naaijas

[naaijas]

−−−  ꧁  starter for @jalabharmooton !! long-standing tradition places naija manderly in maidenpool, visiting jalabhar mooton and reminicsing on skills learned during her younger years from the lord.

soft, malleable earth clings to the fabric of her garments and bare skin alike, casting no judgment on where it chooses to settle. it's always been her favorite part of the activities in maidenpool. while amir did his best to keep up with the quick nature of the local adolescents, naija preferred to observe their fun from the safety of the shore. from an outsiders perspective, the act might come off as isolating, and she could only imagine it's what spurred jalabhar mooton to take her under his wing all those years ago.

squinted, brown hues are in mid-admiration of the apexing sun when the snapping of twigs pulls her focus. lazy, half-grin dimples her cheek at the sight of him, a much taller man than he was when she'd been initially coaxed into the waters that nipped at her heels, but his features hadn't changed much aside from the inevitable maturation caused by war and loss. the very same that claimed nasir and amir alike.

"i haven't caught one yet, if that's what you came to ask." levity clings to her tone, as if it weren't obvious enough by the dry state of her clothing. it's not as restricting as her northern attire, and when the temperature begins its incline shes grateful for the modest skirt and sleeveless blouse that takes the place of thick furs. "the sun was sitting too low for me to track them, so i'll hear none of your chiding this afternoon, jalabhar." faux seriousness is a stark contrast to playful features when she turns back to face the open water, petite hand tapping rhythimcally against the dirt beside her.

"have you anything to share before you drag me in? it's been quite a while since our last visit, you know."

[naaijas]

flurry of melting snowflakes fall from a shaken cloak once the lady has found shelter within the walls of winterfell. some still stick stubbornly to the dampened curls that frame frost-touched features, but her worry isnt with their effects on herself. focus is intent on the small parchment she grips closely to the warmth of her body. coal that she had procured for her newest vision in artworks trail across it in a few scattered drips that she fears may threaten the integrity of something that only her eyes intend to look upon. naija's unsure of what the mess of shapes and shades is supposed to amount to anyway, or if it even had a meaning before the melted droplets had their way with it. just that when her fingers felt that particular tingle in their tips, she must answer no matter the result or circumstance.

each prolonged gaze towards the damaged etching gave it more charm, and she's on the fence between hiding it away in her seafoam gown and tossing it in the dancing embers when a decorated cadence summons her from deep admiration. the former it is, she figures and her digits follow suit, careful not to sully the lining of an ornately hemmed pocket as soft brown hues study the man who is familiar only by a melodic accent that stands apart from the gruffness of the northmen she finds herself surrounded by.

"lord ryon," makes quick work of returning his gesture, yet she cant help but feel much smaller than usual under a gaze as curious as her own. "lady naija, of house manderly. unfortunately my title extends to that alone." references his own title, unsure of its true importance or if the confidence he exudes simply makes it so. neither hold much weight in the first impression given. he's captivating, with a smile that coaxes one of her own onto once rested petals.

"thats quite an impressive feat, my lord, though i'm afraid you came all this way for nothing if it is another you seek." humor can be found at the tail-end of her compliment. she is genuinely curious as to what could possibly lure a dornishman from the comfort of sun-kissed lands to the kingdom of winter. afew theories swirl as she adjust a frame once positioned in front of flames towards a towering frame that rivaled their bold light. "or is it a wolf that's led you here? now those we have in droves."

who: @naaijas what: while in the north on business, taking his sisters to Winterfell to see if the King wants to marry one, he takes notice of the Manderly sister he's never seen.

The vastness of Winterfell was as cold and imposing as he had been warned, but Lord Ryon Wyl did not seem particularly bothered by it. His dark, bronze skin—native to the sun-drenched lands of Dorne—was cloaked beneath the finest northern furs, the heavy layers somehow blending both his origins and his current environment. The fur-lined cloak was fastened with an intricate brooch of silver, designed in the shape of a tower of a grey snake —a personal touch, a nod to his own sigil.

And then he saw her.

She was standing near the hearth, her presence as striking as any of the fiery hues dancing in the flames. He took a long moment to observe, his gaze tracing her form, noting the elegance in her posture, the quiet strength in her demeanor. She was no stranger to grace, yet there was something unfamiliar about her, something he couldn’t place. And it irked him, this mysterious allure that tugged at his attention.

Approaching with his usual confidence, he offered a polite, almost teasing smile as he came to stand before her. "Oh," he said with a hint of playful curiosity, his voice carrying a distinct northern Dornish accent that wrapped each word in smooth, almost musical inflections. "And who are you?"

He looked her over again, his gaze lingering for a beat longer than necessary.

"I’m Lord Ryon Wyl, the Wyl of Wyl," he introduced himself with a slight bow of his head, his tone dripping with both arrogance and charm. "I killed a dragon once, you know." There was a pause. He knew well the importance of claiming feats, no matter how true they were. His eyes never left hers.

[naaijas]

myriad of voices clashing and melding are slowly becoming a source of contention for the northern lady. she doesn't enjoy the west as much as those buzzing around her, though the opposite would surely be spoken to save face. theres something hanging in the air when foot meets lannister soil that causes a relaxed spine to become rigid as the rules set in place by their king. she's on edge and the unfamiliar voice that draws attention once fixed on an intricate tapestry is an unwelcomed addition to her discomfort.

"lord royce." dip of pinned coils is the only formality she gives him. his features may escape her at the moment, but comments on his stature are cemented into the parts of her mind where irritation makes home. amirs descriptions of the man, though negative and exaggerated in his ire, were aligned enough for her to know who had come to interrupt her rouse of social interaction. ​"and it seems you have a habit of singling us out instead of confronting the pack. is there a particular reason for that?" doesnt bother to meet what she assumes to be a smug gaze, not until a goblet of deep red liquid rests between fingertips adorned in sparkling silver rings. only then do the matching set of hues reunite. his are different though. theres something lacking within them, even now as charm snakes its way around his taunting words.

"make no mistake, lord royce. i am cut from the same cloth as my brothers." leaves little room to question the pointed statement, yet she's sure someone with his reputation could find a way. "but i am interested to know what it is about me you find so different aside from the obvious?" arms fold defensively, dominant hand rising to allow the lady a sip as she awaits an answer shes not sure she even wants to hear.

location: during the westerlands event, after his confrontation with amir manderly, axell is looking for more trouble to cause

@naaijas

the glow of golden candlelight spilled across the hall, casting fleeting shadows over the laughing faces of nobles and the clinking of goblets. axell royce stood near one of the towering stone columns, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. hundreds of people moving around enjoying each others company the ghost of runestone’s eyes were set only on one person.

she moved with grace, her presence understated but unmistakable. axell watched her for a long moment, his expression unreadable and calm but his thoughts anything but. naija manderly. he knew of her well enough but never had any reason to speak with her. she was pleasant to look at but not exactly his taste. but he could be persuaded if must. he knew he shouldn’t speak with her. he knew approaching her would draw ire—especially from her brothers. but wasn’t that the point? the thought alone sent a flicker of excitement through him. how could he pass up such a delectable thought?

with deliberate slowness, he pushed off the column and wove his way through the throng of revelers, boots striking a measured rhythm on the stone floor. he approached from the side, his towering frame casting a shadow over her as he reached her. “lady naija,” he greeted, his gravelly voice low but unmistakably smooth. the faintest hint of a smirk curled at his lips as he inclined his head, though his posture radiated confidence rather than deference. “it seems the manderly family is out in full force tonight. i’ve already spotted your brothers lurking about, looking like wolves in the wrong forest.”

he let the words linger, knowing the implications wouldn’t be lost on her. “but you,” he continued, his eyes flicking over her with an assessing, almost predatory edge. “you don’t seem the lurking type. no, you seem… different.”

[naaijas]

−−−  ꧁  starter for @mintharaestermont . a reunification between best friends in the west.

the passing of time, as daunting as it is grueling, inches by at a snails pace as sleek leaves fall from a plucked branch.a mindless activity, really. she's biding her time until the excellence that is minthara estermont graces her presence. its a friendship built on the strangest of foundations, but the facets in which their personalities compliment each other far outweigh any circumstance with which they might have met.

light breeze that once carried the scent of the florals that surrounded her now hold something much more familiar to her senses. she'd never come across a wildfire that hadn't smelled of smoke and ash before. not until minthara, whose fusion of citrus and sweet petals set her a part from the others of her region.

"i was starting to think they'd never let you out of their sight." excitement weaves itself within her words, and within a moment, she's standing from her comfortable place on the soft grass. cloak makes the action difficult for her to do so, but she still manages to wrap her arms around a friend that's been gone for far too long. "you must tell me of all i've missed at once."

[naaijas]

REWATCHING SITCOMS TO REGAIN MY SANITY → 27/∞

[naaijas]

[naaijas]

[naaijas]

♡ antonia gentry on jimmy fallon 

[naaijas]

−−−  ꧁  closed starter for @tionpeake . naija catches up with an old friend at the ceremony for nasir.

many familiar faces bring the court of winter to its full fruition. notable are those from surrounding regions, most of which she'd learned for the sake of diplomacy, but among them towers one man whom she knows by choice. though his ancestors had forsaken theirs, naija was surprised to see tion make amends (albeit inadvertant) through his kinship with nasir. of all the people to witness nasir receive his honor, he is amongst those that she knows shares a happiness as genuine as her own.

"i was hoping you'd make it, lord peake." thick curls bob as she delivers a uniform bow of the head. a snippet of formality before delicate arms make an attempt to envelop his frame in a hug. "now the celebrations can truly begin." genuine remark is quick to from lips curved up into a grin. despite his closer friendship with nasir, naija found enjoyment in tions presence once he proved to fit so seamlessly within the manderly family dynamic. " im sure the boys are clamoring to find you, would you like help in tracking them down? unless i'm far too late, of course."

[naaijas]

−−−  ꧁  closed starter for @owenstark . naija takes an opportunity to speak with the king during the celebration for nasir about the possibility of expanding her curriculum past white harbor.

moment taken from the presence of her brothers sees the youngest manderly wading through a sea of dancing bodies. pleasantries exchanged are fleeting along her brief walk towards their king. pride in his growth as a leader nips at the heels of what she feels for her brothers. he spent a significant time as a ward of their house, after all, and she remembers the adolescent that once joined the chaos of the manderly siblings in the halls of white harbor. strong hope that this connection will sway in her favor fuels her decision to request audience on such short notice. talks of nasir taking his place at the court of winterfell for more extended periods has her on edge, and bringing her talent as an instructor to this very place may just be her guise to keep a protecting eye on the eldest manderly.

"your grace," muscle memory takes over voluntary motion in the form of a curtsy. "i haven't yet found the opportunity to offer my gratitude. you've given house manderly a great honor and a celebration to match." idle hands find home behind her back, nervous digits falling into their habit of toying with ends of coiled curls. "i wonder if a moment of your time might be an extension of your generosity? i won't keep you from the festivities too long, i swear it."

[naaijas]

remembrance brings with it a wave of nostalgia that naija tends to push out of her mind when it hits her. not that she doesnt enjoy looking back on the days of their youth, time spent on this shore slowly shaping who she is at her core. its the missing stones in their strong family foundation that make each memory as bittersweet for the manderly as shes sure it is for her mirror. "all too well," humor is evident in a heavy tone, "she asked why i hadn't returned the favor, and told manal and i that the next time anyone aside from she lay a hand to us, kin or otherwise, that we come to our own defense." thinks fondly for a brief moment of silence on the vision of regality that was and still is manal manderly i. lessons from the woman held a wide range of knowledge, from that still fresh on shivering lips to the poised way she holds her posture even in the presence of said kin.

"yes, yes, i know." favors a knowing mumble for her typical inflection. irritation doesnt plague her, as the assurance mught suggest, but rather a hesitation that stifles what she wishes to say until words are nothing more than a dull, constant ache in her chest. brows furrow in response to both that ache and her brother's daming insinuation. hand raises to instinctively lay a soft, yet pointed blow to his shoulder, disappointment evident when it doesnt connect. "gods no, amir, what is wrong with you? me with a bolton? i think this family has suffered enough don't you?" momemt of levity before returning to the thoughts lingering in the back of her mind. perhaps there are things nasit needn't hear, like the fracture in her faith or the fear she carries within at the very thought of his departure.

"does it worry you?" asked frankly, though she doesnt break a gaze intent on ebbing and flowing tides. "the position nas has found himself in. it is an honor of the highest. a blessing from the gods hands directly to his, yet i cannot feel the pride i know i should over the.. dread." a carefully chosen word to cover every conflicting emotion. "lord karstark was not present at the ceremony, and you would be bereft of my truth if were to say his absence doesn't unnerve me." blame cannot be placed upon the lord, if she were in his shoes she might not be in attendance for the person thats replacing her. she can, however, worry about the implications of his absence with the current northern turmoil. "i worry that there may be retribution and that our dear brother will be at the core of it."

squinted, misty brown hues finally lower to the dark sands before making a familiar path to amirs. "do you think that they could hurt nasir?"

❅

amir stood silently at her side, feeling the familiar cold bite of the wind tug at the edges of his furred cloak. he didn’t mind the chill; it was her that he worried about. yet, naija had a way of making even the cold feel like something that could be weathered, especially when she spoke like this. he stepped closer to her, the sand beneath his boots soft and familiar. the shores of white harbor had always been a place of quiet contemplation for them, especially as children.

they had been inseparable then, like two halves of the same whole, and as much as he liked to project his outward confidence to the world, there was something about naija that made him feel more himself, more true. a soft laugh escaped his lips, but it wasn’t one of those loud, raucous ones he often shared with others. this was different. a quiet laugh that was just for her. "i remember," he said, the words thick with warmth.

"you were shitting yourself, but you knew...you know i ended up taking the blame for that, don't you?" he asked, a familiar spark in his dark orbs as he looked upon his twin. "on gods, i told her i pushed you. you're as clumsy as an arse, still." he responded, his face one of mischief as he looked upon her, noting their footprints against the black sand beach. he wasn’t sure why the words came out like they did, but it felt like the right thing to say. his hand brushed through his shoulder length dreadlocks, a quiet reminder to himself that he had always carried his burdens out loud, had always been the one to make noise and stir things up.

but naija, she could keep everything locked inside, waiting for the right moment to share. and now that moment had come. "whatever it is, you know i’ll keep it here, with me," he said, his voice firm, but gentle. "don't be telling me you've done something mad though, like try to shoot your shot at that weird bolton. ugly ass." he let out a low laugh that was more like a taunt as he looked toward his sister, moving before she got the opportunity to hit his shoulder. "nasir can listen to our issues, it's fine. he's meant to."

[naaijas]

Antonia Gentry (400x640)

[naaijas]

−−−  ꧁  closed starter for @amirofmanderlys .

cold rush of wind exposes the spaces of a loosely wrapped fur cloak. naija knows better than to be this close to the shore when the weather began its metamorphosis. frostbitten limbs are hard to come back from, yet she's sent for amir to join her in this very spot. her mind is heavy and her paintings aren't doing their job in helping her to make sense of what troubles her most. this is an inner quarrel meant for the one person who knows her better than she does herself.

"do you remember coming here- when we were small?" doesn't need to turn to know whose footsteps disturb the still sand underneath steady feet. "i got that jagged seashell stuck in my hair right here," boot juts out from the warmth of the cloak to place emphasis on the focal point of her memory. "i remember i was so panicked, i can even feel the heaviness in my chest thinking how mad mother would be to find out i had done something so silly, that she might have to cut me short like you." chuckle causes a ripple effect on stoic features, thr apples of her cheeks rising enough to obstruct her vision, "you comforted me, though. you held my hand and assured me we could figure it out together. we might have been unsuccessful, but i knew i could trust in you for just about anything." she knows her stalling tactic has run its course with the widely known revelation and she finally adjusts herself to peer up at him. "if i tell you what plagues me, it mustn't leave this shore. nasir has heard enough of my worries."

[naaijas]

♛ → THE NORTH present(s) NAIJA JANNAT MANDERLY, the LADY of WHITE HARBOR. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the TWENTY-EIGHT year old FEMALE who was REVERENTIAL & BENEVOLENT before they saw the first of the flames, is now ALOOF & RETICENT after seeing the last. they’re often associated with the glimmer of a freshly plucked pearl, the nurturing pressure of a tightly wrapped bandage, and a lingering cloud of sea salt, vanilla and cinnamon. ( antonia gentry fc )

- every notable action that naija's taken to date, has been on her own time, and her birth was the first to be seen of it. she'd been born only a few minutes after amir, but it was enough to strike fear into those who witnessed. they feared the babe would perish, but she emerged with an ear-piercing cry, awaking one of the same pitch in her older brother. the manderly twins had finally arrived, healthy and mighty as they would be for years to come.

- being the last born child of hashim and manal manderly has given naija plenty to look up to. she holds her parents ahind siblings in the highest regard when she gets the chance to verbalize it, with her late father and sister being the focus of those conversations. while she may not agree with everything they do, (and will respectfully let them know her displeasure), she will defend them until her last breath. marriage may be wading within the tides, but naija will always be a manderly at heart.

-while all known efforts in war to come from the youngest manderly are quiet acts of service and aid, she was very vocal during the search for manal, going as far as to try to venture out herself. heavy guard kept her plans from coming to fruition though, and without her twin there to anchor her she fell into a deep darkness. her recovery didnt bring much alleviation to naijas mental state. it broke whatever was left of her soul to see manal in such a state, and she exhausted every effort to help her return to some semblance of the sister she admired so dearly.

- the death of manal manderly ii dealt a devastating blow. with her father since passed, and amir seemingly silent in skagos, she found herself clinging to the shreds of family she had left. shes become fiercely supportive of nasir despite the deep rooted respect she already had for the way he led the family through hashims death and every other tragedy since. it strikes a new fear in her when he must leave for his duty as hand of the king, often inventing reasons she should come along. she far from possesses the physical traits to protect him, but she still feels as though she must try.

- naija focuses a busy mind on humanitarian efforts, first and foremost. her most cherished act of charity is the education of lowerborn girls. she teaches them to read and write, using stories of the seven as the framework of her lessons. they bring comfort to both teacher and pupils, and it helps her feel connected to her faith during hard times. during times of war, she can be found nursing wounded soldiers to health and distributing food to those who come to white harbor from battle-ravaged villages.

- the arts hold a special place in the youngest manderly's heart, and that love extends past mere spectation. naija often associates sounds and feelings with colors, and will paint what she feels if the pull is strong enough. tucked away in a chest of drawers are countless works, most are vivid recollections of conversations that elicited an emotion from her, and acts as a catalyst for her to understand them better. amir may be the only one who can even begin to decipher the meaning behind them.

- matters of the realm are far beyond her knowledge, but she can say that her support for owen and his vision for the north are strong. she tends to fall in line with the eldest manderly's views, but this is decision shes made for herself. the time for change in north has been brewing, and she's prepared for a shift in the tides.

[naaijas]

-Zoë Lianne