#o: gysella

[morewoe]

open starter // a c c e p t i n g — the brunch

Gysella  had  to  resist  the  urge  to  s c o f f  into  her  cup.  She  had  to,  for  she  found  herself  too  surrounded  by  faces  she  could  not  trust.  A  farce,  surely.  Powers  behind  closed  doors  making  a  decision.  They  would  choose  their  favourite,  the  ones  they  thought  would  be  most  easily  controlled.  For  if  they  could  not  be  the  h a n d  that  guides  the  crown,  they  would  be  the  p o w e r  that  guides  the  hand.  She  assumed  as  such,  because  it's  what  she  would  do,  if  given  half  the  opportunity.  She  saw  no  reason  to  move,  to  find  a  council  member  and  make  promises  she  would  have  no  intention  of  keeping,  to  even  try.  She  did  look  across  the  room,  to  watch  the  reactions  of  others.  "I'm  sorry,  I...  Was  lost  in  thought.  So  much  to  take  in,  so  early  in  the  day."  Too  early  for  a proper  drink,  at  the  very  least.  "What  were  you  saying?"

[wcrfcres]

you loved a fiction . dalton greyjoy — the first born son of the reaper of pyke , heir to the salt throne , ironborn personified , drowned god's endowment , carved by piety , forced by the tides , falls into the ragged trenches of his mind . the lady gysella harlaw ... no , lannister , blood no longer of sea and salt , but mortal red gloved and gold armored , growling like the lioness she made herself . she speaks , her lips moving , rage so archaic swelling beneath her skin , tugging and pulling until it was scarlet . yet the lord heir hears not one word , not a fucking articulation of the unending atrocities she had suffered from his inaction . that thing does not exist . the foaming , the ringing , and the creaking growing louder in his head . itch spreading from his wrist , crawling to his elbows , sharp pain making his fingers twitch . it still does not . something within him falls , like lumber crashing upon the ground without a sound . the screams lingered , some his own in his terror - ridden slumber , clawing his way from the clutches of his sheets so he may find air . chest tightening as he finds himself face to face with the sheer reality that nothing was and is real . that the pain he had lived with , the grappling sorrow he endured , was all of his doing , all for naught . he was right to swing his sword . destroy the mantel bannered by the iron islands as their unyielding devotion . but under the weight of his blade , it shattered fairly quick for men who declare themselves loyal and faithful . wasted are the years spent in solitude and penance , washing his skin of the blood and brutality he dared not carry to their shore out of respect . for what? a bride forged to bring him under their control . she was right , he was right . he was not a god then , no deity will falter the way he had , and be tricked into licking at wounds driven by his own daggers . no god wallows in self - pity and regret for a mortal who wears a mask . the drowned god salvaged him from making such a mistake , from remaining to be such a man . he was right to put his life in the hands of such a being , instead of a woman . his desire almost became his undoing . he would have delivered the lady harlaw to the halls himself , after peeling her crafted skin and undressing her act . it would have unleashed the unthinkable , sank the iron islands to the pits of the sea bed . i never cared for our god. and the blasphemy that poured from her very lips he once dreamed of claiming , the final arrow shot to his darkened heart .

he may speak one tongue , and dream in another now . he may , truly , allow himself — heart , body , mind , and soul , to be consumed by dominion , to bathed in iron , black , and b l o o d . if he cannot be a proper son , a proper husband , then he can be a kraken who would drink and swallow a deity that came before time itself . he had no other choice now , he must become a god ... if he cannot have peace , he will demand fear . ❝ i will have you do nothing , my lady . i hold no authority over your pride , your contentment , or the joys of your choices . those are not your husband's , or your father's , those are yours , ❞ he will bear the burden of delight , hopes , and anguish , as others have always seen fit . the young boy that thrived within him had and lost nothing , only clung to nonexistent object of desire and cause of regret that he used for excuses for his hesitations . and now , he is rid of it . freedom tasted like blood and sea water , just like every emotion his mortal frame can conjure . ❝ as are mine . ❞ ❝ though i'm afraid i owe you an apology for something else entirely , ❞ his heart ached and quivered as he yet remained a man . goal unrealized , he is left to wade through the thickened , bloodied swamps of the realm until his time to leave knocks upon the vengeance' sails . ❝ i seem to have mistaken you for another , lady lannister . ❞ years had made him skillful at the art of being dismissive , embodying callousness to survive the moral shards . dalton did what he can to keep what little memory of his past he can to live of . and to know a portion of what keeps him humane is a lie , there is no war vicious and wounding enough to quell the agony he is sitting with . ❝ i spent years unable to forgive myself for choosing faith over love , for causing pain . but i realized there is no cause for regret , i owed an apology to one who does not exist , or so i've been told . ❞ he is desperate to find grace , even a drop of courtesy , amidst the frustration cutting his skin like the edges of broken glass . he walks past the lady , not an ounce of warmth to spare . his heart beating furiously in his chest as he pulls the dagger off the wall , a sense of ridicule slapping his face as he resumed his place before her . ❝ how foolish of me , to come offering my life and the truth only she deserved , bearing my soul to ... fiction . ❞ dalton , with utmost gentleness takes gysella's hand once again , places the dagger upon it . turning his back to supply himself with whatever liquor he could find . shaking hands pouring everywhere but the cup before he throws the bottle aside , glass and red shattered and spilled everywhere .

She  flinches  as  the  dagger  lands  in  the  wood,  shoulders  caving,  arms  wrapped  around  chest.  So  easily,  it  could  have  been  her,  and  yet  he  had  spared  her  this.  Spared  her  the  final  indignity  of  taking  her  life,  like  he  had  taken  her  future,  and  her  reputation.  Was  it  being  spared?  She  wasn't  sure  anymore.  Breath  is  little  more  than  a  ragged  gasp,  as  though  the  blade  had  sunk  into  her  heart,  because  it  might  as  well  have,  the  way  it  stilled  in  her  chest,  pain  pouring  from  her  like  the  ocean  she  had  taken  such  lengths  to  run  from.  Run,  she  had,  far  and  high,  to  the  halls  of  Casterly  Rock  where  the  sea  was  a  distant  blue,  a  hushed  whisper,  where  she  could  forget  the  truth  of  her  blood.  She  buried  the  bodies  within  her.  The  babe  born  with  a  purpose.  The  girl  raised  to  be  perfect.  The  woman  scorned.  Each  one,  wrapped  with  cloth  and  buried  in  the  ground,  because  she  no  longer  saw  herself  as  worthy  of  the  Drowned  God's  halls.  That  was  for  warriors,  and  yet  when  a  fight  had  presented  itself,  she  had  fled,  a  coward  with  her  tail  between  her  legs.  Why  hadn't  she  fought  for  him?  Why  hadn't  she  arrived  on  Pyke  like  an  oncoming  storm,  a  tempest  wrapped  in  flesh,  and  demanded  answers?  Why  hadn't  she  demanded  he  put  her  aside,  and  fulfil  the  promise  made?  Why  hadn't  she  gone  to  him?

Cowardice.  It  was  a  mortal  sin  in  their  home,  a  worse  fate  than  death.  She  had  been  scared  of  what  she  would  find,  and  scared  that  he  would  send  her  away.  Worse,  scared  she  would  see  him,  happy  with  another  woman  on  his  arm,  and  have  to  live  with  the  image  forever.  To  be  his  friend  had  meant  to  wish  him  the  best,  but  not  at  the  cost  of  her  own  pride.  Surely,  he  could  never  have  asked  her  to  out  such  a  concern  to  the  side  for  his  own  gain.  In  her  mind,  she  had  seen  visions  of  him  laughing  to  his  bride  and  about  the  silly  Harlaw  girl  who  had  placed  the  wagon  before  the  horse  and  put  trust  into  him.  Chuckle  over  her  wounds  and  then  never  think  of  her  again,  when  her  entire  life  had  been  a  commitment  to  her  house,  and  to  the  Iron  Islands,  and  him.  Not  once,  had  she  considered  her  own  desires  in  this,  in  search  of  power  for  her  family.  For  the  good  of  her  people,  she  had  considered  her  future  worthy  sacrifice,  and  a  lifetime  spent  with  friend  had  not  seemed  so  bad.  Now  she  knew  what  true  devotion  looked  like,  quiet  moments  in  mornings  that  she  never  could  have  shared  with  Dalton,  and  yet  she  missed  a  future  that  had  never  been  hers  to  begin  with and  a  boy  who  no  longer  existed.

"You  loved  a  fiction.  A  creature  created  to  turn  your  eye,  a  girl  trussed  and  moulded  into  whatever  you  wanted.  That  thing  never  existed.  It  still  does  not."  What  was  she  now?  It  was  hard  to  understand,  even  when  looking  in  the  mirror  her  reflection  seemed  to  shift.  Lady  of  Casterly  Rock.  Girl  from  Ten  Towers.  Figurehead  at  the  bow  of  the  ship,  face  carved  into  perpetual  wrath.  He  captained  ships,  she  was  cursed  to  forever  be  chained  to  them  instead.  "I  never  cared  for  our  god.  He  can  keep  his  halls  and  his  guests  and  fight  against  storms,  for  I  have  no  interest  in  spending  an  eternity  surrounded  by  the  same  old  men  who  destroyed  us."  She  takes  a  step  back,  in  search  of  air  because  she  feels  as  though  he  has  ripped  it  all  from  the  room.  Tears  cooled  on  her  face,  visible  evidence  of  her  weakness.  Dalton  was  her  weakness,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  because  it  took  every  fibre  of  her  being  not  to  go  to  him,  as  it  had  after  the  attack,  and  when  she  knew  him  to  be  in  King's  Landing,  and  every  other  time  before  it.  "I  believed  it  to  be  me.  Father  believed  it  to  be  me.  That  a  merchant  girl  had  somehow  ensnared  you  must  have  meant  that  I  was...  Failing,  in  some  way.  I  was  interrogated,  and  mocked,  and  then  just  expected  to  accept  blame  for  actions  not  my  own.  Not  my  own!  How  dare  you  call  me  desirable  in  the  privacy  of  this  room,  when  to  the  families  of  our  isles,  you  cast  me  as  damaged  lot?"

"I  needed  my  friend,  the  one  I  thought  I  could  count  on,  and  yet  you  were  the  cause  of  all  my  pain.  I  would  have  been  a  good  wife  to  you.  I  never  would  have  hurt  you,  the  way  you  have  mortally  wounded  me.  You  may  not  have  plunged  that  dagger  into  my  chest  tonight,  Dalton,  but  you  have  killed  me  just  the  same.  To  ease  your  own  conscience,  to  release  some  of  your  burden,  you  once  again  place  it  on  me.  How  can  I  ever  stand  by  your  side,  without  looking  weak?  Like  I  will  accept  any  humiliation  thrust  upon  me,  the  scapegoat,  or  the  doormat.  You  and  I  could  start  from  the  beginning.  From  the  beginning  of  time.  But  the  court,  our  families,  they  remember.  They  will  not  forget  so  easily.  What  would  you  bid  me  do,  my  liege?  Just  accept  it?  You  sound  like  my  father."  The  words  are  the  deepest  insult  she  thought  she  could  throw,  the  same  implication  from  Dalton's  plea  as  had  been  brought  to  her  doorstep  when  she  was  found  to  be  searching  mainlands  for  a  spouse.  To  forget.  To  be  placid  lake,  where  she  wanted  to  be  toiling  Northern  Sea,  monsters  hidden  within  it's  depths,  waiting  to  sink  the  unsuspecting.  Scythe  had  become  siren,  singing  songs  so  sweetly  that  she  could  not  be  ignored,  not  only  to  cement  her  own  position,  but  to  prove  that  she  could.  "What  would  you  have  me  do,  Dalton?  Would  you  have  me  give  up  the  last  scraps  of  my  pride  for  you?  I  am  glad  not  to  have  married  you,  for  my  husband  would  never  ask  such  a  thing  of  me."

[cass1x1]

gysella x konu 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄

The touch was so subtle, Konu was fairly convinced he was the only one aware of it. She barely grazed him, but it told him enough. Gysella had become near-fluent in Cayvish, but in the interim, they truly had learned how to communicate nonverbally. The simple touch was faster, and it said enough. Konu tilted his head toward her, keeping his face toward the dignitary out of respect, and nodded. She knew. She squeezed his arm, and then dropped her hand back into the folds of her skirt.

With that bit of assurance, Konu felt his confidence burgeon inside him. Gysella was an excellent political mind, and he’d learned that, more often than not, he could trust his judgement. Especially so when her instinct matched his own. Out of the corner of his eye, on the side opposite Gysella, he could see his mother whispering with her astrologer. A bad sign, in his opinion, as the astrologer’s own judgement was oft unpredictable. 

He cleared his throat. The astrologer’s whispers stopped, though his mother remained close, as if expecting him to continue. “I think,” he began. The dignitary straightened, as did Min and the other guard next to him. Commanding a room was something that had stopped feeling strange a long time ago, for all the practice he had. “It would be best to act swiftly, to prevent a worsening of conditions in Mornta.” He turned to Min. “We have a battalion stationed to the north of Mornta.” It wasn’t precisely phrased as a question, but he grunted an affirmative. He turned back to the dignitary, catching Gysella’s eye on the way. She reached out again, this time brushing his hand, so light he may have only felt the fabric she wore rather than her skin. 

“We will send an engineering contingent, along with the supplies and money needed. There will be a battalion escort for them. The General will send word when the contingent has departed. Any further questions can be addressed by the General.” Min stepped forward, offering the dignitary a bow in what Konu assumed was Mornta fashion. Min was good at remembering greetings from all the various territories. Konu supposed that was part of his job. “If no further judgement is needed, we may adjourn.” If his mother wanted to speak then, she held her tongue, offering her own bow before slipping out of the room. The dignitary and Min both bowed to Konu and Gysella before leaving as well. When the room was empty save for the two of them, Konu dropped back into his seat, letting out a soft sigh.

Gysella’s fingers danced over his hand, and he smiled. “You’re cold,” he said, dropping into a more normal register for him. Switching in and out of being King was getting easier. “Would you like to call a warm bath before dinner?”

She murmured something in her own language, the specifics of which he could only guess at. He’d gotten no better at the Golden Tongue, unfortnately. “You did very well,” she added in Cayvish. “The engineer contingent should fix the problem quickly.”

“I thought so too,” he agreed with a small smile, curling a hand around hers. He was warmer, at least. “So, about that bath...”

[reignofthestorm]

Reservas

Reservas de PBS Y PJS

A-B-C

Alexander Ludwig -  Daryan Oakheart (señor)

Alexander Skarsgård  - Maedhros Velaryon (Señor)

Alina Kovalenko - Khali

Anna Popplewell -  Ithen Redford 

Anna Speckhart - Ashara Dayne 

Andy Biersack - Russell Asathorn

Arnas Fedaravicius - Howland Reed (señor) 

Bruna Marquezine - Argella Baratheon (Lady)

 Bryce D Howard - Milva Nieve 

Charlie Hunnam - Myles Mares

Chris Evans -  Eldrick Hersy (señor)

Cillian Murphy - Asthor Blackwood (señor)

Colin O’Donogue - Martyn Redwyne (señor) 

D-E-F

Daisy Ridley - Jeyne Grell 

Dasha Taran -  Erena Glover (Lady)

Deepika Padukone - Hela de Braavos

David Gandy - Yoren Yronwood (señor)

Douglas Booth - Kellan

Elissa Bibaud - Zahrina de Qarth 

François Arnaud - Harrion Karstark (heredero)

Freida Pintos - Alyse Ladybright (señora) 

G-H-I

Ginnifer Goodwin - Lyanna Ashwood ( señora) 

Guendoline Tylor - Alara 

Hailee Steinfeld - Idris Cerwin 

Henry cavill - Alestair Hightower. (señor)

Holliday Grainger - Magnolia Velaryon 

J-K-L

Jake Gyllenhaal - Brandon Celtigar (señor) 

 Jessica Chastain- Lysara Mooton 

Josefin Asplund - Gysella Goodbrother 

Katherine Langford - Dacey Mormont 

 Katheryn Winnick - Alysanne Hightower 

Katie McGrath - Elizabeth Rikker.    

Liv Tyler - Alyssa Rykker (señora)

M-N-O

Margot Robbie -  Alayne Arryn (Lady)

Millie Brady - Rosamund 

Neels Visser - Monford Velaryon (heredero) 

Nico Parker - Nymeria Ladybright(heredera)

P-Q-R

Richard Armitage - Duncan Bracken (señor)

S-T-U   

Sam Heughan - Arthur Dayne

Sarah Gadon - Jeyne Hunter (heredera)

Sibylla Deen - Neferet de Lys 

Sophie Turner -  Bethany Redwyn (Lady)

Tom Holland -  Ellbert Belmore (Señor) Reservas de pb

Adam Driver

Isla Fisher

Keira Knightley

Lee Peace

Reese Witherspoon

Peter Franzen

[kingdomofthorns-foroactivo]

Búsquedas

Agnes Tully busca a “Damon Tully”: Damon Tully es el segundo hijo de Lord y Lady Tully, pero ello no ha hecho de él un zagal de excelentes modales. En su lugar, Damon Tully rehuye las obligaciones como nobles para juntarse con caballeros de bajo rango y mujeres dispuestas a ceder a sus deseos. A pesar de todo, cumple el lema de los Tullly, y desea tener una familia unida muy a pesar de las peleas de sus padres (Link).

Gysella Botley busca a “Lady A de la casa B”: Es una noble isleña qué, sin tener derecho a heredar, ha conseguido acercarse a la regente de las Islas del Hierro. Es una mujer fuerte, luchadora, fiel admiradora de Gysella  (Link).

Rosey Rowan busca a “Bethany Rowan”: Hermana mayor de Lord Rowan. Tuvo una severa eduación que la convirtió en la dama perfecta, tal como demostró cuando aceptó ser desposada por un hombre que no amaba. Es señora consorte (o viuda) de una gran casa, y tiene al menos un hijo (Link).

Casella Swann busca a “Jeyne Swann”: Menor de los hermanos Swann. Su hermana Casella no solo la crió para ser una bella dama y con modales, sino también para ser inteligente. Como resultado ha nacido una muchacha afanada con los libros, que no tiene prisa por casarse (Link).

[rolhispano]

Agnes Tully busca a “Damon Tully”: Damon Tully es el segundo hijo de Lord y Lady Tully, pero ello no ha hecho de él un zagal de excelentes modales. En su lugar, Damon Tully rehuye las obligaciones como nobles para juntarse con caballeros de bajo rango y mujeres dispuestas a ceder a sus deseos. A pesar de todo, cumple el lema de los Tullly, y desea tener una familia unida muy a pesar de las peleas de sus padres (Link).

Gysella Botley busca a “Lady A de la casa B”: Es una noble isleña qué, sin tener derecho a heredar, ha conseguido acercarse a la regente de las Islas del Hierro. Es una mujer fuerte, luchadora, fiel admiradora de Gysella  (Link).

Rosey Rowan busca a “Bethany Rowan”: Hermana mayor de Lord Rowan. Tuvo una severa eduación que la convirtió en la dama perfecta, tal como demostró cuando aceptó ser desposada por un hombre que no amaba. Es señora consorte (o viuda) de una gran casa, y tiene al menos un hijo (Link).

Casella Swann busca a “Jeyne Swann”: Menor de los hermanos Swann. Su hermana Casella no solo la crió para ser una bella dama y con modales, sino también para ser inteligente. Como resultado ha nacido una muchacha afanada con los libros, que no tiene prisa por casarse (Link).

[lamagadeoz]

Kingdom of Thorns (Búsquedas)

Agnes Tully busca a “Damon Tully”: Damon Tully es el segundo hijo de Lord y Lady Tully, pero ello no ha hecho de él un zagal de excelentes modales. En su lugar, Damon Tully rehuye las obligaciones como nobles para juntarse con caballeros de bajo rango y mujeres dispuestas a ceder a sus deseos. A pesar de todo, cumple el lema de los Tullly, y desea tener una familia unida muy a pesar de las peleas de sus padres (Link).

Gysella Botley busca a “Lady A de la casa B”: Es una noble isleña qué, sin tener derecho a heredar, ha conseguido acercarse a la regente de las Islas del Hierro. Es una mujer fuerte, luchadora, fiel admiradora de Gysella  (Link).

Rosey Rowan busca a “Bethany Rowan”: Hermana mayor de Lord Rowan. Tuvo una severa eduación que la convirtió en la dama perfecta, tal como demostró cuando aceptó ser desposada por un hombre que no amaba. Es señora consorte (o viuda) de una gran casa, y tiene al menos un hijo (Link).

Casella Swann busca a “Jeyne Swann”: Menor de los hermanos Swann. Su hermana Casella no solo la crió para ser una bella dama y con modales, sino también para ser inteligente. Como resultado ha nacido una muchacha afanada con los libros, que no tiene prisa por casarse (Link).

[guardianasdelrpg]

Kingdom of Thorns (Búsquedas)

Agnes Tully busca a “Damon Tully”: Damon Tully es el segundo hijo de Lord y Lady Tully, pero ello no ha hecho de él un zagal de excelentes modales. En su lugar, Damon Tully rehuye las obligaciones como nobles para juntarse con caballeros de bajo rango y mujeres dispuestas a ceder a sus deseos. A pesar de todo, cumple el lema de los Tullly, y desea tener una familia unida muy a pesar de las peleas de sus padres (Link).

Gysella Botley busca a “Lady A de la casa B”: Es una noble isleña qué, sin tener derecho a heredar, ha conseguido acercarse a la regente de las Islas del Hierro. Es una mujer fuerte, luchadora, fiel admiradora de Gysella  (Link).

Rosey Rowan busca a “Bethany Rowan”: Hermana mayor de Lord Rowan. Tuvo una severa eduación que la convirtió en la dama perfecta, tal como demostró cuando aceptó ser desposada por un hombre que no amaba. Es señora consorte (o viuda) de una gran casa, y tiene al menos un hijo (Link).

Casella Swann busca a “Jeyne Swann”: Menor de los hermanos Swann. Su hermana Casella no solo la crió para ser una bella dama y con modales, sino también para ser inteligente. Como resultado ha nacido una muchacha afanada con los libros, que no tiene prisa por casarse (Link).

[wepurge-rpg]

Kingdom of Thorns (Búsquedas)

Agnes Tully busca a “Damon Tully”: Damon Tully es el segundo hijo de Lord y Lady Tully, pero ello no ha hecho de él un zagal de excelentes modales. En su lugar, Damon Tully rehuye las obligaciones como nobles para juntarse con caballeros de bajo rango y mujeres dispuestas a ceder a sus deseos. A pesar de todo, cumple el lema de los Tullly, y desea tener una familia unida muy a pesar de las peleas de sus padres (Link).

Gysella Botley busca a “Lady A de la casa B”: Es una noble isleña qué, sin tener derecho a heredar, ha conseguido acercarse a la regente de las Islas del Hierro. Es una mujer fuerte, luchadora, fiel admiradora de Gysella  (Link).

Rosey Rowan busca a “Bethany Rowan”: Hermana mayor de Lord Rowan. Tuvo una severa eduación que la convirtió en la dama perfecta, tal como demostró cuando aceptó ser desposada por un hombre que no amaba. Es señora consorte (o viuda) de una gran casa, y tiene al menos un hijo (Link).

Casella Swann busca a “Jeyne Swann”: Menor de los hermanos Swann. Su hermana Casella no solo la crió para ser una bella dama y con modales, sino también para ser inteligente. Como resultado ha nacido una muchacha afanada con los libros, que no tiene prisa por casarse (Link).

[radiotatuapefm]

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[thesevenkingdomschroniclesrol]

Amara Greyjoy es probablemente la mujer más hermosa de las Islas del Hierro, al punto en qué podría pasar desapercibida por cualquier territorio de Poniente y ser la más envidiada de las damas y la más cortejada por los nobles caballeros que no sabrían que es una Greyjoy.

Sus modales son correctos, muy por encima que los de sus hermanas, similares a los de su madre. Es la más mimada y protegida de los Greyjoy si es que eso se puede decir de esta familia realmente.

Ella se siente levemente abrumada por las atenciones de los Hombres del Hierro y también se ha visto enfrentada a uno que otro susto con mujeres, Capitanas que la invitan a navegar en sus barcos, pero ella siempre se niega a lo segundo.

Con los hombres nobles suele ser educada, no les desprecia, pero sigue el protocolo, antes los derivaba con su padre, ahora los deriva con su hermano y sinceramente no muchos se atreven a solicitar a Dalton Greyjoy la mano de esta mujer.

Valientes existen en Las Islas del Hierro, incluso para el amor dicen, normalmente llegan a oídos y ojos de su hermano mayor, entre tres a cinco propuestas de matrimonio para ella.

Nunca le preguntó a Dalton su opinión respecto a casarla con algún poderoso señor de Las Islas del Hierro que esté soltero. Conoce las ideas de su madre al respecto, mientras más joven se case es mejor. Ella solamente espera que el hombre que escojan para ella sea de edad similar, no es que no aceptaría a un viejo canoso de esposo si es lo que le toca, pero intentaría convencer a Dalton de que no sea uno así el escogido.

Amara es religiosa, no tanto como Gysella, pero suele ofrecer su ayuda a los sacerdotes del Dios Ahogados. También a la gente de Puerto Noble, es conocida por no beber más que en eventos sociales que se organicen en Pyke. También lo es por no tener la frecuencia de utilizar palabras malsonantes y por tener un carácter que parece flotar respecto al de sus hermanos. Su madre siente que se ganó un premio con ella y la misma se lo ha informado a ella.

En secreto ansia que la guerra con Occidente termine, no porqué sea tan idiota en creer que con ello Los Hombres del Hierro podrán convivir con el resto con normalidad, simplemente porqué se le parte un poco el corazón al ver como las viudas se acrecientan y como los padres pierden a sus hijos.

No obstante, su principal miedo es perder a más miembros de su familia, si bien no conoció demasiado a sus tíos fallecidos, siente que tras la perdida de Darion los siguientes podrían ser sus hermanos o alguno que otro tío y no es una idea que le deje un buen sabor de boca.

[rainsofcastamere-rpg-blog]

⦁ Theomore Myre: Cabeza de la casa Myre y vasallo de Lord Dunstan Harlaw, Theomore es un señor que ha logrado prosperar gracias a la exportación del mineral de sus tierras. Si bien en un principio era proclive al saqueo de Occidente, ha descubierto con el tiempo que el dinero fluye a sus arcas más rápido cargando barcos con metal que con saqueadores. Así pues, aunque siempre ha sido un arrojado pirata, hoy por hoy se ha acomodado. 

⦁ Tristifer Harlaw: Tristifer es el hijo mayor de Sigfryd Peloplata y sobrino del señor de Dieztorres. Aunque fue educado en la corte de su tío, donde fue educado en la fe de los Siete y las enseñanzas del maestre, Tristifer se ha inclinado más hacia el temperamento de su aclamado progenitor y de los jóvenes con los que ha compartido pupilaje en Dieztorres, habiendo participado en alguna fechoría lejos de las islas. Dado que los hijos de su primo Rodrik son aún muy jóvenes, se rumorea que Tristifer será el indicado llegado el momento para formalizar alguna beneficiosa alianza con los señores de Occidente.

⦁ Hagen Codd: Perteneciente a una humilde casa de Harlaw, Hagen es un capitán que ha pasado siempre desapercibido frente al resto de nobles isleños. Su casa, relativamente nueva, fue formada por un capitán ennoblecido y descienden de matrimonios con siervas o esposas de sal, pues nunca han logrado matrimonios con otras casas nobles dado su bajo estatus. Ello siempre ha sido motivo de menosprecio por parte de otras casas. Hagen posee un carácter sombrío y cruel, carente de escrúpulos para lograr sus fines. Es un excelente saqueador y marino, algo que ha llamado la atención de Lord Harlaw, quien le tiene como un lacayo capaz. ⦁ Gysella Harlaw: Originaria de una familia noble de las Islas del Hierro, desde que era una niña, Gysella demostró tener un carácter fuerte aunque no por ello rebelde. Cuando fue prometida a Rodrik Harlaw, enseguida congeniaron precisamente por la energía de una y la calma del otro. Sin embargo, no todo es calma y tranquilidad para Gysella pues en Dieztorres se ha encontrado con la influencia de Gwynesse, la hermana de Rodrik, quien actúa como si fuera la señora quitándole atribuciones. La joven, madre ya de dos niños pequeños, no es capaz de rechistar ante su cuñada y prefiere mantenerse silenciosa ante ella y el respeto que inspira en Dieztorres. O al menos, así ha sido hasta ahora…

[cass1x1]

“you matter to me. more than anyone else.” for gysella/konu!

Being on the receiving end of Gysella’s convictions was something Konu didn’t think he’d ever truly acclimate to. She believed and felt things with a force he simply did not muster most of the time. It was striking. Now, that was not the point, but it was something he had to take a moment to appreciate. What was the point was that her words, as much as they warmed him down to his belly, were not a particularly appropriate reaction to the sarcastic ones he’d given her, and he felt caught off-guard in trying to respond to them.

The joke he’d made--that she would eschew her duties in favor of spending a frivolous evenings with her handmaidens, something that was highly uncharacteristic--was only meant as a tease. That she’d responded more seriously showed, he feared, that his meaning was not clear. After so many months, and hours he’d heard her practicing to master Cayvish, to make her feel that she’d misunderstood was barely acceptable normally, let along when she’d confessed such an intense care for him. The least he could do was respond with care for her feelings.

“Gysella,” he answered, dropping down so that any prying ears would not hear. “You matter to me too.” He gathered her hand in his. “I am honored that you want to spend time with me.” She met his gaze, and as was often the case, he wished he could read her mind, to understand precisely what she was thinking, and so what she needed to hear. “I...I was not worried, in truth, that you would not come with me.” The flash of embarrassment across her face stung him, but he pressed on. Better to be honest to her, at least. “Yet, you saying that--”

Here, he faltered. Now that she was practically fluent, it was becoming clear that many of the disconnects between what he felt and what he could say to her were simply failings on his part. A lack of imagination, others who knew him might say. It was hard to tell her these things because it was hard to find the words for them. “It is a special thing,” he tried. “To have your heart like that. Something worth cherishing.” Not for the first time, he felt his own pang of embarrassment, combined with some jealousy that when Gysella made declarations of her feelings and intentions, she seemed powerful and self-assured. He felt as though he always sounded like a terrible stage-actor, reading words in a play he didn’t have the skill to perform. Hopefully, she could at least hear the honesty in them. If nothing else, Konu was honest.

[cass1x1]

‘ it made me think of you. ’ (Konu/Gysella)

The object, wrapped in paper and tied off with a bow, was heavy and irregular in shape. Konu could not fathom where Gysella would have found him a gift from, nor what sort of object would make her think of him. Their relationship these days, with the wedding finally scheduled, was on an upswing. Or, he liked to think it was. At least Gysella had seemed less displeased of late, and now that they had a date, her uncle and mother had been easier on the both of them. Still, she was spending a fair amount of time alone, and he had no reason to believe that she spent that time thinking about him. Not even if he spent it--or, an amount of it--thinking about her.

Realizing that she was standing there, watching him hold a heavy mystery object and not responding, Konu swallowed, swearching for the words. “Thank you,” he said, more sincerity than diplomatic training. When things between them had been tough, he’d fallen back on the comfort of being perhaps overly formal with her. He hadn’t even made a conscious decision to do so; it had just come out of him. But now, with tensions easing, it felt like he ought to try and bridge their gaps. “That was very kind of you.”

He shifted the weight of the object in his hand, feeling unsure about the protocol here. Did he open it in front of her? Was he supposed to have a gift in return? What sort of gift was it? “I’m sorry. I have nothing to give you in return.”

Gysella seemed confused. “Of course not. You weren’t expecting it.”

“No,” he agreed. She was right, of course. It had been a surprise, seemingly for both of them. How was he to anticipate it? “But I will...” He couldn’t very well get her something in return; that would be false in the face of her much more sincere gift. “I will keep my eye out next time I go out. See if I can return the favor.” With that, he pulled the string off the parcel, revealing the object inside.

[cass1x1]

“ how many have you kissed? ” (Konu/Gysella)

One skill Konu was trying to practice was taking her questions at face value. It went against everything he had ever been taught as future king of Cayb, but it occured to him that perhaps the skills that made a good politician did not, in fact, make a good husband. So, rather than ask her why she wanted to know, or speculate that perhaps she had found him lacking in yet another way, he simply tilted his head and recounted all his previous kisses. “Counting yourself,” he began. “Six.”

It occured to him that it would take her time to translate the numbers--that she may need to count up. He held up a hand, all fingers out, and ticked them off as he listed. “The girl in Yelan, a girl at boarding school, a girl I met in the summer on the Skehel Islands, two girls at university. And now you, of course.” He pressed his lips together, wondering if that sounded woefully inexperienced to her. His readings on the Golden Isles had been enlightening to say the least. She had been expecting a different sort of marriage than he had prepared for. The two of them would need to find a way to blend their ideas about their relationship. But that worrying was exactly the sort he was trying to prevent himself from engaging in. She’d asked a question. He answered. “Some of them, I kissed many times. Some, only once.” 

Some, he had done more than kissing with, but strictly speaking, that was against the religion of Cayb, as it had been done without permission from the temple. It hadn’t even occured to him to ask. And while he doubted that Gysella would care, it did not feel that now was the time for that conversation. Instead, he turned his mind to a different question. Again, he tried to ask at face value, without worrying about the response. “And yourself?”

[cass1x1]

🍻+ “ tell me about your first kiss ?” (gysella/konu)

“I was--I was about 14, away at school in Yelan.” He held up his hands in the shape of Cayb and wiggled one finger to represent the region in question. “Yelan is the farthest Northwest in the empire, far from home as I could be. And I was staying in the house of Lord...Lord...Lord Something. Anyway, I was trying not to--you know--make a fuss about being prince because the Lord Something and my uncle had some kind of rivalry, and I thought I was doing a very good job keeping a low profile.

“Well, so, there was another girl staying with the same guy--the Lord--while she was supposed to be recovering from some sickness or something. But she wasn’t sick. Anyway, she and I--one night, we were alone and I had been walking here by the river that goes through Yelan.” He held up his hands again and then used one finger to trace the river, as if Gysella needed to know where it was to understand. 

“I had been walking her along the river and then we stopped and she told me it was a nice night for a walk and...and it felt right, so I kissed her. And then I asked if that was okay, and she said it was so I did it again. And then I told her that she should know I was the prince because I didn’t want to lie to her, and she told me she already knew, and pranced off alone, and that was it. I’m not sure I even saw her again.” He shrugged, reaching for his empty glass of wine, and then dragging himself off the bed to retrieve the bottle on the other side of the room. “I probably should have just kept lying, I guess. What was yours?”