Gael 001 - Blog Posts
the dance swirled around them, the music wrapping around their bodies like an old, familiar friend. zahra’s steps were light, her movements fluid, yet her mind was occupied with the challenge before her: guess his house. she kept her eyes on Gael, studying his posture, the way he carried himself with a mix of grace and precision. there was something about him that felt distinctly noble, yet oddly out of place among the rigid expectations of his house. “your words are gracious, my lord,” zahra replied with a playful smile, her fingers tightening ever so slightly on his hand. “but I suspect you’re not quite as humble as you would like me to believe.”
“well, you’re from the reach, that much is obvious,” she said with a teasing smile, watching him carefully as they glided across the floor. “your posture, your elegance—there’s only one house that exudes that level of… polite grandeur.” her fingers tightened around his as they moved together, her eyes narrowing slightly as she formed her theory. “you must be from house tyrell. a cousin, perhaps? you certainly aren't the king unless you've mastered the art of disguise." truthfully, zahra was well-traveled, but house names were not her forte, if they were not dornish.
“yes, of course. house tyrell. you have that whole ‘roses and knights’ air about you, don’t you?” she leaned in just slightly, her voice low with amusement. “the modest humility of a tyrell lord, always so humble, yet always the center of attention.” she teased. the quiet reverence in his tone when he spoke of dorne didn’t escape her, nor did the subtle wistfulness in his expression. her eyes, dark and lively, twinkled with amusement as she met his gaze. "is it so obvious?" she asked with a playful tilt of her head. “yes, i am dornish,” she replied with a soft laugh, her voice laced with pride.
There was confidence in him, though he was mindful not to come off as arrogant. That was a trait that had been associated with his house thanks to his father and brother, and the youngest Hightower did not wish to keep that vile inheritance alive in himself. “I cannot —and will not claim your talents as my own, my lady,” he stated simply. With or without a partner to dance with, he'd already witnessed the majesty of her talent in gracefully moving along with the music. It almost seemed like the music followed her rhythm and not the other way around.
On the dancefloor, Gael began leading the Dornish woman in the familiar courtly dance. She was quick to match to the music like one effortlessly matched the inner beat of the heart. “I am. What gave it away?” Was it truly chivalry that made her guess his origin correctly, he wondered. The Master of the Arts posed his question as the dance brought them close together again, one palm landing on the small of her back while his other one clasped her hand. “Will you try to guess my house as well, my lady?” he asked with a hint of a smile before he guided her to spin as the music queued him, gently guiding her to land back in his arms.
“You're Dornish, correct?” he asked then. There was a cultural identity that was so distinct about the people of Dorne and he saw elements of that in her attire, the bangles around her wrist. Based on political conflicts, As a Reachman he wasn't supposed to have much reverence for Dornish folk, but he did. Visiting Sunspear some time ago, he'd been marveled by the culture, the art, the vibrancy of it all. He'd even loved a Dornish lady once. The artist madly in love with beauty sometimes triumphed over the lord in him, as it were. The artist in him was far more present now than the dutiful lord who had a wife who'd expect to see him return to their quarters later.
brows rose at the air of confidence that seemed to emit from his very being. zahra did not mind a partner who didn't know the specific steps, only that they had enough rhythm to follow the lead she eventually would take to, but this lord was different and that alone intrigued her. bangles upon her wrist rang softly as her hand gently gripped his own, allowing him to guide her to the dance floor.
"if you are as good a lead as i suspect, then i do believe my success will be owed to you." she replied, a smile finding itself upon her lips as the music began. while zahra felt somewhat out of place amongst the nobles on the dance floor, she also felt entirely in her element. even if those looked at her in curiosity, or perhaps some, in hatred, there was a strange feeling of yearning for eyes upon her, anyways. years of perfecting her craft had certainly created such a desire within her.
the music began and so did the steps, hers delayed by half a second at first as she observed those around her as well as the lord in front of her, before she fell in step with the rhythm. while they initially began across from each other, the dance soon brought them together again, a hand finding itself upon his shoulder, and the other clasped within his own. "i suspect you are a reachman. i hear you are most chivalrous." she also believed that he were not of the west as she did not believe a westerman would dance so publicly with her, those of the so called new valyria despised her, and the vale seemed far to prudish for his type. "though do correct me if i am wrong."
The lady stood out brightly amongst the sea of silken dresses, wearing an attire that clearly indicated her origin. He didn't think he'd intentionally singled her out in the crowd of dancers because she was Dornish, he'd only focused on her because of the vibrant energy she radiated, her graceful motions, and yes, because of how beautiful she looked. Perhaps something unconscious in his mind would remain inevitably drawn to what never was meant to intersect with him and his house.
Gael couldn't deny there was a certain allure to wearing masks, to the questions and the mysteries. And at least for now, the shedding of duty and concerns that existed for the unmasked version of him. He was no actor or performer, but as a playwright, he certainly understood the power of adopting a character. Tonight he was willing to play with those blurring lines and forget the wife who appeared to despise him so.
“I may not be as accomplished a dancer as you are, my lady,” the lord said, easily giving away that he had been observing her move before, “but I do know these dances very well”. It was part of court life in this region and the Reach, and for once, he was grateful he'd been pushed to learn the steps by the tutors employed by his mother and father. And so Gael Hightower held out his hand, a smile and a subtle tilt of his head inviting her to take it. “Worry not, you will outshine us all,” he murmured as she held his hand, and the Master of the Arts led the Dornish beauty to the dancefloor.
the court seer of dorne took to traveling only when it seemed like it contained opportunity, or perhaps it was asked of her by those within sunspear, who no doubt perhaps would like to have some insight as to what this next gathering would bring. zahra did not believe she need read the stars to believe that the west would not bring much great opportunities for their homeland, but she respected the efforts to make this travel and form whatever alliances they could. she were not entirely privy to the intricacies of the political sphere, but she knew enough to know that an ally to the north was likely being sought, for having partnerships only across the sea would not always do them good.
tonight, however, she indulged in the masquerade, picking out one of her finest lehengas, purchasing the most colorful mask she could find, zahra felt entirely in her element this evening. it were a show, an act, and she put it on very well. despite not often dancing as the westerosi did traditionally, she knew enough of the steps to take to the dance floor on more than one occasion, the ringing her her anklets liking causing some surprise to whatever partner she happened upon.
the music ended and she gave a nod of her head to her most recent companion, before turning to pluck a drink from one of the serving trays. it were then she had spotted a young lord she had seen earlier, as well. she need not remove his mask to believe he was handsome, and zahra had always enjoyed an air of mystery.
"my lord," she responded, head tilting slightly as she grinned. "you certainly may, if you are a good lead. i'm afraid i am not always familiar with these songs." her accent rang, giving way to some of her identity behind the mask.
Closed starter for @dancingshores Setting: Lannisport, The Westerland's. The celebration of Lann's Day is in full swing, with music, dancing, and competitions.
It was a day of celebration and yet he couldn't celebrate anything with the person he'd attended Lann's Day with. He'd asked if Talia wished to dance, and she'd rejected his proposal. He'd asked if she wished to listen to some of the stories being performed, and she'd said she was in no mood for it. Perhaps it was a form of protest from his wife's side, who no doubt saw her marriage as a prison in which both Harlon and him were to blame for her oh-so-horrible fate. She was not the first woman to endure an arranged marriage nor would she be the last. And for gods' sake, she was a Lady of Oldtown now. There were far worse fates to be had in this world.
“Well, I do want to dance, my dear,” Gael stated in a polite tone, a forced smile crossing his lips —no effort going into making the gesture anything else other than what it was: fake. He ought to be more patient, he knew, but at least for the day he'd grown tired of his wife's antics and wished to enjoy something. And so the Hightower lord left Talia in the company of her guards and ladies, disappearing into the crowd.
The Master of the Arts readjusted his mask and headed for the area where lively music was playing. He got himself a drink, feeling some of the tension he'd felt minutes ago begin to dissipate gradually. There was something exciting about seeing masks all around, no uncovered faces. It was a theater performance, almost. Individuals giving themselves permission to let go of certain inhibitions, the chance to feel somewhat freer, all because no one knew who they were. He could relate to that desire today.
Gael took a long sip of his drink, finishing the contents and marched to the dance floor as a song ended and partners were changing. “May I have the next dance?” he asked as he stood before a young lady. He'd spotted her earlier, his gaze inevitably drawn to her for the way she danced.