ofclairvoyance - Tumblr blog

[ofclairvoyance]

“...and a gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain

[ofclairvoyance]

TRUTH SERUM: considering your devotion to lord blackmont, what are your true feelings towards the martells?

It was strange, she understood the reason for the question, given her devotion to Lord Blackmont, but what did it really matter? "I'm merely an outsider looking in, my loyalty doesn't make me entirely bias one way or the other. And that withstanding I don't feel as negatively towards them as Lord Blackmont does for the time being."

[ofclairvoyance]

𝑅𝑦𝑜𝑛 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡.

“You don’t need to ask.” The words sipped casually from his tongue, as though they were the most casual words one could possibly speak, perhaps not taking notice of the intimacy laced between his words. His meaning did not come from a place of love, despite the many whispers that many had regarding his close relationship with the strange woman from Asshai, a woman as mysterious as the land her very roots stemmed from.  As much as she tried to explain her gift to him, as he called it much to her own embarrassment, there was no use in trying to wrap his thoughts around something that was not of this world. It were not able to be empirically tested, touched or seen; and at this point, Ryon Blackmont had soon learned that some things were simply better left unsaid. 

Closing their distance somewhat, the man rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, knowing that there were times where the touching of palms had a link that was weaker; following the line of his veins up his forearm could sometimes bring a clearer image - something about the flow of blood through his being. He stayed silent as he allowed her to do what she done best, ensuring is breathing was steady and his emotions were composed lest they cloud her judgement, her sight. His dark orbs flickered over to the pieces of art upon the walls of her modest chambers; there was a time where Ryon felt as though he longed to be going home, though something in his gut told him home was not one place. He knew his life was to be one with ups and downs, thanks to the path he had chosen - with hard work and ambition comes rises and falls, though what mattered was how one rose once again. 

“Well?” He asked, his tone as low as the sound of the crackling fire in the fireplace. The mood in the room seemed sombre, though he were not entirely sure why. “Am I to meet our maker tomorrow?” He enquired, his tone more light hearted now, an obvious hint of teasing somewhere in his tone of voice. 

･ﾟ✧

The affirmation was not one Noor was entirely unused to, she’d been by his side long enough. Yet every so often she needed the reassurance perhaps because it had been so long since she’d last seen him, the battles beyond taking precedence over the battles within for a time. Yet here they were again. Noor let out the small breath that she’d held as he stepped forward rolling up his sleeves without any prompting, and just like that any small amount of discontent she’d held from the evening before, all her apprehension was forgotten. Reaching up to tuck her hair back begins her ears, she realized the strands were still very much damp from her bath earlier, she hadn’t slept for all that long at all.

Her gaze rested on his face a moment as her fingers brushed his palm ever so lightly before settling at his wrist. And as she felt his pulse calm against her touch her own raced momentarily, thought she willed it to settle so that she could focus. Finally her eyelids fluttered shut, her fingers tracing a path up his arm, by mere memory, her much slimmer wrist resting against his open palm. There was a sort of intimacy in this that never ceased to unsettle her. Perhaps because in essence she was attempting to delve deeper into his mind, beyond her visions, beyond anything that came to her on its own, she often wondered what it might be like to reach for even more.

Seeing his dreams was like running along corridor of open doors in the dark. Passing by different scenes, fading in and out. There was no rhyme or reason, or order she suspected, though that was not uncommon for nightmares she knew by now. They were all too fervent, and restless, and she was only getting mere glimpses, unable to latch on to anything for more than a few seconds. Yet it was enough for her to feel the gripping fear and sense of suffocation they must have enticed in him. An overcast of the days to come loomed over the dream scenes further complicating matters. Noor was breathless and tense when she finally opened her eyes as he cleared his throat. Her emotions flashing unaltered across her face at his blasphemous questions, “You mustn’t say such things! You never know which gods might be listening.” She managed as she tried to get her baring.

“Do you think perhaps these nightmares are just a manifestation of your own festering resentment, a sign perhaps that it’s time to lay them to rest? Before they strangle any remaining chance of happiness in your life?”

[ofclairvoyance]

TRUTH SERUM: What is your least and favorite thing about Ryon?

If not for the compulsion, Noor would likely never answer such a question. For it simply was not her place to freely speak of such things. Yet, "What I like the most about Lord Blackmont is...that he is a just man, and stubbornly so, he never backs down from his convictions, I find that admirable. And what I would say I like the least is his temper, when it flares he ceases to see all reason, losing sight of how his words might cut down the other."

@ofthedunes

[ofclairvoyance]

[ofclairvoyance]

TRUTH SERUM

feel free to ask anything, in character or anonymously, and my character will be forced to answer truthfully.

[ofclairvoyance]

𝑅𝑦𝑜𝑛 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡.

The dark path Ryon of House of Blackmont had set out upon had begun at three years old; when his own father Orius Blackmont died of the wasting disease after a particularly harsh drought in Dorne that year. They were unsure whether his water had been contaminated, whether he had been in close contact with some unwell individual; likely, considering the extended amount of the time the late Lord spent hearing out petitions of his subjects. Alas, his mother had only recently recovered from the birthing bed, delivering another boy when his uncle Jafar Blackmont snatched the regency from her hands - ready to finally step from behind the shadow of his late brother. 

Allyria Yronwood found herself returning to her family home, without her two children, and a vicious struggle ensued between the two houses regarding rights and property. House Blackmont remained unrelenting, and in the end Allyria Yronwood took a second husband, the widowed Nymor Martell - with the pair readying to start a new life together, mourning the one they had lost. Though, to the young impressionable mind of Ryon Blackmont, he heard only lies and poisoned, poison that had spread within him; Blackmont was all that mattered, their power, their name, their wealth. They would work to exceed their wealth, make deals, and grow in power; if not to overthrow, then to be a formidable threat. There was no space to mourn the loss of a mother that was very much alive, not when there was so much to learn and to do. 

In the end, the Lord of Blackmont came of age and realised the poison that had twisted within him; though there was no going back and changing what had already been ingrained. All that had been cursed upon him due to a name, a legacy; and he would build that name, that legacy, only to let it fall to dust. That was his ultimate revenge, his ultimate last word; House Blackmont would not continue from him. His brother? Perhaps, if he found the happiness. But him? Never. And nobody would be able to make him change his mind; not the pain of a lost love, nor the emerald eyes of golden haired siren that was to be his wife.

He never dreamed; his slumber was always black, though this night had been something else - he had seen the face of his mother, though he had never called her such a title for over three decades; serpents wrapped around her throat, her eyes wide, clutching as though she were battling to draw breath itself. What had it meant? What plagued him now? 

“Serpents.” He spoke, walking into her chambers without a second thought, letting the door shut firmly behind him as he looked around her accommodations. How different it were to the makeshift camp he found her in along the dusty road that day, and if he were not so wound up, perhaps he would have asked her if she were okay. “To be choked by serpents - what does it mean?” He asked again, turning to look upon her; how she had the answers to his questions in some way or another. 

･ﾟ✧

The mind was akin to a minefield, with unknown pitfalls at every turn sending you into endless spirals within your own subconscious, struggling for a way out, sometimes for the simple pleasure of a peaceful moment of clarity. Strangely, it was often easier navigated from the outside than from within. When Lord Blackmont walked passed her without a second glance, she didn’t need the knotting feeling in her stomach to gage the state of his mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d come to her this way, letting the door fall close she went to pick up the swathe of fabric where it lay at the corner of her bed draping it across her her shoulders, and wrapping her arms around herself beneath the fabric as she was prone to. 

Noor stood a distance from the man simply observing him, she did not see what troubled him, it didn’t quite work like that. Truth be told she wasn’t entirely certain how it worked most of the time, there were few things she could to coax herself to see, or feel more but it was often a leap of fate. His question now however was the most difficult, she wasn’t well learned like others of her kin, she knew very little of dream weaving, very little of the omens and auspice signs they forebode. All she to draw on was wisps of memories of her early lessons or the many tall tales and stories she’d been told or had overheard in her travels across Essos.

“You know I can only begin to explain what I can see, the path to finding answers it never as simple we might want it to be.” She never lied to him, she never claimed to know more than she did or pretended, to gain further favor as much as she wished she had the answers, the cure to his every worry. Thus the fear that one day that which was within her reach would cease to be enough and he might send her away remained ever prevalent. Taking in a measured breath she moved to stand before him untucking her hands from where they worked nervously against her center, to hold out a slight palm to him. “May I?” She asked, touch one of the few ways she could press on in attempt to see more.

[ofclairvoyance]

𝑅𝑦𝑜𝑛 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡.

There was an unease Noor felt in the Vale that had her mostly secluded to the confines of the guest rooms she’d been provided as a member of the House Blackmont company. Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown and unexplored that prompted her reservations, it was a state of mind she likely wouldn’t ever be able to abandon growing up the way that she had. It was only after years that she had grown accustomed to the people and places within Blackmont, and other places within Dorne. Furthermore with the Eyrie hosting so many guests from across the continent she felt a bit overwhelmed, being a receptacle of others emotions and gets glimpses at the fate of other. After all this time she’d learned how to fully open herself to her abilities, thought had yet to master how to pick and choose when to employ them. A reminder of just how much there was to learn, she wondered if it would ever even be possible without the tutelage from her own people. 

Noor had also decidedly been avoiding Lord Blackmont since the alliance dinner. She was uncertain if he might be upset with her, and she concluded if he needed her he’d call upon her. her plans for that evening were to devote herself to reading some of the books she’d burrowed from the maester, stories of greenseers and the children of the forest. Freshly bathed she’d retired in a threadbare cotton tunic soft and well worn and flowing pants of the same, sitting on the ground beside the fire to ward off the evening chill of the mountains. Falling asleep just there, awoken only by the thuds of the knockers against her door. It took her a moment to rouse from her dreams though in a half waking state she managed to reached the door opening it a crack to peer out into the hall only seeing a wall of black fabric at first than finally Ryon’s face. She stepped back from the door in a start. “My lord, I wasn’t expecting— why did not you not send for me?” Though it occurred to her than that perhaps she’d not woken at the sound of any earlier arrivals.

@ofthedunes​

[ofclairvoyance]

[ofclairvoyance]

𝐺𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐿𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟.

The room cleared one by one after the tensions had escalated to a boiling point. It was like the nerves of the room were coursing through her leaving her feeling rattled and exhausted. She watched as Lord Blackmont stormed off from the room haughtily and she deflated rubbing her temple a moment before she stood wrapping her veil tighter around herself. Before she could make to leave, her gaze locked with the golden haired princess that had occupied the seat beside Ryon all evening. She exhaled slowly before approaching her with gathered courage. “We never had the chance to be formally introduced, your highness. My name is Noor, I am a humble devotee of House Blackmont.”

@gcuienveres​​

[ofclairvoyance]

Have compassion for everyone you meet, even if they don’t want it. What appears bad manners, an ill temper or cynicism is always a sign of things no ears have heard, no eyes have seen. You do not know what wars are going on down there where the spirit meets the bone.

Miller Williams  (via slytherinwritess)

[ofclairvoyance]

𝑁𝑜𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝐴𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝐷𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟

[ofclairvoyance]

[ofclairvoyance]

You blossom under kindness, don’t you? Like a rose.

Sylvain Reynard, Gabriel’s Inferno  (via thelovejournals)

[ofclairvoyance]

name:  noor

title:  seer

age:  twenty six years old

birthdate:  february 12th, 114

allegiance:  house blackmont

region:  drone

𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚.

unknown

𝑯𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚.

tw: kidnapping, slavery

a young girl caught up the disarray of time, and lost to all those she could have ever hoped to call dear, noor’s life has come so far from where she began, the young woman wouldn’t know where to even consider returning to. the daughter of an asshai woman living in qarth in a small sisterhood, who had fathered the girl her mother likely hadn’t even known. her conception was for the purpose of the sisterhood, and that is the small community she knew those very early years of her life. recollection of those years however, had now faded from young woman’s memories, in truth those memories were the first she’d pushed out of her mind when her fate had turned, when she lost the only sense of safety she’d known in the world. and love? perhaps, she really couldn’t recall.

noor had been a beautiful child, her soft rounded face, large eyes and lush waves were strikingly different than her mother’s otherwise plain and worn likeness, the soft of young girl you couldn’t help but smile at in passing for the radiance you might find in return. though those smiles were short lived for what the future held in store for her, noor had barely just grown out of her girlhood when everything changed. stolen in the bustle of a crowded market on what was to be any other simple afternoon shopping for rations. and in a matter of hours, the young girl was so far away from the life she had come to know, all the magic that had once surrounded her of no use in her untrained hands.

carted off to slavers bay, noor was sold to a slave master in yunkai for the best price upon arrival to the disreputable city. and from there began her training in the exotic arts, she learned to dance from dusk to dawn, and sing till her lung gave way. it was a torturous routine, and under the tutelage of the worst, there were little time for her or there other slaves to seek any sort of comfort in one another, friendship a luxury. forgotten with the rites and incantations she’s known, forgotten with the people who had once shown her some semblance of kindness, all there was her continued survival, through towards what ends she did not know.

years went by just the same, time folding into itself it felt. handlers came and went, there was travel but with little joy, the fates slowly bringing her further east it seemed, her trails and tribulations continued, in the time that passed the young woman had all but suppressed the gifs that were her birthright, the magic that she was born with. though there was never anyone who care to hear of her intuition, nor did she ever think long on the stories of strangers she saw in passing. her gifts drowned out by the chaos of her existence.

it was about five or so years ago when fate finally brought her over the narrow sea, westeros the far away place she never could’ve fathomed landed up where her fortune had brought her, and this new place that was so very different from the lands across the sea for the first time allowed hope to blossom where there was previously nothing but barren reprieve. the company that had brought her was traveling further east into the continent, the destination unknown to her, though the journey was long and not with conflict. some weeks in, their group was attacked by bandits and in the shuffle she sought the opportunity for escape, and finally there was some small kindling hope in her to spur her on. it was by some miracle that she met no one more nefarious before she finally landed up in a small roadside inn. the couple that owned it were elderly and kind, their kindness was more striking to her than any of the cruelties she’d encountered. they took pity on the young woman who barely spoke the common tongue, and was skittish to the core. they provided her with the small comforts in their possession, hot meals, and cot by the kitchen coals. slowly as her nerves eased she was given small tasks in the inn, cleaning and serving mostly in exchange for shelter, though for the first time in years noor felt some semblance of contentment.

half a year passed there in the blink of an eye, more settled for the first time in her life she found herself wondering on the intuitions she possessed, the visions she had rare as they were. the first significant one she had was in the next rainy season. a pair of men had stopped into the inn in passing for some pints and a meal. they were different than a lot of the highway men that passed into the inn, not even soldiers but likely nobility or so the others whispered. the young woman had paid little mind to them, until an awful feeling washed over her when she neared to serve them. the vision was fractured, and she could barely made sense of it though all it left in it’s wake was this awful feeling that something bad was going to happen to them.

it was a feeling she could not shake and she watched the two from a distance for a time while they stayed, finally unable to let them pass without saying anything she approached the first one she caught alone in a cramped hall. that was her first time speaking to ryon blackmont, and she’d barely been able to get the words out her accent thick and her words jumbled but through it all she was able to impart her warning, she cautioned them of bad omens, not knowing what else to call it, she implored the settle in a room till the next fort night and not move one from the inn. she got the feeling that he believed her to be mad, and the lord heeded no warning dismissing her without a second glance. even after they’d left she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that misfortune was to find them.

her visions came and went of the same until she could take it no longer. finally gathering the few supplies she could muster that next morning, she went off in search of them, and surely she found them trapped in the wake of a mudslide. after offering the small amount of water and bread she’d brought with her she went back to get them help. little had she known her small act of compassion would change her course for the better.

when lord blackmont asked her how she’d known what would come to pass, she had no answer for him, though frightful as she was of most she easily offered the only explanation she could think of. she told him that her mother had known magic, and that she often had small visions of strange things. his reasons for making up his mind she couldn’t guess at but he asked her to come along with him, she was in no position to refuse nor had she ever had the luxury to either. the small debt she owed to the inn keepers was settled and her next journey began.

as time passed in the dornishman’s company the fright within her slowly went, in time she began to trust that the man intended her o harm, and when that hurdle had passed she began to truly appreciate what he’d done for her. in his company for the first time since her childhood, noor felt some semblance of security, happiness even. he expected little more of her then to use her abilities to aid him to whatever ends, and soon she began to try harder, focus, and trust in her own intuitions so that she may serve him better.

as time passed, noor did find her focus yielding results and the resources the noble had at his disposable in the way of maesters and books also helped. and in time her loyalties to the man have only grown more resolute. she diligently dedicates herself to his every task whole heartedly, accompanying him in his travels beyond the conflicts he’s pulled into. offers suggestions, and discerns foes where she can, warning him off unfavorable paths, and doing all that she can to win his approval. her indulgences are in just that, though the man isn’t prone to offering compliments, she’s been with him long enough to know the shifts in his temperaments.

ryon was her savior, and noor very much considers herself in his debt for life for the safety and liberation he allowed her in exchange for what she considers very little in return. she dutifully serves as his seer, and wishing to aid him in whatever which way she can.

[ofclairvoyance]