Kyra is bored Who: Kyra Tyrell (w/ Mark Florent), whoever else would be near the godswood. When: Day 15, noonish Where: The Red Keep Rating: R because it's Kyra. Status: OPEN
Mark was following her every movement like a proper shadow. She could have had Tyrell guards, but she'd given Osmund tears and more tears as she pleaded with him to understand she didn't know them and Mark was more than enough of a guard. He was practically a fostor brother and he was her brother's squire- left with her to guard her, after all... How could she be any safer than that? He'd given in but he'd also said something about how she really must become more at home in High Garden, and after they left Kings Landing it would be time to begin their life together properly.
She was really going to have to do something about her husband. Wasn't it enough that she slept with him? What more could he want? Kyra sighed. Life would have been sweeter if he could have just caught the plague like a good boy.
She was on her way to the Godswood to see if a bit of prayer might help her feel closer to home, and closer to an answer about Osmund. Worse, she really needed to get out of the castle. Her knives were singing sweet songs of blood and bone and she wanted to see what tunes they could play, the art they could make of some useless hide.
Mark made a sound and she turned- he'd heard someone coming. He really was a good puppy now. She'd told Moran he would be. She smiled at him proudly. If they had been in her rooms she would have gone and traced the lines on his back, but as it was, she contented herself with brushing her hand on his arm. Mark's eyes widened but he didn't say a word. He wasn't a very expressive puppy. Except sometimes at night... or when he was slick with blood. It loosened his tongue as sweetly as wine.