|
|
Post by Laena Pyre on Feb 18, 2019 20:55:29 GMT 1
Whim, more than anything else, had brought her here.
That, and boredom. Now the threat of Lady Johanna had been dealt with, at least for the time being, her mind looked to other ways to pass the time before she left on the morrow.
So, she was here. Knock, knock.
At Titus's muffled acknowledgement, she breezed into his room, closing the door behind her. "Ser Titus." She greets him with a nod, combining it with clinically running her eyes across him, assessing the mess the carnage had left behind. "The matter keeping me here is now satisfactorality resolved, so I leave on the morrow, to return briefly to Starkwood lands. Will you recover?" She asks bluntly, leaving it to him to see the connection between the two sentences.
|
|
|
|
Post by Titus Blackbriar on Feb 18, 2019 21:49:59 GMT 1
Once again, a monster came calling.
No. Not a monster. Eldon Merryweather was a monster. Bloated and greedy with a low, animal-like cunning. Forked tongue and serrated teeth ill-hidden behind honeyed words and pungent perfume and that was not what now entered his chamber. No, Lady Laena Pyre was no monster, Titus knew as much. No monster, but a beast all the same. A different beast.
A beast just as dangerous.
"Lady Laena." He straightens where he sits, the habit of good manners cut short by his weakened state. He feels her cold eyes assessing him, oh how she reminded him of Lady Shiera - perhaps it was that Balon liked about her?
"I hear Ser Manfryd stood true for your honour. I am glad. Few men could match him in combat, even less so when backed by the grace of the Gods. I hope you and your children will hear no more of Lady Johanna. I understand she is to join the Silent Sisters?" Titus, not yet able to leave the confides of his bed had not seen the duel - but word travel fast, more so when concerning Great Bastards and there was a lot of them involved in this. Whilst Titus' words seemed sincere (the knight had displayed little skill in the art of lies or false courtesy) he is weary in his tone. Weary and tired.
He takes pause as she asks about his recovery. He though of nothing else in his waking hours and his sleep was still cursed with nightmares. He wanted nothing more than to get out of that bed, clasp a sword and mount a horse but each passing day brought nothing but disappointment and crippled frustration.
"Only the Seven knows. The Maesters say it could happen but I fear half of them says so out of kindness and the other half out of fear of my Lord-cousin." He clears his throat and hopes to change the subject, still unsure of why this half-dragon has visited him. "Will my lady be leaving Starkwood lands for some time then?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Laena Pyre on Feb 19, 2019 0:22:31 GMT 1
Laena nods, remaining standing - one of the few ways she can actually physically look *down* at other adults, maintaining a physically dominant position. "I, too, hope this is the last we have heard of that woman, though I do not trust it - they refrain from speaking, but to my knowledge, there are no rules among the Sisters that they may not write messages." She shrugs. "Still, a potential problem for another day."
Something crosses her face when he talks about his doubts over his prognosis, too quick to be readily identified. "I intend to be leaving Starkwood lands permanently. I may visit on rare occasions, but I intend for a clean break. I no longer need them, and they never needed me.
"So, I will travel. See new places, make new friends, ... play my games."
|
|
|
|
Post by Titus Blackbriar on Feb 19, 2019 0:33:03 GMT 1
He nods silently, his eyes wandering to the room's only window, it's drapings of myrish lace and world beyond it. "And does those games include my brother?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Laena Pyre on Feb 19, 2019 1:57:58 GMT 1
Laena gives a casual nod. "For a while." She gives him a rather ominous smile. "My mother always taught me to put my toys away properly when I was done with them." Her tone isn't malicious, more ... coldly amused, but her meaning is clear nonetheless. "Still, until that time, I expect him to be *quite* entertaining."
Her smile widens. "Still, it occurs to me how that game could be more entertaining: complicity. Yours, to be exact. Now, I'm sure you could write a letter and tell him what I've just told you, but you know as well as anyone just how pig-headed stubborn he can be about ignoring facts that get in the way of what he wants. And he wants me. He wants me very, very much. At most, some sweet words and a deep kiss and all your words of warning will be as dust in the wind.
"But you knowing what I will do, and being unable to stop is is only moderately fun. To make it as entertaining as possible, you have to understand that you *could* have stopped me,
"and you didn't.
"Ultimately, that you *chose* to not save him.
"So, I will make you a deal. Do nothing, and I leave, and play with your brother as I described. Or get up out of that bed, walk all the way over here, and slap my cheek, and I'll keep to the deal Balon *thinks* we have, helping him with his ambitions. Palm, backhand, either cheek, doesn't matter. It's not like you can actually do it. It's clear to me that the man who believed in something enough to challenge his own brother over it died out there on that field. *That* man would be able to face down his fear of pain and do what needs doing. This pathetic wreck I see before me isn't worth a thousandth of that man. And I want you to *know* that." Her voice whips with withering scorn, and utterly cold, merciless sincerity.
|
|
|
|
Post by Titus Blackbriar on Feb 19, 2019 18:26:43 GMT 1
And there it was. The beast shedding it's mask and bearing it's teeth. How different she was to Merryweather - lithe and beautiful, a girl his own age, yet now how similar the Lord of Longtable. Maybe Titus was mistaken, maybe she was a monster after all. A cruel little creature that toyed with men's lives and fates as she pleased, a cruel little creature that would string Balon along, use him for whatever end she'd need him for and then cast him aside when his life was spent.
He sat silent, staring at her in disbelief. Then the disbelief turned to realisation, realisation to fear and finally to anger.
No. Not anger. Fury. The fury of the helpless child seeing his mother beaten, the farmer his livelihood set aflame or the poisoned man, too late to avenge himself. His voice shakes, trying to remain in control when he speaks. "How does someone grow to be so hateful? So full of spite? What ugly thing was done to you..." He grows silent as she remains standing there well out of reach, unmoving, unwavering and unrepentant. The challenge was real. But was the conditions? Or the consequences? Titus didn't care.
Locking eyes with her he matches her cold challenge with fiery defiance. Slowly rising in the bed and moving the covers to his side. His breathing is heavy and strained, already betraying the pain he is in. Gritting his teeth, he swallows a groan as he forces his body to turn, placing his feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of the bed.
|
|
|
|
Post by Laena Pyre on Feb 19, 2019 19:15:27 GMT 1
Laena doesn't answer his question. She doubted she could explain, and she was certain he couldn't understand.
Titus moving his body was clearly very painful, and getting his feet to the floor was obviously a significant accomplishment. Instead of congratulations, Laena scoffs at it, folds her arms across her chest, and leans casually against the wall behind her. "You think it impressive that you found your feet? Your father could accomplish that much, and he's *dead*!"
|
|
|
|
Post by Titus Blackbriar on Feb 19, 2019 22:37:30 GMT 1
"You do not... "
It happens faster than anyone would have expected - the fact that it happens at all could be considered a miracle - with a powerful launch he stumbles three, four steps and is upon Laena, pinning her to the wall with an arm far, far stronger than her.
"...speak of my Father."
Much taller, he towers over her. The large arm across her shoulders and chest pushes her hard onto the cold, whitewashed stone that makes the walls of his small room, whilst the other whips up with the back of his hand level to his head. Across his forearm runs several fresh scars, one of them, larger than the others now glares at Leana like a great red serpent. His hand is large and calloused from years of wielding sword, lance and mace and is now posed to strike her clean across the face.
"You who would ruin his children for nothing but your own pleasure do not get to talk about him or the kind of man he was."
They're close. So close he can smell her; her oils, her perfume. Do all monsters try to hide the foulness through sweet smells, he wonders. He presser her harder against the wall. His voice is a low growl. His breathing is heavy, his body tense and in terrible pain.
"Your father may have been a rapist and a tyrant. The men around him cowards and fools. But we are not. My brother is not your plaything."
He lowers his hand, but does not release her.
"And neither am I."
|
|
|
|
Post by Laena Pyre on Feb 20, 2019 0:22:25 GMT 1
If he expected cowering, he would be as disappointed as he was deluded. If he expected remorse, he'd be similarly thwarted.
What he got was laughter.
Full bodied cackling.
Then, she looks up at him with a very satisfied smile. Smug, even. "Yet doing so got you up, and moving at quite a pace across the room. Not bad for a man who, mere moments before was lamenting that any hope of recovery was likely a deceit. And yet, here you are, standing under your own power, with enough strength to trap someone at your mercy, where you may punish her for her insolence
"as
"you
"wish."
Her body language gives no indication as to what she feels would be an 'appropriate' punishment, but she clearly doesn't fear it, despite how angry he is, and how little he'd have to raise his arm to place it across her throat.
|
|
|
|
Post by Titus Blackbriar on Feb 20, 2019 17:35:08 GMT 1
"Get out." he rattles between gritted teeth. Pressing her further onto the wall before releasing her he repeats it. "Get out."
Stumbling a step backwards he remains standing by his own accord but swaying unsteadily he steels himself against a chair.
|
|
|
|
Post by Laena Pyre on Feb 20, 2019 21:23:06 GMT 1
"As you wish." She turns and casually saunters to the door, speaking without turning back. "I'll let my cousin know you're already walking about unaided, and will make a full recovery. I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear that."
[Barring any parting words from you I'll want to respond to, I'll be out the door and /scene from my end.]
|
|
|
|
Post by Titus Blackbriar on Feb 21, 2019 17:23:59 GMT 1
He is about to say something more but stops dead in his tracks, clearly thrown off by her response. Or lack there of.
The fact that he was out of bed and moving freely, much stronger than he’d dared to dream has not registered until now and it was clear for Laena to see. He stands there, staring at her, the same fury stilll lingering but now mixed up with confusion and humiliation.
Why did the Gods make all these Starkwood women so crazy?
After she’s left he collapses on the floor. It hurt, but it was a good hurt. The kind of hurt that kept you alive.
His father’s words.
/scene for me, thank you very much and sorry about the drop in Disposition. Because there is very much a drop in Disposition.
|
|
