Need help with a voice test or want to play anything at all with me? Just consult my muselist and put the name of the character you want to play with in the subject line. If there's a particular scenario you want to play out, feel free to stick that in the comment as well and I'll see what I can do. Picture prompts highly encouraged! This also works as a way to hit me up OOC-ly for any plotting. If you prefer that I make an individual entry (private or not) for our interaction, please feel free to say so here as well. I'm open to most things so come at me. :) For smutty stuff, I also have an open smut post.
[ Alexander is a brash nobleman from the lands afar, having borne himself across the oceans to…investigate the wealth of foreign lands, as it were. He cares not for anyone who might suspect his motives—indeed, he makes it plain enough to whoever would deign to ask him.
If they can take him seriously enough, anyway. He’s accepted into Tyrell lands as a guest—perhaps an amusing foreign courtesy, if they can afford it. He doesn’t care for the whispers behind his back all the same, as he spends his days strolling about the gardens under the sunlight and teaching a few of the younger knights some useful pointers on battle tactics.
But mostly he watches and listens, even as he partakes of the lesser forms of entertainment that might even earn him the ire of many of the more discerning highborn populating the area, but he doesn’t care either. He drinks and whores around and occasionally engages in gambling for the sheer thrill of it, but when he’s not indulging his baser instincts he chats up whomever he meets with an astounding frankness unfitting of. Well. Any decent folk, really.
He always thinks he’s above that. ]
Ho there, Lady! I see you’re not with Red, today. Did she reject your advances at last? [ SO CHEERFUL ABOUT THIS. ]
[Spiriting away the Key to the North took much and more than palming a brass trinket and pocketing it. The key was a girl of fourteen with hair of rust, skin of porcelain, and eyes of blue. In her chest beat the heart of a wolf howling in grief, torn from its pack. Margaery hopes one day that wounded heart might beat for her instead. As the new queen to the seven kingdoms, it's not often she can leave King's Landing for home in Highgarden. Heading south for lush forests and orchards is a welcome reprieve from her husband. He's likely slaughtered entire warrens by now, toying with his crossbow in his boredom.
Better it be rabbits than our people.
The hunt curbs his bloodlust and she pulls his strings, serving as the true ruler. Still, even queens need their rest. She's taking a stroll when a booming voice thunders through the rushes. Leaves shudder at the heavy steps of one Ser Alexander, a friend of her father's.]
Listening to vile rumors, are we? Has the king's lady mother been whispering in your ear?
[Best to act coy. Outright denial only invites argument.]
Edited (wow edits for typos i'm so sorry) 2014-06-04 14:14 (UTC)
[ Well, he can be impressed—not just at her comeback, mind, but at her bearing. While the boy-king leaves much to be desired, his bride is at least worthy of the title bestowed upon her on her wedding day.
He’d observed the proceedings of the court in his own way, loudly and with seemingly little regard for the refinements that such a setting imposes upon all its guests—however unwelcome they might be. Alexander is still a foreign dignitary even if that word is close to useless in Westerosi power games, yet he plays his hand all the same, with a happy, boisterous energy and an abiding interest in anyone and everyone. Including that sad-eyed wolf-girl, that spider person who seems more like someone’s prized sow, and...of course, the hard, golden queen mother, who reminds him so much of his own that he actually finds it a mite disconcerting.
And he shows it, with a raised eyebrow and a curiously severe look at Margaery before he bursts into laughter. Gods! These nobles playing at their coy games—frustrating, really, when he’s always been a man who would rather speak his mind openly. ]
Unfortunately not, my Lady! I believe I’ve incurred her every disdain already! [ If not her son’s, whose crossbow bolts merely glance off the tough hide of his bare skin—being one to eschew all but the lightest armor and all. He’s not about to threaten the people of this land more than he has to with his stature and everything.
He’s grinning all the same, completely without any ill feeling towards her lord husband or his mother or even toward Margaery herself. ]
Hoh, don’t tell me I’ve acquired yours as well! There are few entertaining women at court as it is! [ Don’t even get him started on Lady Tanda. ]
[The way he laughs would rival the rumble of any storm. It's no surprise that many a man has quaked and trembled at the sight of him. Some whisper that he's Robert Baratheon reborn, come to plague the seven kingdoms once more out of disdain for his heir. The smallfolk whisper of him as if he's some demon in disguise, a damnable creature who punched his way up and out of the seven hells.
Margaery likes him well enough.
Better to be feared as a demon then damned as a harlot. As Rider lets arrows glance of his skin, so does Margaery let insults ricochet off her armor. She's not helping herself with the sort of company she keeps but she refuses to become Cersei. A queen must have friends. True friends. Being alone only leads to losing one's self in the court's intrigues.]
Not at all. They say you're much like my dearly departed father-in-law, bless his soul. How could I have disdain for that?
[ Far be it for Alexander to deny friendships of any sort—that's what he lives for, or so he'd argue. Conquests for him weren't so much conquests as they were…offers of friendship.
The sad part is he believes all of that, but if he's tolerated, hey, he's tolerated. Even if he embarrasses her, and sometimes deliberately. It's all in the spirit of friendship and all. ]
Ahh, the noble Robert! [ Should speak something of her dear father-in-law that Alexander would deign to use his actual name here for a change. But Alex takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, savoring some long-cherished memory of the man he'd only but hunted with briefly. ]
His son is so disappointingly unlike him! You're wasted on a little squirt like that! [ Here he laughs again—he's hardly a stranger to marriages of convenience himself. ]
Say! Did you ever go hunting with your father-in-law as well? The spirit on that man! You can learn many things from a good hunt—I'd say you'd learn far more than you ever did in your simpering little court!
The Stranger denied me the pleasure. It's just as well. My family has never been overly-fond of the hunt. Grandfather was mad for hawking though. T'was a sad day when he chased one of those birds right off a cliff.
[At least that's how her grandmother tells it. The so-called Queen of Thorns had many a barb on her tongue for her late husband as well as her son. "The Lord Oafs of Highgarden," she called them. Margaery took it all in good stride. After all, the Lady Olenna always saved a smile for her as the favored granddaughter.]
Besides, there's much to see and hear at court if you know how to smile and curtsy and preen. Very much like a hunt all its own.
Hn, true—too true! You’re too clever by half, Lady! [ He sniffs, as if the whole idea confuses him. What she’s speaking of is yet more intrigue, and how can you rule anything with that? It’s so much easier to face his adversaries in open battle.
This is also why he’s not even shy about revealing his weaknesses: ]
You might even grow cleverer than I, oho! [ But in a more confidential tone: ]
Bahh, if I wasn’t too clumsy to curtsey—wouldn’t that be a sight, eh? Like one of your mummer’s farces! Ha! But don’t think that I don’t have some respect for a woman who can keep her head above the current. Watch and listen though you may, but too often folks get distracted, and then they fall under!
[ He glares around them, as if daring the vegetation to tattle on the queen mother. He rubs at his beard thoughtfully. ]
For Robert, it was that damn boar. [ One he never got to taste. ] For you, it might be that Queen Goldy! Ah, has there ever been a woman given to such wiles?
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no subject
If they can take him seriously enough, anyway. He’s accepted into Tyrell lands as a guest—perhaps an amusing foreign courtesy, if they can afford it. He doesn’t care for the whispers behind his back all the same, as he spends his days strolling about the gardens under the sunlight and teaching a few of the younger knights some useful pointers on battle tactics.
But mostly he watches and listens, even as he partakes of the lesser forms of entertainment that might even earn him the ire of many of the more discerning highborn populating the area, but he doesn’t care either. He drinks and whores around and occasionally engages in gambling for the sheer thrill of it, but when he’s not indulging his baser instincts he chats up whomever he meets with an astounding frankness unfitting of. Well. Any decent folk, really.
He always thinks he’s above that. ]
Ho there, Lady! I see you’re not with Red, today. Did she reject your advances at last? [ SO CHEERFUL ABOUT THIS. ]
no subject
Better it be rabbits than our people.
The hunt curbs his bloodlust and she pulls his strings, serving as the true ruler. Still, even queens need their rest. She's taking a stroll when a booming voice thunders through the rushes. Leaves shudder at the heavy steps of one Ser Alexander, a friend of her father's.]
Listening to vile rumors, are we? Has the king's lady mother been whispering in your ear?
[Best to act coy. Outright denial only invites argument.]
no subject
He’d observed the proceedings of the court in his own way, loudly and with seemingly little regard for the refinements that such a setting imposes upon all its guests—however unwelcome they might be. Alexander is still a foreign dignitary even if that word is close to useless in Westerosi power games, yet he plays his hand all the same, with a happy, boisterous energy and an abiding interest in anyone and everyone. Including that sad-eyed wolf-girl, that spider person who seems more like someone’s prized sow, and...of course, the hard, golden queen mother, who reminds him so much of his own that he actually finds it a mite disconcerting.
And he shows it, with a raised eyebrow and a curiously severe look at Margaery before he bursts into laughter. Gods! These nobles playing at their coy games—frustrating, really, when he’s always been a man who would rather speak his mind openly. ]
Unfortunately not, my Lady! I believe I’ve incurred her every disdain already! [ If not her son’s, whose crossbow bolts merely glance off the tough hide of his bare skin—being one to eschew all but the lightest armor and all. He’s not about to threaten the people of this land more than he has to with his stature and everything.
He’s grinning all the same, completely without any ill feeling towards her lord husband or his mother or even toward Margaery herself. ]
Hoh, don’t tell me I’ve acquired yours as well! There are few entertaining women at court as it is! [ Don’t even get him started on Lady Tanda. ]
no subject
Margaery likes him well enough.
Better to be feared as a demon then damned as a harlot. As Rider lets arrows glance of his skin, so does Margaery let insults ricochet off her armor. She's not helping herself with the sort of company she keeps but she refuses to become Cersei. A queen must have friends. True friends. Being alone only leads to losing one's self in the court's intrigues.]
Not at all. They say you're much like my dearly departed father-in-law, bless his soul. How could I have disdain for that?
no subject
The sad part is he believes all of that, but if he's tolerated, hey, he's tolerated. Even if he embarrasses her, and sometimes deliberately. It's all in the spirit of friendship and all. ]
Ahh, the noble Robert! [ Should speak something of her dear father-in-law that Alexander would deign to use his actual name here for a change. But Alex takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, savoring some long-cherished memory of the man he'd only but hunted with briefly. ]
His son is so disappointingly unlike him! You're wasted on a little squirt like that! [ Here he laughs again—he's hardly a stranger to marriages of convenience himself. ]
Say! Did you ever go hunting with your father-in-law as well? The spirit on that man! You can learn many things from a good hunt—I'd say you'd learn far more than you ever did in your simpering little court!
no subject
[At least that's how her grandmother tells it. The so-called Queen of Thorns had many a barb on her tongue for her late husband as well as her son. "The Lord Oafs of Highgarden," she called them. Margaery took it all in good stride. After all, the Lady Olenna always saved a smile for her as the favored granddaughter.]
Besides, there's much to see and hear at court if you know how to smile and curtsy and preen. Very much like a hunt all its own.
no subject
This is also why he’s not even shy about revealing his weaknesses: ]
You might even grow cleverer than I, oho! [ But in a more confidential tone: ]
Bahh, if I wasn’t too clumsy to curtsey—wouldn’t that be a sight, eh? Like one of your mummer’s farces! Ha! But don’t think that I don’t have some respect for a woman who can keep her head above the current. Watch and listen though you may, but too often folks get distracted, and then they fall under!
[ He glares around them, as if daring the vegetation to tattle on the queen mother. He rubs at his beard thoughtfully. ]
For Robert, it was that damn boar. [ One he never got to taste. ] For you, it might be that Queen Goldy! Ah, has there ever been a woman given to such wiles?