[center][img]https://49.media.tumblr.com/33c1ebf0c0f4854e84bb5032b8036485/tumblr_mn0n1yNOfk1rmnmfuo4_250.gif[/img][/center]

[center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Aeryn%20Sand&name=My%20Boyfriend%27s%20Handwriting.ttf&size=50&style_color=992400[/img][/center]
Interacting: [@ViolentViolet] [@BlackPanther]

Aeryn’s light brown eyes looked Talea up and down at her question. He smiled when she suddenly patted his shoulder, the wards needing to enter the king’s throne room and bow and kneel, scrape and kiss immense amounts of ass. Aeryn wished that he were able leave and perhaps go on another contract at times like these. But he enjoyed this cushy job and it did give him chances to be an incorrigibleass to some people.  Sand rolled his eyes and shoulders, almost in unison. A tick he had developed that showed when he was bored. He stepped in line with Myriah as the wards followed the Targaryen Princess. 

-

Aeryn could not help but sigh at the Kings speech. His hand was on the hilt of Mongrel, the bastard sword that his father had helped him forge as he began his work as a sellsword. The leather grip under him scarred fingers was a calming sensation. The lazy eyes of the Dornish Sellsword flicked from wards, to the Whitecloaks that lined the front of the dias that held the Iron Throne. He could not help but smirk at the stuffy and righteous Knights, especially at the one that he knew one of those oh so virtuous knights was sleeping with the absolutely not virtuous Blackfyre. He had seen the two, enjoying each others company, more time than he cared to admit. Partially because the sellsword wished Illysia for himself. No, not partially. Absolutely. His teeth ground together slightly as he watched the Blackfyre sit idly near her father. He couldn’t help watch her. He shook his head, as if attempting to get rid of the attraction and clear his head.

 Time passed, Aeryn watched all the wards file out towards the promise of breakfast. He remained in the throne room, an effort to return the missed conversation with Talea. Tiras Rivers and Illysia had began talking by him. 

The Sellsword cleared his throat “[color=9e0b0f]Illy[/color]” he smiled at the Blackfyre, using the name he had given her at the moment they had met in absolute disregard for any and all concepts of social constructs “[color=9e0b0f]I should be able to show Rivers to the garden, I suspect you have other people to please[/color]” his brown eyes flicked from Illysia’s purple back towards the line of Whitecloaks and the King.