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Post by Ollie on May 21, 2009 3:21:26 GMT -5
It was cold there. Colder than most places, but not as cold as some. Black marble tile whorled with white stretched across the modestly wide and infinitely long hall. Deceptively neutral grey stone climbed up the walls and across the arched ceiling, making the hall appear uncomfortably cozy or isolatingly empty depending on how you looked at it. Orange and red flickered from torches in sconces along the wall, making the shadows dance amidst the low light. A dark teak table stretched down the length of the hall, set with dinnerware of engraved silver, crystal, and bone white porcelain that jarringly sat apart from the dark and muted interior.
Olander Reed was sitting at that table. There were many others as well, but given the size of the table, he may as well have been sitting alone. His plate was laden with a small portion of frog's legs, glazed in something sweet. Slim slices of pear decorated the meal, accompanied by a crystal glass filled with pear cider. With knife and fork delicately clasped between his forefinger and thumb, Olander dined with the dead.
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Post by Erik on May 29, 2009 18:26:03 GMT -5
A large man, covered in bear hides, grinning through thick stubble and carrying a great mug of beer, approached the small frogeater. This Ironman had been here longer than Reed, but who can really keep track of time in such a place?
He slapped Olander on the back forcefully, then pushed his way into a seat next to him.
"Knew you'd show up eventually," He said, "We all do. You went out well, I hope?"
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Post by Ollie on May 29, 2009 19:03:41 GMT -5
"Hello, Your Grace," Olander smiled wanly. "It was by the point of Rickon Baratheon's blade, no less. Don't worry, I slew him first before I succumb to the wounds."
Wiping his fingers clean, and nudging his plate away, the Reed takes a sip of his cider, and turns in his seat to half-face the rugged looking ironborn. "No hard feelings, of course?" he spoke with a tiny smirk.
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Post by Erik on May 29, 2009 19:11:37 GMT -5
Erik leaned back, looking the crannogman up and down. "I suppose not. Could have done your rebelling a bit earlier, though. What we could have achieved..."
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Post by Sam on May 29, 2009 19:12:37 GMT -5
A tall knight, clad in white with silvery hair and a solemn look in his eye, sat a few seats down from the conversation taking place, heard the words spoken and he smiled softly to himself.
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Post by Horas on May 30, 2009 1:57:25 GMT -5
A man sits at one side of the table. He is no warrior, this man -- short and slight, with greying hair and not even a sword at his side. Were it not for his lips, stained a midnight blue, and his eyes, cold and still, he would be almost unremarkable.
Horas Blackwood cuts his meat at this ghostly feast. He eats it slowly, though it seems to give him no pleasure. From time to time he takes a sip from a small silver flask at his side. His eyes watch the other dinner guests carefully.
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Post by Flex on May 30, 2009 6:28:10 GMT -5
A young man with raven black hair and piercing blue eyes enters them room swiftly, an apologetic look on his face. He views the people in the room, only recognizing two of them, and smiles. "I'm sorry it took me so long." He sits and idly fumbles with a small dagger.
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Post by The Flint on May 30, 2009 22:39:30 GMT -5
Francis entered, his tongue blackened and bloated from poison. He nods slightly at the Lord of Crows.
"my friend," he says, sitting besides Horas at the dinner table and surveying the offerings.
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Post by Horas on May 31, 2009 1:12:13 GMT -5
"Lord Varner," Horas greets him, his gaze lingering on the blackened tongue. After a moment it shifts to the door leading away from the feasting hall. "I trust your new residence suits you?"
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Post by The Flint on May 31, 2009 7:38:41 GMT -5
"In truth Lord Blackwood, the Septons had convinced me that our residence would be much worse." He smiles slightly, "It is not as bad as they say."
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Post by Erik on May 31, 2009 14:09:16 GMT -5
"You all should come to the Drowned God's Hall when you have a free moment." Erik tells the others. "Drinking, fighting, fucking, all the best things in life, provided for us in death."
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Post by Horas on May 31, 2009 14:20:19 GMT -5
"Lord Coldiron," Horas says. "While I appreciate the offer, I believe I will... pass."
Lord Blackwood sets his attention back on Francis. "Indeed. It is more peaceful than I had anticipated. But all things considered, I think I would rather be up there than down here. So many interesting opportunities, all missed."
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Post by The Flint on May 31, 2009 14:42:32 GMT -5
Francis nodded, "It seems odd that the great event we were supposed to be preparing for has passed us by in what seems a blink of an eye."
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Post by Erik on May 31, 2009 14:51:35 GMT -5
"What great event was that? You spooks, always with your secrets."
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Post by Ollie on May 31, 2009 14:53:37 GMT -5
The crannogman smiles apologetically to Erik. "And I've all eternity to ponder what the outcome could have been. I wonder who is worse off: the man who was betrayed, or the man who betrayed himself?"
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Hope you all are well and happy.