.
in the shadows of war the eyrie had stood tall and stoic during the dance, its craggy peaks a fortress against the fighting. yet, for rosa, it had been a haven, shielding her from the grim realities of what war brought to many people. now, the landscape had shifted. no longer hidden seclusion of her mountainous refuge, she stood amidst the chos, a queen bearing witness to the all of it.
the weight of responsibility pressed upon her but one she would not cast aside. she was a queen, entrusted with lives to safeguard, their hopes and fears mirrored in her gaze. no longer could she shy away, for she had owen's trust and right now that was more important than anything.
amidst the whirlwind of activity, she moved with a grace born of purpose. conversations flowed like a river, each word a bridge to understanding thechallenges that confronted her realm. the influx of refugees into winterfell, demanded her attention. yet, she navigated this sea of concerns with the steady helm of a leader.
her exchanges with some of the elder lords had concluded just as xia-li's voice resonated through the air along with the promise of a moment's rest with her lady in waiting. "of course," rosa affirmed, placing a gentle hand on the ladies shoulder to lead them to a more private area. in xia-li, she found not only a confidante but a vital advisor. her ladies in waiting were more than attendants; they were the pillars of her inner court. her friends, her adviors her confidons.
"thank you," she responded, her hands signing along to her words as she spoke. "i will plan to meet with them soon. there will be much to discuss. you're welcome to accompany me later. your insights on the arrivals from fir hold are invaluable. i trust in your judgment."
𖥸 starter for @rosaaaryn, set in winterfell during relief efforts 𖥸
shes been here before. the sense of urgency, anxiety, and uncertainty that comes with times of war. xia-li was much younger when the dance began. a wide-eyed adolescent, who knew nothing of the threats loomimg in darkened skies. she'd lived her life in a rose-colored bubble for so long that when conflict struck the north, she could hardly make sense of the chaos that had ensued. shouldnt she be more prepared now that shes a woman grown? she's been here before. so why does she feel as shaken as she did then?
time to dwell on personal afflictions is few and far between for the lady of fir hold. there are refugees to tend to, people whose own fears far outweighed the ones that keep her hands in a subtle shake and a queen that depends on her help to comfort them. "your grace, a word if i may?" the ladys request is rushed, but she still feels relief in rosalyns presence. a particular picture had been painted for her of what a lady-in-waiting should be, one burned into her memory by parents and siblings alike. she was fully prepared to put on the same facade that she was forced to adorn when in the presence of her peers. that was until the discovery that her queen preferred who she truly was to the mask she'd broken and pieced back together so many times that it was nearly unrecognizable. she feels like herself in winterfell, she feels at home.
"your audience is requested to address the influx of refugees arriving. most of them have been placed and fed, but his graces men need guidance with their rationing."