| A Flower in Winter | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 26 2008, 06:25 PM (83 Views) | |
| Turncloak | Feb 26 2008, 06:25 PM Post #1 |
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Bah, it’s easier crossplay, especially in a world of primogeniture, and in both reality and here, unless I change my mind in some seasons. It would be hard to change…unless I was in Dorne, I’ll probably switch some seasons Lord Raymon Flint looked through his balcony window, watching as flakes of snow landed n the cold stone that was his palace. He had reached his prime this lord of snow, which was the castle of Widow’s Watch. He bore scars that one could see as well as feel through his cold eyes, his hair turning a peppered gray, his skin becoming the likeness of leather. He took in the warm air generated by the hearth, taking that same moment to drift in to thought as if some woman’s fragrance had lured him, which never had- and yet he found himself in a sort of trance, a protective warmth against the harsh cold of winter. “Karol,” he addressed, almost softly. “Yes my Lord?” questioned one of his close serving men who stood in the room with him. “Karol, tell me- tell me a tale of snow,” ”I know not of what you speak.” Lord Raymon turned towards him, his cloak settling behind him. “No my good ser, I ask you of the men who dwell,” “Good men my Lord, good men.” “Aye. I wish to sleep in peace.” “You will ser,” he said stepping in to the light of the fire, his shadow playing on the stone floor. “Thank you.” He wouldn’t have said that- never would h thank a servant. And yet, here he did. Karol had been in his household for almost as long as he had remembered, which might not be long for some memory was lost. But then—he was addressing him as a friend, which meant that they had indeed known each other. “Karol,” he instructed once more, “Bring Maester Loren to the chamber, I wish for him t send some letters.” “Aye ser,” he said. Oh this world, this lustful world, he yearned for change. He would send letters; he had sons- daughters as well that this lord of lesser birth could send off to marry. What troubled him was that he was still unknown to some of these lords. Mayhaps he’d schedule a dinner with then, a tourney? Perhaps he could talk when he was in hid cups, his breath stinking of beer as he drank the bitter drink. But then, some men had seeked his approval and the safety of his truce (NPC). He sighed and listened as he heard Loren enter the chamber. |
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7:24 PM Nov 27
