#vixere:open

[stcrmybastard]

open to: everyone location: lyssa + petyr’s wedding

Gathering of the families was much like surface tension on a heavily poured glass of merlot, everyone wondering when it would break and red would spill.  Miraculously the entrance of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen hadn’t done it, but the air was nearly stifling with the emotions radiating off of various offended family members.  Edric while technically a Baratheon, had never felt the effects of the affair nor had any strong feelings on it (although naturally, he was on Lyanna’s side, not blaming her the least for cheating on Robert of all people).  Despite his lack of connection, Edric was still a person with an inherent hate of conflict, and found the only way to perhaps lighten the load of the ceremony while remaining in the pressure cooker of the vault.  

“Look what I found---If you don’t snitch you’re more than welcome to one.”

[arobbstark]

Where: North Wall Memorial Hospital When: Post-wedding, mid-morning Who: Open to all

Getting knocked out was not at all like the movies, Robb had quickly discovered. Being unconscious more than a few minutes meant that he was taken by ambulance to the hospital along with the other critically injured. He had only vague snatches of memories, but it was improving. He wasn’t asking the nurses where he was every time he was woken anymore. He was able to focus on the TV mounted on the wall without his vision swimming. His external injuries weren’t that bad, comparitively, just a cracked skill and a broken nose. He was being assured that with this kind of progress, he should be able to head home sometime today.

So, he just laid there and dealt with it. He had the news on to try to piece together what had happened between the blackout and waking up in the ambulance, but he wasn’t having much success. His phone was dead, so that was right out. So for now, he just closed his eyes and rested. When he heard the door to the room open, he didn’t even bother to open his eyes, just starting to recite the answers to the memory test he assumed a nurse was here to administer again. “Robb Stark, date of birth March 25th of 1991, I’m at North Wall Memorial Hospital in King’s Landing, which is where I live...” He paused and opened his eyes. “Well. You’re not my usual nurse.”

[ofaddam]

The bar was quiet and he supposed that it might have appealed to some because of that. But it was all a little too calm for him when despite years of regimented living, he’d never been able to shake off his desire for the unpredictable. Maybe it was because he spent all of his days either following orders or giving them that in his spare time he wanted nothing more than to cause a little chaos. All in good fun, of course. Keen gaze darted around the room searching for someone he could pull into a little game before eventually he settled on the person nearest him. No time like the present. Leaning along the bar slightly, he posed a question with a devilish glint in his eye. “Hey, you fancy a little bet?”

[arrynsrobert]

He didn’t want to be there. In fact, the very last place he wanted to be was mingling with King’s Landing’s elite. How pathetic this whole thing was, so soon after the murder of his mother and they were all pretending like nothing had changed. Just another ordinary evening in King’s Landing, another boy orphaned without a second glance. As he sipped from his complimentary glass of champagne (slowly, he wasn’t willing to give money to anyone or anything that he couldn’t completely trust) - he let his eyes wander the room. Enemies, all of them. Unless someone could prove themselves a friend.

[wintersrcse]

open to: everyone location: bar

Perhaps it was a bit dramatic of her, but by the butterflies trapped in her stomach, her gut was trying to tell her it thought she’d practically be shot on sight within moments of walking through the door of the vault.  Of course that didn’t happen, although within minutes of entering, she found herself wishing it had.  Would’ve been a quicker death than death by a thousand cuts.  She mingled as much as she could, figuring she’d be dealing with most of these people in some manner fairly soon in her new position as Brigadier.  Most conversations were either cut short (after her greeting with them walking away) or were filled with subtle (or not so) jabs and backhanded comments.  Perhaps too soon, she found herself seeking refuge in one of the only things that would not let her down: a strong drink with a heavy pour.  

Barely paying attention, mind racing, she took the first drink that was set in her general vicinity, and it wasn’t until she saw the bartender staring at her did she pull herself out of her own head, and realize what she had done.  It wasn’t even her drink.  Sighing heavily, she placed it back down on the lacquered bar, eyes dragging their feet in finding the supposed owner of the drink. 

“I would say I’d buy you another drink, but it’s an open bar so---If you want feel free to take my drink in revenge?”

[ironundcrneath]

Where: North Wall Memorial Hospital When: Aftermath of Killing Dionysus; post wedding Open to: Everyone!

Rosaline had already been more than happy when she found out she was going to be on call the night of the gathering.  But as gurney after gurney of attackers and victims rolled in, that feeling only increased tenfold, only now she felt guilty for having it.  She wondered if it had been fate that she hadn’t been in attendance, and she hoped anyone in similar straits, of being forced into association with the syndicates, had either turned down attending or had escaped injury.  It was the least they deserved.  A small, bitter part of her thought the same for the injured syndicate members.  She knew it wasn’t fair, most of them had nothing to do with her situation, had inner lives; jobs, families, dreams, but she couldn’t help but think it.  It’s the least they deserved.  But regardless of her thoughts, she treated every person, regardless of syndicate, or role of victim or attacker in the event, which equal care (okay, well, Stags were pulled from the waiting room quicker, but she had no choice in that matter).  

“Emma can you make sure to stock up on--” she paused, thinking for a moment “4-0 biosyn monofilament suture kits?  The ones with the cutting needles.”  She finished her request to the nursing student that was shadowing her as she turned around, only to find not Emma standing there.  “Oh, uh--”  Rosaline was unsure if they were a patient or family member who had wandered from the waiting room “Can I help you with something?”

[counselorelia]

open starter: the diner

between visiting her daughter, running her business, and laying awake at night with an envelope beside her bed, elia had not been getting enough sleep. she pulled more and more late nights, often wandering the streets or ending up at the diner, trying to avoid being alone and helpless in her own house. it was one such night that she found herself sitting alone at the always-open diner, a milkshake in front of her (she had all but stopped drinking alcohol after her letter came; she needed to keep a clear head). her laptop was open beside her, and she was so intent on her calculations that she didn’t notice someone had taken a nearby seat. elia shut her laptop, a polite mask of a smile on her face. “my apologies. i didn’t see you there. what brings you here, tonight?”

[oftybolt]

Even with his new responsibilities as acting governor keeping him busy and on his toes, he still found time to go back to the familiar. He would always be drawn back to the places that he felt at ease and those would always be wherever there were crowds. Sociable by nature he thrived on interactions with others, new dynamics fuelling him and the little flickers of triumph over insights that he gained sustaining him. It was his element and the confidence that he exuded made sure that everyone else knew it too. Languid strides carry him over to the bar, as though he has all the time in the world. With a smooth movement he leads against the bar, easy smile settling on his lips as the bartender greets him. “I’ll take your best scotch, neat.” Casting his gaze around for someone he might entrap in a conversation, a warm offer was made to the person next to him. “I’ll happily make it two if you’d like? Or something that’s more to your liking.”

[ofmargaery]

While she’d spent the better half of the evening fluttering around the room and greeting as many people as she could, eventually she’d found a moment to enjoy one of the poker games on offer. Though it wasn’t going all that well for her, perhaps due to her mind being elsewhere. Usually she’d have paid more attention but for once she found herself not minding that the house always won when she knew that the money would be going to a good cause. Lips pressed together in a show of playful disapproval as she laid her cards on the table with a light shake of her head in gentle self deprecation. But just as soon as she’d played at being put out, bright smile slipped back onto rosy lips with gentle laughter bubbling up from them. “Maybe I should have brushed up on my poker skills before now.” Nose wrinkled in mock chagrin, doe eyed gaze brightening as she shifts the focus to the person sitting next to her. “Is your lucky any better?”

[llioness]

it  was  tedious  waiting  for  good  news  .  cersei  waved  the  waitress  down  for  a  refill  on  her  coffee  ,  before  biting  into  the  warm  slice  of�� apple  pie  .  had  the  events  of  the  last  few  days  not  have  passed  as  they  had  ,  she  would  have  simply  ordered  takeout  ,  rather  than  ever  be  spotted  at  the  diner  ,  it  was  simply  not  a  place  she  would  risk  staining  her  clothes  .  but  it  was  important  for  her  to  be  seen  ,  to  keep  anyone  wanting  to  grab  for  power  in  check  .  she  was  not  a  superstitious  woman  ,  usually  ,  but  cersei  was  anxious  to  receive  the  phone call  passing  on  the  condolences  that  robert  had  passed  ,  so  perhaps  something  sweet  in  her  mouth  would  bring  about  the  sweet  news  she  was  desperate  for  .  

she  had  once  married  robert  ,  stars  in  her  eyes  ,  with  hope  for  a  future  where  the  reigns  of  power  would  be  in  their  hands  .  it  had  taken  him  just  a  few  hours  after  the  exchange  of  their  vows  ,  for  her  to  realize  that  things  would  always  be  cold  between  them  .  she  had  also  realized  one  other  thing  that  day  ,  with  the  utmost  clarity  .  cersei  did  not  want  to  share  power  ,  not  ever  .  despite  the  reigns  of  the  lannister  syndicate  being  in  her  hands  ,  her  thirst  for  more  had  her  eyes  set  on  her  husbands  now  .  although  no  stranger  to  how  leaders  were  chosen  ,  she  would  be  damned  if  she  let  someone  steal  what  belonged  rightfully  to  her  son  .

it  was  the  sound  of  the  bell  ringing  as  the  diner  door  opened  ,  that  pulled  her  from  her  thoughts  .  the  practiced  look  of  exhaustion  spread  across  her  face  with  ease  ,  as  she  raised  her  coffee  cup  to  greet  .  “  please  don’t  tell  me  your  hoping  for  a  quote  for  a  newspaper  or  what  not  ,  i’m  afraid  i  will  have  nothing  new  to  tell  you  .  if  roberts  condition  had  changed  for  the  better  ,  you  would  have  found  me  screaming  it  from  a  rooftop  .  ”  before  she  tossed  his  body  off  .

[ycungtrident]

location: hotel royale, BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE mini-event open to: anyone

For the most part, Edmure liked to present himself as a man of all virtue and no vice, but he never could resist the call of the blackjack table...Or the craps table, roulette wheel, or really anything that could be found in a casino and a large amount of money could be lost.  Granted, he never went too far, he knew when to cut his losses and go home, but there was something exhilarating about the absolute chance of it all for a man who rarely took them.  And for charity? Well it just seemed like a win-win situation.  He also knew it was about time he showed his face after the wedding massacre.  He had been trying to lay even lower than usual, still somewhat convinced that if he had been in attendance he would have been on the list of those marked for death.  But he was the had of a syndicate, of course people wanted him dead.  If he refused to venture into public every time there was a conspiracy, he’d never leave the house.  

“C’mon, blow on them for me.” he pleaded of his craps table neighbor.  “It’s a tradition.  And hey, if I win big I may even cut you in.”  

[rosenthrns]

OPEN

a trail of cigar smoke escapes from the seal of her lips as she holds the vintage cuban in her lungs a little longer. it’s smooth going in but prickles at the edges of her chest, settling in like a temperamental beast laid to rest. she exhales and watches as the puff dissipates into the evening, the smell of it fragrant but not too strong on the open balcony she had gone off to. olenna raises a glass of cognac to her lips, stopping midway when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye.  ‘ if you’re trying to sneak around me, think again, ’  she says.  ‘ i may be old but i’m still of perfect health --- vision and all. ’ 

[greywaterwatched]

Meera would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit shaken. She usually wasn’t the flappable sort. Steady and prepared, there was little that could surprise Meera Reed, but if anything was going to do the job, it was this. She had been allowed to leave, and for that she was grateful. As an initiate, there was very little she could do but wait for orders anyway. Still, Meera was too full of restless energy, and until she had cooled off a little, she couldn’t scuttle off like nothing had happened. Meera sat on the pavement, legs crossed in front of her, replaying the events in her mind. When a shadow fell across her, she glanced up, taking in the sight of the newcomer. 

“You wanna take a seat? The ground is more comfy than it looks. I promise.” 

[satinwulf]

location:      the  satin  wolf,      neutral  territory. when:      mid - evening. status:      open.

some  things  simply  had  to  be  done  on  your  own.        it  isn’t  that  sansa  doesn’t  trust  her  myriad  of  employees,      she’d  not  have  hired  them  if  she  hadn’t  thought  them  capable  of  doing  what  needed  to  be  done   . . .   but  the  overwhelming  insistence  that  things  needed  to  be  placed  just  right   -   done  just  so,      meant  that  she  at  least  thought  a  quick  overview  was  in  order.        not  to  mention  the  new  pieces  that  needed  to  be  delivered  and  priced;      hung  up  and  displayed,      styled  in  ways  that  brought  interest  instead  of  disgust.        that  is  what  drives  her  to  come  in  tonight,      after  the  boutique’s  closed  for  the  evening  and  attention  is  few  and  far  between.        because  no  one’s  interested  in  clothes  when  a  thriving  nightlife  has  more  to  offer  a  few  blocks  over.

the  jingle  of  the  bell  above  the  door  sends  a  shiver  down  her  spine,      hands  freezing  their  work  almost  immediately  as  a  low  grumble  emits  from  the  large  dog  at  her  heels.        it’s  her  own  fault   -   sansa’d  had  her  hands  full  earlier,      between  boleyn’s  leash  and  the  garment  bags  of  new  designs,      locking  the  door  behind  her  had  been  her  intention  but   . . .    it  was  too  late  for  that  now.        “      sorry,      we’re  closed.      ”        gentle,      hint  of  a  tremor  as  she  hangs  one  last  dress  then  reaches  down  to  slip  long  fingers  into  boleyn’s  collar  before  she  finally  lifts  her  gaze  to  the  intruder.        trespasser.        the  words  don’t  matter  so  much  as  the  intent,      but  even  still  sansa’s  struggling  to  hold  her  own  ground.        “      that’s  what  the  closed  sign  means,      in  case  you  didn’t  know.      ”

[ofbryce]

He knew that he never enjoyed his time in bars. Too many people, too much noise and a complete lack of personal space. Yet he somehow always ended up in one nursing his rum as he tried  his best to give off the air of someone completely adverse to company. For the most part he always succeeded, the scowl on his features meaning that even the bartender usually thought twice about interrupting his silence to offer up another drink. All he ever wanted was some peace and predictably bars never offered him that. As if to prove his point, a commotion broke out behind him. Turning towards the noise his frown deepen on his brow as he took in the fight that seemed to have broken out. Sharp gaze remained trained on the scuffle, trying to pick out who it involved and whether he needed to step in. He deliberated for a second before rising to his feet but before he could take more than a few steps in their direction, it fizzled out.

With a huff he turned back to his barstool only to find it suddenly occupied in the few moments he’d stepped away. He wasted no time in leaning against the bar and addressing the new occupier, refusing to give up his little corner of solace that easily. “That was my seat.” 

[stcrmybastard]

location: the red keep open to: everyone

Despite being Robert’s son and an associate of the Stags to boot, Edric would not be inclined to call himself ‘Stag aligned’ (he was Renly and Stannis aligned, which naturally sometimes meant he served Stag interests, but Edric always liked to make the distinction), and had always been someone who would talk to others regardless of their own involvement with other families.  Stark, Baratheon, Lannister, Tully, Martell, etc. he really didn’t care, as long as they were fun to be with and could hold a conversation.  To an extent, he had never really paid much attention to territorial lines, and could be seen frequenting any number of family owned establishments.  But after his father’s attempted murder, despite his dislike for the man, Edric found himself a bit on edge, even in a neutral territory such as the Red Keep.  So when he felt a pair of eyes on him from across the bar, it took him a minute to realize it was someone he recognized, not someone wanting to kill him (well, he hoped, anyways, he didn’t think he had wronged them).  It was only as he offered a wave, did he suddenly realize his mind had gone blank on their name, despite obviously knowing it (could he blame it on the two drinks he had? he wasn’t sure).  They seemed to be heading his way and all he could whisper was “shit, shit, shit, shit.”