Thread: Paper Swords & Thorny Roses [Sanoci x Fruit] {GoT}

S er T amir Y ronwood F A myriad of possibilities invaded the mind of Tamir presently, including the cumbersome tasks allotted in the background which required a dexterous intellect to juggle migraines of such growing severity. Her hubris, including blatant disrespect, was appalling simply gnawing further into his complicated psyche. Arianna Dryner became the epicenter of this impending bloodbath between them, though honoring father remained paramount for the meanwhile. Inciting chaos at a funeral was too unbecoming, but the symbolism of it seem inhumane if not justified for she was the sole witness to his passing. Likewise, Tamir had plenty of obligations to address that yearned to sweep him upon the gale winds of uncertainty. Mother would wheeze at imagining Father being showcased in a Sept, yet that was the benefit of survival where only one's reputation and memories could dare hold its fleeting influence like decomposition of a carcass. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Morning infiltrated by its scorching rays, commemorating the bleak day which undeniably would be basked in the words of smallfolk and nobility alike.Shifting Syn's impregnable stubborn would be a fruitless endeavor for the sake of thwarting the religious tones behind the funeral. Boring similar sentiments over the gods, favoring the acumen of one's aptitude whether it was engineering, diplomacy, even the primitive yet necessary skill of violence. A decorative silver gorget enveloped his neck, donning a plain black doublet with a tightened dark violet waistcoat practically camouflaged with the exception of the embroidery displaying his house. Artifical padding around the shoulder better emphasized a mighty leader, a Bloodroyal despite the insistence of his twin to parade around the castle like a harlot masquerading as a notable figure in Essos. Reservation between him and his pompous, begrudging sister was best kept in separate sections until this frivolous and overly pious event has concluded. Although sunken in a foul mood as of late, things would eventually look up. Discarding the distance he kept from kin originally, now he stood with her, peering nonchalantly at the festive corpse once his father. I cruel jest, parading you like this. , Tamir could only think of such disrespect. However, Syn played the game when it was a necessity. This was her center stage to masquerade emotions, garner support with the greatest tool of all sympathy after tragedy has stricken. Awaiting for her piece to come to its conclusion, he addressed the audience with a robust authoritative demeanor. Faking weaknesses like sorrow were not among his talents, preferring weapons he favored most facts. The veracity from my sister's lips regarding our Bloodroyal Anders Yronwood holds all the weight in golden dragons for the standards he withheld. Though taken from us by illness, we guard the way towards prospering through this dark period., pausing momentarily to watch the expressive faces contort, a few gleaming by his every word, and a few demonstrating dismay. Unwavering in his convictions, he continued knowing the venomous fangs of Syn yearned to penetrate his jugular for each sentence he implemented. Recently the Martells have shown the folly within the infighting with the rest of Westeros , chaos ensuing and legacies lost with only us caught in the crosshair. Like our coat of arms and renowned words, Yronwoods will be that portcullis guarding the way against discord of other nations,meliorate Dorne into something sinew, something evolved. Allow my father's death be a day of joyous remembrance and from it return like the wrath of warrior. Finishing his speech merit mixed reactions, plenty still applauding from transforming this gruesome day into one of unity. A glance was fixated onto Vayon, silent communication between them like the words spoken before was as much a secret code than just to lighten the moods of others. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Open waters quivered like a bashful virgin at a brothel, a macabre galleon stained in black as it lingered in between territories with a purpose though the sails remained relatively the same. The figurehead closer to a horrific creature beyond the wall with elongated tusks upon it. Normally the area around them occupied the Royal fleet marshal by the Master of Ships and located at Dragonstone. Fortune served this group well. When the War of the Five Kings broke out, Stannis Baratheon seized control of the ships at Dragonstone and utilized them in his attack on King's Landing. Most of the Royal Fleet's crews and captains stay loyal to Stannis because he had been commanding them as Master of Ships during his brother Robert's entire reign, including most fractured after Wildfyre drowned them to the ocean.