◤ alar  orghulis. ◢

        Ever subservient, only where called upon does a man named
    Jaqen H’ghar travel to;  be it across the Atlantic Ocean or in his
    home of Venice, where the  House of Black and White  humbly
 
   stands.

       It is in  Bucharest  that  grim  form  sits longer  than  customary
    within black encapsulation of car as  musings pertaining to future
    assignment  fall  into tranquil mind.  Layers upon layers of beings
    once  known  forged to make  no one.  Present  he  is  physically,
    this man  living under a name  written  on all papers  save a birth
    certificate, but not is he mentally; only the concept of vassalage
    weighs on clothed shoulders, naught else. He flicks his wrist, a
    reminder  of  tangible  presence  when  predominantly  amid
    shadows, ghosts, vessels of beings, and exits his vehicle. 

image

         Thrice he knocks  upon his client’s mahogany door.  The sound
    echoes throughout  the luscious gardens  surrounding  immaculate
    construction, pounding only momentarily against  innermost apses
    of mind. The man holds his hands behind his back and straightens
    his form and  ( quietlyclears his throat and stands feet shoulder-
    width  apart  and  waits  for  the  ensuing,  all  being well  pleasant,
    introduction.

 

[ woundcollector ]

image

Having successfully gotten his attention, Arya tries to melt into
the shadow cast by a nearby wall. Having still more to perfect
in the craft, it’s more wriggling than melting. 

             “Looking for you.” There is a breathy pause between
              the said and unsaid. “Are there other ways to win
              deaths for the Red God?”

                       ◤ alar  orghulis. ◢

        “ A boy should not allow his body to leave the wall’s surface,”
    Jaqen calmly adds, amused in slight by the child’s determination to
    act as he does. ( If she knew only what his body and mind have been
    through she would revoke her curiosity, likely, become disinterested
    with the enigmatic qualities a man possesses.

image

        “ Why concern oneself with the Red God? Death is death, child;
    there is no death higher than another, nor is there a way to ‘win’ over a god.”
    A calculated pause ensues.                                     “The gods are not mocked.” 

 
Title: Lands
Artist: Gem Club
Played: 0 times

the back of my head split wide open
and i saw the look of lands changing
are there riders coming through the dark


 

R U L E

INDEPENDENT
JAQEN H'GHAR
OF GRRM'S
A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE.

Y O U R

LOW ACTIVITY.
MULTI-EVERYTHING.
#INFERUXS

F A C E.

PLEASE READ
LINKS 02., 04., AND 06.
BEFORE INTERATCION.