The Setting Sun, The Burning Flames (OPEN)
Apr 19, 2013 0:49:54 GMT
Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2013 0:49:54 GMT
The sun was setting in Westeros. It hung for a moment above King's Landing, framing the Red Keep perfectly, and then began to sink beyond the Narrow Sea, where the myths of the east said it descended beyond the Shadowlands of Asshai, where the Doom still ruled in Valyria. Donarion had lit a fire and was chanting slowly in Asshai'i, praying to R'hllor to cast down the shadow and bring back the light.
He and his followers had made camp outside King's Landing, within view of the kingsroad. The eight men were gathered around the fire, kneeling in the directon of the sun as Donarion chanted. As he finished speaking, the sun sank beyond the sea, and the flames became the only solace in the dark night. He looked around at his followers.
They were arranged around the fire in a semicircle: Thyvos Flan, the Braavosi, and his twin, Sytos. The estranged hedge knight Ser Vayden Thorn. Cleros Grey, a squire from Dorne, and Grelin Storm, bastard of Dragonstone. There was Hedric, the slow, yet powerful man who served Ser Vayden. The silent, lurking Rhysion, the Asshai'i warrior who owed Donarion his life. The last of their motley band was a wizened old man who spoke not his name, but said only that in years long gone by, he had loved the Lord of Light, and still did so.
Donarion surveyed them all once more, then, with a flick of his wrists, dismissed them, and slowly lowered himself into a sitting position, staring into the flame. His was the first watch, and indeed, all the watches. He was the flame in the night.
He and his followers had made camp outside King's Landing, within view of the kingsroad. The eight men were gathered around the fire, kneeling in the directon of the sun as Donarion chanted. As he finished speaking, the sun sank beyond the sea, and the flames became the only solace in the dark night. He looked around at his followers.
They were arranged around the fire in a semicircle: Thyvos Flan, the Braavosi, and his twin, Sytos. The estranged hedge knight Ser Vayden Thorn. Cleros Grey, a squire from Dorne, and Grelin Storm, bastard of Dragonstone. There was Hedric, the slow, yet powerful man who served Ser Vayden. The silent, lurking Rhysion, the Asshai'i warrior who owed Donarion his life. The last of their motley band was a wizened old man who spoke not his name, but said only that in years long gone by, he had loved the Lord of Light, and still did so.
Donarion surveyed them all once more, then, with a flick of his wrists, dismissed them, and slowly lowered himself into a sitting position, staring into the flame. His was the first watch, and indeed, all the watches. He was the flame in the night.
