one. They pulled her out of the water. This thought over all the others is what stays with Cersei as she walks--gracefully, as befitting of her status, head held high so others will know at first glance who she is, and what an unforgivable crime this is. Nothing in her expression or body language betrays her panic, her paranoia, but every peasant she passes earns an evil glare, if they meet her eyes. Any one of them could be an accomplice, and once she discovers who is responsible…They nearly drowned me.
This is some machination of the imp, it must be, though she’s not so naive as to believe that he is her only enemy. Just as easily it could have been the little rose, promising the right to pluck her to whichever brute who would be stupid enough to make an attempt on her life. (Or kidnap her? She hasn’t yet made up her mind as to which.)
But she’s quite alone here, wounded and with clothes still damp, even as she’s surrounded by strangers. Jaime will hear, he’ll come for me. He must. Until then, lowering herself to speak with others may be a necessary evil. “You,” is how she addresses the first person she sees who seems even half-intelligent. “I demand you show me to the maester here.” For obvious reasons, she’s sure; whatever else has been done to her, right now she feels ill.
two. What should have been just a simple walk has quickly become maddening--and though Cersei is loathe to admit it even to herself, frightening. Haunting laughter of children is following her every step…dead children, she is certain. Everything about this hellish place exists to torment her.
Finally, a source of the sound? She hears rustling, then footsteps coming from the darkened path ahead, view obscured by trees, and summons her courage. An easy thing; she is a lion. “Show yourself, I command it!”
three - merperson. The Starks and the wildlings can change their skin to that of animals: direwolves and gods know what else. Cersei has seen such abominations here by now, wargs and greyscale and things she never imagined. And she’s been made to understand that it will someday happen to her, but never truly believed it. She is a Lannister, the best and the brightest, underestimated by all; the thought that she would actually succumb to this herself was never even entertained.
So she dismissed her unusually strong thirst when it first began as simply another human ailment. Not a day later, she can now be heard wailing and screaming at the first physical manifestation of the curse she’s been placed under: thin flesh between her fingers, like disgusting frogs’ feet. Following the inexplicable urge to move, she runs to the lake, collapses to her knees and plunges her hands into the soft dirt. And when that relieves her agony, she forces herself to hold back sobs.
( ooc: i should add that i'm fine with whatever format you want to thread in! c: )
Cersei Lannister | A Song of Ice and Fire
They pulled her out of the water. This thought over all the others is what stays with Cersei as she walks--gracefully, as befitting of her status, head held high so others will know at first glance who she is, and what an unforgivable crime this is. Nothing in her expression or body language betrays her panic, her paranoia, but every peasant she passes earns an evil glare, if they meet her eyes. Any one of them could be an accomplice, and once she discovers who is responsible…They nearly drowned me.
This is some machination of the imp, it must be, though she’s not so naive as to believe that he is her only enemy. Just as easily it could have been the little rose, promising the right to pluck her to whichever brute who would be stupid enough to make an attempt on her life. (Or kidnap her? She hasn’t yet made up her mind as to which.)
But she’s quite alone here, wounded and with clothes still damp, even as she’s surrounded by strangers. Jaime will hear, he’ll come for me. He must. Until then, lowering herself to speak with others may be a necessary evil. “You,” is how she addresses the first person she sees who seems even half-intelligent. “I demand you show me to the maester here.” For obvious reasons, she’s sure; whatever else has been done to her, right now she feels ill.
two.
What should have been just a simple walk has quickly become maddening--and though Cersei is loathe to admit it even to herself, frightening. Haunting laughter of children is following her every step…dead children, she is certain. Everything about this hellish place exists to torment her.
Finally, a source of the sound? She hears rustling, then footsteps coming from the darkened path ahead, view obscured by trees, and summons her courage. An easy thing; she is a lion. “Show yourself, I command it!”
three - merperson.
The Starks and the wildlings can change their skin to that of animals: direwolves and gods know what else. Cersei has seen such abominations here by now, wargs and greyscale and things she never imagined. And she’s been made to understand that it will someday happen to her, but never truly believed it. She is a Lannister, the best and the brightest, underestimated by all; the thought that she would actually succumb to this herself was never even entertained.
So she dismissed her unusually strong thirst when it first began as simply another human ailment. Not a day later, she can now be heard wailing and screaming at the first physical manifestation of the curse she’s been placed under: thin flesh between her fingers, like disgusting frogs’ feet. Following the inexplicable urge to move, she runs to the lake, collapses to her knees and plunges her hands into the soft dirt. And when that relieves her agony, she forces herself to hold back sobs.
( ooc: i should add that i'm fine with whatever format you want to thread in! c: )