- Invitation Status
- Look for groups
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- My times are pretty erratic, but I try to avoid being on EST 11pm-9am.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Modern, Historical Romance.
Kyne was almost a little taken aback by her words, eyebrows shooting upwards in a moment of surprise, but then he grinned, the first genuine smile he'd cracked since leaving Kingsgrave. Had he been in an overall better humor, he would've teasingly repeated her words to him the other day back at her. What was it again? "A good man. Yersh." The memory caused his grin to widen. She really was hilarious when she was drunk. He preferred she kept her drunkenness away from the public eye, and he felt a bit sorry for her each time, but he had a good time with the memories of her being ridiculous under the influence of drink.
While he wasn't certain why she was in such a rush, Kyne kept an easy pace with Taria, with his long legs, and it hardly took a moment for them to arrive at the quarters prepared for him. He was comfortable enough with Storm's End, but in truth it felt odd for him to be here, with his belongings in proper, and orderly bags awaiting him. Somehow every little thing was a reminder that he wasn't Kyne Sand anymore. Before, he'd have come only to deliver a message to the Lord and Lady Baratheon from his father, and then he'd have gone down to the village and slept wherever accommodations allowed him, or in a stable he'd sneaked into. Even when he had trespassed on them as a guest, he'd done so quietly, and with his things in a small pack on his back, his sword at his side, and his horse not far away. Comfortable? It did indeed look comfortable. Too comfortable.
But he could tell she had something to say to him, so he stared down at her, and sure enough, she began to say... the most preposterous things. He rolled his eyes and slumped into the nearest chair, with the sort of careless grace he usually had, all attempt at formality from his earlier meeting with her aunt and uncle completely abandoned. "Apologize? You're not the one who needs to apologize." He drawled discontentedly, leaning his head back. "I have no desire to be here playing out this farce," he lifted one finger to the ceiling and circled it in the air next to his head, generally indicating the place and situation they were in, "any more than you do, but I share your sentiments. Better someone I know and trust than someone else." His face contorted in a scowl of mild anger and disgust, but it wasn't directed at Taria. "The old bastard brought me to the Queen's name day feast before telling me he'd legitimized me, probably to show me off to an alliance he was hoping to make. Dallin married off, and Axton more likely to ruin any alliances by wedding, I was a new opportunity."
He finally looked over and cocked one of his grins at her. "In fact, perhaps I should be thanking you." He gave a groan and added, "Also for not fucking calling me 'Lord.' At least in private. That alone is enough to call it even." He was slightly regretting not killing Axton years ago, and polishing his father off before he could do this. But then, he'd never imagined his father would do such a thing. Barlay had never chastised his eldest bastard for anything, really, and Kyne hadn't thought he'd cared whether or not he was legitimate. Clearly, he'd been wrong. Clever old snake.
While he wasn't certain why she was in such a rush, Kyne kept an easy pace with Taria, with his long legs, and it hardly took a moment for them to arrive at the quarters prepared for him. He was comfortable enough with Storm's End, but in truth it felt odd for him to be here, with his belongings in proper, and orderly bags awaiting him. Somehow every little thing was a reminder that he wasn't Kyne Sand anymore. Before, he'd have come only to deliver a message to the Lord and Lady Baratheon from his father, and then he'd have gone down to the village and slept wherever accommodations allowed him, or in a stable he'd sneaked into. Even when he had trespassed on them as a guest, he'd done so quietly, and with his things in a small pack on his back, his sword at his side, and his horse not far away. Comfortable? It did indeed look comfortable. Too comfortable.
But he could tell she had something to say to him, so he stared down at her, and sure enough, she began to say... the most preposterous things. He rolled his eyes and slumped into the nearest chair, with the sort of careless grace he usually had, all attempt at formality from his earlier meeting with her aunt and uncle completely abandoned. "Apologize? You're not the one who needs to apologize." He drawled discontentedly, leaning his head back. "I have no desire to be here playing out this farce," he lifted one finger to the ceiling and circled it in the air next to his head, generally indicating the place and situation they were in, "any more than you do, but I share your sentiments. Better someone I know and trust than someone else." His face contorted in a scowl of mild anger and disgust, but it wasn't directed at Taria. "The old bastard brought me to the Queen's name day feast before telling me he'd legitimized me, probably to show me off to an alliance he was hoping to make. Dallin married off, and Axton more likely to ruin any alliances by wedding, I was a new opportunity."
He finally looked over and cocked one of his grins at her. "In fact, perhaps I should be thanking you." He gave a groan and added, "Also for not fucking calling me 'Lord.' At least in private. That alone is enough to call it even." He was slightly regretting not killing Axton years ago, and polishing his father off before he could do this. But then, he'd never imagined his father would do such a thing. Barlay had never chastised his eldest bastard for anything, really, and Kyne hadn't thought he'd cared whether or not he was legitimate. Clearly, he'd been wrong. Clever old snake.