shelbs
oswin

It is currently WINTER in WESTEROS during the year 303 AC. The new moon cycle marks a full twenty years since the Mad King was murdered, and his son King Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne in his place. Though the year is fresh, war in the Narrow Sea has left the Free Cities of Volantis and Tyrosh in ashes, and the Long Night continues to beckon from the Northern fringes of the Seven Kingdoms. With the Queen Lyanna presumed dead, the citizens of the realms look only to each other for survival.
[x] SURPRISE! Please enjoy our new skin, and let the staff know if you find any bugs! (Shelbs accidentally overwrote the old skin and posted this too soon so it's entirely possible the dumbass she forgot some things!)
[x] THE FATE OF TYRION LANNISTER HAS BEGUN! Mass thread HERE! If you play a character that has been selected as judge, please join in asap! Otherwise the thread is open to all wanting to participate!
[x] Keep an eye out for a new mini-event we have been planning! The bloodshed fun is never over!
[x] As always... we are in need of MALE characters!
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 The Greeting of the Dawn, Open
ARIANNE MARTELL
 Posted: Jun 14 2018, 09:42 PM
Quote
Stormie is Offline
27 years old
DORNE
Martell
Martell
Dorne
Princess of Dorne



The sword gone from her hands, she leaned back, her chest heaving and feeling the dulled blade against her skin lite another adrenaline rush that this time made her want to forget her courtly duties and spend the afternoon in her rooms with her knight. She was sure they could battle it out a bit longer before happily calling a truce when both were satisfied and exhausted. He reaches out to help her up and she returns the impish grin with one of her own. Her own lustful mind imagining just what it would be like to kiss the knight that bested her. She stands, shaking the dust from the folds of her skirt and feels her own dagger still stored safely within it's sheath hidden in the flare of her dress.

For the briefest of moments she thought about holding it to his neck, to continue the battle but it was a gentleman's bet and if Arianne was honest with herself, she was tired. Arranging the folds of fabric around her appropriately, she looks up to Atius. She holds her head up proudly. "Arianne Martell, Princess of Dorne." She watches his face for the reaction, unsure how to anticipate this knight. He took her attacks in stride, laughing when he had been caught unaware, and smiling as he advanced. She wondered if he would be as joyful when he knew that he was fighting (and beating) someone far above his social class.

It was only then that her ladies came back to collect her, their expressions worried at the sight of dirt on her dress. Arianne glances at them, before she steps up to him, her hands curling around his neck, feelings the slight grit of dirt on his skin from the dust kicked up by them. She breathed him in, the scent of sweat mixed with something sweeter. She couldn't place a finger on the smell but it only heightened her desire. Her lips press against his, softly at first, before they part just slightly. Her tongue begs to be allowed to slip into his mouth, only to rub itself to the top of his mouth briefly to taste him, deepening the kiss. She can feel her own heartbeat quickened and all she wants to do was to lead him back to her bed, to strip down the sweat soaked clothes and explore him. But she was reminded that this was no pleasure cruise down the Greenblood.

She pulls away from him, licking her lips slightly like a predator. "I believe I was also promised a name." Dark eyes search his face, her hand still comfortably on his neck before it slides to his chest. Finally, she takes a step back with that cheeky, playful grin on her features. Bitting her lower lip, she almost expected a Santagar or Drinkwater but couldn't quite guess, thus she waits patiently.


@ATIUS DAYNE
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