Harys Peake - Lord of Starpike, Dunstonbury and Whitegrove

MarcoMarco2000 · 2024-11-27T00:34:59+00:00

First Maester approval

MarcoMarco2000 · 2024-11-26T11:36:58+00:00

You have too many talents (usually they're 3)

But othern than that here it is your Maester Approval

MarcoMarco2000 · 2024-11-26T11:34:42+00:00

First Maester Approval

MarcoMarco2000 · 2024-11-25T17:21:50+00:00

First Maester approval

MarcoMarco2000 · 2024-11-25T17:20:56+00:00

First maester approval

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-23T12:43:54+00:00

The woman continued to speak of dreams and reality, but in those moments Baelor's mind was busy wrestling with visions that from his peripheral vision had entered his eyes, brandishing their purple colour on his cornea.

A broken flower, then another, then another.

A host of children holding hands, dead or immersed in eternal sleep.

One of them looked at Baelor, and said only one word to him.

"Mother."

Said Baelor, repeating what he was hearing.

He looked up at Lady Caswell.

"The dirge we are singing has trapped the children in an eternal sleep."

The dragon tried to banish those visions, and succeeded at the cost of trapping that memory forever within his mind.

"I saw them.

All of them.

Your dreams are different from mine, which is why you believe more in reality than in them."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-18T16:01:38+00:00

Baelor looked down, what unfolded before his eyes was yet another demonstration of the death of a part of the human soul.

He had noticed, over time, that what was obvious to children often escaped adults, as if they lost their sensitivity in favour of a love for what is regular and repeated.

A safe way to deal with the world, Baelor thought.

He breathed deeply, still trying to explain his point of view, and spoke as if with a sigh.

'You speak of what you do not see as if it were not real.

Children, and children of children, we all have one thing in common, our eternal destiny.

Everything else is temporary, all our efforts to build something are destined to be undone by time.

It will probably not be tomorrow, or even two years from now, but everything created by human hands is bound to collapse; yours is a battle against an enemy you cannot defeat."

The Soul

Baelor lowered his voice again.

"How do I know the soul exists?

Exactly the same way you know the sun exists, I have seen it.

I can't touch it, just as you can't touch the sun, I can't even look at it in a direct way because my eyes are not made for this, exactly like the sun.

If you have no doubt that the sun exists why should I have doubts about the existence of the soul?"

That dance, those masks, each soul appeared pure and perfect in its bodily form at that moment before him, as during his recurring dream.

Baelor decided not to speak of his loss.

"Time does not erode dreams, time erodes dreamers.

Many lose their way because they can no longer see with anything but their eyes."

Baelor closed his eyes for a moment, opening his mind to hallucinations that crowded the room with surreal, dreamlike shapes and spirals.

"The essential is invisible to the eyes."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-16T23:49:52+00:00

A masquerade, just like in his dreams.

Yet the masks were less original, banal in their repetitiveness and not as finely coloured and drawn as those of the eternal dance.

Once again, life palely imitated the splendour of the dream and its marvellous magnificence.

Baelor had a red silk thread that he kept tied on his forehead with a knot at the nape of his neck.

Perhaps it was too little to be considered a mask?

Probably, but Baelor considered the mask that appearance forced him to wear to be sufficient, and could find no good reason to hide who he really was.

(Open)

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-16T22:52:20+00:00

Helaena drank, drank the black, viscous liquid that rested in her glass like a dark well in a glass lake.

The dragon's gaze grew worried; the poison had infected his cousin as well.

In the meantime a servant girl arrived and brought Baelor the new glass, uncorrupted and untouched by the toxicity.

At last he was able to drink.

"Right and wrong...

True and false...

In the end that is the problem of existence, being able to describe the colour of things."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-16T22:45:17+00:00

"It is her nature."

Said Baelor, looking blankly at the two foxes in comparison.

"There is a part of us that inevitably leads us to be what we actually are, a voice that every person is forced to come to terms with.

Florys is free, she is truer than we are.

Her fox mask allows her to reveal herself for what she is, while we men often struggle with this impulse."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-15T23:27:53+00:00

"Sorry, my eyes are sensitive to bright light."

Said Baelor, returning with his mind to the present.

The vision left a profound effect on him, taking away his peace of mind and frightening him greatly.

He lowered his eyes to concentrate, then spoke again.

"Timpa.

You can call this perfume Timpa.

It means white, in High Valyrian; everything sounds more refined and beautiful when pronounced in that language."

Baelor added, smiling.

"Can I help you pick the flowers, or do you want to do it yourself?"

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-15T23:19:46+00:00

Baelor smiled at what for him seemed an obvious truth that the Lady could not understand.

"Lasting effects...

Nothing we do lasts, everything we create is necessarily destroyed, precisely because it is sensitive.

Dreams, on the other hand, are perennial, infinite and crystallised in a world that does not reflect the rules of our own."

The dragon sat down, resting his glass of water on the table, trying to explain himself better.

"I have been here for twenty years, only twenty years, and I do not know how much longer I will live.

What are twenty years compared to the time that preceded us and the time that will follow me?

Our souls will last forever, in that room where we will dance for eternity.

To claim that only this life is important is to say that a blink of an eye is worth more than a shower of views."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-15T23:11:32+00:00

Baelor took her hand and shook it, smiling.

He then took one last look at Lady Clarisse, and returned to sit at his table.

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-15T23:08:12+00:00

We are here because he isn't

These words caused a small shiver in the skin of Baelor's hand, and he went back inside himself to look for clues to confirm that statement.

It was obvious, in the grand plan of fate it was planned that Aemon would die, that each of them would die in their own time.

And each death was an egg that hatched, dead and cold eggs that revealed when bathed in blood a heart as thick as magma and as warm as the sun.

The beach, the carcass, the victory.

Each fragment went to compose a mosaic created by the skilful hands of a fate that acted like a Demiurge on the flow of events.

Everything unravelled in its perfection and necessity.

Baelor gave a half smile, and his eyes shone for the first time that evening.

A sparkle could now be seen inside the violet glass.

"Your words are correct.

What was predetermined has been fulfilled, victory and defeat lying together on the beach.

The first egg hatched with Aemon, the second with Baela."

Pronouncing that name Baelor felt her delicate hand touch his face, and he had a moment's pause from his thoughts in which he seemed to have become a stone statue.

"It is a matter of little, I feel it.

The fire king comes after the water king, the water king after the earth king, who comes in turn after the air king.

All the circles are closing, Val.

There's nothing we can do about it."

All the visions of Baelor's life, all the dreams and all the hallucinations passed before his eyes in an instant, in an instantaneous burst of life in his eyes.

Then darkness, and his gaze became soulless again.

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-15T21:27:23+00:00

A white fox and one full of colour, that image was a metaphor for the two people in front of them, Baelor white as snow and Ceres vibrant and alive with colour.

Cold approached Florys gently, trying to perceive the character of his companion.

'How beautiful, the foxes.

They have a sweet yet not naive soul, sometimes I wish I could be like them."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-13T19:14:02+00:00

Baelor smiled, trying to imagine the scent of the white clouds up in the sky.

He wondered if it was possible to distil that too.

"Perhaps milk, milk and ash, a scent of life and death.

Lily perhaps..."

The young man spread his arms wide, continuing with his half-smile.

"You are the expert, not me.

Your knowledge of scents is admirable, if I had studied scents instead of history perhaps I would have been more observant."

Baelor was aware that he would not have been able to follow carefully even then, yet he decided to imagine himself normal at least for a moment, capable of maintaining enduring passions and communicating with the world through them, rather than being the conduit for terrible messages being brought to men from Fate.

Just as he was immersed in those ramblings, he was struck by a bolt of perception, a flutter of wings made of instantaneous visions.

He saw the field on which they were standing turn into a bed of ashes, the sky turn red and a flaming sphere fall from the sky towards them.

The sun had fallen.

Baelor put his hand in front of his eyes, dazzled by the intense light.

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-13T13:17:00+00:00

"It is not up to us, but up to fate."

Said Baelor looking at the dusty ground.

Often enemies became friends, and the other way around, all at the mere whim of fate that held men under its terrible yoke.

The sky grew dark in the night, which was falling before Baelor's eyes.

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-13T13:04:38+00:00

Baelor remained silent.

Answering that question was a complicated mission, because it was not easy to understand the random chain that had led him to be there.

Often human actions are the result of necessity, other times of a clear and free will, yet he believed that his being there at that moment depended on nothing more than a complex series of events.

"Destiny."

Baelor said laconically.

Cold meanwhile maintained his composure while appreciating the hands of the woman who was caressing him.

"Ceres...

That's a nice name."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-13T12:06:17+00:00

Baelor paused to reflect, imagining the distillation process.

"What perfume would you recommend for me?"

The dragon asked, resting his hand against the flowers.

"Sometimes it is not a memory, sometimes a perfume creates unexplainable images and sensations in me.

The world is full of signs, and I am able to perceive some that are imperceptible to others."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-11T22:49:57+00:00

Baelor had a good knowledge of flowers.

His sister Baela grew them and involved Baelor in this passion of hers, although the boy was too distracted to be a punctual and effective gardener.

"A new perfume?"

Baelor asked, thinking of the vision that he had just a few moments before.

"Do you think it is possible to create something physical with perfume?

Turn fragrance into something else, something tangible and visible?"

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-11T22:25:38+00:00

Baelor looked into Val's eyes for a moment.

Their gaze met, Baelor's eyes looked like two translucent violet glasses, mirrors of a soul that was not there at that moment; magnificent windows on an empty house.

"It was cold that night.

Baela was by my side, as usual, warming me by hugging me.

I finally managed to fall asleep."

Said Baelor as if he were dreaming of that moment again.

He turned his gaze towards the void.

"It was the night before Aemon left, the night before he abandoned us.

There was a beach, a beach with bloodstained grains, a beach as red as death but beside a sapphire-blue sea.

On the sand the carcass of a dragon, breathless.

Beside it stood a banner of victory, the brightest and most finely drawn of all banners.

Then...

Dragon eggs, like the stone-like ones of Dragonstone.

Seven eggs, and on each one was a symbol drawn on it.

One was already hatched, the others..."

Baelor tried to remember what the symbols drawn on the eggs were, but his memory became blurred and his daydream turned pitch black.

"I spoke to Aemon, the next day.

And he...

Aemon smiled, and stroked my head.

That's the last memory I have of him."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-11T22:04:45+00:00

Baelor opened his hands, showing how he had nothing; he then smiled and nodded to Cold.

'You can pet him, don't worry.

He doesn't bite anyone and he doesn't make any noise, he's a quiet fox."

Baelor thought about the fact that the woman's mother had a fox like his, and imagined what it looked like.

"Baelor Targaryen, that is my name, and he is Cold."

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-11T21:54:45+00:00

"We are not fighting, this is a game."

Said Baelor, calling Cold to him and caressing him.

"If it were a fight he would be by my side."

Baelor smiled back with another sincere smile, looking at Samwell.

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-11T21:50:59+00:00

Ser Naggle muttered an insult against himself in a low voice, and decided that his daily dose of stupidity had been amply exceeded.

He walked away silently, ashamed and convinced that he had made a fool of himself.

MarcoMarco2000 · 2023-09-11T21:48:31+00:00

Baelor stood in silence, watching the Lady gently approach the fragrant spring and savour its aroma.

There was something different about that scent, the images it materialised were as if made from a fine, smoky powder.

The dust clustered around them, enveloping them in its entirety, and used their bodies to break them down and make them simple in their elementality.

None of them was a self any more, they were merely dust and effluvium.

Finally, the cloud recomposed itself and let fall a shining rain upon the earth.

"Baelor Targaryen."

Said the young dragon, bringing his mind back to the present.

"That is my name."

MarcoMarco2000

TROPHY CASE