✦ — • Conversations • Zahra Sand • - Blog Posts

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."

the court seer of dorne took to traveling only when it seemed like it contained opportunity, or perhaps it was asked of her by those within sunspear, who no doubt perhaps would like to have some insight as to what this next gathering would bring. zahra did not believe she need read the stars to believe that the west would not bring much great opportunities for their homeland, but she respected the efforts to make this travel and form whatever alliances they could. she were not entirely privy to the intricacies of the political sphere, but she knew enough to know that an ally to the north was likely being sought, for having partnerships only across the sea would not always do them good.

tonight, however, she indulged in the masquerade, picking out one of her finest lehengas, purchasing the most colorful mask she could find, zahra felt entirely in her element this evening. it were a show, an act, and she put it on very well. despite not often dancing as the westerosi did traditionally, she knew enough of the steps to take to the dance floor on more than one occasion, the ringing her her anklets liking causing some surprise to whatever partner she happened upon.

the music ended and she gave a nod of her head to her most recent companion, before turning to pluck a drink from one of the serving trays. it were then she had spotted a young lord she had seen earlier, as well. she need not remove his mask to believe he was handsome, and zahra had always enjoyed an air of mystery.

"my lord," she responded, head tilting slightly as she grinned. "you certainly may, if you are a good lead. i'm afraid i am not always familiar with these songs." her accent rang, giving way to some of her identity behind the mask.

Closed starter for @dancingshores Setting: Lannisport, The Westerland's. The celebration of Lann's Day is in full swing, with music, dancing, and competitions.

It was a day of celebration and yet he couldn't celebrate anything with the person he'd attended Lann's Day with. He'd asked if Talia wished to dance, and she'd rejected his proposal. He'd asked if she wished to listen to some of the stories being performed, and she'd said she was in no mood for it. Perhaps it was a form of protest from his wife's side, who no doubt saw her marriage as a prison in which both Harlon and him were to blame for her oh-so-horrible fate. She was not the first woman to endure an arranged marriage nor would she be the last. And for gods' sake, she was a Lady of Oldtown now. There were far worse fates to be had in this world.

“Well, I do want to dance, my dear,” Gael stated in a polite tone, a forced smile crossing his lips —no effort going into making the gesture anything else other than what it was: fake. He ought to be more patient, he knew, but at least for the day he'd grown tired of his wife's antics and wished to enjoy something. And so the Hightower lord left Talia in the company of her guards and ladies, disappearing into the crowd.

The Master of the Arts readjusted his mask and headed for the area where lively music was playing. He got himself a drink, feeling some of the tension he'd felt minutes ago begin to dissipate gradually. There was something exciting about seeing masks all around, no uncovered faces. It was a theater performance, almost. Individuals giving themselves permission to let go of certain inhibitions, the chance to feel somewhat freer, all because no one knew who they were. He could relate to that desire today.

Gael took a long sip of his drink, finishing the contents and marched to the dance floor as a song ended and partners were changing. “May I have the next dance?” he asked as he stood before a young lady. He'd spotted her earlier, his gaze inevitably drawn to her for the way she danced.

misunderstanding was certainly one way to put it. zahra was not quite sure if she would use the same word, but she understood there was little other way to describe what had occurred without being entirely gruesome. the dancer of salt shore had experienced many different stages of life, with various emotions to associate with them, but she had never felt such a weight of sorrow and anger as she did now. it was almost smothering and she greatly disliked it. she had no idea the impact that rashid had had on her until it was too late, far too late.

and now there was to be justice, but if the other party would not honor their customs, what could be done? would dorne war with the volantene in order to find the answers they sought? zahra, truthfully, hadn't a clue what the next steps were, she hardly knew what occurred when things went right, and it were very clear that things were going very, very wrong.

and so, she made herself smaller, hopefully unnoticed, unable to keep from glancing to a woman in particular in the room. ophelia's presence was welcome, if to give her something to keep her mind off of what was happening around them, even briefly. "i'm just tired." she admitted, and that were certainly part of the truth, for she did not sleep well these days. and suddenly she wondered if the lady before her might be able to help in that matter, at least. "actually, do you have any remedies for such a thing?" she inquired. "a hot chai only does so much good, surprisingly.

hues looked around them, perhaps hoping that she would look up and suddenly everything would be back to normal again. but it were not so easy. "i'm afraid of what it will take to reach an understanding." she admitted, as debates between both parties seemed to become passionate.

.

there was a tension in the air of the dornish court. all of them were tip toeing around their new guests and the new announcement given. all of them were already on edge after a loss of someone so important. a man who wanted peace, who wanted to bring the court together and make the lives of everyone better. it seemed more than cruel to have him taken from them so soon. 

now justice wasnt even being given but a swift execution. that would help no one. none of them would be any closer to finding out what happened if it went this way.

ophelia weaved in an out of the crowds unsure of where to go or whom to speak with. she flittered between her guardian, armaan, and other trusted people at the court. she felt uneased by what was happening and like most she was not her normal cheerfu and talkative self

she glanced over to see who had bumped into her when she saw zahara. “no apologies needed.” she said, offering her a small but kind smile. “i too am feeling very uneasy about this whole thing. it seemed they do not want to have any room for discussion at all on this.” she said glancing around the room. “but i have faith we will find a way to come to an agreement or a way through this…misunderstanding.” ophelia said trying to keep on the lighter side of things. trying to keep her thoughts positive.

“forgive me for asking if this is out of line but, are you alright?” she asked her, her voice low as they walked towards the edge of the crowd. “a habit from the sand sages, to survey everyone. i couldn’t help but notice you seem…distracted? or at least a little worried about something more than what is happening.”

setting: a terrace upon casterly rock, where guests mingle and dance indoors during a great feast being held this night, and zahra sand finding herself where she always is, gazing at the stars ; starter for @deimos-velaryon

the sky was lovely here, more serene than she might’ve imagined, though incomparable to the one back home, of course. different stars and constellations than she normally saw were sprinkled in the indigo above, and eyebrows furrowed together as she made it out, trying to memorize everything she saw, to read what she saw. a light breeze blew, and she pulled her dupatta, a burgundy color with golden trim, tighter over her shoulders to shield her from the chill. it was colder than she imagined, although not terrible.

people lingered about the terrace, more so in the seating area, where zahra stood nearer the balcony, in the open space. she heard soft chattering behind her, but she was so focused on what she was looking at that she didn’t hear notice a man who took his spot upon the balcony railing just a few paces away from her. it was only when she heard a heavy exhale that hazel hues drifted to look at him, though she did not know if he were the source of it.

his features were stern, and zahra was unsure if he were in a sour mood, or if that were simply his face. she did not recognize him in the least, but she rarely remembered people up north that she did not stay in contact with outside of her visits outside of dorne with the rest of their court. regardless, she felt so inclined to strike some polite conversation, not out of any obligation other than zahra enjoyed talking and knowing people who were not from dorne, curious about their customs and lives.

“it’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” she asked, a soft grin upon her lips, she did not truly see him from the front, or up close, for she knew if she saw the lilac of his eyes, she likely would not have engaged at all.

it was not usual to see the dancer of saltshore in such a state, one might call it pitiful, but it could easily be summed up with one description: broken. perhaps it were zahra's on fault for feeling everything, and yet, she would push away the bad, the negative things that she did not want to spend her energy upon. it served her well for most of her life, and then there was now, this moment, where she practically melted into the steps that the princess regent had sat upon - wearing her grief with the grace she so naturally possessed. zahra would envy the other if she did not care for and respect her so much, beyond the connection that only she knew between the two of them.

the floor was cool and hard, she tried to grasp onto her senses so she would not entirely crumble. what did she feel, hear, smell - the sweet fragrance of citrus emitted from the other as she welcomed her to lean against her. zahra naturally found herself doing just so, it were a silent motion of the two of them, as if they so often supported one another in such a way.

zahra did not want to wet the beautiful fabrics the other adorned and so quickly ran a hand over her face, as if that would make much difference for they only continued to flow no matter what she desired. "it is, most certainly." a faint smile crossed her lips at the thought of rashid's soul at the end of it's cycle, escaping the pains and difficulties of the mortal world.

the dancer quietly contemplated the others words, comforted by the fact that others felt as she did, that while the grief was heavy, it was not entirely her own. of course, zahra was entirely aware he left behind his own wife, a princess of dorne, and it was in that awareness that she did all she could to maintain herself to a degree that matched the sorrows of those around her until it were an appropriate time to release it as one who shared many cherished moments of her life with rashid jordyne.

brows furrowed gently as she dug into her memory, a tired laugh slowly escaping her. "i did, recently actually." the years had separated the two of them, unintentionally. they simply continued on their own paths after the natural end of their relationship, and it were not long ago when their paths crossed yet again in these very halls. and she suddenly realized the conversation offered the sense of closure she so desired - not that she felt he was missing, but perhaps, she wanted to think they had made the right choice all those years ago. and they had.

"and i suppose looking back now it was such a gift. to be given that small bit of time to speak to him again." hand moved to brush chestnut strands away from sticking to her tear stained cheeks. "and yet, selfishly, i want more time. i can only imagine i am not the only one who feels such a way." she shifted slightly to look at the other woman, now. "did you know him well?"

❂

for a woman who was the epitome of the radiance of the moon itself, zahra sand was able to hold her rays in a way that was enough to cause one's entire body to tremble, before letting tears roll down wide, doe-like orbs. the sort of constraint that meant one's entire body reacted before the eyes, regardless of how much they swam; and yet, she held a great respect for maintaining her composure before rashid jordayne's royal widow.

it were notable that there was more to the story that myriam was not entirely aware of, considering the outpour that came in the moon's eclipse was more than the initial shock and tears most courtiers felt upon hearing of the murder of the justiciar of dorne. "if there is any whose soul will reach enlightenment, it is him." was that not what any dornish soul would want? the escape of their soul from the cycle of samsara, and to be reunited with the gods?

if there was any that lived as his role before it were even in existence, it was and always would be him. many looked up to him, despite the fact he stood by their side rather than stood above: the sort of man any young woman prayed she would be married to someday. such goodness, being ripped away, was enough to cause air to even get stuck in her own throat: let alone those who knew him far better than in a professional capacity. it took one look at zahra to see that she had.

she mourned for rashid jordayne the way the courtiers would have expected her to mourn for mors martell. what myriam mourned for, however, was her own life; her own fate, as a royal widow. "neither do i." myriam spoke in agreement; she too, did not understand it.

there had always been something that drew myriam to the other; the sun and the moon, the moon and the sun; and yet, as she turned to look upon her figure climbing up sunspear's throned steps in a manner which made it seem as though she were dragging her feet, she extended her arms as though she were expecting the woman to collapse. how it felt as though she were looking in a reflection of some sort, though myriam did not know what it was she would be mourning for in such a way - or perhaps she did, and did not want to address, or even think on it.

"because he would have wanted it to be so." it was then myriam reached out, each of her movements as maternal and warm as the sun's rays: she scooted closer, moving her dupatta from her side to allow zahra to rest against. sometimes, collapsing was what was needed. grief was physically exhausting in itself. she used her dupatta to wrap around the frame of zahra sand, one that had the scent of myriam within it: sandalwood, citrus.

"did you speak with him, pyari?" myriam asked, her voice soft.

the golden lord’s words elicited a gentle laugh from zahra. lady he called her though she would not correct him. she found it fun when people did not really know who she was or how she fit into place. it made interactions like this somewhat more genuine. “seems simple enough.” zahra stated, as she leaned slightly back into her seat, hues watching as each card fell and was flipped upon the table until the lord ultimately lost his round.

“ah, what a shame. your coffers must be nearly drained.” zahra quipped in jest as hazel gaze shifted to the other lord now, quietly watching as he played his round. “gods, you have all the luck, huh?”

the dealer turned to zahra now and dealt her two cards: a jack of spades and six of hearts. fingers tapped upon the table as she contemplated her next move. should she not try, she would for certain lose. “hit.” she decided confidently, and her final card was revealed.

it was a five of clubs.

“congratulations my lady, you’ve achieved a blackjack.” the dealer stated, shifting the coins to her side of the table as zahra gave a few claps of her hands. “well it was either try again, or lose for certain, right?” she flashed a beaming smile in the direction of each at the table. “i can see why you lords could play this game all night, that was thrilling.”

@nicholaslannisters

"Lady Zahra," Nicholas said with a wide grin, tilting his head in greeting. He waited until she had taken her seat upon the empty chair before settling again himself. Nicholas leaned over, clapping Percival on his shoulder before giving it a firm, almost excited shake. What was it about the captain, that attracted so many stormy individuals? The mysterious northern woman, Leo Lefford, and now a star-spangled knight and dark beauty.

"I may be bleeding gold, my friend, but bleeding for a lady makes any outcome much more enjoyable." His words were met with another thunderous laugh as he released the Valeman, and the Heir of Lannisport tossed a hand up to a servant to indicate another round be brought to their gambling table.

"The game is Blackjack." The servant floated over as he explained the rules, setting the drinks upon the table. The dealer that ran the table nodded his greeting to the new participant, and quickly dealt Zahra into the game. "Twenty-one or bust, my lady." Nicholas said, his thick eyebrows waggling as he took a heavy sip from his cup.

His voice humorous, but the truth was, Percival Templeton had been busting him nearly broke.

Nicholas turn came first, and as the dealer flipped a six of hearts and a Jack of spades face up in front of him. "Sixteen," he said, and Nicholas couldn't help but groan. Already, the odds weren't in his favor.

"Hit, or stay?" The dealer asked. Nicky knew he should stay, wait it out and try for some luck. But with the arrival of their new opponent, he waggled his eyebrows again instead. "Hit."

The dealer flipped his card over, revealing an eight of diamonds. "24, my lord. Bust."

Nicholas slammed his hand down on the table, making the chips jump upon the surface. His face twisted in mock annoyance, before his loud laugher returned again, and he tossed his gold coins upon the table. "Another bloody wound…" @percival-templeton

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.

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."

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.

zahra crossed her arms in front of her chest at his comment, feigning her displeasure for his remark with expressive features, one's often seen in her dancing, for she never seemed to stop presenting her whole self for the world to see. it was for that very reason she dove so deeply into her art, it was truly part of her. "well, i'd like to see them try. shall i go back down to the great hall and challenge one of them?" she answered, a soft giggle of amusement at her own quip.

she were no fool to the thoughts running through their heads as they looked upon her, just as she were no fool to the lord of yronwood's clear disbelief in the cards he held in his hands, or the very stars in the sky - despite how greatly she believed in them. despite the things she noticed, it never seemed to affect her own demeanor. zahra continued on as she always would. "no matter if they knew me, they would still see me for what they believe i am." she stated, almost nonchalantly. she didn't think it mattered if she tried to convince them she were more than just warm flesh and foreign beauty. "but it is not one of their chambers i find myself in tonight." she added, almost to make a point that, despite her charade, it went no further than that for her.

"if it were not me they thought of, it would be another. many beauties from all over here in the reach." zahra insisted, reaching for the three cards he handed her with one fluid, graceful movement. "let's see if i can finally make a believer out of you." she winked, placing the cards face down in a row in front of her.

she flipped the first card. "the six of cups - this one represents innocence, childhood, memories. perhaps you've been dwelling on the your childhood, or past, lately, and seek comfort in an old friend." hand moved to the center card. "the tower - this reprehents a sudden change in life, upheaval, perhaps you're experiencing something unexpected?" she questioned, with a shrug, she turned the last card and a bright smile came over her face. "the star." zahra stated, "hope and healing, your future is filled with something brighter, a renewed optimism. perhaps whatever disruption is occuring is necessary for the future."

zahra waited a beat, not quite looking up at him from the cards just yet, until she did. "well? wrong again?"

꙰

"im sure even your reach men could outdance you, if you managed to put on the right music for them." his words were taunting now, light in the message rather than the normal seriousness that was in his tone of voice. armaan yronwood hated reachmen; both andal and old rhoynish, no doubt a reflection of the tensions that came with remaining on the borders with the other region.

then again, he detested even the stormlanders to the north, and their dragon overlords - he could still not fully understand how was it the mighty storm lords had accepted such a conquering; they had truthfully surprised the bloodroyal, in their ability to play the submissive partner and take the dominance of the dragon king.

"they were doing more than gawking." he responded, his tone pointed now, his gaze meeting her own knowingly; it was not hard for zahra sand to illicit lust from men. especially when they looked at her as though she were a kite they would try to master, some mythical being from a land far away. all dornish women were looked at in such a way: sexual deviants, and inherent threats due to their willingness to cross what was considered their norm.

"no doubt some poor woman was completely unaware of who her husband is thinking of in their marriage bed tonight." truthfully, a part of him expected that he would have discarded of her skirts by this point, with their bodies doing the talking for them: and instead, they sat lazily upon such velvet pillows, inhaling the smoke before exhaling it. he could not quite pinpoint where the change had happened: only, that it had.

her laughter at her blunder caused the first crack of a smile to cross his own features, finding amusement at the entire situation, rather than laughing at her directly. it was the confidence that had thrown him, and was enough to illicit chuckles coming from him as he leaned forward to take three more cards, one by one. "three cards for the fraudulent stars.' he responded, placing down them on the carpet.

“my flowers?” she questioned, brows furrowing in confusion a moment before a grin spread over her lips. “do you mean those gawking reach lords?” zahra asked in clarification before laughter emitted from her, head shaking causing golden earrings to swing side to side. perhaps he mentioned them only because she had just earlier that evening been dancing before them, and if asked she would admit she enjoyed people watching her, whether gawking at her beauty, or enchanted by her dancing, it was certainly one of her vices, though she found little wrong in it. it seemed a natural reaction, even. "and why would you tell them such a thing? unless you believe that?" she questioned, a raise of her brow accompanying her inquiry, though she would hardly believe his answer even if he did think so.

eyes averted him for a moment at his remark, shifting the skirts of her golden lehenga as she adjusted her seat, tucking her legs to the side. certainly he did not mean the princess, did he? he spent more more time with the other than he ever had with zahra, but perhaps it could be settled as merely coincidental. "certainly there are other women in dorne who i resemble, sure." she brushed it off.

crossing her arms over her chest, she gave a look of disappointment. "well you chose the card." she insisted, a quick wink at the quip as she gestured to the cards again. "it is a simple reading, based on your intentions. the cards were right then, after all." her words held the semblance of a challenge, almost, having caught on to his likely disbelief in her small trade. "nothing is certain, not even the stars, it's meant to guide you. pick three more, if you wish to indulge me again."

hand came over her face as she realized her blunder, a slight flush of her cheeks in a moment of embarrassment, though the dancer had always managed to shrug off such things. she never paid good enough attention to remember what position belonged to who. "well, even more fitting, then." she insisted. "see? i knew nothing, the cards told me." zahra laughed.

꙰

the bloodroyal only looked upon her with a sense of ease as she looked back at him, raising her brows and adorning her features with a grin: there was no denying the fact that zahra sand of the salt shore was beautiful, in every way that a woman should be beautiful; he would feel easily able to believe her to be the most beautiful woman in all of dorne, merely from her physical appearance alone.

and yet still, there was some carefree and impulsive about her nature that only seemed to draw more in; and how she did, as exemplified by the fact her westerosi fans were clearly captivated. it was admittedly something he thought, laced with judgement and pride; that a dornish woman, should only be with a dornish man. it was they that could handle one another, and understand.

"i was tempted to tell your flowers you are below average compared to the other dancers in dorne." and despite it being a joke, the delivery remained unwavering and serious: not even a hint of a smile on his face to lighten the atmosphere between them. no, he liked the fact he could simply be as he was, and there was no lecturing of how he ought to be.

"you look like someone." he could not put his finger on who exactly, and yet, there was something of her features that reminded him of another face he saw. nobody of great importance or personal connection, nobody with memories. it made him only continue to look in her direction as she proclaimed proudly what card it was she had drew, and whilst he recognised it, he did not understand the entire concept of how this somehow related to him individually. "hardly specific, zahra. you speak of me and use what is generally known rather than something only the stars would know of."

and then came her question, which had a sense of great excitement; as though she had caught onto something great. a major piece of the puzzle. it made a low chuckle come from his lips as he stared at her, and then the chuckle grew louder. and louder. "i am master of coin."

lithe fingers tapped in her lap as she observed him shuffled the cards, a raise of her brows and grin as he kept his gaze upon her, knowing he, was at the very least, indulging her at this moment. despite the stony persona he seemed to have, there was something strangely comfortable in his presence. “always.” she responded, a mock look of surprise on his features that he would suggest there wasn’t. “there’s never a performance i have given that i didn’t think something could be better.” hand moved to tuck loose strands of chestnut hair behind her ear. eyes shifted up and she thought she caught his gaze, one that held a lot more to it than just simply looking upon her, almost as if he analyzing her.

she instead focused on the cards, observing as he continued to shuffle the deck in his hands. perhaps he believed little in what he held in his hands, but she knew the power that were held within the stars themselves, the answers they held to one’s true self, even if one never found such a thing in this life. “certainly you can understand, in some way. there must be something you wonder if you’ll ever perfect.”

perhaps not, but zahra would inquire anyways, enjoying the way such a thing could either cause one to think more deeply about themselves, or dismiss such an idea all together. she would find some insight with the cards, however, and as he handed her his selection, she moved to smoothly grab it, a smile on her face, dimpling her cheeks, as she turned it to face herself to read to him.

“well, well,” she teased, “karta - the emperor.” she used the fingers in one hand to turn the card to face him now, as if to prove that was what he drew. “you seek some economic endeavor, but be careful not to let your assertive nature become aggressive. now is a good time to pursue a strategic investment or risk.” zahra reached the remainder of the deck now. “perhaps you will find such an opportunity here in the reach. there are many other wealthy lords who may be interested in your business.” she insisted, though her tone gave way to the very fact she did not pay mind to such things. “you were once master of coin, weren’t you?”

꙰

there came a sense of confidence that came over the dancer of salt shore as she momentarily looked downward in shuffling the cards that remained within her hands, with a sense of excellency and swiftness one would see in the way warriors wielded their weapons; the sound of a scimitar must have felt the same as the rush of the cards being placed down to be played.

her gaze momentarily looked downward, strands of hair moving over her shoulders, and for a moment armaan found himself noting something distantly familiar about the way her features looked in the candelight - his brows furrowed momentarily, in a way that made it obvious he had noticed something, and nothing, all at once.

and then her gaze flickered up, and she no doubt caught him looking at her in such a way. "you know there is always room for improvement." he responded, his tone remaining cool and casual in response to the brightness of her own as he leaned forward to accept the cards she offered him: truthfully, he did not believe that these readings would be able to truly alter anything. he, the master of his own being, could alter his own life whenever he wished to - changing the plans of the gods and the stars all alike.

"are dancers never truly happy with their performances?" he asked, referencing the fact that they were artists at heart - dornish dance was a form of story telling, and included more than just movements that needed to be remembered. it was an ancient art and tale in itself.

he shuffled the cards, keeping his gaze upon her own to make it clear he was not attempting to cheat in anyway; there was no need to toy with such matters, especially when they meant nothing in the long run. what did armaan yronwood wish for? her words almost caused him to scoff, and as serious as his persona seemed to be, there was no denying the fact he was comfortable in this very moment: as seen in the way he reached forward to take the hookah from her and smoke it himself. armaan yronwood wished for power. he wished for wealth.

and for power and wealth, the security of his lineage needed to be made clear: he had not one heir, but two. twins of one another, born when the sun was at it's highest point of the sky. he selected the card, and handed it over to her wordlessly.

the dancer of salt shore sat comfortably upon the lush rug on the floor, legs crossed as she mindlessly shuffled the cards in her hands. it had always been a calling of sorts of hers, to read the stars, and therefore those around her if she had the opportunity. zahra found people interesting, but especially those she felt unable to read from a simple interaction - armaan yronwood had been someone for years she could not simply figure out, and that intrigued her.

the sweetness of the smoke was soothing, a reminder of home in a place where she felt entirely outside of things. though zahra sand was not in the midst of dornish politics, she was far more welcomed in those midst than here. she were no fool to what others saw her as, but she also paid little mind to it. though she found herself liking the reach more than other places, it still wasn't quite like home, and she was ready to depart as soon as they could.

a small shrug of her shoulder at his answer, she knew him to be the cousin of the martell's, but she knew little of their relationship, other than he did not seem particularly close to them, but zahra didn't think she would press on that, for now, at least. "hmm, i suppose." she left that topic at that comment, but wondered if there was any hidden meaning behind the words that left him. the dancer did not really pay mind to what was expected of most others, and tended to fall into her own rhythm. she knew, in some ways, that was certainly a privilege.

melodic laughter escaped her at his questions, not matter how pointed his words may have seemed. "of course i do, i'll take any opportunity to read someone." zahra stated with a grin, arm reaching over to hand him the deck. wafts of sandwalwood and jasmine scented oils filled her senses at the movement from having placed small drops on her wrists, a little delicacy she had partaken in when her father had offered her gifts from essos.. "you must shuffle them, and think of your intention." she instructed, "do you desire anything? power? wealth? do you have enough of the latter?" zahra taunted slightly, hands placed on her knees now. "once you've thought of something, select a card without looking and hand it to me."

꙰

there was a smokey haze within the chambers of the bloodroyal, as a result of the burning coals of the hookah and the circles that filled the air between them, inhaling through the nose - he detested the way in which it made him feel far more level headed, far more rooted to the ground that remained beneath his feet. even if it burned beneath the scalding heat of the dornish sun, something about it made him feel present. and somewhere, in the depth of his gut, he knew it was because of the fact that he associated the lord of the tor was the smoking - his calm nature, and how armaan had always claimed it unrealistic. yet, rashid jordayne lived and showed him each day such calm was entirely possible.

it seemed as though they all knew their places and their positions in the world. and the bloodroyal of yronwood, in his focus on the money and cultivation of his own lands, had been assigned the very same duty for the entirety of the realm. the spring had come to lys, and dorne would soon feel the benefits for the steadfast alliance they kept - despite the burning of the land of rivers. it made the most sense, and soon, it would show.

"princesses are supposed to be good at that." he responded, his voice remaining blunt; his lack of association with the martells, despite them being his blood through their parents being siblings, was no mystery - nor was it any confounding complex matter to wrap one's head around. all knew of the major fall out that happened between mors and armaan in their early adulthood, barely able to be identified as men; and it stained. it would remain to stain, even in death - he had no care for it. "it's a problem if they are not." he inhaled again, watching as dark, doe-like orbs seemed to light up at the mention of her cards.

astrology was an important part of dornish culture, with possible marriages being matched based on compatibility of politics, but also birth charts - even timings of vows being exchanged came down to certain times of the day and the position of planets. he was not entirely dismissive of the matter, though believed some found themselves too tied to the concept; dismissing the entire point of man having choices. "you've got them on you all the time or…?" armaan asked, his tone may have come across judgemental; and yet, there was clear amusement within dark orbs that were the essence of the storm. "your nonsense does not phase me, zahra sand. read as you wish."

the dark hues of zahra sand fluttered back and forth between the two lords - almost reminding her of an eager puppy and a unamused cat in the way they greeted her and subsequently in the moods they exuded. it caused her to wander where the stars fell in the sky upon their births, she was fascinated. when the golden-like lord asked her name, a grin spread over her features. "zahra." she answered, her name rolling off her accented tongue. "you are too kind to allow to join. i know not what we play, but i am quick to learn." she interlaced her fingers on the table in front of her, sitting comfortably upon the velvet seat as if she were in her own home.

the dancer reached into her pocket and placed a velvet pouch on the table. "so, what are the rules, what's the bet?" head tilted to the side as she awaited an answer from either. "and no need to go easy on me, i shall win or lose fairly." she gave a nod of affirmation, a semblance of natural pride upon her features, now.

@nicholaslannisters

It was a card game, one with shuffling and gambling. Nicholas was a gambler, sure -- but with his own life. People bet on him in the lists, the battlefield, his horses. This was… similar to battle, in a way, with having to strategize one's wager and cards, but…

He was loosing. But each time his hand had failed him, it had been met with a thunderous laugh and another round of drinks delivered to the table. It preyed on his pride, and when one had Lannister gold, well… he was determined he'd be on the winning side eventually. It was all fun, after all -- and after his mother's attempts in Riverrun… though the lord across from him was no comrade, there had been no reason not to play a few rounds. Win or lose, it was a coronation.

There were people to meet, people to… find.

But now there was a chance he wouldn't lose -- and so he greeted the beautiful woman with a wide, bearded smile.

Ever the chivalrous knight, he stood, gesturing to an empty seat. "You do not mind, Percy?" Use of a nickname, despite barley knowing him. Titles, despite carrying a heavy one of his own, floating completely over his head. "We could level the playing field, with lady…?"

@percival-templeton

as the liquid ran itself over her tongue, she could understand why he would say such a thing. zahra had little opportunity to indulge in such a drink, normally preferring to opt for dornish red, or a spirit her father brought back from one of the free cities after a time of sailing and conducting his affairs. she found it strange he preferred to conduct his business himself, though at the same time, she understood it. it was easier to leave salt shore to the heir, her trueborn sibling, as they would one day take the keep for themselves. given her entire existence, to begin with, it likely allowed him more freedom to indulge in business beyond trade: pleasures. the thought itself nearly brought a humorous smile to her lips as she thought of the conversation she entertained with lord yronwood earlier in the evening.

not so long ago the pair conversed in the great hall amongst other nobles, and now she stood here before him in his chambers alone, silks of gold against her skin almost giving the impression she glowed like the sun. hazel orbs observed the darkened coals turning red as they were lit by the lord whilst he continued to casually converse with her.

"if you are a traitor, then i suppose i am, too." she jested, giving a slight raise of her goblet before taking another long sip. the dancer glid over to the velvet chair across from him, taking a seat of her own and tucking her legs to the side of her while an elbow came to rest upon the chairs arm.

gaze broke from looking at him as he spoke of her being rumored to be the lady of the tor, and truthfully it was not something that was not unknown to her. it was even considered by her. some might call it self-sabotage, foolishness to reject an opportunity to rise from the position of her birth - but it simply didn't feel right for her, despite her relationship with rashid. "the princess loreza is far better for such a role." zahra stated simply, a beat of silence before she grasped the hookah that was offered and took small inhale of the smoke, allowing it to linger within her lips for a moment before i softly emitted from her mouth.

when he spoke of cards, there was a shift within her, eyes lighting up slightly as she handed the hookah back to him. "it's not always easy to read peoples feelings, they are ever-changing." she insisted with a grin. "you did not strike me as someone who would care to be read." hand dipped into a pocket within her dress, pulling out a deck of cards she tended to keep on hand. "or would you?" brows rose teasingly, though she hoped he would accept the offer.

꙰

there was a sense of ease that seemed to come over the ruling lord of yronwood as the dancer of salt shore continued to waft her way through his personal apartments within the wing of highgarden; a sense of ease that did not come in the form of cockiness or arrogance, which was most unlike him - but rather a sense of quiet contentment and amusement to watch the way in which her figure made it's way around his rooms almost as though she had walked into her own rooms.

"call me a traitor for admitting it tastes better than the dornish." the wines of the arbor came from the other sort of rhoynish that filled the continent of westeros, those who were more different to them than one could have expected; it sometimes felt as though they sometimes even had more similarities with andals than their fellow rhoynish.

and whilst his words were about wine, the casual, almost husky tone in which he spoke made it appear as though it were some illicit suggestion of something else. and perhaps it was, to gage her reaction; he noticed not as he leaned forwards to light the hookah that remained from some hours earlier, allowing it time to heat up against the hot coals. and whilst she continued to coquettishly twirl her way around the room, he remained; almost as though his own stillness was the centre within the room, the gravitational pull.

her bold confirmation caused the flicker of a smirk to cross over dark features, continuing to look at the way in which the coals beneath the hookah glowed amber: it were something the reachmen did, and thus, was easy enough to get a hold of, and he merely held it in his hand as it began to warm up. silently, he offered her the hookah; leaning back upon the velvet recliner as he rolled one of the sleeves of his black kurta up his forearms.

"because, if memory serves me correct, you were readying yourself to play lady of the tor." he replied, his voice utterly casual, flat in how direct he was to the point; yet there was not an inch of irritation to him. "that is what everyone thought, aside from yourself it turns out." it was not well known what happened, and yet, armaan remembered the news being broken by rashid to himself and baashir alike. he remembered the way in which his brows had furrowed, confused as to why such a thing would not have gone through when it appeared perfect - and it made sense now. sometimes, things that seemed perfect were cursed to be more tainted than any other.

"who knows. nothing happened, after all." he referred to the time she had spent within yronwood, alongside her father: known for his commerce. he remembered watching the way in which he spun his networks of money, of gold, and thus of influence. "just ended up being something the both of us stayed quiet about. stay quiet about." he added, making it clear to her; even now, years later, he had not mentioned the fact that he knew of zahra sand before the apparent first time he had come across her in the tor. things had ended up the way they were supposed to in the end. "you ask many questions for a seer. still doing your cards thing?"

the visage of zahra sand were abnormally still this day. the seer of dorne appeared at court to tend to the duty bestowed on her - read the stars and whisper what was to come into the ears of the first minister and princess regent. in her time in sunspear she had grown closer to the latter, finding much in common with the lady of godsgrace - of course there were times where she questioned whether or not she simply wanted to see the common traits they possessed, for zahra was entirely aware of the woman's connection to her that she did not know of. every moment she felt might be the right time to speak up, she could feel the words physically pulled from her throat by some invisible force, unable to form them in a way that seemed anything other than insanity.

hazel hues glanced to the side of the room now, feeling the gaze of amaia sand upon her. a spider, so she thought of the other woman, weaving a web of quiet chaos about any room she walked in. she was pretty, in a way that was almost threatening, it were hard for zahra to remove her gaze once it found the other. the words they previously exchanged had been minimal, but given they were both bastards of great houses, there were some common ground they treaded in their years within sunspear's walls.

zahra's head tilted, chocolate colored curls shifting to the side as she did, earrings that dangled moving side to side, like some hypnotic time piece. eyes glanced down at her garments, and she was truly entirely unsure of where the fabrics originated from. "i've not a clue, my father does business with many ports in essos, and i believe this was a gift from him." she offered a forced smile, before focusing her gaze on the crowd again. a beat passed and she looked to the spider once more. "would you like to consult your brother on the matter, or did you need something?"

who: @dancingshores

where: during the lockdown in dorne, amaia speaks to zahra after an interesting sighting

if amaia sand were a wiser person, she would not engage. she had already spoken to lord yronwood, and the uller bastard realised the intelligent thing to do was to keep her mouth shut and simply observe while the whole situation unfolded. but amaia was never known to be the most patient of people, or even the most rational. those positions were occupied by her uncle and her brother. but the fire that burned within the bastard of hellholt was as hot as the sands of the dornish desert, and it forced her to act. no matter the consequences. she was never the one

she spotted the pretty woman in one of the many chambers of sunspear. the ones that were filled with people at any time of the day. it was easier to blend in among a crowd. but on the other hand, a wondering eye might catch the two bastards conversing. it added to the fun of the whole ordeal. amaia knew zahra sand from the time she spent in sunspear. the bastards had talked on occasions, exchanging sweet words typical for women in their positions. but nothing substantial, although that was about to change. amaia had seen the sand talking while she weaved her spider web, to a woman drapped in the fabrics of volantis. quite heatedly. how interesting, given their current situation.

"lovely fabric," the sand spoke sweetly, the hidden venom dripping through her words. she came up to the other woman with a harmless smile plastered on her features. no need to show her fangs yet. "is it from the free cities? it looks myrish, or maybe braavosi. i never had lessons, unlike my brother." her gaze focused on the lady, her eyes betraying nothing. "or is it volantene?"

the dancer of salt shore had spun about the room, chatting with other guests of the evening and dancing to practically every tune that had been played this evening. she was making her way back across the room when a familiar voice beckoned her to sit with them. turning to see devani toland, a grin crept upon her face. in truth, it mattered not where most nobles came from, whatever squabbles were between them were not necessarily under her radar. figure slid into the chair across from the woman and plucked a golden goblet from a passing tray to partake in drinking dornish red. from the flush of the woman's cheeks, she had already indulged in plenty that evening.

zahra did not enjoy being within the walls of the red keep, almost suffocating in which it was flooded with tresses of silver any which way one would look. she would not really pretend to be entirely alright, either. the death of the qamar of the tor had wounded her more than she allowed herself to process at this point. this night in particular felt heavier, though perhaps it were the full moon that shone brightly in the night sky. regardless, believed she simply needed to get through this visit, and when they were back in dorne she would float around aimlessly, for a while.

"something good?" she snorted, a hearty laughter escaping her, almost to the point of hysterics. "well, if you can avoid the valyrians," zahra leaned in, attempting to be quieter in those words, but failing entirely. "some of these nobles are actually alright." she shrugged, taking a long sip of her goblet now. "i even played a game of cards with a couple of lords, pompous as they were."

@dancingshores

"come and sit with me." there was an air of finality to devani's voice as she beckoned the other woman over. it wasn't her way to watch the room, to weigh up her options before engaging in conversation - once her attention was caught, devi acted upon it. "have a drink. nothing dampens the spirits more than drinking alone, no?" she gestured to a jug of dornish red she had commandeered.

she missed essos. dorne had not been her home for so long that she hardly even considered herself dornish anymore. she was a child of the sun and the sea, at home wherever she found herself. her blood ran hot, her passions hotter, and she followed every whim as it rose within her. those whims were telling her to flee once more, to go back to the life she had when she abandoned her homeland the first time.

and yet, here she remained.

she allowed a brief moment to settle, to drink, before launching back into conversation. "i've been away from dorne for too long. if i'd have known things were this bad, i'd have stayed longer." she laughed, the sound edged in something a little bitter. "tell me something good. i'm not sure my little heart can bear much more doom and gloom."

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.

setting : during the dornish lockdown, this is before amaia sees zahra speaking to a volantene woman ; starter for @opheliafowler

there was a gray aura that seemed to wrap around the golden court of sunspear this day, though it seemed to have been everyday since the night the moon went down. the wound felt as raw as the day she had heard the word's uttered from the princess regent's lips regarding the fate of rashid jordayne. and ever since that day, the dancer who floated about like a kite in the wind had remained utterly still, fixated, as if a storm had rolled over the sunny day that was her normal demeanor, and had not quite cleared. even attempts to move through her grief, at times, only intensified it. and so there were times where feet did not move at all, where the sound of bangles had ceased entirely.

zahra hoped that would change today, was certain the stars had showed her justice and peace would be achieved. it was written wasn't it? she had thought, until what was to be a trial, was suddenly an execution, and the court of sunspear collectively raised a brow at the assumption of their guests. then the prince called for the palace to be locked down, and the dornish court began to engage in intense conversation with those of volantis.

the dancer of salt shore had moved from her father's side, who had uttered words into her ear that sent a shockwave down her spine, eyes unable to stop glancing towards a particular volantene woman, a paramour of one of the lords engaging with the martell prince. hazel hues were still fixated on her when she accidentally bumped into someone.

head pivoted quickly to see the image of ophelia fowler, and an audible sigh left zahra's lips as she kept her gaze fixated on the lady before her now. "sorry." she murmured, bringing her hands to cross in front of her lehenga as discussions around the room began to grow louder. "it seems our guests are unaware of our customs. i'm feeling entirely uneasy about this whole thing." she stated, perhaps wanting to find a sense of commiseration in her feelings.

a humored smile crept on the lips of zahra sand, unable to maintain total composure with the lord who was so sincere she was unsure if she had ever actually seen him smile. though she never took much notice of baashier dayne until now, for they were in each other's company far more given the new position she had accepted. still, there was a slight feeling of discomfort in the pit of her stomach, a sense of nervousness that he had actually noticed something that would cause a great secret to be ripped from her before she was truly ready to speak it. though truthfully, zahra was unsure if she would ever be just that.

"yes, that she is." she replied, rolling her lips and then pressing them into a smile of sorts as she hoped to stray from the topic, soon. "sometimes we find coincidences that aren't there. i'm certain if she was stood next to me, you would not compare us at all." and zahra sand hoped that would be the end of that conversation, at least for now.

as he shifted to her roots, her feet shifted in her stance, never quite still with little movements here and there. "salt shore, yes." she responded. "no, my siblings take after their own mother. i'm told i take after my father some, but i suppose i'll never truly know." eyes flickered down to the booklet in hand, little drawings of the skies, maps in reality, though perhaps indiscernible to those who were not sure what they were looking at. "the end of the month is a better time for rest, than preparation. that is all i can see for the near future." she stated.

"would you like me here for their arrival, first minister? in case they are in need of my insight?" zahra was unsure if it was really necessary, but the stars might provide some semblance of peace and comfort. she did not desire to be glued to one place longer than necessary, but she felt obliged to offer.

Baashir looked at her, watching the way she spoke to him and he tried to pick up on anything that would give him peace and instead he decided everything about her was suspicious and he would have to work on something else. Though, he looked at the woman and decided they looked too much alike. There were differences but what was the same was enough to make him feel as though there was something he knew that he didn’t and he didn’t like that feeling. Though, he wished he didn’t say so much at once, probably pay his hand a bit better but he didn’t have anyway to take it back so it would just set the tone.

“Her grace is stunning and incomparable. Yet, you look like her and I find that distracting.” His voice stayed in that same even tone, the seriousness clear on his face. Bash furrowed his brow as he tried to think of something related to the dates around them so she could think of something else other than his questioning.

“Where do you come from? You’re a Gargalen Bastard, correct? No one else in your house looks like here.” The lord stopped himself and landed on an idea. “I want to know if there are any dates that arise to you in concern? We’ve many things to plan as we prepare for the princesses new roles and I’m sure for the other Martell siblings to arrive.” Bash sighed, and one or both of them would be headaches.

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?"

the gardens embraced them with the scent of flowers and the soothing murmur of water, creating a sanctuary within the bustling court. zahra's guarded exterior seemed to loosen in myriam's presence, revealing a woman who, despite the complexities of her role, cherished the connections that transcended the political intricacies of the position of the princess consort. the offer was more than a business transaction, of that she was certain, or perhaps hopeful of. she did not think the offer would be given to just anyone, there was a level of trust that was extended to her, and she knew it would be unwise to allow that to pass.

"today it is, then." zahra responded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. her voice carried the weight of experiences untold, yet in myriam's company, there was a subtle vulnerability that lingered beneath the surface. she appreciated myriam's efforts to tether her, to not let the winds she allowed to carry her do so as easily as she often found them to.

the mention of the powers that surrounded them brought the dancer's mind back to the intricacies of politics that surrounded myriam's position. she appreciated the woman's relaxed nature in her presence, feeling the same semblance of peace around her as well. though perhaps there was an inkling feeling of guilt that pricked at her like a thorn upon one of the many roses that surrounded them. she knew so much more than she spoke of, and yet, she wondered if the other would find joy in the discovery of a familial connection, or distress in finding there was more in her life unknown to her. would she even believe her?

and so she put such thoughts to the back of her mind. perhaps there would be a time to speak of it. zahra was simply happy for the natural connection that seemed to be forming between the two.

a melodic laugh left her at myriam's quip, giving a playful shrug of her shoulders. "what's a dance if not having an element of surprise?" she asked, tone lighthearted, suddenly feeling the sticky heat upon her neck as well as she moved dark tresses over one shoulder to allow the little breeze that blew to cool her off. "oh yes, everything is well. there are just some things i'd like to sort out, and i think i may depart before the rest of the court." though she would not be far from her own haveli, she wanted to ensure things were going well there before she would be away from it even longer than now. often zahra checked in to ensure things were going over smoothly. the lifeline she had created for herself and built upon her own two feet was of great importance to her.

"i promise, i will not stray far." she added with a grin.

eyebrows both rose as the prospect of a permanent position in sunspear, it was almost enough to cause flighty feet to find their ground, for once. almost. but it was all the reason why she continued to float around from place to place, wasn’t it? life at court did not feel fitting for her, though she was not necessarily a lady, she could feel the weight of responsibility on her shoulders just being there, should she decide to do so on a long term basis.

however the princess offered another proposition to her, one where her wings could continue to spread as she pleased, and she need only teach upon her visits. it felt much more to her taste. though zahra could certainly use something to settle her at some point, even the opportunity to be near her blood, though the other did not know it, felt as if it might not be enough. perhaps it would be though, if the dancer found the courage to utter such truths, truths she feared would not be accepted by the woman before her.

and still, zahra did not want for much in life, except to dance. she had spent years on her craft, and she knew there was still more for her to learn, so much she could teach. yet, she felt, and knew, the best opportunity that could ever cross her path is being the teacher to the heir of all of dorne.

“perhaps one day.” zahra answered in jest, a small sense of longing within her chest at the thought of actually of actually settling. it was certainly the affect that the woman before her had, to no fault of her own.

there was little moment of pondering, but her mind drifted to the days of traveling with her father. though he noble, she was on the outside looking in, able to come and go as she pleased even then, but her father gave in to her pleads to travel along with him, perhaps fueling her desire to wander around all of dorne. sunspear, by far, was her favorite place, and she had little qualms with visiting it more often, in an unofficial sense.

she gave a nod, chestnut curls shifting, and smiled at the other. “of course, your grace, i would be happy with such an arrangement.” it was genuine, her words, though a slight sense of panic could be felt in the pattering of her heart. zahra managed to calm such a feeling. “i have much i would like to teach her as long as you will have me.” she added, ideas already swirling in her mind on what techniques they would work on next, but she brought herself back to the conversation before her.

“she looks so very proud, she should be.” zahra noted aloud as she watched the young girl amongst the others her age. “if i may ask, do you expect to depart the reach soon?”

lips curled upwards into a sly grin at the lords response, the subtle swaying, moment of her body that seemed to be her natural state suddenly slowing at the intrigue began to creep over her. it had been many years since her time in yronwood and zahra found herself coming to the realization that rarely had she encountered armaan yronwood in such a way. that is, without the presence of others going about their business, in a more casual fashion that sitting over dinner listening to talks of trade and goods.

words were not wind, but a dance that zahra sand had, too, perfected in all of her years. she knew little of her fathers endeavors, though perhaps more than she let on, but it had always served her better to cloak herself in the ignorance, that seemed to give her a sense of safety in not knowing, or pretending not to know, if such things. zahra sand had always focused her mind and actions on other things, and truthfully her own craft took up enough of her time to worry about the dealings of salt shore.

head tilted slightly at his words, though features remained amused, light hues filled with curiosity, bordering on eagerness, as if the two of them had found themselves engaging in some game. “perhaps such a reason will come to me later.” later, she had stated, as if she very well knew this would not be the last encounter they would have during their time in the reach. “it’s simply that i do not need to know, lord yronwood. i tend to mind my own.” there was a casual shrug of her shoulders associated with the remark. there was a line between willful ignorance and a desire to remain in the dark that she delicately treaded upon. it made her own world a lot more simple, and detached.

eyebrows quirked up at the prospect of pleasure becoming business. zahra had always seen dancing as a sort of pleasure, though it was an art, too. passion that descended beyond pure dedication and skill and intertwined itself into her very life like vines upon a trellis, one of the very many in the very gardens in the reach. perhaps such a thing was based upon perspective. though pleasure and business was as elusive as a desert mirage, in her own world. “perhaps then such business would actually catch my interest.” she mused, the lips pulling into a grin. “what kind of business would that be, my lord? surely you must dabble in it yourself.”

dancingshores​:

“of course.” zahra replied, tone taunting as she gave a wave of her hands, as if to say that everything about her was on the surface to read, as if to imply that is all there was to her, but that really wasn’t the case, only what she hoped seemed to be. she thought she was likely predictable as she was flighty, but there was more that lie beneath the surface of the dancer of salt shore, should one decide to dig deeper.

frame floated nearer to him now, close enough to observe dark orbs more closely, one’s she found herself ogling at as a young girl in the halls of yronwood. she was not a girl anymore, but the intrigue with the man before her remained. there was some darkness about the man, no doubt a cloak of the tragedy of betrayal that befell him, but she was the sun, eager to shine her light, if only a moment.

“yah jaanane ka abhaav ki vah kab hoga, manoranjan ka hee ek hissa hai.” ( not knowing when that will be is only part of the fun. ) zahra insisted, head tilting slightly to the side, a half-smirk coming upon the corners of her mouth. a hand shifting the silk skirts of her golden lehenga, even standing still for a brief time seemed impossible for the woman who’s feet never touched the ground.

for that is what there was to zahra sand, she did not have roots, she had wings, and the woman never seemed to perch for long. where some believed it to be a downfall, she found to be a gift. not many had the opportunities she did, and while she was a bastard, there was privilege in her birth. she often had the opportunities to experience both parts of their world.

her arms folded over her chest now, suddenly stilling, the very cogs of her mind clearly seen moving behind hazel hues. “aur vah kya kaaran hoga?” ( and what reason would that be? ) her tone was on the brink of being almost challenging in her inquiry.

“he is well, and i am sure he would be glad to hear from you, my lord.” though zahra did not pay much attention to such business, she knew enough from the letters back and forth from her to her father. “i have been so busy i would not know much of his affairs. I prefer to deal in pleasures over business.”

꙰

truthfully, there was something about the woman that stood before him that reminded him of a kite: someone who held no roots to the ground, no place that called every part of her to submit to it, and it was something he had found himself pondering on silently over dinner so many years ago in the grand, ornate majesty of yronwood’s feasting hall. hearing his father and lord gargalan discuss matters so intensely and passionately, the men often on opposing sides of view and yet all would be cleared with laughter and drinking. armaan himself never found himself joining in, even at such a younger age as the one he were before his father was at the mercy of the true poison of dorne; not whilst the presence of his uncle remained on the table too.

her tone was almost challenging in her inquiry, and it was enough to cause a smile to cross over his features. it were laced in something else. “kyonki mein kar sakata hoon.” because i can, was his response to her question on reasons why he would wonder her way as she danced. his words were characteristically blunt, and he almost expected her to look at him with an irritated look. or perhaps she would find ways to dance around the topic with him, until she spun herself into a frenzy; there was a time where words became fickle. became useless, when it came to matters of action. “kyonki tumhen yah pasand hai.” because you like it. he dropped his words like a trap, remaining fixed comfortably in his position against the wall as she seemed unable to stand still. always moving something. “aap mujhe teesara kaaran bataiye.” you can tell me the third reason.

he thought on that time in his life with mixed feelings, including regret; regret for not realising the plans of his uncle far sooner, the only feeling he was able to obtain was that of being weirdly unsettled at the sight of him. there had never been a reason, and yet, over the sounds of lord gargalan and the dancing his bastard daughter did was some of the ladies of yronwood, armaan found himself unable to break his stormy gaze from his uncle. like a shadowcat, with his eyes locked on prey. of course, were the words she uttered as he asked whether she had continued to dance all of these years: it were a disciplined art form in dorne, that which took hours of perfection. the feet of dancers often bled and bruised due to exhausation; their art was their war.

“surprise surprise.” were the only words he uttered in her direction, amusement in his dark orbs: it were obvious she were doing some dance here, like a peacock. everything about her was utterly theatrical, even the way she playfully shook the golden skirts of her lehengha. she belonged upon the stages of the tor’s productions, so it seemed; though it were not his place to budge her to such a direction. there was an ease in knowing she would understand the way his accent wrapped huskily around his words, as whilst he did not lessen the accent for others in westeros, he knew she would at least understand him. “mujhe sandeh hai ki aap jaanana nahin chaahate.” i suspect you simply do not want to know.

it were not as though her father would not have her involved in matters should she simply ask; for she had managed to wrap her father around her fingers, and all of dorne knew it. she chose to stay out of such business, to continue to dabble only in the pleasures of life. there was beauty in ignorance, and safety in it too, especially in dorne of all places. “and what if pleasure becomes business?” he asked, his tone not accusatory or questioning for a change - but almost like a hook.

her eyes met his, and she couldn't help but notice the depth of emotion that lingered within them, as it always seemed to even some years ago. It was as if they were silently communicating, understanding the unspoken words that hung heavy in the air between them. the memories of their shared history flooded her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder what could have been, if they had chosen a different path, still, zahra never lingered long upon what might've occurred in her life had she made different choices. in truth, she didn't have regrets, and she very much enjoyed where she was at this point.

it seemed so silly now, to have let so many years slip by with not so much as a hello between them, though the lack of conversations and staying connected did not stem from a place of anger. perhaps in a way, they had both outgrown the relationship they had, the different paths they took providing clear evidence of such a fact. zahra was admittedly glad that he had eventually found what he was looking for for his home, a strong, beautiful wife to serve by his side.

though thoughts rushed through her mind like the currents of the greenblood, she did not feel bouts of anxiety creeping in her stomach, nor hoped to quickly end the conversation as soon as it began. zahra felt an overwhelming sense of peace, and perhaps this was simply the beginning of a new chapter for them, as the last had long been concluded. if she felt any emotion that might be evoked within her features, it was that of hope and happiness to have someone who was always so important to her in her life yet again, even in small doses such as passing by one another in the halls of sunspear.

"and you." she replied, suddenly realizing the breath she had held released, almost as if she was releasing the curtains she had drawn over herself, unsure if this encounter would provide some sense of solace for what had occurred between them in the past, or if perhaps there would be tensions. though she had braced herself for something, the moment he spoke she felt entirely foolish for it. it was entirely out of character for the rashid she knew to grasp onto such things and let wounds fester.

"still dancing." a soft laugh left her, the ease of speaking to the lord of tor coming over her now. "the princess invited me to teach her daughter, and i certainly couldn't refuse such an offer." though zahra hesitated to find herself planted in one spot, she was glad for many reasons to find an excuse to walk the halls of sunspear more often. "and you? i hope things have been well. i would certainly like to visit the tor again sometime." aside from her connection with the man before her, her time there had provided her with dear memories and friendships, along with things she would rather forget.

صبر

for all the theatrics and the drama that seemed to follow in the footprints zahra sand would leave within the golden dunes themselves, it were never the sort that were emotionally taxing: drama came in the form of flamboyant movements, of laughter, of facial expressions that said everything before her lips even parted. never was it raised voices and arguments, which is why when their end came, it came quietly; that slow wonder of whether there was anything wrong between them for them to be feeling on such opposites pages of the same book the way they did.

the morning sun made strands of her hair appear more auburn in some streaks as they sat beside one another, listening to the distant sounds of a flute playing in the time where silence sat between the pair of them; the tune of that flute had remained imprinted into his mind, even now, so many years later. that had been the conversation in which they addressed the clear differences in their lives, and in what they wanted from them; coming to the ultimate conclusion that there was no way for them to continue in their adoration and devotion to one another without one sacrificing what they needed, or wanted.

truthfully, he knew not why he had hesitated on merely bridging the gap between them and approaching her: instead, finding silent humour in the fact that the both of them had paused in their journey to merely stand some spaces away from one another. he were glad to hear the sound of his name leaving from her lips in a tone that showed there was no resentment or anger, for it was the exact same as what she would find within him; only, there were moments where it seemed the nerves seemed to swell within her. and it were impossible not to notice, considering the look she shared upon her face: she may as well have started moving her feet from side to side, to quell out the nerves.

"zahra." he greeted in response to the uttering of his name, taking some steps forward to meet her, always meeting her right in the middle. his choice of language was not awkward or strained, but rather with a degree of warmth to it: for despite the years that had gone in their natural separation, he was happy to see her. in sunspear of all places, walking with a degree of comfort and ease around the majestic halls which seemed to suggest this was hardly to be the last time he came across her here. "it is good to see you." and his words were genuine, for he meant them: he were able to look upon her, and not feel as though he were inwardly spiralling.

he were able to look upon her, and have an immense love for the history they had once shared with one another: without feeling as though he were nothing.

to make homes out of people is folly, was what he had spoken to dastan allyrion some days ago; and here was the woman that had taught him such a thing. he only cared for her more for it. he raised a humble hand to his chest as he accepted her congratulations, nodding his head; looking around at the marriages in dorne, he were more and more thankful for his wife each passing day. "thank you. the gods did bless me that day." he spoke, his tone warm in thinking of it. he looked upon her, taking her in almost: not in a way that suggested lust, but in a way that was reconnecting.

"and i guess it was only a matter of time before you found yourself in sunspear. what are you doing these days?"

the wings of zahra sand had long spread as the dancer flew her way around dorne perfecting and teaching her craft. since the woman left the tor, it wasn't long she stayed in one particular place. even her house of birth, salt shore, did not see her for periods longer than she could help it. the stars and scenery was everchanging around her, and she felt happier for it, for the most part. feet found it's next stop within the halls of godsgrace, a place that subtly connected her to someone she was far more intertwined with than anyone knew, but she had found her own relationships within those that lived in these halls, particularly the other children of house allyrion.

dastan had become a familiar face she enjoyed seeing during her time in the keep, and mayya was a young woman's who's talent grew everytime zahra returned to these walls. the dancer had attended his wedding, of course, and unfortunately admist the turmoil and subsequent trip to volantis with his new bride, it seemed long that she had last seen him. once she set eyes upon her old friend, she could sense the happiness that emitted from him, and it was met with her own bright smile.

"dastan!" she exclaimed, embracing the lord before her, before releasing and looking to the lady at his side. she was a pretty woman, and zahra offered a nod and smile to her. "it is good to see you again, my lady." she stated. "how was volantis?" zahra asked the pair now. "my father has spoken so much of it, i should hope one day i get to witness it's beauty myself."

Closed starter for @dancingshores Setting: 140 AC. Dastan Allyrion and his wife, Sofina Merryweather, return to Godsgrace after a few months spent in his mother's homeland of Volantis following their wedding.

Tensions had been running high after the union of his house to the House Merryweather of the Reach. It had been a measure of safety to remain abroad for a time, to let the fire that had been lit on the day of his wedding celebration be put out. Constant letters to his lord father kept the Lord of Godsgrace informed on how matters developed, and plans were outlined to invest not only in repairs for areas that were damaged by the rioters but to improve upon what had been there before. Those letters tethered him home in the distance, yet his heart missed it. Volantis wasn't foreign to him, not with the travels he'd done since his youth to know that part of his mother's family. They were most welcoming, and in them, Dastan saw so much of his mother's controlled fire, her spirit, and determined nature.

It was a blessing to be home, one he felt deeply in his chest when the carriage crossed the gates into the fortified castle of Godsgrace. Dastan was quick to go hand in hand with his wife to his mother and father, to see his sisters, upon their return. Blessed be the gods that guarded them as they sailed back, and allowed him to embrace his family once more. It was a pleasant surprise to find an old family friend in their midst. With how much his mother revered Zahra's skill and Mayya's continuous learning of the artistry the dancer could teach, it wasn't rare to find the desert dancer as a guest of House Allyrion.

“Zahra, mera dost,” My friend, the lord greeted her with a smile as he went over to hug her. Dastan, who was so often invaded by the sorrow in his blood, had found in recent months that smiling came easier to him, not a pretense to be amenable and polite, but a true drive that bloomed from the heart. The gods had blessed him. They truly had set him on a path he didn't believe he deserved, yet one that continued to fill him with unexpected happiness.

The lord had been teaching his wife a few words from the Dornish tongue, as she'd asked him so much about his family and seemed eager to learn anything Dastan was willing to share. Yet, out of respect for Sofina, he went on in the common tongue so she would understand everything being said. “Do you remember Zahra, my love? I introduced you to so many people at our wedding, but she's the one who's taught my sister everything she knows,” he said, in reference to Mayya's talent as a dancer. “She's Dorne's most revered dancer”. Anyone who stated otherwise was in denial of a simple truth.

a bag was slung over the shoulder of the dancer as she stood within the first minister's solar, no doubt wanting to converse about important dates to come. the stars often foretold what the gods had planned for them, and zahra had spent much of her life studying them under the guidance of her own father. the stars themselves led ships across the seas, and sailors back to their own homes, it was practically in her blood to find herself in a position where many questioned what the very sky itself had paved for them.

the formalities presented by the first minister brought a faint smile to her face, though she tried to play the part of refined lady, zahra had always though the lord of starfall to be incredibly serious in all matters, though she certainly appreciated the effort and niceties. "my lord." she responded.

his next words, however, struck her, and she could not hide the slight widening of her eyes at the observation. of course, she knew why that was, but no one had much such a bold statement. "i have never been compared to her grace, but she is a beautiful woman, so i will certainly take that as a compliment." zahra stated, purposefully being vague. "what dates do you have concerns about, my lord?" she questioned, hand dipping into her bag and pulling out a small journal and charcoal to write them down for future use.

| @dancingshores | | setting :: her faces freaks him out, he demands to know why. | | banter length |

Baashir wanted to talk to her about dates, it was why he called her there and set up this meeting but it wasn't going to work. He looked at her and he felt a strange since of familiarity and discomfort. The first time he glimpsed her, he couldn't recall when, he recalled turning and walking away from her and wondering why she had Myriam's face and now she couldn't be avoided. She was apart of court. She was in their court and it would be rude to ignore a member of court these days. No longer was he Myriam's personal guard, he was the first minister. The bridge between those around them and the stewardess or the little princess.

"Lady Sand." Baashir looked at her, studied her, watched her closely. He didn't think that was her title but the conservative Dornish lord would never feel comfortable with such familiarity. He already felt stranger speaking to her in a solar where only the two of them stood there, sat in a space as unmarried people. It made him feel ... it was hard to understand. Hard to work with.

"You have the same face as Princess Myriam Allyrion and I don't understand why. Do you know you share her face?" He furrowed his brow as he took a seat, he gestured to the chair in front of him. He didn't mean to start so bluntly but he needed to clear the air. Perhaps she would say the looked nothing alike, she would be a liar but he would let it pass. Or, or she also saw it and would pretend to not see it.

"Oh, and dates. I have questions about dates..."

caramel colored hues brightened at the grin upon xia-li's face, no doubt glad to see an old friend again, but also glad to be more welcome company to the lady of the north. zahra's relaxed disposition seemed to fit perfectly with the free spirit that was the lady of fir hold. she did not know much of life in the north, other than simply visiting did not sound enticing in the least. the cold climate did not seem to suit the woman before her, who, in contrast, was warm as the dornish sun. "a wet sheep." she repeated, a laugh escaping her now. "well, something about mother's know best, but i might respectfully disagree."

hand took the others, no doubt a look of friendship to anyone who might gaze upon the two, and truly that is what their relationship was to it's core - kindred spirits who ebbed and flowed into one another's lives like the tide meets and recedes from the shore. "well, the people here are quite easily entertained if enough of the reach's finest red fills their belly's, i can say." zahra's experienced was not much more thrilling than the woman's before her, other than an evening spent dancing before some lord's and lady's, those who no doubt did not respect her craft as much as they did in dorne, but she danced nonetheless, because she enjoyed it.

"gods, i was going to say the same of you." zahra quipped. "home is the same, really." the dancer, however, did not pay much attention to political matters, or rather, she did not care to discuss them much. "and up north? i hope things are much better, now."

cavalier and cool demeanor is quick to melt around the dornish woman, lips quirking upward at the playful response shes given. there's little need for such an attitude when zahras in her presence, not when they've known each other in such ways that facades are impossible to keep up. "no need for flattery, qīń ài de. i believe it was my mother who told me i move with all the grace of a wet sheep and im inclined to believe her." chuckle laces through a humored admission. its true, she lacks the poise that her sisters possess and had she given as much of a care towards her status as she did conversing with the woman she lingers an acceptable distance from, it might have struck a nerve enough for change.

"the wine and the views are divine, i must admit. the people however," tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth, a signifier of her distaste for the forced company. chance to lounge in temperate weather was truly the only factor in her decision to willingly join her family in the reach. that, and the chance to cross paths with zahra once more. "let us say that your presence is a beacon of light in my dim experience. i have the gods to thank for the journey that brought you here. i've been feeling a bit deprived of dorne and all its delights." offers a hand that passerby might construe as friendly towards her. "walk with me, tell me all i've missed."

slender fingers let the parchment that hazel hues had just scanned over roll back into the position in which is was given to her, the smooth paper being placed upon a table near the doors of her chamber. there was quiet instruction to the pageboy awaiting outside her doors, an indication of her acceptance of such an invitation. a feeling of satisfaction came over her, though such parchment did not come entirely as a surprise, truth be told. it was not the words they spoke earlier in the evening that gave way to her intuition, rather, the tone that hung over them the entirety of their conversation.

adorned in the same golden lehenga, the soft sound of clinking anklets could be heard as she made her way down the hall of the wing set aside for the dornish court within highgarden. though the hour was late, and the hall mostly quiet, few others passed her on her way to the lord of yronwood’s chambers. hazel orbs seemed to fixate on the path in front of her, a habit she often found herself taking to within her very art - for when she had her mind set to one thing, it would take much to stop her.

a shimmer of gold approached the large oak doors, and after a quick knock she was let within the room. chestnut waves swayed back and forth as she entered, the very steps she took almost giving way to the natural rhythm of her body. her lips tugged upwards in a smile now. though her features remained playful as they ever were, there now held some predatory look within her eyes, the slightest dilation of one’s pupils as she looked upon the lord now, but one would need to be close to notice such a thing.

it begged the question of whether she was the predator, or the prey - something she had wondered earlier in the evening, and perhaps fell into being the latter given she had waltzed into his trap. though she were not some meek mouse in the clutches of a feline. there was enough of a hint in her eyes that indicated she, too, could be the cat, though she would not say he were the mouse, either.

thoughts played in her mind as she stepped further in, though still some paces from the other. the slight tilt of her head causing dark tresses to pour to one side of her shoulder, framing the same side of her face. “armaan.” she spoke now, his name rolling off of her tongue as a coy smile played upon her features, a slight dimple appearing upon her cheek. “kya aap chaahate hain ki main aapako in kakshon kee seema ke bheetar bulaoon?" ( is that what you wish me to call you within the confines of these chambers? ) a drop in formalities, his letter implied. it seemed clear there was no need for them here.

who: @dancingshores what: a note sent to zahra sand following armaan's departure from the wedding festivities of king cedric tyrell and lady illya oakheart. this is set following their interaction, currently in thread form.

Send a page before you make your way to my bedchambers.

The guards will know you are coming.

Keep the gold lehenga on.

Armaan

the melodic sound of anklets jingling echoed quietly within the great halls of sunspear, a place that she had found herself wandering in and out of in more recent months as she had become a teacher to the very heir of dorne herself, an achievement she would've only imagined acquiring years ago. while the dancer of salt shore had many privileges in her life, for a bastard, zahra had worked tirelessly to secure her own name and her own way in this life. it was, perhaps, the most important thing to her, was her fierce sense of independence and self-reliance.

her mind wandered now, knowing that, while her perseverance had been crucial, it had been her time spent in the tor that had seen her greatest period of growth in her skill - not in just dancing. she found herself now quietly humming the tune that had played during practice, her feet practically floating upon the very floor itself as a hand moved to the beat of the music that played only in her own head. she had a way of immersing herself so much in the dance and music, that the world around her seemed to fade away. though singing and acting had consumed much of her time as well while she was in the tor, it was always dancing that had held her greatest interest.

as dark hues looked at the pattern the suns rays made upon the floor now as it illuminated through the many grand windows that were lined together, she felt a sense of bittersweetness come over her. how that time in her life probably halted her wandering feet for the longest she had stayed in one place in quite a while, and perhaps it only pushed her to further fly away before she ever settled anywhere. there was no anger, but peace as her mind settled back down on the thoughts of her time there. her time with him.

her thoughts seemed to will the image of rashid jordayne to appear now, and though she thought she imagined him entirely, he was there, just some paces away from her. she hadn't even noticed him at first, or perhaps she did and didn't realize it until now. the ever-expressive face of zahra sand did not hide what lurked within her mind, and right now it was surprise. surprise that he was there, despite the fact he had ever reason to be. her feet paused now. paused. in times past they would fly towards the man before her, but now they halted all together.

the shock wore off after a few beats of silence and her features stilled entirely, he had clearly noticed her, too. what was one to say to fill the years lost between two souls? there was no animosity between them, only a connection lost after they parted ways. certainly there were times where they were in the same vicinity, but yet worlds away.

a warm smile naturally crept on her lips now, for zahra was never one to sit in silence for very long. "rashid." she said, for she could not think of any other greeting that would suit the situation as of now. she wanted to ask him many questions, but she wouldn't. she didn't need to. she opened her mouth again to speak, but the words did not come as quickly as she expected, leaving a woman who was always found loudly conversing or laughing within a group, unusually silent.

a few more beats passed before she finally thought of one thing to say. "i....heard of your marriage to the princess loreza, congratulations." there was a genuine tone in her words, for zahra knew what rashid had yearned for, or one of the many things, and certainly the princess would make a fine ruling lady of the tor.

who: @dancingshores when and where: following zahra sand's audience with the princess myriam of house allyrion, rashid jordayne comes across a memory in the hallways of sunspear.

it was not often rashid qamar of house jordayne thought of midnight: it was not often the man was even awake to see midnight, if not attending formal events within the great domed mirrored halls of sunspear's fortress, and it was not often the man thought of the moon he had been named after. there was once a time in his life where he and midnight were old friends, companions even; as though the middle of the night was the middle of the day, for that was when the sun seemed the most like she shined. it was not often rashid qamar of house jordayne thought of rain; those ancient ancestors before them learning to survive with what little of it there was, and that still meant he was unable to deny the beauty of the first rain of the harvest.

rare as it was, and yet, most things that truly mattered in life were incredibly rare, were they not?

the transition into lordship was one he had undertaken some years ago, following the slow and painful death of a father that deserved so much better than the end that was given to him. visiting him day after day to see his immobile condition only worsen was enough to stir and swirl what peace the man seemed to hold within his own chest, locked up under secret lock and key; his transition to lordship came with carrying the heavy burden of grief, as the transition does to all who take the mantle. it had taken him time to understand how to grieve for someone who continued to live. and live, and live, and live, as she had always done; swirling skirts and the sounds of laughter ringing from atop a stage, or the time her ankle twisted and he found himself needing to carry her on his own back.

it made him realise there was no grieving for what could have been; only acceptance. for the what if remained very much alive.

it was that same acceptance he knew all too well as he walked the halls of sunspear following a conversation with the soon to be future ruling prince, if rumours were correct, considering the movements he would make as a lord. he thought of how he wanted to be remembered, knowing the genuine weight of his actions: he was not a man who spoke for the sake of speaking. he was not a man who did not consider all options deeply, before settling. but he was a man who followed through on his word: it could bloom, or it could rip away what there could never be. that same feeling of acceptance seemed to slowly wash over him as he looked up within bustling halls, filled with such a stark variety of colours: and yet still, his eyes immediately fell to her.

her face remained the same. her walk remained the same. there was a time where it was he that was too much the same, and now he felt as though he were changing; only to look upon her and see she truly was just the same. as though she remained entirely where they had left one another, a part of him almost went to look at her ankle to wonder whether she were able to walk on it properly now. there were no words that came out of his mouth, though he felt a slight exhale come out of him; so subtle it was hard to notice. once he held his breath when he saw her, and felt a thudding deep within his heart - and now? now he exhaled.

it was relief he felt in her presence. what words were there that could even be echoed within such a time, when it had been years and somehow felt like it had not all at the very same time?

he said nothing. he didn't need to.

"of course." zahra replied, tone taunting as she gave a wave of her hands, as if to say that everything about her was on the surface to read, as if to imply that is all there was to her, but that really wasn't the case, only what she hoped seemed to be. she thought she was likely predictable as she was flighty, but there was more that lie beneath the surface of the dancer of salt shore, should one decide to dig deeper.

frame floated nearer to him now, close enough to observe dark orbs more closely, one's she found herself ogling at as a young girl in the halls of yronwood. she was not a girl anymore, but the intrigue with the man before her remained. there was some darkness about the man, no doubt a cloak of the tragedy of betrayal that befell him, but she was the sun, eager to shine her light, if only a moment.

"yah jaanane ka abhaav ki vah kab hoga, manoranjan ka hee ek hissa hai." ( not knowing when that will be is only part of the fun. ) zahra insisted, head tilting slightly to the side, a half-smirk coming upon the corners of her mouth. a hand shifting the silk skirts of her golden lehenga, even standing still for a brief time seemed impossible for the woman who's feet never touched the ground.

for that is what there was to zahra sand, she did not have roots, she had wings, and the woman never seemed to perch for long. where some believed it to be a downfall, she found to be a gift. not many had the opportunities she did, and while she was a bastard, there was privledge in her birth. she often had the opportunities to experience both parts of their world.

her arms folded over her chest now, suddenly stilling, the very cogs of her mind clearly seen moving behind hazel hues. "aur vah kya kaaran hoga?" ( and what reason would that be? ) her tone was on the brink of being almost challenging in her inquiry.

"he is well, and i am sure he would be glad to hear from you, my lord." though zahra did not pay much attention to such business, she knew enough from the letters back and forth from her to her father. "i have been so busy i would not know much of his affairs. I prefer to deal in pleasures over business."

dancingshores​:

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.”

꙰

“is that what you have been doing all these years? dancing your heart away?” he asked, arms crossing over the breadth of his torso. flighty, as flighty as the golden silk threads upon the skirts of her lehenga which twirled as joyously as the small slip of a smile that crossed over her features. he heard the sounds of her anklets jingling, and for a moment there was something abut her that strangely resembled the features he saw of the princess on a day to day basis. the lord of yronwood merely looked upon her, and there was a hint of a challenge within his own dark orbs: they were devoid of the storm that usually lived within them, swirled and thrived within them. a different type of darkness as he looked upon the half smirk upon her full lips; though he said no words. 

“ek din tum itana ghoomoge ki ruk ​​nahin paoge.“ (one day you’ll spin so much you will be unable to stop.) these dancers all seemed entirely flighty, wishing to find their purpose in their life - looking for something to make them feel alive, whilst walking away from a sense of stability. hedonistic were some, and perhaps that was because they could be.

in recent months this woman had made multiple trips into the fortress of sunspear, directly into the apartments of the princess and the future heir of dorne: dancing lessons, were what he supposed the important business was. in years prior, she was the spoiled, pampered daughter of lord gargalen; dressed in the silks he acquired as a result of his hand in the clothing and textile trade. the bloodroyal took his money seriously, even in his youth: he looked at what trades would be the most beneficial, where would be worth investing his coin. 

“koee bahaana nahin. kisee kaaran ke baare mein kya?“ (not an excuse, but what about a reason?) he remained stood to the side of where she had stood in the middle of a circle that clapped and applauded her; the sight amused him. the sight made him want her. 

it were as though nothing had changed when he looked upon her: to live life weight free, to live life as it was supposed to be lived. he did not envy her. for things that were light were easily swept away. they needed something to hold their weight, something to keep their feet firmly upon the ground: armaan had realised that he was entirely content with his position in life. stepping down from the council in which he only but clash with the prince in all but name, disagree with certain methods: and yet now, dorne was taking the time to heal. finally. “how is your father doing? i have been meaning to reach out to enquire as to the textile trade. whether it has been impacted by movement across the narrow sea.” he asked.

they toyed between their own tongue, and the common tongue. as though what else was spoken between them was to only be understood by them, and those who knew it.