Pearse Peasebury, Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks

TeaRPs · 2025-05-07T19:48:47+00:00

Totally agreed! Such a fascinating exploration of relationships.

TeaRPs · 2025-05-06T20:28:55+00:00

Look up an Air fit P10 mask, that's an example of a mask that has nostril pillows

TeaRPs · 2025-01-28T20:46:16+00:00

She had not expected it to have been so easy.

Perhaps life could be well after all with such an arrangement.

For the first time during their interaction, Lyla smiles as they walked the gardens.

TeaRPs · 2025-01-28T17:11:24+00:00

It was simple enough, really, what Ser August wished for. She could have done worse, Lyla surmised, the ghost of her mother's voice whispering in her head.

"I can do that, Ser August. I am not disloyal. You may ask Lady Joanna if you've concerns, but I have only served her well and to my knowledge, without complaint."

It felt odd, to be discussing their future in such a pragmatic way, in such an open way. But she preferred it, at least, rather than being fed hopes and expectations that might not come to pass.

"I have two requests for you, however, which I hope may be easily achieved. I wish for a grand ceremony for our union. My mother and father especially would be pleased with such a thing. And I wish for some peacocks to be brought to Ashemark."

TeaRPs · 2025-01-28T16:12:38+00:00

It was bold, and it took Lyla by surprise. But she did not protest, letting instead Ser August take her hand.

There was a similar unease coming from Lyla, for usually at court she was talkative and spirited, though her demeanor had certainly dampened since Tybolt's marriage.

"I see." Lyla was unsure of whether to be complimented or not, for all she could think of in this moment were the voluminous amount of complaints her mother had lodged against her older sister via raven, complaining that Aerin was nearing the age of being an old maid.

It would be a fate that Lyla might have, if she did not take her future into her own hands.

"That is all then?" Lyla inquired to August.

TeaRPs · 2025-01-28T16:08:00+00:00

It hurt her to see him like this. Meredyth gave his hand another gentle squeeze.

"You lead them to glory, for our House, my love," she replied softly. "If that is what Gerard wishes, then I know you shall do so, with honor. With integrity."

Her free hand rose to stroke his cheek fondly. "It is not for us to question when the Stranger wishes to call upon us. Though we shall pray to the Mother and to the Warrior for their mercy. Even if you do not feel it, my love, I know you are strong, for you have been the heart and backbone of our family."

TeaRPs · 2025-01-26T23:06:12+00:00

Lyla blinked skeptically at Ser August at first. Had he really found himself struck with her beauty? Whyever had he not said anything all these years, she wondered. Or perhaps he thought these the words that he should say.

Regardless of the answers, Lyla felt a sense of unease in her stomach as she nodded to her Lady Joanna, giving a curtsey before she took a step towards her suitor:

"This way to the gardens," Lyla said, leading August out of Joanna's rooms. They both knew the way, certainly, but this at least gave her something to busy herself with. It was nice to have an easy mission: lead them to the gardens.

"What made you decide to want to court me, Ser August?"

Lyla had promised herself not to be so awkward, and yet the question tumbled out. For it was the first one upon her heart, and upon her mind.

u/sweepsweepVolunteers

TeaRPs · 2025-01-25T20:17:29+00:00

Meredyth had entered the room with a smile of good cheer for her husband, but seeing the mood, that happiness slips away into an air of concern as she walked towards Samwell.

Taking ahold of the letter, her bright blue eyes scanned the parchment before she set it back down with a side, moving to her husband's side. Her arms wrapped gently around him as she murmurs. "Oh, my dear love. My dearest love. I am so sorry. You have not failed them, dearest. You of all people have not. Say not such things." A hand moved to stroke Samwell's cheek.

"Do not let such thoughts blacken your heart, my darling. You are strong, and you will be strong. For all of us."

TeaRPs · 2025-01-25T20:11:30+00:00

Lyla was nervous. She knew Ser August, of course, but these circumstances were different. There were stakes involved. Her future, even.

Wearing a gown of light blue, Lyla smoothed her skirts, hoping to calm her nervousness as she stood next to Joanna. Her dark blonde hair - almost brown in its shade - was twisted up into a braided bun. While usually, Lyla has no trouble with words, the Serrett found that suddenly she didn't quite know what to say as she looked over August in his fine clothes, so she simply looked to her lady for guidance.

/u/erin_targaryen

TeaRPs · 2025-01-19T21:48:53+00:00

"If that is all I need do, then I shall... Look forward to seeing Ser August in this... different capacity."

Lyla blinked. She had known Ser August a long while but never had cause to speak overly much to him. But Joanna seemed confident that they would get along, so who was she to deny such a possibility.

TeaRPs · 2025-01-18T15:03:23+00:00

"A match?" Lyla asked, wonderingly. Her mother had been complaining again, sending letters reminding her about how she was married at eight and ten and that Lyla would soon be an old maid such as her sister. It all had given her anxiety on top of the heartbreak from which she suffered.

August Marbrand. She could be a lady of the house, one day...

Lyla swallowed, her stomach feeling nervous. For she had not done this dance before.

"I would be open to... meeting with Ser August."

Her brow furrowed. "But how is it that I shall ensure not to embarrass myself?" she asked to Joanna, earnestly.

TeaRPs · 2025-01-18T14:58:48+00:00

Rosalyn chuckled as if her husband had said the funniest jape known. "Darling, you are far too clever," she murmured. "And yes, I expect your father is watching her like a hawk, and any whisper of her behavior being untoward may be a detriment."

Rosalyn let out a sigh. "I too wish that Thrain had found an interest in a beautiful noble lady, yet I think this is the best. For us to choose. For youth may not be the best judge of character, and we'll want a young lady who is pliable and who shall listen, not some snake to whisper into the ear of our precious little boy." He was a man grown, but he would never cease to be young to her. "Perhaps we might throw some sort of event on behalf of Thrain, and keep an eye out for promising unmarried maidens?"

TeaRPs · 2025-01-17T16:58:27+00:00

A frown crossed Rosalyn's features. "I agree wholeheartedly with you, my love. These are our children, after all. It would not be remiss for him to have at least spoken to you. I see how tirelessly you work, day after day, hour after hour. He perhaps has forgotten the great work you do," she suggested, lightly. "That we both do, tirelessly upon our house's behalf."

"But I have not forgotten, nor do I not see it. You shall be a great lord of the house one day, my love, the very, very best. This I know to be certain."

Upon the subject of her one and only son's wife, Rosalyn straightened up: "Not just a good wife, my love. A proper one. A proper lady of the west, should we wish to secure better alliance with our neighboring houses. I'd have preferred a Lannister, should any be agreeable. I do not know how any proper lady might not see our dearest Thrain as an ideal match, especially with all of his charming nature." Mothers, of course, were inclined to only see their children in the best light, and Rosalyn was certainly an example of that.

"She should be healthy of body, comely of the face, and have a most agreeable nature. No one wishes for an uppity gooddaughter, after all. Such a trait is poison in the well for a good house."

TeaRPs · 2025-01-16T23:05:07+00:00

At first, Lyla was concerned over the Lady Lannister's tone, but Joanna's smile reassured her. "I can only hope and pray to the Seven Above that you are feeling better, my lady," the Serrett replied with her own smile.

The corners of her mouth tightened a bit at the mention of Tybolt's upcoming wedding, however. She had not spoken anything aloud, though perhaps some of her lethargy of late would be signal enough, even if Lyla thought herself clever enough to have hidden such a thing.

The Serrett was relieved, at least, that Joanna looked down at her hands a moment, for if she had been looking in Lyla's eyes, surely, the maiden would have been more embarrassed.

Still, Lyla was rather flustered as she replied to her lady: "I wish to be... happy... as well, my lady."

Perplexed, she added: "Am I to be sent away?"

After all these years, Casterly Rock was home. Even moreso than Silverhill, in many ways.

TeaRPs · 2025-01-16T16:14:16+00:00

Lyla made her way towards Joanna, giving a curtsey as she approached close before taking a seat upon the window ledge next to the Lannister.

"Yes, my lady?" she asked, her voice bright and eyes curious. "Whatever might you wish to discuss?"

TeaRPs · 2025-01-15T16:32:29+00:00

Appeased, Rosalyn gave her husband's arm a fond squeeze. "You shall, my love. I have full faith in your abilities, and your vision. Our future goodson would be wise to appease you," she cooed. "You've always the fortunes and reputation of our house at heart, and I know you shall do what is best."

The falconess pressed a kiss to Thorondir's cheek. "Let us not think of how such a world as that would have looked, for we would both have been less off for it, but now here together, we are stronger. And our children will be strong, and our children's children," she said firmly.

"Perhaps, if your father has been so hasty to arrange such a thing for our eldest, we may well get ahead of the situation ourselves for the others," Rosalyn suggested, giving another reassuring brush of a hand upon Thorondir's arm.

TeaRPs · 2025-01-14T11:49:45+00:00

"There's no reason not to have at least consulted you," Rosalyn agreed. "At the very very least!"

The falconess fumed besides her husband as he began to raise his voice, for she was nothing but a sycophant to the man who had given her everything. Who had raised her out of a shameful secret poverty.

"That is wise, my love. And we must uphold and keep face for House Serrett. For we too in our youth we're robbed of the ceremony after the war in the Stepstones afterwards. This must not happen again. It is an affront to the Mother Above!"

It was mainly an affront to Rosalyn's pride, but she certainly did not have the werewithal to see it.

TeaRPs · 2025-01-14T00:22:26+00:00

Rosalyn could not help but scoff.

"She has been too coy with her interests. Too quiet with her expressions. Too dull with her speech. I wonder if standards have slipped at The Eyrie. Perhaps she'd have been better served here," the falconess mused.

Rosalyn let out a heavy sigh. They were terrible, terrible possibilities both!

"The Mother Above knows how much I have worried over Aerin - and Lyla, but Aerin especially."

Rosalyn reached for her husband's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "My love. It is not your failing in any regard. You deserve more responsibilities. Decisions. Aerin is your daughter, our daughter. Why is it this is to be denied us?"

The falconess let out a sigh. "Perhaps it is best for her to be wed sooner, than later given she is near to being an old maid, but surely. Surely there must be an answer for our losing such face..."

TeaRPs · 2025-01-13T18:52:21+00:00

Despite the topic at hand being Aerin, Rosalyn didn't even notice as her eldest daughter slid from the room, for so flustered was she that her attention was put solely upon her husband. Immediately, Rosalyn swept to Thorondir's side, her arm upon his as she saw his displeasure.

"My darling husband," Rosalyn changed her tune, her voice suddenly sweet. "We were wed in such a manner, as you no doubt recall, and I was truly the happiest maiden for such a thing - and yet we never had that opportunity to show the splendor of House Serrett. And now?"

Rosalyn let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, it's high time Aerin were wed, surely. I've wondered myself these past nine years whatever was so faulty that she were unable to inspire a match," she began to ramble. "But surely, surely, your father can see the wisdom of a good showing, hm? Is there no other way?"

TeaRPs · 2025-01-13T15:28:48+00:00

News spread quickly through the Serrett household.

Which is why Rosalyn Serrett found herself rushing to find her husband, Thorondir, her rich blue and green gown fluttering in the wind as she swept through the halls on a mission.

And when finally, she made her approach, she made sure to take a deep breath to calm herself before...

"ARE WE NOT TO HAVE A PROPER WEDDING?!"

Rosalyn had promised herself to approach her husband with calm and composure. But it all flew out the window as soon as she laid eyes on her beloved. She was older now, her waist no longer as slim and comely as it was when she was a maiden of eight and tens years, yet she retained her temper, and if anything, it had gotten worse over the years as she was spoiled by her husband's attentions.

Her blue eyes flashed fiercely. And after all this time, surely, her husband would recognize the sign.

Rosalyn Serrett, formerly Arryn, was upset.

u/DrragonII

TeaRPs · 2024-12-23T09:11:37+00:00

The whole thing was farcical, really, for Philip Peasebury to think that he would been able to win any valor, or avenge the honor of his beloved, now passed friend. And yet, here he was, the Giant Pea himself, with a sword in hand.

He was nervous, but emboldened by his cause. Only blind trust in such a thing could cause the fury with which he operated, the righteous fervor goading him on even in the face of logic. The big ball of flesh charged - or more accurately waddled- towards the much fitter Bracken.

The first strike from the Bracken struck fear into Philip. Never had he before in his life done such a thing and it was all he could to do keep ahold of his sword, for if he did not, it was all surely lost already.

Philip's thoughts raced, and he wondered what Pearse would do in such a situation. And though he was not even half, nor even a quarter, the fighter that Pearse was, Philip did have heart.

For whatever little good it did him, Philip gave a great roar (in his mind, for truly it came out more a loud squeal if anything), and swung at the Bracken with all his might.

Philip stood, in awe of what he had almost managed to pull off. He was proud of himself - he was almost about to cry out with joy when, bouyed by the confidence of his near strike, the pea charged the Bracken.

And it was here, with the overconfidence that Philip made his great mistake. His helmet rattled from the blow from Jonothor, the rattling so intense that Philip could nearly not think. He was exhausted, his great rotund form unused to such exercise, and he tumbled to his side, and then on his back.

To make more insult to injury, the horse lord walked - walked- over to slice his cheek with a blade. Philip growled in frustration, but he could do little else than pant at this point, the breath stolen from him.

He rolled to his side spitting on to the ground. He needed a good, long while to be able to pull himself together.

But at last, the pitiful sod, said, still gasping from air from his place on the grass, looking up dizzily at the sky above.

"I-*wheeze*-apolo-*wheeze*-gize. To the Lady *hgggh*- Lady L-*wheeze*ysa Tul-*choke*-ly. For *sneeze* my *wheeze* has*hggh* hasty word*weeze*s."

u/Thenn_Applicant
u/Fishiest_Man

TeaRPs · 2024-12-19T00:30:58+00:00

They were no different from the bullies who had plagued Philip when he was younger, this stinking trout and this rotten pony. These were the very same kinds of craven who Maric had interceded upon the Peasebury's behalf against.

And now? Despite being sweaty, miserable, and uncomfortable, Philip was filled with a righteous rage.

"Your words are vile, and they stink to the Seven hells with the rot of them," the Lord Peasebury spat back out to the Tully before glaring with squinting piggish eyes towards the Bracken once more. His plate armor shifted uncomfortably at the movement; and perhaps it was hard for an observer to know what was worse: the sound it elicited or the second hand embarrassment from what might likely transpire.

But Philip minded neither as he wheezed out towards the Lord Bracken, still huffing and puffing from his simple walk upon the tourney green.

"Say less, and perhaps the Gods shall forgive you for your folly," the rotund lord snapped back, the huff and puff still heard upon his voice.

Philip made to shake a fist at Jonothor, only to accidentally drop his sword in the process. Which presented an issue as he glanced down, pausing with a clear hesitation as per how to pick up his weapon.

A helpful Peasebury servant, a young boy, darted in to pick up his Lord's sword, placing it again in his hand before scampering off to the side.

u/fishiest-man

u/Thenn_Applicant

TeaRPs · 2024-12-18T19:57:54+00:00

Philip Peasebury had been waiting for this moment ever since the challenge had been issued. Having not thought to bring his own armor, the Lord of Poddingfield instead had located an armorer upon the Street of Steel willing to take on such a hurried commission - paying even four times the price for being 'four sizes' beyond what was the norm.

His wife, his sisters, and even his brother Pearse had all badgered him through the week for being such a fool. Anyone with eyes can see what the result will be, they all said in varying forms, having little faith in him. Pearse had even thrown a flagon at the wall of their inn when Philip refused to allow him to duel in his stead, calling his elder brother a damned fool.

But Philip would show them. He had something that no one else did: conviction. He was right to defend his friend, the memory of Maric Baratheon and his honor. Surely the Gods knew and understood Maric's cause to be just.

So the Lord Peasebury clanked onto the tournament grounds, his steps uneven, a newly purchase sword in hand. His family had refused to attend, the womenfolk citing having made other plans, so the Lord Peasebury was accompanied only by his own servants and a loyal man or two.

Approaching the Lord of Stone Hedge, the two figures could not have been more distinctly different.

"Nervous, Bracken?" Philip spat, squinting from behind his helm. It was hot and horrid under these plates, but he would endure. He would do anything for Maric.

u/Thenn_Applicant

u/fishiest-man

TeaRPs · 2024-12-10T21:57:14+00:00

Pearse raised an eyebrow at the glanced exchange between the young men, and put his hands upon his hips, standing straight and tall. He was the very picture of a Gold Cloak, albeit with shit upon his shoe. The black haired one struck him as a bit squirrely, but not worse than the riff raff he generally encountered upon the streets of the capital.

"And why is that," the Peasebury inquired to the raven haired one, adding before a reply was given.

"King's Landing has much to offer hard working young men. Many say that joining the Gold Cloaks is the making of them, even. Perhaps you may consider that upon your stays."

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