the entire party and then u suddenly need backup to go to one of his parties?! i know u well enough to know there’s something going on

sylva: also u just went and proved it so HAH

sylva: at one point i was tryna talk to u and ur eyes were fully glazed over watching him over my shoulder it was appalling

sylva: desmera 🥰 do u know her!!?

sylva: i’ll come BUT only bc ur being sweet to theon and i respect that and also ur fam is rich so i won’t feel bad when I order my 900th shot of vodka

[leopardsylva]

— 💌 renly & sylva

renly: excuse u i was a perfectly adequate boyfriend, i paid for all the dates and did not impinge ur honor

renly: so rude 3 :( here i was gonna ask if you wanted to come to that fancy benefit loras is throwing as my plus-one. also possibly to theon's nightclub i have been informed there will be strippers if that sweetens the deal

sylva: we both know my honour died in uni when i cast pornhub onto the lecture screens as a dare

sylva: but your point stands and i have never lived so large as when i was dating u this is true

sylva: immediate yes to loras’ thing bc his cousin is so fuckin hot i tear up thinking about her and getting laid means more to me than getting u to man up to tyrell

sylva: the kraken’s not really my scene but if u keep the drinks flowing i may be able to look past that

[leopardsylva]

— 💌 renly & sylva

renly: i am deeply offended that 5 missed calls from your favorite ex-boyfriend wouldn't lead to happiness or u ending up impressed

renly: what's your social calendar look like

sylva: ur my only ex-boyfriend renly, my one lapse in judgement

sylva: going to U3 in the weekend, and to a march in oldtown with a friend from work later in the month, couple of tinder dates, nothing major

sylva: better uses of my time than whatever you're about to ask me to i bet

[leopardsylva]

— 💌 renly & sylva

sylva: please tell me why there are 5 missed calls from you on my phone

sylva: wait no don't there is no outcome of this in which i end up happy or impressed w u

[leopardsylva]

— desmera redwyne

 February 20, 2020 U3 Music Festival; Dorne [ Day One ] @leopardsylva​

Not once since she had turned sixteen had Desmera Redwyne missed U3 – the music festival held in Dorne each February. The first time she’d attended, she’d been tagging along with her brothers and their cousins but as she’d grown older and her businesses had grown, too, she’d begun attending on her own, enjoying both the music and the fully furnished yurts that were often reserved nearly a year in advance. She stood in hers and looked in the mirror, her lips twisting as she appraised herself.

Every single piece of clothing that she wore had been perfectly curated, from the white lace shorts that fell short on her toned thighs to the cropped peacock blue tank that hit in the middle of her ribcage. She wore a sheer open cardigan over her clothing with a complementary floral print and the gladiator sandals on her feet showed off the fresh pedicure she’d received just the morning before. Her hair was curled at the ends and her makeup and accessories were flawless.

Satisfied, Desmera grabbed a small purse that she threw over her body before she walked toward the VIP area, only marginally annoyed by the wristband she had to wear signifying her as one. As she reached for a drink on a tray, however, she noticed too late that someone else was reaching for it as well. “Go ahead,” she said, her voice level. “I’ll get another.”

Sylva had grown up attending U3 and attended without fail (admittedly, the first few years she and her friends had snuck their way in without legal IDs). It was held not far from her home in Spottswood, but she and her friends always insisted on camping on-site to maximize the experience, though they never ventured anywhere near the fancy furnished yurts that U3 charged so steeply for. 

She had lost her friends at some point during Wylla Manderly’s set, but couldn’t find it in herself to care. They would meet back up later no doubt, and Sylva had never been a worrier about that sort of thing. What she needed desperately was another drink, considering how hot it was and the fact she could feel her buzz wearing off. 

The VIP section was right there, and the security guard checking wristbands at the gate looked just the right amount of over it. She tacked onto the back of a group returning, and plunged her wrist bearing the regular wristband into the pocket of her little rainbow striped playsuit and pulled her phone out with the other so she looked like she didn’t want to talk. It worked, because she’d done things like this enough to know it would. Sylva snagged a drink as soon as she could see one, knowing it was only a matter of time until she was kicked out. When she turned to see who she’d intercepted it from, her lips curved into a wicked smile.

“Fancy seeing you here. You stalking me, or what?” 

[leopardsylva]

[text] Are you trying to bribe me with sex? (from desmera)

desmera fucking redwyne: im a rotten cook, so i cant bribe u with food

desmera fucking redwyne: and i paid the last part of my rent in coins this week, so i cant bribe u with money

desmera fucking redwyne: im running out of options c;

[leopardsylva]

[text] I hate my life right now about as much as Robert Pattinson hates Twilight.

renly: im gonna guess there’s some kind of baratheon family reunion on today

renly: because i got a hauntingly similar text from shireen

renly: and im going to guess that kind of intense hatred for one’s life can only come from being in too close a proximity to shireen’s dad for more than four minutes

renly: stay strong baratheons ✊

[leopardsylva]

[text] I hate my life right now about as much as Robert Pattinson hates Twilight.

darling one: what’s happened did something happen 

darling one: who do i need to throw hands with

darling one: bc i will throw hands with anyone and anything thats made u hate ur life so astronomically 

darling one: i’ll facetime u on my lunchbreak okie?!

darling one:😚😚😚

[leopardsylva]

— bethany ‘beau’ blackwood‌

14 Valyrian Way 3:02 AM

The murmuring quieted a bit as the night went on, but it was obvious to mostly everyone that sleep would be something missed on that cold night. Beau found herself tucking away on a stairwell where she propped a stack of napkins up on her knees. Instead of worrying herself into a meltdown, she let her hands go to work, and with the charcoals that she found floating around in her bag, she began sketching the faces she could remember of the night. Rodrik Greyjoy was first, his realization staring up from a napkin that sat on the stair next to her, and Margery Tyrell came next, but her napkin floated down a few steps thanks to the draft. Now she worked silently on her father, her own brow furrowed as she thought of his warning. One long stroke made the outline of his suit when she spotted someone ascending the stairs, whether to join her or pass her was uncertain. Taking in a deep breath, she forced an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I made a bit of a mess,” she said, lips pursing before giving a breathy chuckle. “I figured I was good to hide now that I’ve been questioned.”

Sylva felt awfully out of place at the party even before the murder had been revealed to them all. She’d come instead of her mother, who’d been invited as one of the principal Dornish political advisors, and was sorely regretting the offer she’d made to save her mother the trip from Spottswood in the deep South of the continent. At least she had quickly been cleared by the investigators, seeing as she’d been visible on the CCTV throughout the entire timeframe of the crime, and could offer them very little in way of insights. She had resolved to find somewhere to hide out until the doors were opened and she could go home, but it seemed every nook left was occupied by people doing the same. She picked up the napkin that was floating down the stairs and glanced at it as she handed it back to its owner. “Wow, you’re good. That looks exactly like her.” She smiled, and looked up at the girl sitting on the stairs. “No need to apologise - this whole night’s a mess already. You mind if I hide out down here with you? Seems like everywhere else is full too...” 

[leopardsylva]

ø

Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text.

to queen shireen @ 11:15pm: shireeeeen to queen shireen @ 11:15pm: got a huge commission at work which means i have storm’s end train ticket moneyyyyto queen shireen @ 11:15pm: was thinking of coming down next weekend, would that work for u? imu and i want to go to that cool ass bar on the cliff u took me to last time, that was sick

[leopardsylva]

✿ [desmera]

Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text.

to desmera fucking redwyne @ 11:15am: saw this at the art gallery today and thought of youto desmera fucking redwyne @ 11:15am: (1) image attachedto desmera fucking redwyne @ 11:15am: i think it would make a very serious and intellectual addition to your collectionto desmera fucking redwyne @ 11:15am: hehe

[leopardsylva]

— arya stark

Arya debated whether or not she’d give the okay for the woman to stay up here. On the one hand, she’d escaped up here for a moment alone. On the other hand, she couldn’t say no to someone else looking for refuge at one of these inane events. “Yeah, alright. Have a seat.” She said and nodded over to the empty space of ledge next to her. “But it’s going to cost you about half of that drink, so it’s a good thing that you only want to be 50% more drunk.” Arya said with a smirk. “Who’d you manage to stain down there anyway?”

Sylva breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re a gods-send.” She sat down beside the stranger and placed the very full, very strong drink down between them. “And I’m happy to share.” The Dornishwoman grinned. “Some Northern MP, and I know this because he made it very clear to me who he was and why I’d made such a mistake.” She had no remorse to give, only a conspiratorial little chuckle. “He deserved it - I heard him making condescending jokes about his wife earlier in the night, so he’ll have to excuse me if I’m not filled with regret.” Sylva crossed her legs, glad for the millionth time tonight that she’d worn pants. “What drove you up here then? Hopefully something less dramatic...”

[leopardsylva]

– desmera redwyne

Desmera smiled again, this one more catlike than before. “I would say that’s dependent upon the piece and the artist,” she pointed out. “Just because something is overrated does not make it any less significant.” Desmera had a way about her at times, where she felt compelled to get the last word in, helpful or not thought it might be. Her eyes moved toward the portrait once more. “I would agree, however,” she said calmly. “That it could use a little more light. Clearly this room was never meant to be an art gallery; the set-up of the walls and the shadows precludes it.”

The catlike smile returned to her lips and it widened somewhat in lieu of a verbal response. She inclined her head as the other woman began to speak of the Martells having some of the series – they had not been overly horrendous to deal with, Desmera had found, but they certainly knew how to drive hard bargains. “The one in Oldtown is on a loan. It goes to Riverrun in a couple of months,” she said, voice helpful and yet so very knowing. “It’s a set of about one to two dozen,” she agreed. “Toland was incredibly prolific. The problem with this series is that many were given as gifts and so there aren’t any reliable provenances. There are stories, of course, but I would bet money there are at least three unaccounted for through official channels.”

She expected that her response had hit the other woman’s consciousness as intended and Desmera inclined her head. “It can be a thankless job some days,” she mused with a wry grin. Her eyebrow arched at the next comment and Desmera turned her head, looking over the pieces of art hanging on the wall this time, ignoring the centerpiece that she so very much wanted. Her lips thinned before she pointed to a nondescript painting on the far wall. It was of a young girl holding her pet rabbit and though it was nearly meaningless to the greater art community, a footnote in a great artist’s catalogue, to her it held sentimental value. “That one,” she remarked. “It hung in my bedroom until I turned twelve.”

“Not always.” Sylva smiled, happy to let her have the last word. There was no need to press any further, and she was casual enough that it didn’t matter to her. It wasn’t like Sylva was convinced that this woman truly cared about her opinion too much, especially after she’d so brazenly interrupted her solace.

“He’s pretty beloved in Dorne - I wouldn’t be surprised if people were hiding them out down there.” Sylva knew how protective her people were of their cultural heritage, especially when they were so often at odds with the rest of the continent. There were some seriously old money families down in her neck of the woods, and it wouldn’t come as a shock to think that someone had kept their possession of pieces in Toland’s series a little quieter than people would have liked. “It’s not too far to Riverrun from here, I’ll have to sneak up sometime and see it.” 

There had been a time when this Redwyne’s woman’s world might have been her own - maybe if she’d had the motivation to finish her studies, she might have met her in a slightly more impressive context than this. It was unlike Sylva to be desperate to make a good impression, but when a beautiful, powerful woman had her fixed in her gaze, the norm was thrown out the window. It was probably pointless, women who had gallery-quality pieces of art in their childhood rooms and a surname connected to one of the largest fortunes in the country were usually lost causes. “That’s as good a reason as any.” She drawled, her free hand going into her pocket as she leaned against an empty patch of wall. “Is that what made you fall in love with all this stuff, do you think?” Perhaps it was an assumption to make the leap that she loved art rather than just collected it as financial assets, but even if she was wrong, there was very little care in her for making faux pas.

[leopardsylva]

natasha liu bordizzo for elle men china, march 2018