#gods know what this is is hfyghf me: i guess we shall see

[gcuienveres]

who: @baashirdayne when and where: random wheel spun starter, using a random prompt as a sentence starter. this is a flashback thread, back to when the realms met in the kingdom of the reach.

there was a figure stood within the garden, dimly lit by the flickering embers of candles that lined the gravelled path of one of highgarden's seemingly endless amount of land. in the distance she knew there would be endless fields of golden roses beneath a starry night; the hues of the sky had long since turned pink and light blue, and soon they would turn even darker. the figure was dressed in shades of champagne, if not for the threads of gold and crimson running through the borders of her skirts; it was rare to see this specific lioness adorned in shades of gold, for where there was the most gold was in the tresses of a mane.

pinned, somewhat loosely, where there was enough ringlets to come loose to frame her face; only startling emerald hues were fixed upon something that was entirely beautiful.

beautiful, in a way that was not natural. it were not the seemingly endless amounts of natural beauty one could find within the reach, superfluous at best: there was no sense of beauty needed for true human survival, and yet the gods had bestowed a land that were naturally beautiful in a show of their benevolence. to create a sense of fascination and peace for their creation. this were no beautiful flower, or natural pool which glistened with shades of blue - it were a canvas. manmade beauty, which perhaps at times, even rivalled the beauty of the gods.

an easel had been left within this section of the garden, perhaps left unattended by another who had decided to attend the excessively extravagant ball within the feasting hall. the sound of music continued to play from the distance, a tune she had known since she were a girl: only the nightingale no longer sung, and the cage had become more of a home than the top of the world ever was.

upon the canvas, were figures; only she could barely see it, considering the darkness that stretched over the garden. taking a step toward one of the candles that were lit up to illuminate a path, she swept it within a dainty hand, careful to hold it by the base rather than where the wax would burn her: using the flames to look upon the image. there were two figures, seemingly clad in lavish dress, holding empty bowls; in the background, there seemed to be a world on fire. and yet, their plates remained high, bountiful, with fruits. all bright crimson fruits. her gaze flickered toward the seven pointed star that both the figures wore, though she were unable to tell if they were meant to be men or women. and finally, at the bottom, there was a title.

the stranger's mercy.

her brows furrowed slightly, finding herself fixated upon the image of the burning world on the other side of the window in the painting, though when she heard the sound of gravel, she turned. only, the way she turned did not imply surprise, or even shock, or alarm. almost as though she were ready to accept, acknowledge, or cast away whatever it was the world had brought upon her now. instead, she found a man stood before her she did not know in the slightest. her hand wrapped around the candle, silently bringing it between them. she knew not this man - and she would have no qualms with setting him on fire if she needed to. "does this illustration belong to you, my lord?" she asked, ready to make it clear she were not planning on torching it.