[center][hr][hr][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Iris%20Flowers&name=Precious.ttf&size=100&style_color=DBA0BC[/img][img]https://49.media.tumblr.com/2b8f18b07136dda2437432bddf6731e7/tumblr_nubpfssOsp1qb64kco1_250.gif[/img] [img]https://49.media.tumblr.com/cbd5e63ef342d4f391eb7717098763a9/tumblr_nubpfssOsp1qb64kco4_r1_250.gif[/img][/center] [hr][hr] It was odd for a sigh of relief to ripple through the mass of strangers as their figures appeared plodding down Roseroad. Not odd because they were strangers, no, for they were certainly not unknown in this part of Westeros. They were the House known for their cunning, their untrustworthiness and their deceit; the name that, alongside Lannister, was shunned from mention: Tyrell. The congregation of travellers had been looking forward to this day for three weeks, which was hardly anything in comparison to some of the other journeys across the land, but it had still evidently brought pain and lowered morale considerably. At the heart of the group was a picture of serenity. A girl, no older than her late teens, sat atop a horse with an expression that betrayed nothing but calmness- a sight puzzling to most. As it always did, the way Iris held her head and maintained her rigid posture despite the restlessness of the animal beneath her practically reeked of superiority. Many a passer-by would stop and stare, only to respectfully incline their heads if her crystalline gaze happened to land upon them. It almost made her smile - being away from her homeland made her so much more precious, so much more important. She had made her reluctance towards this journey very clear from the beginning. Her father, having set up a meal of her favourite sweet treats, had guardedly mentioned his intent to have her shipped off to King's Landing to be married. Her outrage was not a secret, unlike most of her other emotions, and she had expressed it very thoroughly amongst a torrent of insults and swearing. Most unladylike. The solution to her problem? Sex. It didn't even matter who it was with, although it was most likely her fucked-up 'beloved', Elden. The thought brought a brief glimmer of a smile to her angelic features, as her eyes scanned the crowd surrounding her for her bodyguard. The amusement left her expression almost as soon as it appeared as the assemblage of Tyrells drew to a halt outside the infamous Red Keep. Iris's features portrayed nothing but a mild annoyance at the sight of the architectural masterpiece, and she slid from her horse without help. Absent-mindedly reaching up a hand to stroke the stallion's mane, she let the boy seemingly waiting for her approach them, a polite smile playing at her rose-coloured lips. It was from this standing position that it was easy to see the Tyrell in her. From the way her lips turned up in a secretive manner, to the way she kept her hands loosely clasped in front of her, it was clear to see where she had come from. After a second of waiting for her to introduce herself, the boy shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. [color=D8BFD8]"Iris Tyrell?" [/color] [color=FFDAB9][b] "Iris [I]Flowers[/i]." [/b][/color]The maiden corrected with a gentle smile, making to follow the boy into the castle. She didn't stop to give orders, as each Tyrell knew their place and how to help, neither did she stop to wait for Elden, whom she knew -or hoped, secretly- that he would be nearby. The room she was led to managed to get only a quirk of the eyebrow out of the girl, but as her gaze landed on the beast in the room, her mouth formed a perfect 'o' of surprise. Her gaze swept over what seemed to be a bear, and her mind immediately went to Elden, whom she knew would be intrigued by the prospect of having a bear as a pet, what with his love for animals and all. After a long moment of staring at the bear, which now working itself into a frenzy whilst embracing a girl with long black hair whom she assumed to be a Stark, Iris's gaze swept around the room, lingering on each one of the occupants. With a barely audible sigh escaping her lips she muttered, more to herself than anyone else, "This ought to be fun." And, without intending to introduce herself, she made her way to one of the luxurious seats slightly, yet not quite noticeably, apart from the others. It was her automatic place, a seat close enough to be considered part of the conversation, yet distanced enough to not make a contribution to the socialisation.