cordoleo

[cordoleo]

such ready kindness, and seemingly sincere too, ought to be appreciated, but lynara feels it is almost a double edged sword to cling to selyse's generosity when her own intentions are so far to align with the princess' own. if she was to do so, perhaps she would confide in the princess that she thought the match was unlikely to occur still, or that she simply did not wish to make the red keep her home at all — but it now seems less dangerous to be deceitful, without ill intentions, than to speak her truth. "i would not be opposed to it. my own sister has grown out of needing me, you see." for a short moment, she wonders if that may be the case for selyse and alyssa, but with the way the princess speaks of her stepmother, such assumption seems misplaced, so she bites her tongue instead, and offers a nod of understanding (even if she did not entirely). so she dismisses any talk of the queen, and offers the princess instead a tilt of her head, as if the younger’s words were preposterous. “i do not find that likely, your grace. if we are to be good sisters, i would not find it in me to ever dislike you truly.” lynara can not tell if the same can be said, but she does not allow the other time enough to think further. “let us not dwell in such heaviness, your grace. there are far too many beautiful things for us to be so despondent, hm?”

Selyse reaches for her hand, clasping them in her own. "you can simply repay me by accepting this as a token of friendship and sisterhood, that when you make the red keep your home you can find in me someone to lean on." she says with sincerity, the bride of his brother would be her good sister, and with the distance physically and emotionally between her own two sisters accordingly, she could use a friend in lynara if the faiths would have it. gently the princess lets her hand go, the sad smile is quickly replaced by the brightness she usually displays as she begins to guide them down the merchant street once more.

the storm born daughter does her best to conceal the sarcastic chuckle that wishes to be born from the depths of her chest. she doubted the queen held a single care for the princess, for any of her husband children that was. "the queen," she remarks, for she would never be her mother, nor her queen, but those were sentiments for her and her alone. "and i, we were never set up to have a good relationship i am afraid. it is the conditions in which life has place us, and we both best simply play our roles," it was what the game of throne was. the queen would do anything to place her son on the throne for her own greed and selyse needed her brother to ascend to the throne to survive. "oh sweet lynara, you shall come to find them as you come to share a life under the same roof, however you shall promise me to not hate me for them, i plea." she muses.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑳.𝑺.​ : dialogue. #figure we could maybe end it soon?

[cordoleo]

"is limitation something to draw pride from, lord umber?" she clicks her tongue. "you northern men are all the same." complaint is half-hearted, even if there is some lingering frustration — she's heard enough moaning about the men from her entourage wishing to return north, and, for now, she could not say she shared such sentiment — but it is drowned by the levity in tone she's best familiarized in wearing. gaze softens as she brings a hand to the center of his chest, even if lynara gives him a gentle push. "yours, indeed," is muttered, before she is turning on her heel to guide them to what seems to be the closest source of fresh air and semi-privacy — one of the many balconies. "shut the door and sit so i may remove this mask of yours. it is rather beautiful, but do you not feel unbearably hot in it? do not lie just to indulge me."

He denies with his head, he was not meant for dancing and he had already done far more than what he had ever planned by learning the northern steps. the southern ones were just of no interest to him. "i believe it is best we limit to what i already know, let us not get too greedy." he teases her, and although she cannot see it he hopes she can heard the smile in his words. he holds his hands up in the air to claim innocence, although she knew him far too well and such warning was very well deserved. "after you, my very demanding lady." he gives her a dramatic gesture to guide them towards outside the ball room. if he had his way she would not return to the dance floor, and if she did she would be not as put together as she left. the mischievous glint shun in his eyes.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑳.𝑺.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

though she is certain he is not as appreciative — not for distaste towards her, she knows, but simply from his own person — as she is, the acknowledgement is enough to fill her with pride, sentiment clear on the way her lips curl upwards and remain so, chin tilted upwards. "well, you look beautiful with it." some of it falls as he goes on, however, and the lady stark's shoulders slump, dramatically so. "ser, you were a little boy once. can you not remember?" she can not; he had always been much taller and more serious than she was, even when he was but another of her father's squires, one of her brother's friends. "try to remember tonight, it may be your one chance. tomorrow all will be as it usually is." next, he receives a scoff. "do i? i had not been warned by my lord brother that we were in immediate danger."

lynara's  approach  only  serves  to  remind  jory  that  he  should  not  indulge  her  so  easily.  the  painted  on  mask  he  sports  is  testament  enough  to  the  favour  she  holds  in  his  estimations.  every  so  often,  he  forgets  about  her  handiwork  swathed  over  his  features.  her  appearance  from  the  crowd  brings  the  reminder  with  it.  even  with  her  face  partially  concealed,  he  knows  it's  her.  jory  has  no  trouble  recognizing  any  of  the  starks.  "  your  handiwork  is  still  stands,  my  lady,  "  he  confirms,  using  her  title  as  a  term  of  endearment  more  than  an  honorific.  "  fun  is  for  little  boys,  lynara,  "  he  speaks  the  words  but  only  believes  them  halfway. he and her brother had rejoiced well into their adulthood years.  "  anyhow  —  i'm  on  duty,  as  you  know.  "  he  gestures  to  his  side  sword  as  if  to  drive  home  his  point.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑳.𝑺.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

lynara listens with attention, rare flint in her gaze as she considers the blackwood dynamics. they were altogether different from her own family's — lynara did not always care to judge, but not for the first time, she wonders how her sweet, honorable father, has fallen in such deep acquaintance and camaraderie with men so unlike him as the lord blackwood, his majesty and the late lord arryn. "do you not believe he misses her?" perhaps it is a foolish question, but if she could cling to the good of a situation or a person, she would. "i am certain your cousin is generous to care for the little one, but you needn't send her away; there is enough children in winterfell that one more would not disturb the nursemaids." of course, illiana was closer to womanhood now, but that's not something she'd like to linger; best she keeps her childhood while she can, especially with the woes she has already had to go through. "i would rather not keep the two of you apart longer when i know it grieves you so."

O ly rolls her eyes as she laughs at nara's matter of fact words, which she could not argue. "very well, a few extra steps, it does not change the view on it. my sweet lynara." she shrugs, although there was a slight fear in her stomach that the woman would give nothing but bad omens. "go on," she ushers her with a smile, as the little raven runs off olynna's face hardens, her father had attempted to suggest ilianna's return to raventree hall. and she had not entertained the idea, which she was paying in other fronts. "my father's wife could not care, one less head to worry about i suppose. my father might be feeling remorseful for he does wish for her to return to our home." and if she knew ilianna would be safe there, she would allow it to be, but she did not felt it that way. "she will remain with us as far as we remain here, then she shall return to maidenpool as i have instructed. it is for the best. ilianna will only return to raventree hall if i do, or when she comes of age and can make her own choice." and although she knew it to be best, it still sadden her to part with her.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑳.𝑺.​ : dialogue. #flashing lights tw #flashing tw

[cordoleo]

"perhaps you ought to cut your time on the city and focus on your backhand instead. certaintly it will be safer too. considering..." voice trails off, and a hand teatrically touches her own neck. although she had been scratched and scratched back while discussing about the attempt on her life with the eldest of the princesses, words about the attack had not been shared with the youngest; for all purposes, selyse was more maleable, perhaps she may even fall sympathetic, foolishly. "it was a fair trade. i am certain i have molded the red keep enough for the longing not to overwhelm so." false smile rises, only enough to make the corner of her eyes crinkle, but not reach the light of her eyes.

The princess eyebrows raise slightly, but she wills her expression to remain soft and settled. the queen had the same demeanor of wishing to get a rise of selyse, just as much as she did the queens. it was a dangerous game they had entangled in. yet, she refused to be the one to give up first. "not much, i have entertained a few friendly matches here and there." she shrugs. "certainly," she nods, although she does not believe a single one of her words, neither her or her father's sentiments either. "it is quite the glamorous place, with its craftmanship and gold dripping everywhere. i can see why you would miss this place in exchange for the red keep." even she had known little of a life in the stormlands, and yet she would exchange it for the red keep any day of the week. "i hope you're enjoying your return to your homeland."

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑱.𝑳.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

smile widens at shared affection, guiding her son close so she may enlace their arms together, beneath the glorious cape he was wearing. "one hardly needs brains to be of noble blood. westerosi nobles have always proven it so." scarlet lips turn into a smirk, derision always ready in the tip of her poisonous tongue. "you must enjoy it, do you, darling? are there any doors not being a prince opens to you?" curiosity is not faux; though joanna is too hesitant to ever let go of her majesty, she could perhaps understand that one could hear or do things not easily granted if others do not know who they are. "i have missed my childhood home tremendously, drystan." indeed she has, though she knows that many would not believe her affliction; joanna trusts her children above all to realize when she does not indulge in falsity, however, for she's often been frank with them (when and about what she thought suitable, of course). "though there is always something to sour. your cousin is unhappy, you may have noticed." it displeased joanna immensely that it seems her vision was short-sighted with this match (and, well, that cerenna was not happy with it), and that such mismatch may as well be visible to others too. she sighs.

drystan approached his mother with the ease and familiarity that any son would have with the woman who birthed him. "mother," he greeted, his voice warm, as he took her hand in his, his smile playful yet revealing a shared intelligence. "the tally of those who've pierced through my disguise remains embarrassingly small, despite the giant antlers for a mask. the masquerade has granted me a delightful obscurity," he mused, his tone light but tinged with genuine satisfaction.

he then shifted his attention to her well-being with genuine concern. "and how have the evening's events treated you? i hope the week has been as kind and joyful for you amidst all the grandeur."

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑱.𝑳.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

the night is young and merry and joanna would not have her own house dishonored by excusing herself early even after some minor displeasures — she would not have it so even as she is obliged to make an intermission because her stupid handmaiden (she almost misses briony, may her soul not burn terribly wherever she is now) picked a shoe so tight she could barely walk. her feet still pinched, even after she replaces the ornate shoe by one that is gilded instead; she can not tell if her mood betters or worsens at the sight that awaits her by the hall. her good sister's child — technically, her niece — was a being of such lovingness that it was sickening, but her face was not one joanna had forgotten just yet. "my, my, is that the lady baratheon? the babe?" joanna knows zehra is not the youngest, but she still recalls the few namedays she had attended, and the girl would always be no better than a child to her, especially if she was intended to behave as one. "'tis a masquerade, young doe. by showing yourself like this, one may think that you are expectant of recognition by a certain someone."

closed  starter  :  zehra  &  joanna @cordoleo location  :  one  of  the  many  hallways  at  nightfall

the  night  had  taken  its  toll  on  the  baratheon,  in  truth  zehra  had  felt  overwhelmed  in  a  way  she  didn't  think  possible.  The  room  had  been  large  in  size,  but  with  so  many  lords,  ladies,  and  nobles  packed  into  one  room,  the  air  didn't  feel  as  fresh  as  the  rainy  weather  back  home.  it  was  getting  late  and  some  had  even  returned  to  their  chambers  already  in  fear  of  letting  the  wine  get  too  much  to  their  heads.  zehra  found  herself  walking  for  what  felt  like  several  minutes  before  she  was  alone  before  there  were  guards  at  every  door  and  people,  in  general,  swarming  her  space. 

with  swift  movements  she  removed  her  mask,  clutching  it  in  her  hands  as  she  didn't  wish  for  it  to  disappear.  letting  her  back  fall  against  the  cold  stone  wall  she  breathed  as  if  she'd  been  holding  her  breath  for  several  hours.  maybe  she  had.  "thank  god."  she  let  fall  from  her  lips  in  a  breath,  unaware  of  the  lion  prowling  close.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑱.𝑳.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

roy makes a good effort in being as distant as he can, taking any opportunity away from the dance floor — it is where it is most suitable for him, after all, best to keep watch should he need to. it does not seem to be as fitting to the lady that speaks up, however, with her garb as well done as it is. there is a story about a mermaid, elenei, from the origins of the stormlands and, as he glances at the brunette, he imagines she may as well be elenei personified, if only for the way she's chosen to portray herself for the evening. "i have no taste for it, i'm afraid. i pity the feet of those who wish to try their luck, so best to keep my distance." tone is light, his own attempt at humour, if only for he already has set himself as surly by keeping away. "what is your impediment?"

open starter the masquerade ball

sigrid did not think she had ever been to a ball as grand as this before. she had grown up on the decks of ships, and the distant shores of lonely light, with only seals and siblings and shipmates for company. most of her life had been spent in breeches, and yet here she was, draped in pale blue silk, covered in seashells and pearls, her dark hair twisted up behind her head, oddly anonymous between the swell of dancers.

she hung back around the sides of the dance floor, sipping on a cup of wine while the music played. while sigrid was not unable to dance, she was no great talent either, preferring a more private setting for revelries.

“i see i am not the only one in need of a moment away from the dancing,” she said as another masked guest took a seat next to hers.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑹.𝑪.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

the longer she speaks, the more recognizable the timbres are. roy shifts in his place, paying closer attention and even leaning in to impose himself in a way a brother would to tease a sister, especially one as quick-tongued as the princess was. "is that so, amarei? go on and fetch your mistress." the name of the lady in waiting is purposefully brought up; both girls were of similar coloring, similar personality and, who knows, he could even be right. the lord commander exhales a sound of offense, though his tone remains playful as he pulls back and shakes his head. "i am supposed to be ever alert, my lady. that is hardly possible if i am to be twirling around."

The raise of her eyebrow is only a gesture of her amusement, there was no hesitation nor doubt that someone so stiff and with such words from a familiar voice was the gentleman she had know for so many years. and yet she does not give away either her knowledge nor her identity. "then perhaps i should fetch the princess and ask for her to demand you to oblige to a dance with me. she is a dear friend of mine, you see." she muses, mischievous spark in her eyes. she wonders how long it would take him to know who she was, and yet she gives little away. "and while that might be true, you seem like you could benefit more from a dance and to loosen up a notch."

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑹.𝑪.​ : dialogue. #im permitted to bring up my gf excuse me

[cordoleo]

the voice is not unfamiliar, the frame less so. royce has not met the stark heir many times, but, if he gazes for longer, he would be able to tell that edric's gaze is just like his father's, the hand, whom roy has been well familiarized over the years. "would you not side with them had you been denied unfamiliar enjoyment? it may not please adults much, but the dancing, the lights, the food, sure would please them. i know my daughter has already given me an earfull over being denied to dress up as her aunt has." for he does not consider what he has done dressing up in any sort, even if he'd allowed elenda to be the one to choose what color would he wear. "have you brought yours to the city, my lord?" he does not voice his assumption, not yet but he recalls of the stark children in the riverlands; davos spent that week speaking of the toys and the games the boys had shared.

with royce caron @cordoleo

it was hard to know who the truly friendly faces were beneath the masks and for the most part he had convinced himself it did not matter. anxiety had been high about the lack of certainty in other's identity and when he already saw potential enemies everywhere in the south, it had been a hard feeling to shake. but worries aside he would address each person that approached him the same regardless. keeping a careful neutrality was tiring though, he never had felt as though he was made for politics, and so when a figure he suspected might be familiar to him crossed his eyeline his next conversation partner was chosen. "it is quite a night, is it not? I will have to tell my children about it though no doubt they will simply make me feel guilty that they did not get to be here." words contain subtle mirth, hoping that the shared topic of children would land correctly if it was indeed the man he hoped it to be.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑹.𝑪.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

her words draw laughter from him, a small grimace passing his features — he almost feels like the boy who tried to be more light-hearted when following the king’s procession, accompanied by this very rykker at times. “many times. sometimes it works, until he opens the next bottle.” he’s almost sure that it would be the same case for the queen, but roy shall not raise such thoughts, not when the occurrence is so fresh and the villain who’s done it still on the loose (though he knows himself to be above suspicion, it is no trouble to be cautious still). “i believe i have outgrown to care for how he drinks his wine; though it nonetheless concerns us all about the afterwards.” those matthos loved and those matthos hated fell victim to the brunt of his moods, be it high or low born.

“are people still talking about that little… faux pass during the performances in the riverlands?” he could not help but to notice that several nobles had been withdrawn, less willing to sign themselves up for activities with the possibility of receiving the worst kind of royal attention after the (even roy can admit so, even if not out loud) shameful display then. he makes a hissing sound at the possibility she raises, before letting his gaze linger on the game that unfolds in front of them. could that be the best possibility, truly? if the shift in the royals’ relationship was genuine, perhaps they would find it to distract themselves over than to make their companions pay for their loss. “may be. we shall have to be prepared regardless.”

there  had  been  a  time  when  the  line  between  them  had  been  as  deeply  etched  as  the  conflict  between  the  royal  couple,  loyalty  to  the  ones  that  had  brought  them  up  from  nothing  into  the  positions  that  they  now  held  inspiring  poorly  concealed  suspicion  ─  desmera  had  thought  him  to  be  as  dull  as  the  bluntest  tool  in  the  shed,  a  suitable  companion  to  a  boarish  king,  but  the  years  had  both  disenchanted  them  to  the  reality  of  being  favored  by  the  crown  and  forced  them  into  a  relationship  that  was  built  on  mutual  understanding,  as  though  they  were  two  guardians  maneuvering  the  emotions  of  their  respective  charges  to  avoid  an  explosive  fight.  she  was  not  ashamed  to  admit  that  royce  was  privy  to  most  of  her  genuine  thoughts  and  though  she  still  believed  him  to  be  unbearable  honorable  for  someone  in  his  position,  one  of  them  needed  to  possess  a  conscience  and  it  certainly  was  not  her  burden  to  bear.  ❝  have  you  ever  tried  watering  the  wine  down  ?  ❞  the  words  were  a  jest,  said  so  casually  that  anyone  else  might  have  missed  the  hint  of  amusement  in  her  smile,  gone  as  quickly  as  it  came. (  she  had  heard  what  had  happened  to  the  last  cupbearer  that  had  failed  to  bring  the  king  a  flagon  of  wine  in  record  time.  everyone  in  the  castle  had  heard,  if  only  because  of  how  loudly  the  king  had  berated  the  fool.  ) ❝  tch  ...  ❞  tongue  clicked  against  the  roof  of  her  mouth  at  the  moniker,  long  since  retired  from  public  use.  ❝  let  us  pray  that  they  do  not  meet  in  the  matches.  the  riverlanders  look  promising  ...  the  crowd  is  whispering  about  a  straight  set  win.  perhaps  they  will  cinch  the  victory  and  our  majesties  can  stew  in  defeat  together.  ❞

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑹.𝑪.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

"no, it will not." he gives the younger man a firm nod. "it would not be suitable to a celebration this great. all we can do is to try and find someplace where the violins don't scratch us so closely." or that the people do not come clawing in begging for a dance partner, or for mindless conversation (though roy can hardly speak, as this was something of the sort too). he turns a raised eyebrow to the masked figure, not for the first time finding the whole ordeal needlessly stressful (by the gods, who would almost be killed and wish to run a masquerade? may the gods damn the lannister queen). "the farthest piece of the world i know of would be the north. or essos, though that is a world of its own, i suppose." he had never been across sea; his voyages during the greyjoy rebellion and afterwards only led him across westerosi shore. "not too far. i have been as far as the stepstones, but that is hardly where i — or anyone in this civilized place — hail from."

He glances over at the lord for a quiet moment, a nod of his head to welcome him as any lord should according to his younger years spent with his tutor. then he turns back to watch the dance floor, he only looks for the one mask that he knows to be familiar to him, the only one he truly cared in that night. the only reason he had attended, otherwise he would be laying somewhere else already half asleep. "i am fond of the quiet too, but it seems unfit for this kind of night, besides, with our chatter or not this place will not be any quieter." he muses, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "depends on what you would consider far, half a continent almost, but it is always a sight to see new lands. yourself? come from far travels as well?" he wonders.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑹.𝑪.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

"if you were to join our boat and slow us down, i wouldn't be above doing that myself." he indulges in the jest then; were he to truly touch any of the queen's scions, perhaps she would have him removed from the city altogether (besides, he does not see in the future to know that drystan's presence would not be necessary for them to fail so ridiculously). he raises an eyebrow as the boy approaches, but does not reprimand him for it, even as he tells something that is entirely nonconsequential — besides to confide him that, indeed, the boy was more than what he portrayed himself to be. "and have you found? anything that can add weight to your thoughts?" he is not concerned with keeping his voice as rushed as the prince; his job was to investigate, so it would not be out of place that he may poke even a prince about it. yet, the lord caron remains silent as the squire comes with the food ordered by the prince.

"your father always wishes for a win, so if you shall not be offended, i shall hope that you will be by the sidelines in a couple of days. and that we shall not go head to head today either. i would not like to throw the match in your favor just to please your parents." a tease with much truth beneath the words.

"ah, lord royce, i assure you, my comments about the water were more in jest than anything. although, given the competitive spirit these events tend to inspire, i wouldn't put it past some to consider a playful push," he said with a playful glint in his eye, making it clear he wasn't truly worried about such antics. "but fear not, i shall remain safely on dry land, where the only risk i run is a bruised ego, should my tennis skills prove lacking."

he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a confidential matter. "and between you and me, i find there's a certain art to staying occupied with the lighter side of these gatherings. it helps keep the mind sharp for when we must turn our attention to weightier matters." his gaze briefly flickered with a seriousness that hinted at the underlying pressures of their positions and the recent strains on his family, before he shook his head, dispelling the momentary shadow. "for now, i'll look forward to cheering you and my father on the tennis court, should lorent and I lose."

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑹.𝑪.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

dancing had never been for him — lessons of the sort were not spared around nightsong, and he did not see himself fitting amongst the ones shared by the baratheons unless he was explicitedly demanded to. that is not the tone or the order he receives now as the brunette approaches him; roy is almost certain he recognizes the mane, but he does not voice the assumption just yet. not in said words. "they must be of royal blood, for no other reason but a explicit order would lead me to the dance floor, my lady." arms remain crossed against his chest, and the lord caron tips his head in the direction of many a youth near him. "you would have better luck and better partner elsewhere."

special raven from royce caron — night fourteen; masquerade ball.

Selysa had began dancing almost as soon as the dance floor had opened, the music always called for her and she never dared denied such calling. the request poured around her, and even if they didn't, she was certain she would find someone to dance with her. the music had halted and in between clapping and soft laughter she had managed to escape the lord that had been monopolizing her. her eyes had landed on their mask once as she had been dancing, she had noticed him on the sidelines simply observing. had she not been overtaken with both excitement and wine, perhaps she would know exactly who he was. but she allows her impulse. "now what does a lady have to do around here to gather your attention for a dance, my lord?" she muses.

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑹.𝑪.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

That’s all the realm is now, back-stabbing and scheming and arse-licking and money-grubbing.

#* — 𝑱.𝑳.​ : characterization. #ft. matthos baratheon.

[cordoleo]

bottom lip sticks out at the mere thought, the idea she also shared. “i need only say the word and ask that we may have some extra shipments brought with us — surely the fruit should hold if there are enough containers, and talisa’s ship can keep them safe.” or so one could hope; she did not know the logistics of traveling, but she was nothing if not insistent in her hopes and wishes. “‘tis our right to be a little spoiled, after all of this.” smile comes back to her features with the scrunch of her nose. “well, she can not, else she would be dismissed.” by the tone and the sway of her feet, she means it as a jest — barbrey will be dismissed soon, anyhow, once she becomes a stark in her own right by marriage. “then be certain to add a few more for my girl. we can probably go right now, no? what else do you have today but this scrumptious spread, my liege mormont?”

redness appears in their cheeks at the kind help from the lady stark, even if they know there is no need for embarrassment. lynara is aware of alys' unladylike demeanor by now and the woman has never been anything but sweet. in response, the squire gives a toothy grin, attempting to refocus on her company's voice. " the fruit is very good and there is hardly anything that tastes undesirable... but i will miss these most of all when we travel back home to the north. " there is no complaining to be had from the mormont, not much of a picky eater, though the vast selection and choice is one that has grown on them. it will be hard to readjust after the spoils they have received. alys takes the handkerchief with a nod, already collecting the best sugar pieces for bear. she listens intently to what lynara says, wanting to make conversation but being careful as to not overstep. " barbrey cannot hold anger for you, my lady, surely not... and no doubt agnes is well looked after, but i would love to join you for a visit. "

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑳.𝑺.​ : dialogue.

[cordoleo]

“they make for a fine gift one may often wear.” she offers a nod. “it was my own nameday a fortnight or so ago." that is shared with a rubor that frames her cheeks. "you must let me retribute the favor when time comes for your own, your grace.” a gentle nudging towards finding out the date, for she did not know of the realm delight’s, only of the king’s and of sebastion’s — lynara may not wish for her wedding to the princess’ brother to come true, but she would be lying to say she did not care to come closer to the princesses, each interesting in their own, and selyse seemingly well-aligned with her (she only needs to gain better control of her flustering, lest her true sentiments come to light by the wrong expression or word shared). alas, she does not miss that the princess, too, seemed to step on eggshells but with the subject brought to the queen, perhaps there is no other way that it can be.

her own chuckle holds no bitterness, but a thin string of nerves. “her majesty must care for you so. mothers at times can be a bit unyielding.” but her own words are picked precisely, and lynara does not truly believe that to be the case for the queen. she dips her head in another nod at the explanation, quiet for a few seconds too long. “i know of no errors that may deem you difficult, your grace. but i understand if you do not wish to share them with me just yet. though i must tell you, i am likely to diminish them. ‘tis my flaw.” overlooking one’s faults, that is, always trying to pick at the positive whenever she could; not untrue to herself, but the comfort is said lightly, passing. balancing the line between welcoming to selyse’s friendship and disagreeing of their familial lines is one thing she must still learn, it seems.

Selyse is quick to deny with her head, her unruly waves shacking around her like a halo, the motion always makes her chuckle. "i most certainly cannot resist their allure, i doubt highly i'll ever will either." she confesses with a cheeky smile, it was them shiny things and other perks that truly kept the princess alive, as alive as she could be in the middle of discord and an impending war between siblings. but that was not a topic for the newest member to be enlighten into quite yet. "so would i, personally, it was simply an expression." she waves her hand in the air, recognizing her error. inwardly the princess panics slightly, she would like to warn lynara of the queen, but feels coy about the subject. "you flatter me," she says with shyness, although she is aware of such praises. "existing, perhaps," she laughs bitterly. "in all serious manner, i have never been the easiest, when ones father marries again there's always a slight sense of anomasity between the existing children and the new wife." that without adding a crown to covet and the sort, however that went without saying. "it is all i can ask, of course."

#conquest.event2 #* — 𝑳.𝑺.​ : dialogue.