Post by Olenna Tyrell on Jul 6, 2016 21:24:22 GMT
By now the Faith Militant had at least grown used enough to her presence not to put up that ridiculous show every time she approached the Great Sept. It still might not have been simple to enter and seek out her granddaughter upon a whim, and both Loras and Horas were still beyond her reach, but the High Sparrow, it seemed, had at least stopped making her jump through quite so many hoops for something as simple as a visit. If the old fool had any notion of just how many barbs the Queen of Thorns possessed. He may have thought he’d stripped her of many but the truth would be revealed to him eventually, as they tore at the delicate figure the way they had torn at many before. All that was required was a clear path and for that the Tyrells had long ago learned to employ ‘gardeners’. It was a lesson Olenna believed she had learned before she could even stand tall enough to stroll the fertile soils with her mother to survey the fruits of the Redwynes’ labour, one she planned to employ now to show Cersei Lannister and the High Sparrow just how foolish their attempts to have her family bend were.
Just as there were those who were destined to taste the fruits of the land, there were those whose job it was to tend those fruits, to clear the way for each to bloom. It was one of those she had come in search of today. No doubt the High Sparrow had sent his Septons in to the young man daily, trying to ferret information from him much as they did from any who stepped into the hallowed halls and vaulted rooms of the sept. If he had the wits about him that Olenna had been led to believe he had then he would have stilled his tongue, allowing those in the Great Sept of Baelor to draw their own, rather misled conclusions, the sort that would give them no reason to probe into the lad’s origins, or the reason for him being amongst them. Those were things that she would confirm for herself today and if there happened to then be a little twisting of them on her part then it would be a case of better her than the jackals of King’s Landing. At least she would not see Paxtan Carring occupying a cell as they likely would. The Tyrells were not foolish enough to attempt to bring pressure to bear in such a way, not when cunning and the creeping roots of their own power and influence could achieve just as much.
Gesturing to the handmaiden who had reluctantly accompanied her to the Sept, Olenna approached the room where she had been led to believe Paxton lay, recovering from wounds received prior to his arrival. Turning to the nervous looking young woman, Olenna flipped back the cloth covering the bowl she carried and inspected the contents rapidly. ”I hope everything was well packed, I’d rather not need to ask anything of these lurking sycophants,” Olenna said aloud, not bothering if her words truly were heard. By now her reputation had likely spread amongst those the High Sparrow had gathered to him like lost, biddable children. Half satisfied by the nod given by the young woman Olenna raised a hand to knock upon the door. ”Visitors from High Garden,” she announced through the door before gesturing for her handmaiden to open it for her. This was not her first visit to the ‘needy’, she had never shied from them, not back in High Garden, although her altruistic antics had grown rarer since she had been forced to travel south once more. A grandmother could not expect her granddaughter to set an example that she herself was not prepared to give. Any who knew her would likely not have trusted the smile that drew at her lined lips as her handmaiden scuttled ahead of her, announcing ‘Lady Tyrell, ser’, it held more than a trace of what would likely have had Cersei Lannister drawing back that scrawny neck in consternation.
Tags: @kirby
((Hope this works for you. Feeling a little rusty with posting as Olenna))
Just as there were those who were destined to taste the fruits of the land, there were those whose job it was to tend those fruits, to clear the way for each to bloom. It was one of those she had come in search of today. No doubt the High Sparrow had sent his Septons in to the young man daily, trying to ferret information from him much as they did from any who stepped into the hallowed halls and vaulted rooms of the sept. If he had the wits about him that Olenna had been led to believe he had then he would have stilled his tongue, allowing those in the Great Sept of Baelor to draw their own, rather misled conclusions, the sort that would give them no reason to probe into the lad’s origins, or the reason for him being amongst them. Those were things that she would confirm for herself today and if there happened to then be a little twisting of them on her part then it would be a case of better her than the jackals of King’s Landing. At least she would not see Paxtan Carring occupying a cell as they likely would. The Tyrells were not foolish enough to attempt to bring pressure to bear in such a way, not when cunning and the creeping roots of their own power and influence could achieve just as much.
Gesturing to the handmaiden who had reluctantly accompanied her to the Sept, Olenna approached the room where she had been led to believe Paxton lay, recovering from wounds received prior to his arrival. Turning to the nervous looking young woman, Olenna flipped back the cloth covering the bowl she carried and inspected the contents rapidly. ”I hope everything was well packed, I’d rather not need to ask anything of these lurking sycophants,” Olenna said aloud, not bothering if her words truly were heard. By now her reputation had likely spread amongst those the High Sparrow had gathered to him like lost, biddable children. Half satisfied by the nod given by the young woman Olenna raised a hand to knock upon the door. ”Visitors from High Garden,” she announced through the door before gesturing for her handmaiden to open it for her. This was not her first visit to the ‘needy’, she had never shied from them, not back in High Garden, although her altruistic antics had grown rarer since she had been forced to travel south once more. A grandmother could not expect her granddaughter to set an example that she herself was not prepared to give. Any who knew her would likely not have trusted the smile that drew at her lined lips as her handmaiden scuttled ahead of her, announcing ‘Lady Tyrell, ser’, it held more than a trace of what would likely have had Cersei Lannister drawing back that scrawny neck in consternation.
Tags: @kirby
((Hope this works for you. Feeling a little rusty with posting as Olenna))