The Flickering Candlelight Cast Long, Wavering Shadows Across Zahra’s Face, Highlighting The Soft Set

a subtle grin came over her features now, one that was night quite as bright as before, only crossing over her features at this time due to the satisfaction she felt in his response. perhaps he saw little in her reading, but she believed she saw much, and perhaps there was more to it than he let on. zahra also believed in free will - though the stars would always hold their fates in their hands, free will could alter the path to what led them there. whatever choices he made, however, lead to the star - to healing, and she hoped, true satisfaction in wherever he found himself.

but perhaps that was simply the hopefulness that seemed to be her very nature. though zahra were not a fool to the realities of their world, being a bastard herself she knew that her place was a strange one even in dorne, one that toed the line between nobility and the common person, especially in lands such as the one they were currently in. she knew, ultimately, her power lie in her own mind, and the way she interacted and reacted to the world around her. it were likely in this that she took so keenly to reading the stars, to understanding them, and therefore, those and the world around her.

a hum of a laugh emitted from her as she reclaimed the cards once again, hands neatly packing them together one more time before slipping them back into a pocket within golden skirts. "well, i am glad i did not. the star is my favorite to reveal." hands fell to her lap, fingers interlaced as she observed the man before her. "i hope to see it unfold for you." she added gently, though there was little more to read into with those words, only that zahra genuinely hoped to see the lord of yronwood find some semblance of peace and contentment - knowing even vaguely what he endured in his past.

the dancer ran a hand through chestnut curls, wondering how to begin to answer such a question. it were not difficult, but she disliked such things regarding the stars - they were not always kind to everyone. the outcome were not always one that led to positivity and fruitfulness. "yes, i had a lord, or rather, some sailor who though it'd be fun to have his cards read." she shrugged. "i thought perhaps he would be open-minded, being well traveled and all." index fingers tapped together in her lap, as if to help her recall the memory. "i revealed the ten of swords, explained it's meaning - suffering, betrayal - and well, i've certainly become selective of the kind of readings i do for strangers."

there was a slight bit of anxiousness from her now, not entirely within her nature, so when he offered, she were not hesitant to accept it. "yes, please, unless you are overdue for rest soon. i tend to lie awake with the stars." she jested.

she inhaled a moment, wondering how to phrase a question that lingered in her mind. "i take it you do not believe much in the cards, the stars." zahra observed, "forgive me, if i am wrong, but may i ask what you hold your belief in, then? do you look to anything else for guidance?"

꙰

there was a radiance of positivity that seemed to come from the dancer of the salt shore: one that was not insufferable, or even unrealistic - a sense of optimism that came across as legitimate and true. it was not needed in the form of constant cheery chatting, or grins that were more false than true. it was for that he held a quiet respect for her efforts, and her art, regardless of his own personal belief: as much as his own skepticism was clear on his face, he did not interrupt or speak over her but rather allow her to fully explain where it was she was coming from.

it was not uncommon for those in dorne to find such importance in astrology, for even his own mother held great value and respect to the gurus of yronwood, able to read into what she could not. he had heard that his mother had been attempting to find marriages for him, utilising the positioning of the planets of his own birth to assess for compatibility. the reject listen was apparently a feat in itself. "not far off." the short words he gave her regarding her predictions and supposed guidance, for truly, they were not as far off as he had initially expected.

only, such thoughts were not rooted in the optimism of the court seer, but rather the harsh realities of life for the bloddroyal. new beginnings needed to be made, and it was something he was reflecting on more than ever before as he noted the increasing distance between himself and the lady of kingsgrave. "i will spare you my attempt to do so, lest i draw cards of gloom and misery." he leaned forward to shuffle them together once more, helping the woman collect and reorganise her belongings that slipped back into the pockets within the skirts of her shimmering golden lehengha. still, his comment made him think.

"have you ever had a bad experience in doing such things?" he asked, leaving his question purposefully broad - though it could allude to the drawing of cards that were rooted in tragedy. it could also apply to the strange antics of the people whose cards she had read, no doubt the westerosi above them have a far more traditional view on such matters. witchcraft, is what they would deem it to be: the easiest way to shoot down what one did not understand. he wordlessly handed her over her deck of cards, watching her tuck it away once again.

he noted the slow extinguish of the coals of their shisha, the room continuing to be filled with a haze, scented with the smell of sandalwood and jasmine. "want another one?" he asked, rising from the pillows they had been sat upon, no doubt an offer to set it up once again - watching as she continued to hold onto the pipes.

@xialigreenleaf

Their friendship was as intense as it was sudden. They found relief in each other’s personality.

Toni Morrison, from ‘Sula’

Cheppake Cheppake

  Mahasamudram (2021)

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

armaan (for zahra)

I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re nice // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better

@armaans

setting : the coronation events of jaehaerys ii, a pair of lords and unlikely third party play a game of cards together ; @nicholaslannisters @percival-templeton

the coronation events of the new valyrian king had been intriguing, to say the least, for the dancer of salt shore did not often find herself beyond the borders of dorne, unless she needed to be. though she was not necessarily needed here, she enjoyed the opportunity to see places outside of her own homeland - a kite drifting wherever the wind should take her. curious, hazel hues scanned the great room before her within the red keep, it was not quite obvious in the open, but not hidden away, either. tables were set up, with nobles sat around them playing various games.

zahra hadn't a clue what the rules of any of these games were, she saw dice thrown, cheers and jeers, laughter as wine seemed to flow through all of their veins. she tended to indulge in her curisosity, especially in such a, what seemed to be, relaxed environment. bangles rang as if they were signaling her approach as she stood near the table where only two lords sat with cards in hand, perhaps preferring the more intimate game, though she would inquire anyways. "is there room for another at this table, my lords?" lips pulled upwards into a friendly grin as she looked between the two, awaiting their response only a brief moment before taking the empty chair, anyways.

zahra’s laughter, lighter now, danced in the cool evening air, blending with the soft rustling of leaves in the garden. the flickering torchlight cast shadows that seemed to stretch like living things, but the warmth of ophelia’s presence kept the chill at bay, like the first rays of dawn chasing away the dark.

“you’re too kind,” zahra replied, her voice playful but gentle, a soft smile curling at her lips. “i only speak the truth. you make everything feel... alive. even the quietest of moments become something worth remembering when you’re near.” she shifted her weight slightly, her fingers brushing against ophelia’s, a silent reminder of how much she appreciated her friend’s steady warmth. “besides, who else could make feeding the birds sound like the most important thing we could do tonight?”

as they walked together, the night seemed to loosen its hold, the tension in zahra’s chest gradually easing. she took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, and for the briefest moment, she could almost forget the restless unease that clung to her. she could forget that this evening, like so many others, felt like a fleeting moment, an escape that would slip through her fingers before long.

“maybe you’re right,” she said softly, her gaze turning to ophelia. “maybe the parrot would follow me home, and we’d spend hours explaining to the court why i’ve adopted a feathered advisor. though i do think he’d be more trouble than he’s worth. you, on the other hand,” she added with a wink, “are far more useful, even if you might steal all the fruit.”

zahra’s fingers brushed nervously against her dress as she watched the gentle sway of the trees in the breeze. the question had been on her mind for some time now, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something she needed to ask.

“you know, ophelia,” she began slowly, her voice softer now, “we’re similar, in a way, aren’t we? we both travel, chasing different things, different causes. you heal, and i dance, but we both leave pieces of ourselves behind wherever we go.”

she paused for a moment, her heart fluttering with the weight of her own thoughts. the garden seemed to hold its breath around them, and she felt a fleeting sense of quiet before speaking again.

“i sometimes wonder if… i should stop,” she confessed, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. “not because i want to, but because it feels like i’m always going. like if i could just settle, just once, maybe i would find something more.” she smiled softly, but there was a trace of uncertainty in her eyes. “but...i don’t think i actually desire to stop. it’s like a part of me is afraid of what might happen if i ever did. i don’t know if i’d be content with it, or if the restlessness would eat at me, like it’s always been there, underneath.”

she let out a small sigh, her fingers grazing the petals of a nearby flower as if seeking grounding in something so simple. “i think it’s more the idea of being still that’s hard to hold. i don’t know what i’d do without the movement, without the dance, without the road ahead. but sometimes… i wonder if there’s a place, a time, when that feeling would fade. when i could simply be, without the need to go anywhere else.”

.

ophelia beamed at zahra’s words, her smile bright enough to chase away the shadows flickering along the stone walls. “you think so? i like that—‘finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.’ it makes me sound like some kind of grand storyteller rather than someone who just cannot seem to stop talking.” she laughed lightly, but there was gratitude in her tone, touched by zahra’s observation.

as her friend spoke of the night’s heaviness, ophelia gave her arm another gentle squeeze, a silent acknowledgment that she understood, that she felt it too. there was a careful balance to be held between giving someone space and letting them know they weren’t alone. ophelia had always danced that line instinctively, always ready to fill the quiet when it was needed, or to simply be there when words felt too heavy.

“then we won’t let it end quietly,” she declared, mischief creeping into her voice, mirroring the flicker of light returning to zahra’s expression. “dancing, wine, music—all of it! but first—oh! feeding the birds! zahra, that is a marvelous idea. the absolute best.” she nodded eagerly, as if it were the most important decision they had made all evening. “and if that clever little fig thief is there, i will have words with him! not scolding words, mind you. just a very serious discussion about sharing.”

she tugged zahra forward with renewed excitement, leading them toward the gardens, where the cool night air would be fresher than the heavy tension of the great hall. “and you know,” she mused as they walked, “i do think you would have charmed the parrot. i imagine he would have followed you straight home, and then where would we be? stuck explaining to the court why lady zahra sand has a new feathered advisor.”

she laughed at the thought, glancing at zahra with a playful glint in her eyes. “maybe we’ll find another one someday. until then, you’ll have to settle for me. not that i am feathered…..or a great advisor….but still just me”

she were entirely flustered, that much was obvious just by taking one look upon the features of zahra sand's face. she had never been one that was good at hiding what she were truly feeling, a consequence of her art, where all feeling was expressed upon her face. now she cursed it, fighting the tears stinging at her eyes, agitated by the flushing of her cheeks as she walked away from such an encounter. zahra had never expected such a thing, and she had desperately wished her father did not make her aware of exactly who her mother was.

but he had, and now she had been seen by the woman as well. it were not a warm reunion, it were one that made zahra's veins entirely run cold, because she desperately did not want a certain secret revealed without it being uttered from her own lips. and she were not ready for such a thing, at least, not yet.

the dancer hoped the tense mood that lingered heavily in the air would provide the perfect excuse for her demeanor, but that plan was entirely thwarted when she were approached by halima, a woman she did not know entirely well, but could never quite place her mind, and that unsettled her. "i have been around." zahra stated, plainly. "i was with lady fowler, earlier." she added, almost as if to cover her tracks.

an excuse that was quickly dismissed by the revelation that she had been seen earlier. lips rolled in frustration as her arms crossed over her chest. "some courtesan of one of the volantene lords. i did not appreciate her rude demeanor during such a serious time."

it were a terrilble lie, because zahra hadn't a clue how to back that up, but she hoped halima would simply stop pressing.

closed starter for @dancingshores

halima knew what she saw, but what she had yet to figure out was how the pieces of the puzzle fit together. she had laid out the facts, examined them carefully, and still felt like there was something missing. that bothered her more that she let on.

what she knew was this: the volantene had arrived to bring justice for lord jordayne. in the midst of the lockdown, halima had stumbled upon a conversation she was not supposed to see, one she had watched from the shadows, unable to make out the word exchanged, but recognising that it was heated and private and something she should not be watching, and one of the parties involved in that conversation was stood before her now : zahra sand. she should have already told armaan of this, but something held her back. the fear of delivering incorrect information, something that hardly mattered at all, perhaps.

her head tilted, gaze unyielding as she took in the dancer, her mannerisms and natural expressions, so that she may note any changes to it should she choose to lie. "i don't think i've seen you since the volantene were here," her words were lazy, drawling.

"who was she?" there was an almost imperceptible shift to halima's demeanour, a hardening and sharpening as she prepared to cut to the heart of what she was after, with all the subtlety of a war-hammer. "the woman you were speaking with? seemed quite the emotional little chat."

there was not a room that zahra could walk in and not become acquainted with someone, in this instance, it was many someone's. though she much preferred dorne to any other region of the realm, the dancer very much enjoyed the presence of people, and in these circumstances, one's she could learn much from. she found the culture of others to be fascinating, if not to realize how much she preferred and loved everything about her own, from the music, to the food, to, frankly, the very people themselves.

she wasn't quite sure how she managed to find herself in the center of a circle that formed, perhaps it was to prove a point, or to simply give in to the pleads of reachmen to grace them with one dance. zahra did not really care either way, she enjoyed any opportunity to showcase her craft.

and so there she was, golden silks of her lehenga flowing about her, like waves within the sea. there was a faraway tune playing, but the sounds of bangles gave way to her own melody within the song. chestnut curls seemed to float about her in their own beat, and in her mind she was transported, as she often found happening when the room around her became nothing more than an assortment of lights and colors. a small grin played at her lips as she made her final spin, hands that were raised up slowly falling back down to her sides as the small audience that had formed gave their applaud.

a familiar figure suddenly approached her, though it did not seem so sudden. she had caught sight of him earlier in the evening, recalling a time that seemed not so long ago when she visited the halls of yronwood. she was young then, and found herself quite absorbed with the handsome lord. much had happened since then, and suddenly that time of her life seemed to be within another century entirely.

"mainne aapakee nigaraanee ke bina kaee jagahon par nrty kiya hai." (i have danced many places without your watchful eye.) a half-smirk tugged up at the corners of her mouth, her spirited, independent nature somewhat taking over for a moment. "yadi aap chaahen to dekhane ke lie aapako kisee bahaane kee aavashyakata nahin hai." (you need no excuse to watch if you'd like.) her not returning to the center, however, as another tune began to play gave her answer for her, and the crowd began to disperse.

"it is nice to see you, lord yronwood."

who: @dancingshores​ where: one of highgarden’s many bustling halls, within a night of celebration. there was feasting, dancing, and gambling; he noticed how women from the other courts did not seem to engage in the game, apart from their own. currently, armaan was involved in some sort of game of dice, with lyseni, tyroshi and reachmen. 

it was another hot summer night within the great hall of highgarden, ivy and vines creeping up stained glass and ornate white marble decor; and yet, after an evening of feasting, the surroundings was the last thing on his mind. this card game had gone on for far too long, thanks to a specific member of the party seemingly enjoying the conversation more than the actual game. unaware of the impatience that was only growing upon the table, the man continued to speak of matters across the narrow sea; matters that were not anything of significant importance. 

rather, building styles of villas and pavilions - and as the lord of yronwood put down his final hand, his hand seemed to come down hard upon the table top. almost in a way that caused whatever was on the table to shake.

it shut the representative up at least, or reminded him they were here to play the game, rather than engage in small talk for the sake of trying to get in one’s socialising. his dark orbs, stormy in essence, looked to the large crowd that was dotted around the rest of the room; there was dancing, there was one woman dancing specifically. by the sounds of the anklet, his first impression was to think it was the princess consort - only, it was not her. only someone with an uncanny resemblance to her, a woman he had come across before. she had stayed within yronwood with her lord father some years prior, for a brief amount of time; back when his uncle held the regency and armaan was to turn eighteen within the week. 

of course, she was once someone of far more importance to his friend, the ruling lord of the tor. she had stayed with the jordaynes; he was sure he had seen her during his visits to the tor, time after time.

there was much talk of him retaking yronwood that evening over the dinner, stepping into his father’s shoes that dinner; it was almost ironic now. for who knew what betrayal, bloodshed and butchery would come just a week later; crossbows shot into an empty bed, and he watched. her presence reminded him of a time where things seemed okay, but in reality, were truly not. their eyes met multiple times throughout the course of the night, and when he was finally able to collect his winnings once the game wrapped up, the man did not excuse himself. 

rather, moved his way through the crowd in his black kurta, still adorning traditional dornish attire. his hair longer than he usually kept it. moving his way through the crowd, he knew better than to interrupt her. he would not join her. and so, the bloodroyal just became another figure stood around watching. watching, alongside those andals who looked as though she were a piece of meat to be unwrapped. he was there, silently, as he felt as though he needed to be - she was dornish, she was one of their own. 

there was applause as she finished, in a spiral conclusion. he joined the claps, slowly; still keeping his gaze fixed on her. though in truth, his attention was on the people around them. dancers were not whores, not in dorne; he knew not elsewhere. “kya aapaka kaam khatm ho gaya, ya kya mujhe agale din tak yaheen rukana hoga?” (are you finished, or do i have to wait until tomorrow?) 

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)