❴OTTO HIGHTOWER.❵
@greensought
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✵ 𝔒𝐓𝐓𝐎 ℌ𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫. HAND OF THE KING, * 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ! 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸.
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The Targaryens are—divinity that rivals the grace of the seven; silvery charm of hair, a honour to weave into a braid when * 𝑯𝑬𝑹 Queen allows. Elinda’s hands are empty, fickle, as a tongue spills prayers like thickened honey—𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓.
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History will 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 her, as it knows of the moon’s decay with the sun ravaging the sea of the night. She will reach for 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 && 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑺 —to demand 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 respect in the beloved wilderness gifted by a father, restless.
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There is a 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅 simmering below a tongue drenched in wine; sweet && bitter all the same. His 𝒂𝒃𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 gaze discovers the ( 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹’𝑺 ) body, dragging up from feet slowly, slowly. He scoffs. ❝Aren’t you going to 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 && get upon knees?❞
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She does 𝒏͟𝒐͟𝒕͟ belong on a leash. Baela is hardly a creature to kneel, to sew her mouth shut to please a 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒏 of a king wearing disdain for the * ( 𝑻𝑹𝑼𝑬 𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑹 ). She pities a green queen for knowing a womb full, to know bruised knees for a usurper.
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Dirt spreads from hands searching for life of the soil of the garden; it 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒔 beneath nails. Her porcelain face lifeless, she is a little doll without delight—red painted upon lips, red upon cheeks—blush of decay.
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Green 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒔, a scaly head rising from The ground; a feast of carnage of a little lamb && Baela must run a palm across the flesh of a 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 beast. She hums in song in ancient tongues, clever muscle thrumming with a melody.
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𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 in how her sharp needle weaves with fabric; loose upon a lap. Red thread bleeds into white, a melody spewing from lips. She is cold despite the sticky heat, perspiration clinging to bones much like her twins—a daughter weeping at her feet.
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝑩𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵. a daughter, a sister, a beloved rider of moondancer. find grace in her wildfire; blazing without rhythm or reason. #gotrp / #hotdrp / #mvrp ⋆·˚ ༘ *
Don’t you understand? i can’t be tamed. I’d sooner break my body upon these rocks, to shatter my spine rather than to bend to you——to let you feel how holy my flames are. You are not worthy of my fever.
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There is 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 to be found in the stables, laughter endless—a 𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑜𝒹𝓎 that should not exist in times of ruin. She waltzes with a man, song running dry into a snarl pulling back lips. ❝Do 𝒏𝒐𝒕 go easy.❞ She is Daemon Targaryen’s daughter; something wild +
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❧ 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗟. ☙ ( ♡ for a starter, varying from one line to several tweets. original characters and other verses welcome. please note liking this tweet will mean I may dm you for plotting purposes. retweet to spread the word! )
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𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊; 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇. headcanon inspired sara snow of the ‘ a song of ice & fire’ verse. woven songs of joy in bitterness and damned whispers of honour.
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𝐈͟𝐟͟ ͟𝐨͟𝐧͟𝐥͟𝐲͟ ͟𝐚͟ ͟𝐬͟𝐰͟𝐞͟𝐞͟𝐭͟ ͟𝐝͟𝐚͟𝐮͟𝐠͟𝐡͟𝐭͟𝐞͟𝐫͟ ͟𝐰͟𝐚͟𝐬͟ ͟𝐲͟𝐞͟𝐭͟ ͟𝐚͟ ͟𝐬͟𝐭͟𝐫͟𝐨͟𝐧͟𝐠͟ ͟𝐬͟𝐨͟𝐧͟.͟
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𝓐 daughter is naught but a 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥 to be wielded in the ripe crops of life; a 𝐬͟𝐜͟𝐲͟𝐭͟𝐡͟𝐞͟ to cut away at fruits of labour. 𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍 birthed, now wears the steel of a crown. 𝓟ride belongs to Otto, to see no 𝓬𝓾𝓷𝓷𝔂 upon the throne.
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𝐐ueen && 𝓽rue 𝐡eir. 【 ❛ 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅-𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃.ᐟ ༉ ♡ && ↻ x #mvrp; #hotdrp; #fantasyrp
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𝔄mbition does not 𝓫͟𝓮͟𝓰͟ for weakness. He is a 𝐦𝐚𝐧 tying the knot for the noose to adorn a neck of a house.
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