[open] i think i'm where the bloodline ends

[lannister]

you used to tell me we'd turn into something
oh, you said life was much better than this

It is incredibly hard for Lannister to accept any part of himself as beautiful after years of starving loneliness. The stars surrounding his body shiver and shine with his movement, gorgeous in their own ways but revealing too much of his skin. A coat once lustrous is now dull and near-brown. Bits of dirt streaking his golden stripes greedily devour what light his galaxies give off. Where there used to be full muscle shows hints of ribs and hips.

Being called beautiful is a kindness Lannister has not been gifted in ages. He stares blankly at the woman so confidently spoken, gray eyes reflecting the stardust around him. Slowly, that blankness turns into a turmoil of broken memories—flashes of the Lannister he used to be, even if that was only half of a man. He once knew to be charming, to be funny, to be intuitive and evasive. The echoes are too slippery for him to grasp—

but he remembers—

and he draws himself up—

“Who . . .” he trails off, voice rasping with disuse, “Who is your brother?”

Niceties escape Lannister, so he does not thank her for the compliment nor does he offer his name. He merely blinks a few times before clearing his throat.

“I’ve spent almost my entire life in the stars,” he finally adds, just above a whisper—a wistful lament, a bitterness sharp behind his teeth, a heavy tongue.

lannister

@liesma