offglory

[offglory]

"i suppose i was a fool to assume you would not know of my presence within the castle walls. who saw me? should i be worried?" she looks around as if the perpetrator was still nearby, "ensure it stays between us and the parties involved. i will make it worth your while." she reaches down to grab the coin pouch she stuffed in the shaft of her boot—the same one given to her by the man that tried to convince her to kill the lannister. only forty silver stags. it was surely a joke when he handed it to kesara, and the jest continued as she tossed it towards sarya with a playful smile. forty pieces of silver for the life of a nobleman, forty pieces of silver for an official petition to the master of whispers of king's landing. preposterous either way. "it is unimportant. some lord that pissed off a city guard." she reveals with an eye roll, "i heard men in red armor saying something about a lannister always paying their debts, so i went to see if it was true. alas," she stops walking to lift up her shirt to show the blue and purple skin that will surely only get darker "this is all i received." the people who knew her would unanimously agree that kesara was not above extortion. it was unfortunate she had met her match—or at least the closest thing to it she's found in years.

The tunnels were the easiest way to sneak in and out of the Red Keep, for her and for the people who worked for her. People knew about them of course, but there was no way to keep watch all the time. And Sarya knew exactly when those times were, it was their job to know when things happened and how they happened. Right now they'd heard rumors of a fight and a face. If the whispers were true then Sarya knew exactly who had been sneaking around. And by the gods she hoped they were true.

As soon as the hooded figure came into view Sarya knew they'd been right. "Kesara darling how have you been?" Looking over the woman she didn't miss the limp. "I heard there was someone skulking around the keep, I had to see for myself. I wasn't expecting such a friendly face." The limp wasn't exactly unexpected, "I see you've gotten yourself into trouble, who did that to you?" The pair went back, Sarya enjoyed their company and they both benefited from each other. "Anyone I should know about?"

[offglory]

"yes well," she acknowledges with a single nod and an uncomfortable smile, "unavoidable circumstances. i am sure you understand." there is little to be said between them that had not already been spoken years ago and small talk felt wrong. both of them above it, their history stood tall and steadfast and unavoidable, leering over their shoulders. all they could do was buy time until it eventually became the topic of conversation. "you are here to fight in the war i assume? on behalf of the targaryens? that is a choice." when she was just a girl learning of the world beyond her, the studies never extended to westeros. the distance from leng so substantial that before she fled the first time, she could count on one hand the amount of times she thought of the western continent—and even then it was always in passing. it was nymeria who taught her about dorne, about the conquest, about her namesake and it made her ... enjoy her time with her even more. "i suppose neither of us are where we should be." she muses, looking over at her once more. if she thought about it too hard she would realize it hurt. they were never supposed to see each other again—a cruel joke by fate that this city blessed her with old friends, and just when she thought she was safe it cursed her with the knowledge that nymeria was still alive, still happy it seemed. it's what she wanted for her, but kesara knowing she had lived what seemed like a lifetime without her made her chest hurt. she rolls her head to ease the tension forming in her neck and releases her fists she didn't realize were clenched, "do you plan to see it through? the war, i mean."

she  had  not  expected  to  see  a  ghost  when  she’d  set  her  shortsword  down.   with  her  hair  tightly  wound  in  a  braid,  a  hood  over  her  head,  nymeria  martell  could’ve  been  a  shadow  herself,  the  whisper  of  a  presence.   a  visit  to  her  preferred  smith  in  king’s  landing  had  been  long  overdue:   though  nothing  would  ever  replace  the  shortsword  her  father  had  gifted  her,  she’d  found  herself  in  need  of  another  weapon  after  rook’s  rest,  unwilling  to  risk  being  left  without  one  in  the  midst  of  battle.   the  weight  of  her  unexpected  companion’s  eyes  on  her   —   as sharp  and  assessing  as  they’d  always  been   —   almost  sends  a  shiver  down  her  spine.   almost.   half  of  her  had  anticipated  crossing  paths  with  kesara  of  leng  again  one  day,  maybe  even  secretly  yearned  for  it  in  those  moments  where  regrets  lingered,  but  she  had  not  imagined  such  a  moment  to  happen  here,  like  this. for  a  moment,  she  simply  watches  the  smith  as  he  turns  her  blade  in  his  hands,  inspecting  it.   her  commission  would  be  for  something  similar  in  size  and  edge.   she  does  not  look  at  kesara  immediately,  and  only  when  the other  speaks,  does  nymeria  turn  her  head,  dark  gaze  settling  on  the  phantom  beside  her.   the  years  had  not  changed  her  much.   or  perhaps  they  had,  in  ways  unseen.      ❝      no.      ❞      her  voice  is  soft  yet  even,  one  brow  raising  slightly,  in  curiosity,  in  a  manner  that  ignores  how  the  beat  of  her  heart  seems  heavier.      ❝      i  am  not.      ❞      there  is  a  pause,  thick  and  stretching  endlessly  between  them.   it’s  the  sort  of  silence  that  comes  with  unfinished  history,  with  words  left  unsaid,  too  long  ago  to  be  spoken  now.   too  long  ago  to  matter.      ❝      and  you  are  not  in  braavos.      ❞      it’s  a  statement,  not  a  question.   she  could  ask  why.   she  could  ask  a  thousand  things,  but  she  chooses  not  to.   instead,  she  allows  a  small  smile  to  touch  the  corners  of  her  lips,  brief  as  a  sigh.      ❝      though  i  suppose  it  was  foolish  of  me  to  think  you  would  stay  in  one  place,  kesara.      ❞

[offglory]

WHO :   KESARA  &  DAELLA  ( @houseofthexsher ) WHERE :   AN ALLEY IN KING'S LANDING WHEN :   LATE AT NIGHT * TW FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF A DEATH / MURDER. *

the man slumped down the wall as kesara withdrew her knife from his throat. some merchant with an unhappy wife who asked asked her to do something about it; she doesn't ask why. it was a cheap job, the price reflecting how easy it was to find him, to catch him off guard, to rid the world of him and the consequences that followed. he wasn't very important. the city watch would do a sweep of the area when someone reports it but would disregard it as a fight that went too far within hours and close the investigation. as long as she's on the other side of the city by then, it is no matter to her what their ruling is. she lowers herself to look into his eyes, to make sure he's really gone before she leaves. her hands reach for his sleeve to wipe his own blood that dirtied her property, and then she hears the gasp behind her. she turns her head sharply at the noise—a young girl, one who looked on in fear at both kesara and the man she's crouched next to. she slowly rises from her position, never removing her eyes from the woman's frozen figure as she stalks towards her with furrowed eyebrows. as she gets closer, she sees the silver hair color that tends to denote royalty (or at least bastards of it) in the city and she knows she should just start running. threatening a princess would cause problems, she was sure of it, but the temper—no, fear—boiling within her makes draws her closer to where she stands. "what did you see, my lady?" she asks, her voice low and tongue laced with an unspoken threat.

[offglory]

WHO :   KESARA  &  ELIA  ( @wyldwolves ) WHERE :   A  BUSY  TAVERN  ON  THE  OUTSKIRTS  OF  THE  KEEP WHEN :   MID-EVENING,  A FEW DAYS AFTER THE WAR COUNCIL

they had not known each other long, but kesara had no reason to believe elia wouldn't show. as she waits, her hands busy themselves scratching at the worn wood table. the ale she ordered for them both had already been served and she lacked the manners that told her to wait for her guest before she starts drinking. the bruise on her side had only gotten more painful as the days went by, and she had half a mind to consider seeing an actual healer. it would heal. eventually. she had suffered injuries far worse than a possible fractured rib. the promise of getting drunk to ease the pain was the entire reason she chose to meet elia at a tavern of all places, though with their history it was not an odd request. kesara looks up at the sound of a chair across from her scratching across the floor and offers the martell princess a smile. "leaving your big castle must have been a hard choice, though i appreciate you meeting me here," she says sarcastically, "there is no pressing issue. i put myself in your shoes for a moment and decided you need a night of relief from the pests you are stuck in there with." she nods her head vaguely in the direction of the tavern entrance. she pushes the mug of alcohol towards her, motioning for her to drink before taking a swig of her own.

[offglory]

WHO :   KESARA  &  RICASSO  ( @trcshcans ) WHERE :   A  MARKET  SQUARE  IN  KING'S  LANDING WHEN :   EARLY  EVENING *  COLOR  TEXT  DENOTES  WORDS  SPOKEN  IN  BRAAVOSI. *

“i see why you left this wretched place so many years ago. it is a terrible joke we are both here now. you should have kept your bad luck to yourself.” it is a joke—at least it's supposed to be, but the longer she's here the longer she misses home. home, of course, meaning braavos. after ten years, she did not miss leng the way she misses the free cities after only a few moons away. ricasso reminds her of her freedom, the two meeting while crossing paths a few brief times in essos, though they both stuck out enough to be able to recognize each other in king's landing. how ironic that westeros's largest city had allowed her to cross paths with so many old friends. a small world, indeed. the two outsiders walked leisurely through the streets together. it was early enough in the evening that people were just now ushering into the marketplace to relax after their hard days of labor. it smelled terrible, smoke from grills made her eyes water, and the noise bordered on overwhelming but the ambience was enough to make them momentarily forget they were slowly starving to death. from what she could tell, besides the royalty sitting pretty and well-fed in the castle this was the best that king's landing had to offer. "tell me that dorne is better than this, or i will be forced to assume you are fate's worst victim."

[offglory]

WHO :   KESARA  &  NYMERIA  ( @eclipt1cs ) WHERE :   A  SMITHING  FORGE  ON  THE  STREET  OF  STEEL WHEN :   THE  BUSY  AND  LIVELY  MID-DAY

call her biased, but the smiths in king's landing could not hold a candle to their counterparts across the narrow sea. kesara's most inconsequential complaint of westeros so far was the lack of decent, accessible, steel. it's why she considered it a blessing when she found her current smith. he was mostly tucked away, not high on the street so the price was right—though kesara always paid what his work was worth. she was quiet about him, not wanting just anyone to congest his time. he was bound to have other loyal patrons, of course. other people who knew their way around a blade would recognize his mastery even if showmen knights did not. she felt her presence before she saw her: a woman stopping next to her, setting a shortsword on the table in front of them both. kesara turned her head to greet the mystery woman; a friend of her smith was a friend of hers by extension. her content smile dropped upon seeing nymeria an arm's length to her right. of course, she thinks, a city of five hundred thousand and she is who stands beside her once more. she looks the younger woman up and down before facing forward again, "you are not in dorne," she notes, no amount of any emotion present in her voice. it was an observation, one she wasn't sure how to feel about.

[offglory]

WHO :   KESARA  &  SARYA  ( @ofnobilites ) WHERE :   NEAR  A  SECRET  ENTRANCE  INTO  THE  RED  KEEP WHEN :   THE  HOUR  OF  THE  NIGHTINGALE AFTER  THE  WAR  COUNCIL

the throbbing pain terrorizing her side was growing stronger now that the adrenaline had worn off. cerion had hit her twice: once with his elbow and the other with a sword and both times had been forceful enough to wind her. she was—allegedly—just a simple commoner from braavos. in the middle of a war waged among the factions that make up the westernmost continent, her presence inside the walls of red keep could be seen as foreign interference. it was a stupid mistake to sneak in without an ally to vouch for her should someone question her motives. the visual of her hooded figure making its way out the same way it came in was quick, somewhat sloppy but luckily for her most in the keep had been preoccupied with some war council. the limp she was beginning to develop would surely draw suspicion if her hood and unfamiliar face didn't first. she was almost out, only one more turned corner before the tunnel out came into view. as she rounds the corner, a figure standing in the way forces her to stop—her breath catches and her muscles tense even harder thinking she'd been caught so easily. only a second later, she breathes a sigh of relief. "sarya," she greets, flinching at the pain when her muscles accommodate the exhale, "what a pleasure it is to see you on a night as lovely as this."

[offglory]

( davika hoorne , thirty , cisfem , she/her ) : ANNOUNCING !! 𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀 hailing from 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆. she is known to be 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 & 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 but also, 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 & 𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 across the realm. she is currently 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 in 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 ( mitzy , 25 , cst , she/they , n/a. )

NAME :   LADY KESARA THAWAN OF TURRANI   /   KESARA OF LENG  NICKNAMES, TITLES  &  EPITHETS :   SERGEANT OF THE GOLDEN COMPASS ( FORMERLY )  AGE :   THIRTY ( 30 ) GENDER : CISGENDER WOMAN  SEXUALITY :   BISEXUAL LOCATION :   TURRANI ( ORIGINALLY )   /   KING'S LANDING ( CURRENTLY ) NAME DAY :   TBD  STRENGTHS :   SKILLED FIGHTER   /   CUNNING  &  TACTICAL   /   PRAGMATIC   /   CHARISMATIC  &  WITTY   /   AMBITIOUS  &  OPPORTUNISTIC WEAKNESSES :   LACKS LOYALTY   /   MORALLY GREY   /   PRONE TO PUSHING HER LUCK   /   LIMITED POLITICAL KNOWLEDGE   /   SHORT-TERM THINKER   /   UNREFINED  &  OVERCONFIDENT ALLEGIANCE :   THE HIGHEST BIDDER  RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION :   LOOSE DEVOTION TO THE MANY-FACED GOD

FACECLAIM :   DAVIKA HOORNE  EYE COLOR :   BROWN HAIR TEXTURE  &  COLOR :   DARK BROWN  &  SLIGHTLY WAVY SKIN TEXTURE  &  TONE :   CLEAR  &  SLIGHTLY TAN VIBE :   THE GUY PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT IN MOB MOVIES WHEN THEY SAY “I KNOW A GUY”   /   SURVIVOR FIRST, SELLSWORD SECOND, NOBLE LADY WHEN IT'S CONVENIENT HEIGHT :   FIVE FEET  &  NINE INCHES BUILD :   SLENDER  &  TONED HER OPINION ON HER APPEARANCE :   UNCONCERNED

PARENTS :   YENGKO THAWAN ( FATHER )   /   KHIARA THAWAN ( MOTHER ) SIBLINGS :   SARINA THAWAN ( YOUNGER SISTER )   /   OLAN THAWAN ( YOUNGER BROTHER ) MARITAL STATUS :   SINGLE  &  UNWED CLOSEST FRIEND(S) :   TBD ENEMIES :   TBD

MBTI :   ESTP ALIGNMENT :   CHAOTIC NEUTRAL CHARACTER ARCHETYPE :   ROGUE   /   ANTI-HERO WHO SHE PRETENDS TO BE ON THE OUTSIDE :   WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT YOU GET WHO SHE ACTUALLY IS  &  HOW SHE FEELS ABOUT THE MASK :   ON THE SURFACE, SHE APPEARS CAREFREE AND DETACHED, BUT BENEATH THAT SHE'S SHARPER AND MORE AMBITIOUS THAN SHE LETS ON.  IF THERE'S ANY MASK SHE WEARS, IT'S THE ILLUSION THAT SHE'S JUST ALONG FOR THE RIDE.  IN REALITY, SHE'S ALWAYS ANGLING FOR MORE. REPUTATION :   FAIRLY UNKNOWN, KNOWN MOSTLY THROUGH RUMORS AND TALK AS AN ANONYMOUS AND PROFICIENT MERCENARY LOOSE IN THE CAPITAL ( IN WESTEROS )   /   A RUTHLESS, CUNNING, AND HIGHLY SKILLED SELLSWORD RESPECTED FOR HER FIGHTING SKILLS AND WIT  &  SERGEANT IN THE GOLDEN COMPANY ( IN THE FREE CITIES )   /   A LOST NOBLEWOMAN MANY PEOPLE BELIEVE IS DEAD ( IN LENG ) BAD HABITS :   PUSHING HER LUCK   /   CUTTING CORNERS   /   RUNNING HER MOUTH

LANGUAGES :   SOUTHERN LENGII DIALECT OF YITISH ( NATIVE )   /   BRAAVOSI ( FLUENT )   /   TRADE TALK ( PROFICIENT )   /   THE COMMON TONGUE ( PROFICIENT ) SPEECH :   QUICK-TONGUED, SHARP-WITTED, AND KNOWS HOW TO TALK HER WAY OUT OF ( OR INTO ) TROUBLE ATTACK  &  DEFENSE :   FAVORS SPEED, AGILITY,  &  DIRTY TACTICS OVER BRUTE STRENGTH OR KNIGHTLY TECHNIQUE   /   EXCELS AT ONE-ON-ONE COMBAT   /   DEFENSIVELY RELIES MOST ON EVASION  &  COUNTERATTACKS HOBBIES :   FIGHTING ( FOR FUN  &  PROFIT )   /   GAMBLING ( WITH DICE  &  LIFE )   /   DRINKING  &  DRINKING GAMES

WHEN SHE WAS TOLD SHE WAS TO MARRY SOME PRINCE IN THE NORTH, kesara thawan made the decision right then and there to leave. her heart was set on defending her homeland with a sword and vengeance, not with words. she refused to be a wife—especially a wife to a yitishized second son. they knew she was serious in her defiance, though none could have anticipated that she would vanish so swiftly after the betrothal was announced. within hours, she had arranged passage to volantis; to vanish into the depths of the free cities. to be used as a bargaining chip to show good faith between turrani and leng yi was something she was unwilling to do.  in the free cities, it was simple to shed the titles of noble birth, to erase the name that had once tethered her, but more tempting still was the chance to earn new titles—this time through bloodshed. there, she lived solely as kesara of leng, a mercenary whose craft was honed by countless battles. the pay was fair, the danger certain, and the glory addicting. she roamed west essos, until braavos called to her, a city of shadows and silent promises. seven years she spent, killing by profession, exiled by choice, until she joined the golden company—a mere mercenary, opportunistic as the next. her past, so distant and remote as to seem a lifetime away, did not follow her, for leng was hidden, eastward—its secrets safe. in time, kesara climbed the ranks, earning the title of sergeant. she commanded a squad of those like herself: survivors, wanderers, the forgotten. but fate never rests. when the bounty hunter showed up at her door that evening, informing her that she was to be taken back to leng she had no choice but to kill him, truly. with little to her name, save the weight of her own resolve, she left. she was there when certain members of the golden company talked about their true home in westeros, always thinking it sounded quite boring compared to the places she'd lived in throughout her life but further west was her only option—her last option. king’s landing accepted her as it did all newcomers: without question. the air was thick, the streets suffocating, but they were the perfect cover for a woman like her. she learned quickly that the people of westeros tended to hate each other, and were willing to pay gold for any manner of ill deeds to be done.  and so she found her place once more.

[offglory]

#   𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘   ·   a   private   and   dependent   blog   associated   with   @dragonfire-hq   .   from   MITZY   with   love   (   she   /   they   )   25   .

kesara   of   leng