ofsacredseas

[ofsacredseas]

the gardens of casterly rock were alive with sunlight, yet the lady of seagard felt the weight of shadows between them. the soft trickle of the fountain seemed almost mocking, a reminder of serenity in a moment anything but serene. she stood firm, her hands clasped loosely before her, though the tilt of her chin betrayed her wariness.

“you intrigue me,” garrick had said, and the words lingered, tugging at her thoughts like threads of an unfinished tapestry. she studied him then, the way the sunlight played across his features, the confidence in his stance.

“i’ve often wondered, my lord, if you speak to provoke or to truly be understood,” she said at last, her voice smooth but edged with steel. “you watch me like i’m a puzzle to solve, a challenge to conquer. do you think I don’t see it? or perhaps you believe i enjoy the attention.”

her gaze flicked to the fountain briefly, as though searching its waters for clarity. “truthfully,” she continued, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone, “i’m not sure why I’ve allowed this… whatever this is… to persist. you needle, and i respond, and we go on like two fools dancing in circles.” of course, she had been the one to approach him this time, and if one were to argue it, she had started this little dance of their from the beginning.

he took another deliberate step closer, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. the lady didn’t retreat, though her posture stiffened slightly, her gaze sharpening as if to meet his challenge head-on. “i wonder,” she continued, her voice low but clear, “what you hope to achieve with all this careful prodding. you call me stubborn, but you’re the one circling like a hawk, watching every word I say. tell me, my lord—what response do you seek now?” of course, her instinct at the moment was to prove him right and begin her curses of frustration, but instead, she would prod back.

“You do not quit easily either,” he murmured in response. The two of them had sparred with their words on that stormy evening, and they were sinking into similar territory today. For everything he said, she had a quick reply. For every argument she threw, he had a quip in return. The lady's next words were puzzling, however. “And do tell. You mean to imply these traits of mine will lead me to my ruin in your company, Lady Mallister?” the knight asked as he took another small step forward, moving both hands to rest behind him like a soldier at ease.

In a subtle manner, the Cargyll lord had begun encroaching on her space and he was curious to find if the Riverlands would only continue to step backward, if she'd stand her ground, or perhaps adopt any manner to make him step back. There was no malice in seeing what else he might draw out of the woman, really, only curiosity. Only a sort of pleasure in engaging in a witty argument. Only a sort of particular intrigue in provoking something and seeing what might be provoked in him.

So this encounter was a rare concession, as she put it herself. “I ought to be flattered, then,” he replied, paying special attention in studying her expression. Ayca Mallister appeared composed but he detected some fire behind her eyes. There was much more she wished she could say and kept contained inside her. He did wonder what that fire would be like, if untamed. “And to what do I owe your special attention, my lady?”. He asked. Another small step forward then.

Garrick's expression turned more measured then, not entirely serious yet not outwardly mischievous either. His smirk didn't reach his lips, it only stayed in his eyes as he looked at the Riverlander. “It does amuse me, yes,” he admitted, his tone, light, his eyes curious. “It intrigues me as well. You intrigue me,”. Whatever game he was playing at, whatever exploration was hooking his attention, Garrick Cargyll didn't entirely know himself. “You respond as if my every word offends you. And it is impressive how you hold yourself with patience and irritation in equal measure,” the knight began, “Frankly, I can't tell if you're bound to persist with gracious apologies or if you'll curse everything I am in your next breath, my lady”.

[ofsacredseas]

the lady of seagard turned her gaze from the fountain to lucrezia, her lips curving into a soft, almost hesitant smile. the weight of the question hung in the air between them, a gentle nudge that she couldn’t ignore. she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her hand instinctively brushing against the cool stone of the bench beside her, grounding herself.

“i’m not sure i know the answer myself,” she admitted, her voice carrying the quiet honesty she rarely allowed. “when I suggested coming back with you, i told myself it was to see you, the boys, to spend time in a place that’s always felt like a second home. and, of course, that’s true.” she paused, her fingers trailing the edge of the goblet she’d set aside. “but maybe… maybe it’s more than that.”

her eyes flickered back to the fountain, the water’s rhythm almost hypnotic. “the arbor has always been a sanctuary. a place where life felt simple, safe, even magical. perhaps i thought that coming here, i could feel some of that again. that i could… i don’t know, find a piece of myself I seem to have lost somewhere along the way.” her smile faltered slightly, her voice growing quieter. “the war took so much from us, lu. more than i think either of us realized at the time.”

her chestnut tresses framed her face as she turned toward her friend, her gaze steady but distant, as though looking at something only she could see. “i’ve been so many things, lu. a daughter, a wife, a lady of my house. and now… now i’m not sure what i am anymore.” her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her cloak, a rare display of restlessness from someone usually so composed. “after the war, after losing him…” she swallowed hard, the words sticking in her throat, but she pressed on. “i keep wondering who i’m supposed to be now. what comes next. and the truth is, i don’t know.”

she shook her head slightly, the movement dispelling some of the heaviness. “maybe that’s why i came back. to feel like myself again, even for just a little while. to be reminded of the parts of me that aren’t tied to loss or duty. the parts that laugh and tease and throw grapes at our friends.” she tilted her head, now studying the other's face with a small, mischievous smile creeping back onto her lips. “though, to be fair,” she began, her tone turning playful, “if i were going to dump my existential crisis on anyone, it would always be you."

ayca leaned back slightly, crossing her arms with a feigned air of seriousness. “but if i really wanted to make it up to you, maybe i should help out around here. what do you think—me, stomping grapes in the vineyards? or would you prefer i chase your boys around until they’ve exhausted their infinite energy? i’m not above bribing them with baklava to behave, you know. does little callum have teeth yet?"

her laugh bubbled up, warm and light, breaking the tension she’d inadvertently created. she reached for another piece of baklava, holding it up like a peace offering. “forgive me, lu. i promise I’ll balance all this brooding with enough antics to keep you entertained.”

∞

lucrezia redwyne watched as ayca reached for another piece of baklava, the subtle furrow of her brow betraying a heaviness beneath her words. the arbor seemed to soak in moments like these, the quiet between breaths, the weight of unspoken things. the fountain bubbled steadily, its rhythm a quiet reminder of time’s passing, the endless march that had brought them both to this courtyard and these bittersweet memories.

“a squirrel and a fox,” lucrezia repeated with a faint smile, her voice carrying a warmth tempered by the years. how was it that jokes and light heartedness seemed to remind her of the words they uttered to one another jokingly, even when he were not here? she almost opened her mouth to admit how much she had begun to miss her husband's presence, before she knew not to. there was no need to be that person, how irksome were they?

“it does sound like us. though i’d argue the fox showed a remarkable amount of restraint compared to that squirrel. do you remember me climbing that fig tree by the cliffs? i thought i'd never make it come down.” she had started crying at the top. the humor was light, but not forced. being with ayca had always made her feel this way, as though the weight of responsibilities—of the vineyard, the children, the endless news of war—could be set aside, if only for a little while.

still, lucrezia had grown too much to let the moment pass without noticing the sadness in her friend’s voice, or the way her laughter faltered like an uncertain step.

“the last summer before the war,” lucrezia echoed, her gaze slipping toward the fountain. “it felt endless then, didn’t it? as though we had all the time in the world. the sun, the sea… the way we didn’t yet understand how fragile it all was. i would be so dark by the time it was finished.” her voice softened, and she turned her attention back to ayca.

“but that was another life. maybe we can make it so for our children someday, inshallah. mine and yours, to spend time with one another before talks of alliances and trade. wealth. i so want them to know one another." she had gotten ahead of herself there, considering ayca still had no children; it was not that simple after all. "it will be that way, someday, you'll see." there was a pause, comfortable but pointed. lucrezia leaned forward slightly, her hand resting upon the hand of her friend. “tell me, my love.” she said gently, her tone not accusatory but sure.

“what brought you back to the arbor? i’m glad you’re here, more than i can say, but for some reason i sense there’s something you’re not saying. please correct me if i am wrong.”

[ofsacredseas]

ayca’s smirk deepened, the firelight dancing in her eyes as she met the lord of karhold's gaze, unflinching. she leaned back, letting the weight of his words settle between them, the crackle of the flames filling the silence. “deflecting, am i?” she asked, her tone light but threaded with challenge and hints of jest. “that’s an interesting observation coming from a man swirling his whiskey like it holds all the answers.” of course, she had done the very same this night - found herself at the bottom of a cup of whiskey to distract from feeling whatever it was she didn't want to.

“well, wolves are cunning, loyal to their pack, and dangerous when cornered. but tell me, my lord…” she tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes narrowing in a way that made it unclear whether she was teasing or testing him. "if I’m the wolf, what does that make you? the hunter? or perhaps another creature lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting for the right moment to step forward?”

the lady of seagard reclined in her chair, crossing her legs with an air of casual confidence. “as for the tale I’ll spin tonight…” she shrugged lightly, her expression all feigned innocence. “who’s to say? stories are like the wind, my lord—ever shifting, ever changing, depending on who’s listening. i could tell you a tale that keeps the fire burning long into the night, or one that fades with the dawn. the real question is…” she let her voice drop just enough to draw him in. “do you want to simply listen, or would you rather help me in spinning it?”

she raised her goblet, her smirk softening into something more inviting. “after all, tales don’t tell themselves, and wolves don’t chase shadows." the air between them seemed to thicken, charged with a quiet tension, as if every word she spoke was meant to draw him in just a little more, a silent invitation lingering in the spaces between their conversation.

♞

brandon karstark swirled the whiskey in his goblet, the firelight catching the amber liquid as it swayed. his head was heavy, the drink working its way through his body, loosening his tongue and numbing the sharp edges of grief and anger. he felt it—the pull of her presence, the way mallister’s voice wrapped around the room like silk. she was exotic, like something out of one of those southern songs the minstrels sang, and dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with swords or steel.

he shifted in his chair, his free hand brushing over the rough wood of the armrest, grounding himself. focus, brandon. don’t make a fool of yourself. but the whiskey blurred the lines of restraint, and her teasing smirk didn’t help matters.

“you’ve got a clever mouth lass,” he said, his words slurring just slightly, though his voice still held its low, gravelly weight. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the goblet dangling loosely from his fingers. “sharp enough to cut, i’ll give you that. makes me wonder, though—what are you hidin’ behind all that wit? seems to me you’re deflectin’ as much as you’re playin’.”

the faint blush on her cheeks, the way her dark eyes sparkled in the firelight—he noticed it all, and it stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long while. too long. his jaw tightened, and he knocked back the rest of the whiskey, letting it burn away the hesitation. he set the goblet down with a clatter, more forceful than he’d meant.

“you said people’ll make their tales, so let ‘em,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, rougher. he leaned down, closer to her, his breath warm with whiskey. and fever. “but what about you, m'lady? you gonna spin a tale of your own tonight? or just keep teasin’ and watchin’ me like some wolf cornered in the dark?” the words lingered, heavy with challenge and temptation, as he waited for her to answer.

[ofsacredseas]

ayca’s gaze drifted to the courtyard’s fountain, its gentle rhythm pulling her into memories long past. the arbor in those days had been alive with laughter, the kind that echoed across sun-dappled hills and through the vineyard’s twisting paths. summers here were a tapestry of endless feasts, impromptu dances under the stars, and lazy afternoons spent lounging on the divan's lined upon the terrace, tossing grapes to the unsuspecting boys walking the path below and giving way to their guilt through loud shrieks and giggles. the air was always thick with the mingling scents of ripe fruit, salted breezes, and fatima’s spices wafting from the kitchens.

she could still hear the teasing banter of the boys, a time where the innocence of youth and inexperience could cloud any offense. she could practically hum the lilting songs of visiting minstrels, and join in at the clatter of goblets as wine flowed freely beneath the sprawling canopies of wisteria. back then, war was hardly a thought, and their greatest concerns had been who could pluck the ripest fig or outmatch the others in a game of cards. the arbor wasn’t just a place; it was a sanctuary where every corner felt like it belonged to them, to their shared youth and fleeting, golden innocence.

perhaps she had suggested joining lucrezia in the arbor not just to give the other company, but for a moment of peace and nostalgia in a place that felt like another home.

chestnut tresses whipped around, turning her body towards the two from the ledge of the pool, a cheeky smile painted upon her lips, the glow of girlhood upon her features that may have once thought to be long lost. “a squirrel, is it? and what does that make you, lucrezia? the vineyard fox, sneaking into the kitchens late at night for just one more slice of lemon cake?” she raised a brow, her voice lilting with playful accusation. “don’t think I’ve forgotten how you used to blame those missing pastries on the wind or the cats. lala fatima knew better, and so did I.” she tilted her head, a wicked gleam in her eye.

and yet, ayca happily accepted a morsel from the tray, taking a bite and savoring the flavors of fatima's cooking, ready to relive the days where she could eat all the baklava she wanted without a care. however, when thinking of the answer to lucrezia's question, her smile faltered slightly. “the last time I was here,” she began softly, “was the summer before the war.” her voice carried a note of wistfulness, “it was a summer that felt endless, do you remember? we danced in the vineyards until our feet ached, raced each other along the cliffs, and bickered when no one could sit still enough for that painting.” she chuckled lightly, though her eyes betrayed a lingering sadness. “it was the last time the world felt whole. no talk of war, just the sea, the sun, and the certainty that we’d always have more summers ahead."

who: @ofsacredseas when and where: following their departure from the riverlands festival, lady ayca mallister came to stay with lady lucrezia redwyne upon the island of the arbor shortly after the funeral of princess meredyth rowan. context: the girlies just needed time with their girly.

the sounds of their increasing footsteps through the halls of the arbor's keep nestled within the rolling hills of vinestown were only a shadow compared to the sound of thundering hooves through the iron gates, nor the shuffling of hundreds of serving staff lined up in the grand, ornate courtyard to meet the arrival party. when ayca suggested they return to the arbor together, lucrezia had found herself inwardly grateful; with omer preparing to leave to meet the braavosi pirates at sea, she were thankful to not have to remain in brightwater keep alone.

there were many an issue in regards to that, something she tried not to think of in this moment. cultural differences, social differences that she knew would begin to bare face once they settled more into their marriage; but it were the smallest of things that seemed to surprise her the most.

and when they finally opened the doors into the courtyard in one of the keep's inner riads, where there were the sounds of live birds and a water fountain to keep them company, she found a lunch spread had already been laid out for them. "lala fatima?" lucrezia called out to the vinestown head chef, her tone almost playful as she unclasped the cloak from around her; the change in temperature had already begun to work at her hair which remained pinned up; the slight humidity beginning to make her characteristic frizzy curls return. not her real auntie, but she may as well have been; for lucrezia had eaten her food for the entirety of her life.

she equated the smell of her freshly baked bread to that of love.

"i've brought somebody for you." she began to look around each of the pillars for the head chef, indicating for ayca to make herself at home. it were the middle of the day, and they still had many hours of sunlight. she need not wait for invitation, and she saw her friend moved toward the inner pool where there remained rose petals floating upon the surface. "the greedy squirrel who finishes all of your baklava once upon a time?" she called, looking back at ayca with a slight cheeky smile crossing her features. when the head chef emerged, it seemed as though the two grown women had been swept up in the embrace of the elderly woman - as though they were both only girls again.

"how long has it been since you've been here, to vinestown?" lucrezia asked the mallister woman, taking the tray the elderly woman was ready to hold and distribute mint tea. "too long, no?"

[ofsacredseas]

ayca mallister sat poised, her long fingers tracing the rim of her filled goblet, the firelight glinting off her dark eyes. she watched brandon karstark with a quiet intensity, taking in the brooding man before her, his rough demeanor a stark contrast to the carefully crafted world she usually inhabited. there was something refreshing about his lack of polish, though she’d never admit it outright.

at his question, she tilted her head slightly, her thick hair tumbling over one shoulder. “what am I doing here?” she repeated, her tone light but edged with purpose. “i suppose it’s the same reason you’re sitting there with that whiskey in hand—seeking some distraction from the usual routine. though perhaps, unlike you, i don’t mind if people talk about me. let them spin their tales, so long as they don’t start whispering that i’m destined to die an old maid.” her smile was sharp, a flicker of self-awareness wrapped in playful defiance.

she leaned back, letting the fire’s warmth dance across her features. “you see, lord karstark, i’ve found that people will talk no matter what. and why shouldn’t they? it gives them something to do." had the light of the hearth accentuated her features more plainly, a blush from the affects of the whiskey would be seen upon her cheeks, as it was heard from her wagging tongue. "gossip, you see, loses its charm when everyone’s repeating the same stories." she leaned slightly forward, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder, the subtle scent of lavender and citrus carried on the air between them.

"my memory serves me best when something is worthy of it." ayca's gaze drifted to the whiskey in his hand, then back to his face, her lips curving into a teasing smirk. "but tell me, are all northern men so quick to judge, or is that a talent unique to you? you seem to have made quite the study of mallisters this evening. i wonder what you’ll make of me before the night is through."

♞

"there be no real difference between wildlings and freys, m'lady. they both be the scavengers and lessers of their realms." only the old gods and the new could possibly fathom what it was that could have had brandon karstark talking to some woman he did not even know during this late evening; there were only a few people coming in and out of the hall where the fire continued to flicker in the hearth, even if the evening were definitely winding down.

he only found that she had a strong perfumed scent to her, and hair that seemed incredibly thick that tumbled down her shoulders. "brandon karstark." and again, he were far too in the cups to recognise her by name. he was sure he had not seen her before. or had he? or had he just not noticed? why ever would he have noticed the woman in the past, when he need not have looked elsewhere?

"a mallister are ya?" he commented, his usual gruff northern accent wrapping around each of his words as he looked upon her. it were obvious that he were not entirely present in the mind, a certain gloom that continued to swirl above his head as he took to the whiskey. brandon karstark was not a man that often drank away his woes and his feelings of grief, and yet that evening he found his bedchamber emptier than usual.

"and what in yer seven hells is a southern mallister lady doin' here? all yer folk do is gossip, and here you are, givin' 'em a mighty bucket and a half." and it was is question that allowed the clouds to momentarily part when he looked at her, finally all too aware of what it was that was making him talk to her. it was the urge to focus on the physical, to do what men were supposed to do when they were suffering - take a woman to their bed, and forget everything whilst inside her.

his hand only moved to his bearded jaw as he waited her response, his mind only thinking. what good would come of it? did any good have to come of it? perhaps he only wanted a moment to feel nothing but her. he let out a low exhale as he moved forward to take another long drink. "got a good memory do ya?"

[ofsacredseas]

ayca tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing as she studied garrick’s smug expression. “resilient, perhaps. or simply too stubborn to know when to quit,” she said, her voice cool but measured. “it’s a quality that could either serve you well or lead you to ruin, depending on the company you keep.”

she took a small step backward as he moved forward, a glimmer of surprise on her features, her gown whispering against the grass beneath her feet. “you misunderstand me, lord cargyll. i find no joy in our arguments. they’re… tedious,” she added, though her tone faltered, betraying a flicker of something softer. “yet, I won’t deny that you’ve a talent for drawing out my ire, with alarming ease i must add.”

her eyes briefly swept over his stance—relaxed, yet deliberate—before returning to meet his gaze. “but if you must know,” she continued, her voice lowering, “i didn’t come here to trade insults. i came to acknowledge my part in what transpired. a rare concession, i assure you.”

she allowed a pause, letting the weight of her words settle. then ayca’s eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and reluctant introspection. She drew a slow breath, her fingers briefly tightening on the skirts of her gown. “how are you behaving?” she echoed softly, almost to herself. her gaze dropped, as if searching the ground for an answer, before lifting once more to meet his. “you’re insufferably composed,” she said, her voice carefully neutral, though her words carried an undercurrent of vexation. “one who walks the line between jest and earnestness with infuriating precision. every word measured, every look calculated to provoke.”

lips tightened as she grounded herself yet again, not wanting to repeat their last interaction, though it almost seemed to dawn on her that this was almost some sort of game. "does all of this amuse you, my lord?"

He couldn't deny there was a part of him that found these interactions amusing. The lady was composed, but he could tell by the way she briefly closed her eyes to gather herself, that her composure was only a front for whatever feeling of annoyance or ire was boiling beneath the pretty facade of her expression. And meanwhile, Garrick himself continued to navigate the conversation with nonchalance, and perhaps a slight air of arrogance too.

“I know. I do take pride in my good recalling of things,” the knight stated matter-of-factly, offering a subtle smirk to the Riverlander before him. “No, my lady, I do recall the state you were in,” Garrick added, and for a moment it seemed he was about to add something more. He did not. His statement was a full idea as it was. He did recall everything about the woman that day, from how she looked to how she behaved. She'd made it hard to forget, for better or for worse.

As for her excuse for the situation provoking her bad temper, Garrick's lips tugged into a subtle smile before he crossed his arms over his chest, casually shaking his head. He hummed, thinking for a moment before he spoke. “I was not dragged into an argument with anyone else in those stables. So no, I don't think so,” he answered. “But like I said, I've chosen not to hold it against you”.

“You're easily taunted, it would seem,” Garrick stated plainly, taking a small step forward. “I make no conscious effort to do so, merely giving my sincere replies, and yet you seem... affected,” he pointed out, his tone lowering a little as he emphasized that last word. The Cargyll lord had been taking notice of her demeanor, of the way she moved and communicated through her body language. The deep breathing. The gritted teeth. “I am as I was that day, as I've always been. So, how am I behaving?” he inquired, another small step forward. His arms dropped to his sides then, and he looked at her with interest, curious to know what she might have to say.

[ofsacredseas]

the lady of seagard shrugged her shoulders slightly, held tilting to the side as she gave a small scrunch of her nose. "exhausting, more like it, but i am not one to spoil an occasion for others." a half-truth, for her temperament has surely soured a night for someone more than once, though she would stubbornly admit it was likely warranted. though deep down, she knew it were a result of her taking on more of an evening than she should have, and was why more often than not, she excused herself relatively early.

the dryness to his tone and his slightly changed demeanor at the question caught her attention. ayca mallister had always assumed northmen were loud, boisterous, quick to ire, but quicker to befriend the right people, a strong sense of loyalty within them, rooted deeply. of course, it were all prejudices, for it were simply how she heard others speak of the winter kingdom, and despite the woman's own faults in an inability to change her outlook, the man before her were not at all what she would envision him to be.

a small air of genuine laughter escaped her. "mallister. ayca mallister. i will not fault you for forgetting, should we ever encounter one another again." fingers tapped on her cup as she glanced down within it, the liquid nearing the bottom as she decided to sip the remainder. head turned to a serving girl nearby, whom she raised a hand to, discarding her empty cup upon the tray and taking a new one, offering one to the man before her should he need one, before continuing.

"the frey's?" she questioned, brows furrowing. of course, the frey's were unlikeable, perhaps universally so, and while she knew them to also be weaselly, she was unsure how devious they really were known to be outside the land of the rivers. "i'd not think of frey's and wildlings grouped together, my lord..." now she trailed off, a grin creeping upon her face. "see, now i do not have your name either, lucky for you, though, i think i shall remember it."

♞

the land of rivers held a swarm of feelings within his head, one which he never would have expected to feel toward it if it had only been a short few months earlier - a journey in which he had been entrusted to accompany the oldest of the stark princesses, and the beginning of a nightmare which he still thought about.

"good on the lot of you." he responded to her comment regarding the fact celebrations seemed to happen every few weeks here; always some sort of occasion.

the lord of karhold had always been aware there was something beyond their understanding, intertwined in the deepness of the old magic that were the foundations of the continent - but to see it, was a harrowing experience. it left the world in shades of black and white, and one never quite able to look at life the same way again.

"weary." he repeated, his tone almost dry as he took another drink of ale. that was a choice to put it. and whilst he once would have been far more open and chatty with the woman in question, it was weariness which made him quieter than usual. "northmen ain't got a choice but to be weary, lady..." he trailed off, suddenly realising he did not know her name. he merely looked at her for a second, before a slight laugh came from his lips.

"honestly lass - if you've told me, i'm too in the cups to remember it."

there was a certain route he needed to take, to retrace his steps. to try and find a figure alysanne had met with briefly upon their travels, only...it took him directly through the most densely populated area of woods belonging to the freys. the lord of which he had all but threatened to murder the last time he were here in yule. "we got wildlings in the north. gots to be weary. and you have freys."

[ofsacredseas]

setting: semi-flashback to lithia, later in the evening long after ayca would normally have departed, she instead has opted to stay, finding lithia to be one of her favorite events, and so she has indulged far more in conversation, food, and drink, perhaps too much of the latter (aka her last stop of the night before leaving) ; starter for @emiravmallister

the lithia festival, despite one amongst many, had long been a favorite of the eldest lady of house mallister. often prone to leave such events earlier in the night, she found herself staying later for this one over the years. she couldn’t quite decide what it was about tonight that had kept her later than previous times, but nevertheless, she was more of a participant in the festivities than she had ever been in, well, ever.

ayca had just removed herself from the dance floor, not often finding herself amongst livelier tunes such as these, but the flushed cheeks gave way to one of the reasons for her more chipper mood. tucking strands of loose raven locks behind her hair, she made her way around the crowd, aimlessly walking towards, perhaps, another person to converse with this evening that she normally wouldn’t, instead spitting her sister from some paces away, and a bright smile came on her features.

“emira!” she called in a sing song voice, closing the distance between the two and weaving her arm into the others. the movement was not entirely abnormal for ayca to conduct, only it was far more affectionate and warm than would normally come from her. “i’ve missed you all evening. how come you have not come and spoken to your favorite sister?” there was humor in her tone, eyes squinting with her cheeky grin, as she guided the younger mallister amongst the crowd to no where in particular. “what has kept you so busy? talking with some lord?”

[ofsacredseas]

[ofsacredseas]

MELISA ASLI PAMUK ERKEGE GÜVEN OLMAZ, EPISODE 5

[ofsacredseas]

she was not the best with accents, her own being a unique blend, but still clearly of the riverlands. ayca was certain he was northern, and if it weren’t his accent that gave way to that, it were his more rugged demeanor. hands wrapped around her cup, savoring the warmth of the liquid within it against her palms as she contemplated his statement. it were not that she were tired of others in her home, rather, she were cautious of it.

a soft hum of a laugh escaped her, one that were not necessarily of a girlish nature, but of an exasperated understanding of the blending of events in their home. “i believe any excuse is found for celebration, here.” she admitted, a small quip though part of her saw the truth in the statement. though she were not the most outgoing, nor enjoyed large events, the riverlands was, for the most part, an exception to her. she felt comfortable here.

she straightened slightly in her seat as she thought for a moment, rolling her lips in concentration. ayca was, for once, being mindful of her words. “i wouldn’t say tired.” she settled on, though it toed along the lines of her mind of it all. these events attracted many from all over, those who may or may not have roots to the riverlands. their queen was unmarried, and it were only natural for her to wonder if lords were here to bring word from their lieges or placed eyes upon the crown for themselves. “perhaps, wary.” she stated. “is that a feeling you know of firsthand, my lord?”

♞

there was a reason he had all but retraced his steps going through the neck, going through the same neck of woods in the desperate attempt to come across some sort of sign. some sort of final indication to at least be able to hold a confirmation, to be able to look across from faces he should expect nothing from and be able to offer some form of closure. there had been nothing; not even in the same clearing.

his presence in the riverlands was one that was tactical, considering it were they who held the biggest threat to greywater watch - the karstark had no issue with reminding the freys that those of karhold were not the sort to hide behind mud. only this time, there was someone new within their mix. his gaze briefly met with those of ben blackwood, the rightful lord of raventree hall - and when he was readying himself to get up to greet the young man he knew so well, he heard a voice address him. one he did not know.

"all yer festivals have blended into one to me." it were true - it felt like there was always some festival, some special day. he knew not what this one was about, except there was a new riverlands queen. did she get along well with the freys? "not sure, would have to be the answer i offer you." his dark grey gaze moved sideward to the lady in question, dark haired, a striking gaze - but an accent of the riverlands. "seems familiar. and you, you grown tired of foreign folk lingering in yer court?"

[ofsacredseas]

setting: lithia festival in the riverlands

context: normally ayca is quite to herself except for the usual niceties, often leaving events like these earlier than now, but shes recently attempted to change her outlook…mostly ; starter for @wintervsuns

the eldest lady of seagard sat at a table with a cup of warm whiskey in her hand, something of a tradition during these things or she would’ve preferred an arbor red. she’s observing the party goers in the room. it’s later in the night, normally a time where she would’ve long excused herself to her chambers, but after layat-al-ikhlas shes attempted to turn over a new leaf, as much as her stubborn nature can bear.

the lady sips her drink, observing just a seat over a man she does not recognize, who reminds her much of an eagle as upon her house’s sigil - watching over those around him. she was unsure how accurate her initial impression was.

“have you attended one of these before?” she questions, though it’s not her nature to make such small talk, but in the spirit of change, she extends a branch, anyways.

[ofsacredseas]

ayca mallister had half a mind to leave before the events really began, for she had arrived to the academy just as she left - alone. well, her sister was here, and lucrezia, so she knew she would at the very least enjoy catching up with both of their current ventures. she was immensely proud of emira, but her work kept her busy. she knew lu was doing great things too, and was curious when she and tirius would officially decide to tie the knot, another event that gave her a swell of anxiety that she ultimately decided to ignore.

the smell of chlorine filled her senses as she entered the pool room, quickly ducking into the locker room to put on her swimsuit. it was so much the same as when she had last seen it at their final swim meet. ayca opted to put her sundress back on over it, unsure if she would see anyone else, and if so, would she want to stay. the familiar sound of splashing from swimming my laps drew her attention, and it didn’t take her but a second to recognize the swimming form of lucrezia redwyne.

ayca smiled and made her way to stand at the edge of the pool where lucrezia would ultimately surface. when her friend approached, she called her name, causing the other to break from her drill and look up to her. as lu went to pretend to pull her in, ayca gave a yelp of surprise followed by a laugh, quickly forgetting the scolding of the life guard.

“hello to you. call it a hunch.” she winked and moved to the wall to set her bag down. “ah, should’ve gotten here earlier, but at least we’ll have it to ourself for a bit.” ayca swiftly took off the dress over her swimsuit, setting it in her bag before diving in, a bit out of practice, but decent enough. she surfaced and smoothed her hair back. “when did you and tirius get in? how was the trip?”

who: @ofsacredseas

the sound was muffled beneath the surface of the water, the beginnings of the morning sun beginning to creep through the windows of the leisure centre's pool. there was a reason she had come so early in the morning, when the only other person was the lifeguard on duty: and as she emerged from her final lane, she was met with the sound of someone speaking to her. it caused her to half jump, reaching out to take hold of the side of the pool; she looked down, her legs kicking herself up from the depths below.

she pushed her goggles to the top of her face, remaining half submerged beneath the water incase it were someone she did not know well.

when she wiped the water from her face and came to her senses, she noted it were her favourite mallister. lucrezia let out a small laugh, reaching forward to pretend as though she were going to pull ayca into the pool, only to hear a sudden exclamation from the lifeguard. "i was joking, i was only joking!" lucrezia insisted, looking back up at ayca as though to blame her for her now being in trouble. it were like school all over again. "hello you."

their affectionate greeting, and lu half hoped that ayca had come to join her. if not, she would leave the pool to be with her. "are you coming in? it's usually empty for another half hour according to him…i've been doing this since we got here." her voice trailed slightly, noting how she had not told anyone she had done this. well, anyone but tirius. "how did you know i was here?"

[ofsacredseas]

the lady of house mallister could feel her infamous temper flaring, it weren't loud or blazing like fire, but something that seeped and stung like venom. ayca could feel it's poison beginning to spread throughout her veins and she had to close her eyes for a long moment to collect herself. it only made her more irritated that he could make remarks whilst seeming entirely unbothered. while the features of the raven haired woman were generally settled, it were always clear in her eyes when her anger was beginning to rear it's ugly head.

"your memory is not incorrect." she stated, almost through gritted teeth, but with a forcibly civil enough tone that she were able to get it out at all without seemingly entirely exasperated already. she were unsure why the man before her could so easily get under her skin, but he seemed to do so so effortlessly. "perhaps your memory fails you in that i was soaking wet and stuck somewhere i did not wish to be." arms moved to cross her her chest now, as if she could feel the chill again. "that would make anyone in a terrible mood, wouldn't you think?"

ayca inhaled deeply, feeling her chest rise and fall, consciously, as if to try and ground herself as he continued to rattle on about her past behavior. she only wondered why he hardly remarked on now. she were not foolish to think one conversation would undo a bad conversation, but it flustered her that he did not even seem to try. why did she? at his final comment, however, she scoffed, feeling her resolve fade and dropping her arms to her side. "ser, what displeases me today is i stand before you today, by my own accord, and you continue to taunt me." she shook her head, it was entirely clear to her she had met her match in stubbornness. "i could say i was having a terrible day, then, but it seems to me as if you were behaving that day as you always do."

A small smile appeared on his lips, the sort of half-smirk that only tugged at one end of his mouth. The Mallister lady had approached him to apologize and did not miss the opportunity to show the true colors he'd witnessed on that first meeting. He'd not pretended to act otherwise either, of course, with how he'd responded earlier. “Perhaps you shall. Perhaps you shan't. Based on our previous encounter, I say that is entirely up to you,” the knight responded in a calm manner, sounding as polite as a man in his position should, despite the little jab he took without really considering whether it was a wise thing to do or not.

This conversation was only getting started and Garrick could already sense the underlying tension that was present in their past encounter. Perhaps they were fated to butt heads, to find the other displeasing, and he was fine with that, frankly. He did not feel the need of making amends with the woman before him. When he recalled their last meeting, he hadn't done so with the thought of offering an apology. “If memory doesn't fail me, you did start our unpleasant encounter, did you not?” he mused, looking away as if recalling the event. He remembered it alright.

“But fret not, my lady. I shall not hold it against you,” he added as his gaze settled on the Riverlands again. “As I said, I thank you for the apology,” Garrick said as he put a hand above his heart, and offered a quick nod to the woman. “We can put that behind us and move on to whatever other thing displeases you today”. The words escaped him before he could hold his tongue. He was undeniably more prickly around the Lady of Seagard than he was around other people, unfortunately. He wasn't sure he liked it, for it wasn't even something that he did to amuse himself, but a mere knee-jerk reaction. Arryk and Erryk had always warned him against impulsivity when he was younger, against the sort of things one does without control. A man's downfall lay in those things. Of course, he did not see Ayca Mallister as his downfall, only the sort of demeanor she so easily brought out in him.

[ofsacredseas]

the sound of her name from an unfamiliar voice elicited a look of confusion from the eldest lady of house mallister, who's natural expression could probably be taken for one of annoyance. however, she realized it had been the younger lord grafton that had greeted her, and a small smile came over her face. he was entirely different than his oaf of a brother, and she at least thought had a marriage arrangement come to fruition, she would've liked her goodbrother, at the least.

"and you, lord grafton." she responded, dark orbs looking down at her garment, a bit surprised that he would compliment her dress, but she appreciated the niceties, nonetheless. ayca could tell he was genuinely good-natured, which was not the most common trait upon the court of the vale, she believed.

ayca took his arm in answer, allowing him to lead the way for the two of them. "we must." she answered, looking forward to a subtle excuse to escape the crowding of the ballroom. she preferred events like these in small doses. "how is all in gulltown? anything you've taken in interest in, lately?" she recalled norbie seemed to indulge in different topics, and she wondered if there was a certain book, or certain area of study he were currently entrenched in.

closed starter for @ofsacredseas context: norbie bumps into ayca at the queen's ball

"lady mallister!" there was mirth and good cheer in norbie's tone as he approached her. she had been engaged to his brother, once, and though that did not last beyond an initial meeting, norbie had quite liked her. if there was any ill will to be held that she would not become the lady grafton, norbie was not the one holding onto it. the fact she didn't become jack's bride was probably a sign of her good sense.

"you're looking well, my lady. very lovely dress," he nodded his compliment. "and it is wonderful to see you again." that, he meant truly.

"we must catch up," he offered his hand to her, pointing with the other to the open doors that let to riverrun's grounds. "a stroll, perhaps? it is my understanding that the bonfires are not too far away, if you've a mind to go and see them?"

[ofsacredseas]

MELISA ASLI PAMUK in Kurt Seyit ve Sura

[ofsacredseas]

setting: during the lann's day celebration, everyone is gathered for the feast in the evening, with dancing, music, and of course, the competition of unmasking one another ; starter for @jackarchibaldgrafton

context: jack and ayca were engaged some time ago and only until they met one another in person, then it was nearly immediately called off.

the eldest lady of house mallister stood to the side of the room, always having found herself slightly more comfortable outside of the circle than within. it were not that she were unable to hold a conversation should one come her way, but she did not exactly seek out socializing, either. for those who knew her well, it was probably a surprise that she were still in attendance at this point, at all. the midnight blue mask she had fixed upon her face managed to stay there, and she were unsure whether those who were still masked were too full of wine and ale to seek to snatch hers, or if she were simply...unapproachable.

she only wished the latter were true in this instance, for she looked to her left and caught sight of a familiar figure, even with the mask half-hanging off of his face, she could spot jack archibald grafton from across the hall, if she did not hear him first. she wondered if he had been unmasked and immediately took it back and placed it back on. he was a boisterous, unappealing man, and he was heading in her direction.

ayca was unsure if he was even meaning to speak to her, or pass by, but the end of a song and some of the patrons exiting the dance floor blocked her path from escaping, otherwise, and in doing so blocked his path from moving past her at the moment. she caught his eye and did not think she would escape stating nothing. "good evening." she stated, hoping it would be a quick exchange and the crowd would soon disperse.