The Sun Filtered Through Trailing Vines Above The Arbor, Dappling The Pale Stone In Shifting Patterns

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 offered a smile to the person xia-li was conversing with before they departed, no doubt realizing the northern woman's interest had been long lost, and now shifted to the dornish dancer. she felt for xia-li in that moment, not quite sure what it was like to feel it necessary to maintain such relationships, to have to consider a lifetime partnership in every unmarried lord she might cross paths with. zahra did not necessarily think a lifetime with someone was impossible, but it was also not a thing she had to worry for for the sake of her family.

"none who can keep rhythm as well as you do." she offered a wink to the other, enjoying the little phrasing game that came between them whenever their paths crossed. she found the other woman to be captivating in more ways than tangled up in silks, so regardless of what their visits entailed, zahra knew she would always enjoy them,

she practically glided towards the other woman now to close more distance between the two so their conversation may be more private to any wandering ears nearby. one arm crossed over her chest while another hand reached up to her neck, finger mindlessly running back and forth through the golden chain and pendant around her neck. "how have you been liking highgarden? a visit to check off of your list?"

taste of bittersweet wine lingers long after xia-li's taken the last sip. it's the only thing keeping her focused on the conversation she'd been caught in the middle of and even then, bored gaze still manages to drift off towards the scenery that surrounded the reach. how far must she go to find respite from the droning of marriages and gossip of nobility she's barely familiar? is this what her brother expects her to suffer through for the sake of reputation?

she's hardly ready to accept that harsh reality and it's no one's fault except her own. had she refrained from pleading for any modicum of adventure she could find, she might have been content settling. this simply won't do. not when she's seen the marketplaces in yi ti, bustling with culture and life. or the golden shores of dorne where warm water is ready to envelop her and every worry that she allows to creep into her subconscious. she feels so restricted while in the presence people who should feel like kin and spends time wishing she could forge her own way to one of the places she cherishes more than most.

one of many reasons makes their presence known, voice like warm honey gracing the ladies attention. it's been a while since she spoken with zahra, experienced her, and xia-li is quick to abandon her previous conversation for one that elicits actual excitement. "it's been too long, sweet zahra. far too long." grin is returned with one of her own, laziness of it not nearly capturing the entirety of the lady's happiness. "have you missed me as much as i have you? or have you found new partners to share your dances with?" jest made with little seriousness. they both moved as the wind did, and the freedom between them keeps her affections for the woman at the forefront.

the eyes of zahra sand remained entirely fixated on the marbled floors beneath her feet, glistens of rainbow shimmering on them from the light cast through stained glass windows that surrounded them in the great room, and yet, everything felt entirely gray, dull, for the moon had gone down, and it were not the sun that greeted his departure, it were darkness, void of even the stars scattered in the skies above that she read so easily. even they did not prepare her for this. the entire court seemed to feel at an utter standstill, the effect that rashid jordayne had upon every soul in this room, as she had always known he would. the optimistic demeanor of the dancer of salt shore fell entirely flat in the wake of such a tragedy, and for perhaps the first time in her life, she felt a sort of primal anger and despair welling within her chest.

the departure of the ruling lady of the tor, the princess of house martell, caused the crowd to break from the statuesque forms, and begin shuffling out of the hall, followed by the closer advisors of the princess regent herself, who found herself stood above all, remaining stoic as ever, though zahra knew it were unlikely that was her feeling in regards to this at all. she felt a sense of admiration for the woman before her, for she was unsure, even now, how her feet managed to move in the direction of myriam allyrion. feet that were normally found in many motions, felt entirely still until that moment.

zahra did not even notice the tears that were clearly welling within her eyes, the smudge beneath one of them from a mindless swipe, some subconscious attempt to remain as collected as the woman who ruled over all of them, though she had never been one to hide emotion. in her art, in her everyday life, zahra sand was entirely herself, every feeling felt was clear upon every fiber of her being.

she stilled as the other spoke her name, hands crossing in front of her as myriam approached now. zahra nodded, knowing her state were entirely not prepared to face others, who would surely cast looks her way. she were not ruling lady of the tor, she were not rashid jordayne's wife, but there were some who knew of her connection to the lord, enough to cause her to be wary of managing her emotional state, for the time being.

bangles rang softly as she shuffled towards the woman, mirroring her movement to sit upon the steps, only far less gracefully as zahra felt the utter exhaustion weigh her down as she sat upon the cool floor. moments of silence followed her movement as the tears began to flow down her cheeks like the current of the greenblood.

"i think i will wake up tomorrow and it will all be a horrible nightmare, you know?" she asked the other, arms folding over her knees that instinctively tucked inward towards her, as if she would crumble entirely if she did not quite literally hold herself together. "he was the best of us. i don't understand it." words quivered as she spoke them, a hand clenching at the skirts of her lehenga as she managed to hold in the sobs that were clearly wreaking through her chest. "how? how is there a world without him in it?" the question, itself, set free the grief the she attempted to burrow inside her, and forehead found itself on her knees as she attempted to muffle her cries.

who: @dancingshores when and where: semi-flashback thread to a day following the news reaching from volantis, regarding the murder of lord rashid jordayne, ruling lord of the tor. myriam remained within the grand domed throne room after receiving the princess loreza martell from the tor, recently widowed. the departing foot steps of her good sister brought an end to the audience session which remained heavy, and she tried hard not to focusing on the retreating figure of the sword of the morning alongside the bloodroyal - no doubt both needing a moment with one another.

there was a certain sense of heavy grief which lingered in the halls of sunspear: the mournful flutes announcing the arrival of their princess. something about her arrival made the entire thing far more real, as though there was no way this could ever be explained as some mistranslation or misunderstanding that had suddenly become all too real. and she remained within the chair upon the dias, her eyes looking upward to the mosaic tiles on the golden dome above her, that would be seen from all of angles of sunspear; and she exhaled, in the way she had been taught to breath when she was bordering feeling overwhelmed. because the murder of rashid jordayne was as tragic as it was horrific; it was all too clear that one of their own, one who had a bright future and would have a great deal left to do in the world, had been taken from them too soon.

she did not know rashid jordayne as personally as some others in the room would have done, but she felt the severity of the matter. this was not merely anyone. he would never be, merely anyone.

and the hardest of all was perhaps needing to remain neutral before the eyes of the court of sunspear as the sword of the morning announced his departure to her, lowering his gaze momentarily; she would not see him break in his stoic nature, not here of all places. and yet, she understood that due to the differences in their duty, she needed to watch him leave the grand hall alone: after looking in the face of the woman he had intended to start a family with. there was no way she could rise from the throne of dorne to comfort him; she needed to remain in such a position, still clad in silks of white. one more month until she could once again remove such shades from the figure of her body. as the figure of the sword of the morning retreated, she heard the sounds of anklets chiming; quieter than the ones she wore, ones that almost sounded like water.

her kohl lined gaze fell upon the court seer, who seemed to be rooted all to heavily to the ground in this moment: it were obvious to see the pain etched upon every inch of her expression. the tears that filled her gaze swam within wide, doe-like orbs that were usually filled with mischief and life itself; such a thing looked strangely wrong upon her. the sight of zahra in such a state was easily enough to make her rise to her feet, an instinct in her gut that made her wish not to allow the woman to leave alone in such a state. one that was clearly a person desperately trying to hold it in, before bursting at the seams. the kite of salt shore had been caught in the most tragic of storms, it seemed.

"one moment, zahra." myriam called, though her voice was soft, as though she did not wish to startle the woman. she approached her, ensuring her body language made it clear she was not planning on overwhelming or smothering her. "you need not have to walk through the halls in such a way. we can stay, and sit on the steps." myriam did not like anyone seeing her cry - and she always cried in the aftermath of seeing red. myriam quietly lifted the bottom of her skirts as she sat on the steps leading up the throne of door, patting the space beside her. "it is not the comfiest, but allow me to stay with you for a while, and then i shall go when i am due to speak to lord uller." she not specify which one.

ADITI RAO HYDARI in Sufiyum Sujatayum (2020) dir. Shanavas Naranipuzha

as the dance concluded zahra flashed a grin to the young lord who had accompanied her, though she had no clue what his name was at this moment in time, she already decided she quite liked him, and would enjoy conversing with him more this evening. of course, just as quickly as the thought fluttered into her mind, the glass shattered with the sound of clapping from the lady ruqaiyah dayne herself observing nearby.

round eyes looked from the lady, back to her partner for a moment as the exited the dance floor, she gave a subtle nod of thanks, and hoped perhaps he could see her intentions to find him again when she were done, though she had a feeling she would be occupied for some time, and so she let the idea of reconciling with the other fade from mind as she offered ru a sweet smile, zahra's more genuine than the lady's before her, but she could see right through the other woman's facade. it were hardly being disguised.

zahra had known the other for quite some time, of course not in any personal way. she recalled the ladies callous nature, in the tor she were entirely unapproachable, so she thought, and yet she had recalled how farah seemed to grow on her, at least so it seemed, before that fateful day.

the dancer allowed ruqaiyah to lead her away, though she would not have fought it, anyways. despite her court-appointed position, despite her status in dorne not being seen as lowly as most of the continent, she knew house dayne's ideaologies were different, the westerlands views were different, even if she wanted to protest, she had no ground here. and yet, she would not have, even if she did. for that was simply the nature of zahra sand, to let the winds take her and face the next moment in her life in stride.

"i apologize, had i known you were in search of me, i would not have taken to the dance floor." she replied, simply, feeling a flush of frustration prickling at her cheeks and eyes, hopefully hidden by the mask upon her face. zahra gestured to a seating area, just out of the great hall, a quieter place for conversations to be heard "is there something you are concerned about?"

who: @dancingshores when and where: lann's day celebrations within casterly rock, ruqaiyah dayne comes across a nobody who has been climbing the ranks of importance within the court of sunspear. how she hates it.

she had noticed it briefly first, orbs passing over the scene as she found herself engaging in conversation with the hand of king cedric of house tyrell, and then her gaze snapped back to it again.

a familiar figure and voice, all sweetness and honey with long thick dark hair behind a mask; and a head of blonde hair she did not recognise, dancing upon the floor. it was enough to cause her to look upon it, making no attempt to even be subtle; what a scene. this was hardly a surprise, was it? the woman had seemingly given up on her mission of being the most unreliable, detached string in the realm and had instead decided to climb the ranks of court - and climbing the cocks of reachmen.

the music came to a slow as the dance began to end, and she found herself winding her way toward the woman she suspected, and the man that would later be confirmed to be lord gael hightower. and when the dance ended, ruqaiyah had no issue with a slow, sarcastic clap for the duo; slipping right to the side of zahra sand, the dornish court seer.

"amazing." ruqaiyah spoke, her tone gushing in falsehood; and yet, she maintained the gaze of them both. would the reachman see her deceit? no doubt zahra sand would, instantly.

and then she switched to their native tongue, a smooth and seamlessly transition as she feigned a friendly move of putting her hand on zahra's forearm, as though to usher her away. "is the court seer too busy planning on spreading herself on the white man to do the ridiculous job given to you out of pity?" myriam allyrion's favourite pet, was what ruqaiyah called her. all the while, not once did she think of the sister she had left for dead on the borders of the tor. the blood that was never upon her hands.

"i want my palm read. save embarrassing us for later and do your job."

it was only a matter of time before the winds had brought the kite that was zahra sand within the realm of armaan yronwood, who was perhaps the swirling storm that cast her his own way. it would be a lie to state she had no control over her own movements and desires. she found herself within these chambers because she wanted to be, aside from the invitation to join him this evening. long had her own hues looked towards the lord with lust and curiosity, but matters that were of a more personal nature seemed to put a wall between the two of them. there was a line at one point that neither would cross, and as she stood in this very room, she was grateful the lord had restrained himself then.

zahra's dark, enigmatic eyes held a glint of amusement as she accepted the goblet from him, the rich aroma of dornish red swirling in the air between them. the coy smile remained, revealing a playfulness that belied the complexities of the unspoken history they shared. lips found themselves upon the rim of the drink, savoring the taste of the liquid from within. "i was beginning to tire of arbor red myself." she stated nonchalantly, placing the goblet back down on the table between them.

brows rose at his statement, a hint of mischief within her demeanor now as body seemed to shift around the room, head swiveling and eyes wandering about as if to take in the chambers that were given to him for their stay. a hand went to his skirts, lightly bunching the golden silk fabric between her fingers as she absent-mindedly shuffled it between steps.

it was as if it were a game of cat and mouse, now, the way she moved about, increasing and decreasing the proximity between them, occasionally pausing to observe some object or picture. his question, admittedly, caught her off guard, and body stilled momentarily as she thought of what he was referring to. it only took her a moment to recall the occasion, and a laugh escaped her as her head shook. "i did." she answered.

she slipped back to the original spot in which she had taken the goblet from him. "it was far easier to pretend to not know you than to admit otherwise." the words were simple, but revealing of what really lay within her mind. he had caught her eye during her time in yronwood, in the fleeting moments passing one another by, the silent glances each one cast. perhaps if another moment had placed the two of them in a room as they were in now, she would've given into her desires far sooner.

"i played along, but why did you pretend you did not know me to begin with?" zahra questioned now, head tilting slightly to the side, genuine curiosity mixed with frivolous nature coming over her features.

his hair remained wet from his bath when the guards announced her presence, entering into his main audience chambers which was empty if not for the sight of the girl from sea shore. and yet still, he held his shirt in his hand as he walked into the side chamber, slipping it over himself.

the woman who was more like a free kite within the sky, tangled within the clouds and beyond the scopes of roots, was unable to be cornered by anybody: there was no way to capture, to keep her within the confines of a room, as much as she spoke of them. his pure attraction to zahra sand had run with a spark as it had done for years, when she were gracing the halls of yronwood with jingling anklets under the guidance and doting devotion of a father she had truly wrapped around her finger.

that attraction had run red hot and guilty, even when she were in the company of a man he would consider one of his closest friends. perhaps it was for that reason the bloodroyal only looked upon the spirited kite of salt shore within the bustling marketplace of the tor so many years ago.

looked, and pretended as though he were unable to recall who of lord gargalen's daughters he had been speaking to: and nonetheless, in the very back of his mind, there remained the memory of lingering looks over shoulders as she walked away, or comments in passing conversation where words seemed illicitly laced with more than they truly meant. there was a time where the force of gravity that seemed to pull between the pair was one that would have been guilty in essence, and it had taken much of his will power to curb his inherently selfish, reckless side.

and so, the thoughts that passed like the thundering of rains when he were in her presence were always just that. thoughts. "almost." he uttered, noting how somehow, the pair of them had ended up in the reach of all places. was their court not rumoured to be as scandalous as it was full with those who prayed for repentance? "i'll show you how you say my name."

it had been years since his cataclysmic, dark gaze had fallen upon her own: and yet, when there had been a circle surrounding the sound of dancing anklets, he had already known what he would stumble across. and so it continued, that cycle they found themselves in: lingering looks, flirtation, and that magnetic pull. it was not gentle. it was not soft. it was rough, and it were on flames. he wanted to unwrap her, push those golden skirts that she so happily showed up further up her thighs.

he wanted to unwrap her shawl from around her blouse, and run his hands up and down the curves of her body. she had come, had she not?

there was dornish red in two goblets that awaited them as a coy smile slipped over her features, and he silently noted the way in which her dimples appeared when she smiled. they looked the same. he wordlessly passed the goblet of wine into her hands, closing the physical distance between them; he brought it to his own lips first, as though to prove nothing had been done to the substance within the silver goblets. "you knew i recognised you then, didn't you?" he asked. referring to the time where they crossed paths again, this time when she were a ward of the tor.

and he knew. somehow, in the thick of the tension that should have existed. he knew there was guilt in the air; it were obvious there had been something between herself and the lord jordayne. and yet, it felt as though there was something impulsive and reckless about her too: the kite, unable to stop herself from becoming unrooted. "why did you play along?"

even before the woman uttered words regarding what zahra had been doing, it were clear that she suspected her of...something. enough to draw suspicion simply because of who she was speaking to. the dancer understood it, probably would've thought it herself, but she simply wondered why this woman would approach her regarding it. what was the benefit? perhaps halima yronwood was simply a snake in the grass, ready to strike and get a leg up with whatever opportunity presented itself to her. the thought was intriguing, but fleeting. zahra set her sights on attempting to deflect.

it was a poor effort, on her part, however. for in her art her expressions were always right there - right upon the surface of her features. she could not hide it, but she could excuse her flustered nature and heightened emotions with what was occurring now. "i did not even know who she was, perhaps lady fowler does." zahra's tone was flat, even she did not believe it, perhaps she were calling the other's bluff, if it was even that.

she felt a new way of agitation wash over her at the comment made, no doubt to provoke a reaction out of her. zahra, however, was never one to quite react in such heated ways, instead the emotions bared itself, certainly, but then she took it to the dancefloor. she did not quite like the feeling of admitting when one had gotten under her skin, but this woman, was quite close to getting her to do just that.

"courtesan, or lady, the reaction would be all the same." she responded, "we might've, had i chosen to live my life differently." zahra inhaled, letting her frustration release as the breath exited her lips again. "alas, we have very little in common. i can't help, but wonder, what answers you are expecting from me, my lady?"

there was a similarity, halima thought, head cocking brazenly as she took in the features of the the gargalen bastard. something in the way the lashes framed the eyes and the graceful curve of her jaw. she could see the shade of farah gargalen there, the way she had been before a tumble in the dark had closed her own eyes and shattered her own jaw. and despite the fact that halima knew the sound of her kin's death-rattle, she still looked at zahra as though she had something to hide.

because obviously, she did. halima was never certain if people were telling her the truth, but she could certainly spot a lie, and there was no part of her that believed the words zahra spoke carried with them a grain of truth.

"then should i ask lady fowler who you were speaking with?" there was an implicit threat to her tone, an unflinching rigidity that carried with it an undercurrent of a challenge. she had no intention of sharing what she had seen with a fowler, but her words carried with it the suggestion of potential - how easy it would be to ensure word of this was dispersed through court.

"the court is emotional at the moment," she concurred, in a voice completely devoid of said emotion. "i am sure everyone is grateful that you afforded our departed lord jordayne the respect he deserves." the words would almost sound kind, if not for what followed them. "still, seems quite silly to allow a courtesan to provoke such a reaction."

her finger was raised, a tap of the lips. "but then, i forget who i am speaking to. bastards, courtesans, i suppose you probably have some things in common."

"there was mango cheesecake?" was zahra's first reaction to the little incident, followed by wondering how in the world myriam's phone made its way to the kitchen. she walked in stride with the other woman, steps mirroring one another as they found themselves out of the crowd and in one of the schools halls. "do you think someone might've taken it?" it seemed her dearest friend also had something to discuss, especially with how quick she was to join zahra in her own antics. of course, she also didn't think it would take much convincing to get myri to join her.

zahra nodded, extended an arm with the bottle now, using it as a pointer now that no one else was around. "maths room it is." she declared, her pace picking up, already feeling a slight sense of relief to be out of that room. "do i look sweaty?" she asked, half-joking, half-serious. zahra fanned herself with her hand as they approached the classroom now. "ooo yes, i love guessing games. i'm sure it won't take you, but one." she stated, knowing that myri was all too aware ever since zahra had run into armaan in their apartment all those years ago, damp from the shower he had just taken with only a towel around his waist. she had practically been flustered with him every since.

her phone remained in a deathly tight grip in her hand after she had found it, somehow on a tray of mango dessert in the kitchens. she slipped back into the room as the doors were opened for her, she kept the leather jacket around her shoulders. and then came the voice. like a sudden rushing kite, fluttering in the wind; there was a visible sigh of relief upon hearing someone she wanted to speak with, someone she wanted to spend time with. someone she honestly wanted to slip away from this whole thing with.

the mention of the drink momentarily made her pause, all but hearing the screeching sounds at the beginning of raye's escapism in her head at it; but she nodded, ushering her to return to hiding it under her coat.

she turned, momentarily meeting eye contact with her fiance; she indicated she were with zahra, and then the women had left. myriam let out a breath, and again checked her phone was with her, feeling the chill in the air as soon they stepped outside of the heated hall. "i lost my phone. well, i found it now - it was with the mango cheesecake." she patted her bag, looking back at her closest friend and companion. "shall we go up to the maths classrooms?" she used her hand to indicate toward the classrooms that were the furthest away. if they were still for maths. "you're pressed about something. can i make some guesses?"

TRUTH SERUM

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zahra | katherine | ayca | laena | mari | saella | rhys | matilda | ravi

there was an intriguing opposing force to the lord before her, who was so much her opposite, from their very demeanor, to many beliefs. it was almost a strange balance to converse with him regarding the stars, amongst other things, and zahra found herself compelled to understand more about the way he thought of things. in some way, she resonated with the perspective he held, despite the way zahra's optimism seeped from her, she was very aware that the world was not so kind, only that it were her best defense within it.

hazel hues watched as he prepared the shisha, the air already filled with the fragrant aroma from the coals lit before, it were hard to believe they were not in their own domain when this very room felt like home, in this moment. though if she looked closely at the decor around it, she would quickly realize it were not. hand reached for the goblet of arbor wine, finding it becoming more and more to her taste as she sipped the liquid within, allowing it to settle on her tongue a moment before swallowing.

the seer was an open-minded woman, as evidenced by her acceptance of the other's beliefs, despite clashing with her own. she did not expect everyone to see the stars and read the cards the way she did - and perhaps had life treated her differently she would've thought it foolish to lay ones fate based upon some planetary alignments at birth, based off some chance of pulling a specific card to detail one's life in that moment. his question made her think a moment, eyebrows pulling inward. "it's possible, but i would say it's not ideal to." she replied, setting her goblet back down on the table before her.

figure moved from sitting on the lush rug back to the velvet seat across from his own, still tucking her legs to the side, finding a relaxed position as she had before. "i don't think i'd be able to be unbiased with what i see." she added. "yes, well, that was a foolish lesson i certainly learned. as much as i enjoy it, it's difficult to deliver bad news, or even accept it." elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, chin resting in hand. "the tower is not one i usually care to see, but followed by the star?" zahra gave a sigh. "at least there's a light at the end."

his answer was brief and simple and yet zahra found herself further pulled by it, whether it was because she wasn't sure if he would answer at all, or if he would admit to having something he believed in. "fair enough." she responded, a hint of a smile on her features as the wheels fo her mind turned once again. "do you, perhaps, think rebirth is simply another chance, rather than a punishment?"

꙰

i hope to see it unfold for you. they were words that were uttered so calmly and casually, in the epitome of what it was to represent the milk and honey of human kindness: his gaze lingered over her features slightly in the aftermath of such words being uttered, almost as though his storm of a gaze was attempting to work out what it was she would get in return for such a belief. such a thing was a rarity, to see genuine human kindness was always enough to make him slowly pause in his process of thoughts - for whilst he believed himself beyond such capabilities, he had always held respect for those who maintained kindness in the hardest of times.

regardless of circumstance and past. he would defend the right of those to be kind should they wish to be, however unwillingly or unexpectedly he found himself doing so at times: armaan was of the understanding that not all had the same cards dealt to them in life - they were all different shades and hues, not only in their skin, but in their true self. whilst he held a great respect for those who maintained a firm grip on kindness in their lives, he always maintained that there was a time and place for such things - for there were times where kindness could prove to only disadvantage and undermine.

such was the tragic nature of his position; it was all too well to idealise the concept of kindness, but where did it fit in a world such as their own? when she maintained that she would have no issue in remaining, he merely nodded; he would not take to his bed anytime soon, and would have no issue in staying awake. and he wanted to stay awake. "do you ever draw your own cards?" he asked, a genuine sense of curiosity coming over him as he looked over at her, moving to the other side of the room to organise for another hookah to be brought up, alongside the coals and the splint that was needed to light it. "or does that go against the conduct of seers?"

he set it up with a sense of ease, rolling the sleeves of his black kurta up to his forearms as he did so to ensure it did not catch and end up igniting him, listening as she spoke to him of her altercation with a sailor. people did not like hearing what it was that unsettled them, even if they had asked; and sailors were known to be rough in their nature. his brow furrowed ever so slightly, extending the new pipe to her - this time there were two. "none would wish to see the ten of swords. but if one asks for it, they have dug their grave." he spoke, sitting back down opposite her now; leaning backward to rest his back against the recliner. "and do you try to avoid thinking of it as you pass on the news?" he asked; considering she was the bearer of such awful news to those who had sought guidance from the stars.

at her question, his brows raised slightly - perhaps because he had not been expecting a question based on his own beliefs. what was it armaan yronwood looked at for guidance? he did not remember the last time he had genuinely asked for guidance from the gods; that was not to mean he did not worship or believe in them. he valued them, and worshipped them for their sovereignty. "the seven who are one." he responded, his tone almost anticlimactic. "we are bound to be reborn, until the gods decide we have done enough to join them in the heavens. no punishment that is not another life in itself."