( he comes to occupy enough of her thoughts in turn; they pull towards him as a visage of stability. of comfort, and the small affections so carefully navigated had only served to solidify her fondness, amongst the experiences shared that had slowly added strength to the shaping bonds. perhaps it is what adds kindling to her reaction, a fruitless attempt in guarding him from the mess.
the hand on her shoulder stills her, and her hand absently drifts to his elbow and she focuses on watching his reaction. whatever lines of concern she sees seem disproportionate to her own (and seem more aimed towards her than what is said), and at times, his sanguine nature acts in contrast to the sparks of hers.
an observation he redirects by pulling at the chair and she has half a mind to reconsider, some unfair instinct at digging her heels but it will do them no good; it only takes a beat before she concedes, sinks into it with a forming frown. fingers reluctantly slip from his at the motion, though her chin is angled upwards to watch him. )
It is what they take it to represent, Elrond. ( said lowly, though the initial burst of ire with which she walked into their shared rooms does lessen. he holds her gaze and she is struck again by its steadiness. she envies it, at times.
there is a long sigh. ) Speaking before the Small Council feels like entertaining their farce, to which they hold no entitlement. ( it isn't a no, because what he suggests does hold a lot of sense. going directly to the council means they will need to stare him in the eyes while touting their insults to his honor. a concise note from the high king would serve to back up his claim into something concretely irrefutable, but to ask for such would imply a lack of control of their affairs. the point goes unvoiced, though her eyes fall to her hands. ) I know what end Otto likely wishes, and it is far closer to treason than anyone ought to dare. And yet, my father keeps him as Hand. Gluttonous snake.
( elrond's implied insults still bare an elegance to them, said between them as they are. hers land more pointed.
he does raise a good question. and one she has considered already as their first line of defense — king viserys still rules. more than that, to keep speaking against him would be treason. even lord otto knows it. ) Viserys did not particularly take kindly to the implication. A strong support for us, but that it was questioned at all is what worries me.
We should speak to the King first. Alone. As his family. ( his first blood; the daughter he chose as heir (and often times she'd wondered if it was truly just out of spite to daemon, even if viserys would insist differently).) He has power to put this to rest before they may act on it. To continue anything after the King declares its cessation would guarantee consequences. Not even Otto is that desperate. ( it won't stop them from searching to land a different blow, of that she is certain, but it would prevent quite a lot.
she leans back against the chair, not exactly pacified, but having shed enough of her initial reaction to actually think. carved wood digs into her spine, grounding, as she considers him for a moment, silence settling; considers the clothing of westerosi fashion, targaryen black and red and severe in its lines and yet somehow made elegant by his posture. she finds herself realizing a finer point, unknowing that he may be thinking the same. ) But I admit — I have allowed an oversight of my own. ( in not asking him about his family. and not only because such knowledge would mean she can better defend him. she is curious to hear of them, but had worried that in asking, she would open old wounds. but now seems less a time to hesitate. )
no subject
the hand on her shoulder stills her, and her hand absently drifts to his elbow and she focuses on watching his reaction. whatever lines of concern she sees seem disproportionate to her own (and seem more aimed towards her than what is said), and at times, his sanguine nature acts in contrast to the sparks of hers.
an observation he redirects by pulling at the chair and she has half a mind to reconsider, some unfair instinct at digging her heels but it will do them no good; it only takes a beat before she concedes, sinks into it with a forming frown. fingers reluctantly slip from his at the motion, though her chin is angled upwards to watch him. )
It is what they take it to represent, Elrond. ( said lowly, though the initial burst of ire with which she walked into their shared rooms does lessen. he holds her gaze and she is struck again by its steadiness. she envies it, at times.
there is a long sigh. ) Speaking before the Small Council feels like entertaining their farce, to which they hold no entitlement. ( it isn't a no, because what he suggests does hold a lot of sense. going directly to the council means they will need to stare him in the eyes while touting their insults to his honor. a concise note from the high king would serve to back up his claim into something concretely irrefutable, but to ask for such would imply a lack of control of their affairs. the point goes unvoiced, though her eyes fall to her hands. ) I know what end Otto likely wishes, and it is far closer to treason than anyone ought to dare. And yet, my father keeps him as Hand. Gluttonous snake.
( elrond's implied insults still bare an elegance to them, said between them as they are. hers land more pointed.
he does raise a good question. and one she has considered already as their first line of defense — king viserys still rules. more than that, to keep speaking against him would be treason. even lord otto knows it. ) Viserys did not particularly take kindly to the implication. A strong support for us, but that it was questioned at all is what worries me.
We should speak to the King first. Alone. As his family. ( his first blood; the daughter he chose as heir (and often times she'd wondered if it was truly just out of spite to daemon, even if viserys would insist differently).) He has power to put this to rest before they may act on it. To continue anything after the King declares its cessation would guarantee consequences. Not even Otto is that desperate. ( it won't stop them from searching to land a different blow, of that she is certain, but it would prevent quite a lot.
she leans back against the chair, not exactly pacified, but having shed enough of her initial reaction to actually think. carved wood digs into her spine, grounding, as she considers him for a moment, silence settling; considers the clothing of westerosi fashion, targaryen black and red and severe in its lines and yet somehow made elegant by his posture. she finds herself realizing a finer point, unknowing that he may be thinking the same. ) But I admit — I have allowed an oversight of my own. ( in not asking him about his family. and not only because such knowledge would mean she can better defend him. she is curious to hear of them, but had worried that in asking, she would open old wounds. but now seems less a time to hesitate. )