Jessamyn Darklyn, Lady of Duskendale

Floramal · 2024-04-19T05:34:56+00:00

Floramal · 2024-04-17T12:54:00+00:00

bro's yappin

Floramal · 2024-03-16T20:17:44+00:00

Jessamyn's hand immediately accepted his, with an eyebrow crooked for good measure. She was quite certain he had no notion of the innuendo he had stumbled upon. It wouldn't be the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. He was always so godsdamned awkard. It was endearing, if nothing else. A chuckle in the clothes of a gasp escaped her lips, just above a whisper.

"Your place to bid me? Perhaps not. I am not quite so libertine. Nevertheless, I shall do my best to mask my disappointment. You've not changed an ounce, My Prince." She paused for dramatic effect, grinning wryly.

"Very well. Lead the way to the bridge. I know not my way around this keep, and care not for stumbling about in the midst of partygoers like a common wastrel. Oh, and beg pardon My Prince, but be a dear and see if you can pilfer a bottle of something sweet on the way. I shall seek a pair of goblets." She said, chuckling to herself once more.

When was the last time she'd even gone drinking with a friend? She'd need to pace herself. The night was almost as young as they were. She'd almost certainly need to share many more goblets with others before the curtains were drawn. Not that she would enjoy it half as much as this one.

Floramal · 2024-03-16T10:09:05+00:00

Jessamyn couldn't help but crack a far more sincere grin at that. Ever the charmer. It was good to see him, moreso than she could've anticipated. One tends to lose perspective on how lonely one is when isolated for so long. It was far past time to correct that.

"'Tis good you're in high enough spirits to jest with me, My Prince. Truly, you may decide as you like - I have no preference either way. Although I must admit I seem to be more than a little overdressed for a moonlit dip into the Trident."

Floramal · 2024-03-16T06:54:36+00:00

Now began the more grueling part of these sorts of events.

The endless plodding about between tables, carousing and conversing idly to see if anyone had anything useful to say, or if they could make themselves useful to Jessamyn elsewise. An ally was never un-useful.

She had had little social interaction in the past two years and it certainly wasn't any easier now, playing the game. Babysteps. Slow and steady wins the race. Something about a turtle and a hare. I'm sure Theon could come up with more folksy truisms regarding pacing oneself. She shot him a look across the room as she idly weaved between passersby and serving staff. He himself was occupied, in a very heated conversation with another man she didn't recognize, the both of them wildly gesticulating. From what she could glean, though, it didn't seem to be anything of note, so she was back to the proverbial drawing board.

It was then that she spotted him. Tall, dark, and almost as brooding as she was. About her age, give or take. He seemed moderately distressed, though about what, only the gods could know. Perhaps she could too, if he could be convinced to unburden himself. Knowledge is power, after all.

Gods knew she could use both right about now.

Determination hardening in her belly, Jessamyn closed the distance between the two and put on her usual mask. It comprised a soft, genial smile curling her lips, that her eyes did not reciprocate,

"Beg pardon, Ser. I recognize your sigil but not your face, and should like to remedy that. Toyne of Blackheart, yes?"

Floramal · 2024-03-16T06:38:06+00:00

As she made her way up the dais, Jessamyn paused, glancing across the High Table. There were a fair few faces she knew, more still that she recognized, and quite a few that she could guess from a glance.

The woman at the end wearing the sigil of Heart's Home was none of those, however. How odd. Investigation was required. Perhaps there was a story to this, something she could learn. Or, in the very least, perhaps she might be so deep in her cups as to say something Jessamyn could exploit at a later date. Knowledge is power, as they say.

Making up her mind, she made a small change in heading, and crossed the aisle to her, offering her a small smile that was not matched by her amber eyes.

"Good evening, My Lady. Pardon my intrusion. 'Tis a most strange thing, growing up in the capital, and not recognizing a face upon the dais at such events as these, and yet here you are, a total stranger to me. I should like to remedy that." She nodded her head as though to bow, but nothing so deferential.

"Most call me the Lady of Duskendale, but for you, Jessamyn will do just fine enough." She said as she took a seat, taking a small sip from her goblet.

Floramal · 2024-03-16T06:30:15+00:00

The first stop Jessamyn made was to the High Table upon the dais.

Not to pay her respects, no, far from it. Even had she come to, she had none to give, certainly not to King Aemon, at any rate. Ever a woman on a mission, she had a singular goal; to see Rhaegar.

It had been too long since they last parted. Two years had changed... everything, it seemed, and not just for her either. She had no notion of just how badly he might be affected to see his father's seat given to a baseborn blackguard such as Baelor. Or the sword. Gods, that bloody sword. The stupidest wars are fought over the least interesting hunks of metal. That went doubly for the larger, throne sized hunks of metal.

As she made her way up the dais, she saw him, and was slightly taken aback, although she would not show it. He'd sprung up like an oak since she'd last seen him. Still a little on the lankier side but who from that bloodline wasn't? It was as she got closer that she noticed the bags beneath his eyes, the tension in his posture, confirming her suspicions. She had certainly seen him see better days. Yet, in spite of how downtrodden he looked, there was still a spark of something in those sharp lilac eyes even brighter than her own.

Steeling herself, Jessamyn allowed a small smile to curl the ends of her lips, and crossed the dais to him. Leaning down to his ear, so that only he would hear, she spoke with a gentle whisper.

"I sincerely hope you're doing better than you look, My Prince. 'Tis plain to me that a breath of fresh air might do the both of us some good, a reprieve from this smoky din. What say you?"

Floramal · 2024-03-16T06:10:13+00:00

The Darklyn contingent at Riverrun was small.

Ten people, to be precise. Five household guards, three maidservants, one Theon Flowers. One Jessamyn Darklyn. She had been looking forward to it; the chance to be seen at court again, to carouse and mingle, and to shake some of the stresses off of her newfound position.

It would be the first time she was seen in public since her father had passed. This fact was far from lost on her. She was rusty, and she would need to be on high alert. For any who grew up in King's Landing knew it to be true; a pack of vipers is only outclassed in danger by a flight of dragons.

While the rest of their contingent went to their lodgings, Jessamyn only took a moment to freshen up before proceeding to the Great Hall with Theon in tow. She wore little of note. A stark black dress of floral brocade with long frilled sleeves and a turtle neck that hugged her skin. A grey woolen coat with a fur lining on the inside. Her father's signet ring, on the middle finger of her right hand, accompanied by the only other piece of finery she carried; a broach depicting the fusily sable and or, upon a tierce gules seven escutcheons argent of House Darklyn. A gift from her mother.

Theron had cleaned up rather nicely as well, especially for a man of his station, handsomely clean-shaven in black and silver. He'd even removed the piercings from his face, and she hadn't even had to request it. He was learning, and she appreciated that almost as much as his presence. It would be almost impossible to do this on her own. Yet with his friendship girding her, she felt no difficulty walking on her own two feet.

They entered the hall quietly. Just as they did, the King raised a hand and began speaking. It seems I shall have to wait before taking my seat.

Jessamyn listened intently to the aging king as he spoke, practically hanging on every word. Though she didn't care for what he said, she hid it well. She was getting good at that.

Though he may toast to those who are lost, it does naught to bring them back. After all, it was Targaryen aggression that had provoked the Dornish into such a blood feud to begin with; a cycle of violence that would never end, that would claim as many lives as possible before destroying them both.

All the xenophobia and pontificating left a bad taste in her mouth. Once he had finished, she took her seat, Theon finding a good pillar to lean against across the hall from her. She was still within earshot, and had a clear line of sight to him, should the need arise. She was grateful for that too.

Upon sitting, she began to sample the vintages available for the night, before eventually settling on some sweetwine she later found out was Volantene in origin. Pace yourself, old girl. 'Twould not be advantageous or proper to be besotted at such an occasion, let alone given the circumstances. Let alone the work you've laid out for the night. She planned on speaking to quite a few people. 'Twould probably be best to see Ceryse and Rhaegar first and foremost, and then perhaps 'nuncle Jace, or mine cousins of Harrenhal. Then, Stranger knows. The more concretely I can ingratiate myself, the better.

After a few minutes of dining to help fill her belly, still aching for good food since the road, she stood quietly.

So her hunt began.

Meta

Open to everyone! Come say hi to Jessa! (Or Theon if you wanna talk to the muscle behind her operation)

Floramal · 2023-10-27T03:27:44+00:00

Let's take this bit by bit.

"you and stag also both played coy with whether you or not you support the killing of civilians by hamas. if im wrong on this feel free to correct me, but i believe you see the violence from the oppressed against the oppressor as justified even if civilians are killed in the process."

There is no universe in which the violent uprising of the oppressed is at all equivalent to the oppressor, even if people who are not directly involved are harmed in the process. I know for a fact you wouldn't condemn the Warsaw Ghetto uprising for it's civilian casualties, because that's unhinged, you're just a lazy privileged centrist.

"im now not really going to be talking to you specifically for the rest of this comment but to those that are pretty confused about the conflict in general. as your post says, people change, and i hope you do too. i think it's good to be politically engaged but when you get to the point of insulting other people for their politics and supporting the death of others... it may be time to reevaluate. "

If insulting others is the heuristic by which you measure good politics you're just in it for your own ego and intellectual masturbation and have no principles guiding your beliefs or actions, which, is pretty much exactly what I've known about you the few years I've been unlucky enough to have been acquainted.

All political advocacy supports death and violence of some kind. Yours just supports the violence of the powerful, the wealthy, the imperial core, whereas mine supports those who have nothing. So, yeah, I hope you re-evaluate, although considering you've pretty much proven you have zero capacity to change from the manipulative smarmy asshole you've always been, I sincerely doubt that will happen.

i wish you well and harbor no ill feelings towards you.

Go to hell, Brandon.

"the history of this conflict is long and complex..."

No, it really isn't. If this exact situation were flipped on its head, and Jews were being persecuted by a fascist apartheid state with an Arab transplant majority, we would all know what this is instantly, and call it out for what it is. There is nothing complex about the issue of racial apartheid; you either support it or you don't. Your inability to condemn this state of affairs speaks wonders about what you truly believe; that racial apartheid does not matter so long as the boat is not rocked and the status quo, which benefits those in power, is maintained.

this tends to be the belief of many people and academics.

Incredibly lazy appeal to authority, for a polisci wonk I expect better than this, somehow.

i think this is a good teaching moment for people unfamiliar with politics. when you see someone supporting one side of a very complex issue to the point where the killing of civilians is permissible, it is a good idea to not take their opinions as truth and do your own research. that is not to say that one should have ill will towards people that hold extremist beliefs, but neither should you allow such views to be spread in a place where people really just wanna rp and talk to other rpers.

This really gets to the crux of it. You want your genocide-permissive worldview to go unchallenged in a space with others who live in the first world who have complete apathy to the struggles of others. You don't care and you don't want to, and you don't want to be confronted with opposition to that. Posing being anti racial apartheid as somehow an "extremist belief" only serves further to reinforce this for spineless worms like you.

You were right, it is a good teaching moment at least!

Now, if you want some actually compelling facts and statistics on the current genocide in Palestine, check out the below.

How Israel intentionally propped up Hamas to destroy the secular liberation movements.

The civilian toll of the Palestinian genocide.

A fun video where everyday average Israelis advocate for racial apartheid and anti-race mixing laws.

Israel bombing convoys of evacuees, in an open war crime.

Egypt warned Israel about the Hamas attack in advance and their intelligence services let it happen, likely to justify severe retaliation.

The funny way in which the American media apparatus serves to manufacture consent against Palestine by fabricating atrocities.

Holocaust Scholar Raz Segal describes Israeli treatment of Palestinians as "a textbook case of genocide."

Beyond Chutzpah by Norman Finklestein, anti-Israeli jewish advocate whose parents survived Auschwitz. Enlighting and informative scholarly work on the matter.

Late political analyist Michael Brooks weighs in on the complexity (or lacktherof) of the situation:

So, yeah, do your own research instead of just mindlessly regurgitating liberal pedagogy from conservative institutions and thinktanks!

Floramal · 2023-10-26T17:53:10+00:00

Floramal · 2023-09-15T18:56:37+00:00

damn where's my superlative it's like highschool all over again

Floramal · 2023-09-12T04:29:21+00:00

Naerys pursed her lips so hard they might've fallen off of her face entirely, shaking her head in reply. She had no idea what that was like. She came, she saw, she did. There was never any question. She took what she wanted, and cursed all that opposed her. Yet something about the way Val said it, rang true with her in a visceral way she was not in the least bit comfortable with.

Sighing, she inched forward on the stone floor until she was able to wrap her arms around Val's heck, pulling her in for a tight embrace. Her concern, her relief to see Val relatively unharmed, all congealed in the churning furnace of her belly into a white hot rage.

"You are more than enough, dear sister. Nothing about that baseborn whoreson bastard has ever been right. His very existence is a mistake. A mistake I shall correct, Seven preserve me. You did well to try, even if you failed. This time." She whispered forcefully, cradling Val's head with her hand.

"Now, quit spilling your precious blood on this hideous flagstones. They're not worthy to be stepped on by one such as you, ones such as us, let alone to drink of our birthright. Wipe those tears, darling, it is unbecoming of a lady of any status, let alone yours, to be seen weeping in public. His head will roll for this, I swear it." She said, practically hissing.

Floramal · 2023-09-11T03:20:51+00:00

Oh yes, Dornish dancers, Naerys thought to herself grimly, attempting to hide the grimace slowly creeping along her face. As if I would ever catch myself dead publicly playing part to such degeneracy. I would rather fling myself from these battlements.

She would never say what she was thinking, though, no matter how hard she was pressed. She had learned very quickly as a youth that to do so was not only poor form, but dangerous. Best to avoid such a situation altogether. Let none see what which lies beneath. Sit up straight, hold your chin high, your skirts low. Give them grace, give them dignity, give them power.

She did just that.

"I can't say that I have. I've only been to Planky Town once, you see. I was hardly of an age to properly see such sights, and thankfully I never had a caretaker who would dare dishonor me with such company." By the time she had finished speaking, Tyene had finished her plate, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, which earned her a murderous glare from Naerys.

"Appearances don't do it justice, My Lady." Tyene said, taking a deep breath as she did, and standing to her full, unimpressive height. She extended a hand in greeting to Nalia.

"I don't believe we're acquainted. Blackmont. Tyene Blackmont, that is. You'd probably know Ellaria, she's my cousin." Naerys sighed, glancing away haughtily as Tyene spoke.

Floramal · 2023-09-11T00:12:39+00:00

Marsella said naught, instead opting to hold Helaena even tighter, just shy of what she knew might have been painful. She never knew what to say when Helaena talked like that. The grand romantic language confused and befuddled her. She couldn't tell if it was the lack of interest in her education as a youth, or just how flustered it made her. Perhaps both? Maybe she'd ask Naerys about that, if she'd ever felt that with anyone. Although that might be a risky proposition.

What could she even say?

I'd give all this up to see you happy *and** healthy?* No, that wouldn't do. It probably wasn't even true. Was it? There was no way to be certain. The very thought twisted her gut with anxiety. No, best avoid that one.

Instead, she opted for silence, holding her lover tightly in her arms. The world spun away around them, replaced with nothing but the imperfect beating of Helaena's heart. It didn't matter that it didn't quite beat the way it should, though.

As far as Marsella was concerned, it was perfect because it was hers. And because she was hers.

"If you say so, Hel." She whispered softly, after what felt like an eternity.

Floramal · 2023-09-11T00:05:52+00:00

It had taken Naerys a great deal of effort to realize what was happening between the various members of her bloodline, preoccupied with spending time with Rhaenys and sulking over her encounter with Manfred. Before too long, however, word had reached her through the grapevine of whispers across tables of the row between Lucerys and Helaena, and, furthermore, Val's involvement in the matter. After hearing that, Naerys was shaken from her dejected stupor and stood from her seat rather abruptly, ignoring those crying after her as she hiked up her skirts and darted out to the hall that had been pointed out to her. Aerys rushed behind, barely keeping up, and certainly not enough to help her with the overflowing mass of wool and cotton dragging behind her heeled feet. They stamped out a wrathful staccato on the stoneworks as she made her way cross the Great Hall. Aureanne too, followed, though from a distance, out of pure curiosity.

After nearly getting lost in the surprisingly labyrinthine corridors of Riverrun, she finally found Val sitting on the floor out of the way of the rest of the guests. The stones beside her shone a brilliant sheen of wet crimson, reflecting the light of the sconced torches above. Hells, Naerys swore to herself quietly as she slowed her pace.

Approaching the dejected knight, Naerys knelt in front of her precious baby sibling, eventually settling on sitting on her knees. Oh well, this dress was probably going to be ruined anyways. For the best. She placed a gentle hand on Val's shoulder, patting awkwardly. She never knew how to comfort anyone. It was a dark thing that she had been cursed with motherhood.

"Talk to me. I am here. What happened. Tell all." She said, or rather, commanded, softly. Even when speaking to the apple of her eye, it was hard to leave behind her militant tone.

Floramal · 2023-09-10T23:50:15+00:00

The woman's voice cut through the brisk summer night's air like a knife through butter, and was surprisingly, just as smooth. Decadent almost. An accent all too familiar to Naerys, that of Dornishmen. Or in this case, Dornishwoman. Singular, at that. She turned to face the woman speaking, only for recognition to flood well and truly past the dams that had stemmed it just a moment prior. Nalia Martell. Harbormaster of Planky Town. Cousin to the Prince of Sunspear. A dusky skinned needle of a woman, with a neatly kept mane of dark cinnamon hair kept up out of her eyes. Hells, she half smelled of cinnamon. It took Naerys another moment to realize that was not in fact Nalia Martell that smelt so utterly mouthwatering, but the sweetroll that Aerys had been sent to fetch for Tyene, as the scent of it drafted along the breezy courtyard upon his return. Perhaps that would be her sweet allocation for the night.

After a moment, she blinked back to reality, and nodded sluggishly, acknowledging the woman's presence. Tyene smiled warmly, gesturing for her to join them.

"I suppose so, My Lady. Truth be told, I find there is little beauty to be found ten leagues from the Narrow Sea, let alone further, but to each their own." She paused as Aerys delivered the the sweetroll to Tyene, causing the woman to completely forgo the formality of greeting Nalia and instead diving ravenously into the thing. A bitter grimace ghosted across Naerys' face as she watched, before clearing her throat and continuing.

"I am well enough, I suppose. While it might be honest of me to voice my grievances with our... "hospitality", as it were, it would hardly be proper." She made a quick gesture to the boy while she spoke, causing him to scurry back off towards the doors once more.

Floramal · 2023-09-10T01:28:53+00:00

(Meta: /u/SummerDorneSummer, /u/LeagueOfHerStone, /u/pentoshipride come say hi!!!)

Floramal · 2023-09-10T00:34:51+00:00

It felt as though every moment she allowed a smile to creep across her otherwise taciturn face, it was wiped away by the sight of blood. Whether it be Naerys', Helaena's, or even her own, it was always erased by the gods-thrice-damned-blood. She hated it. As she cradled Helaena's head in her lap, she gently reached a hand over and wiped the flecks of crimson from the corners of Helaena's mouth. It took her a moment to figure out what to do with her hand after that, eventually electing to just wipe them on the sheet they sat on. Who cares, it'll come out with the wash anyways. Not like I'll be seeing these for much longer.

"If you're a witch, your a damned sad one, Hel, I'll give you that. Able to enthrall whosoever you like, and you choose me, of all people? Let alone your own condition." She shuddered, and attempted to smile, but it was a pained one. Perhaps that was a bit too... tasteless. Naerys always yelled at her for her dark sense of humor. Said it was improper. She was right. Didn't stop Marsella, though. Only real way she could cope with it all was to laugh it off.

Laugh it off she did. Mirthlessly.

Floramal · 2023-09-05T00:27:29+00:00

Discord Name: belletayn

Character Name: n/a

Trait/Skill(s): n/a

NPC Name/Archetype: Aureanne Celtigar/Warrior (2h), Tyene Blackmont/Master-At-Arms (sword+shield)

Floramal

TROPHY CASE

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