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Quaint? There wasn’t much Oberyn knew when it came to the nature of babes; often opting to be anywhere other than near them to avoid getting too familiar. Could never really bring himself to coo and awe while a restless babe kicked and cried, wiggling their new weight in arms strong enough to hold while family and friends and other members of court circled around with unbridled excitement he didn’t enthusiastically share. He was better off being a silent spectator who drank his full of wine and ate red grapes from the fragranced hands of those he’d rather be caught tangled in bed with.
“That’s certainly one way to describe the newest heir,” And while following the other's lead, Oberyn brought his own gilded chalice to his lips, savoring whatever contents were left inside before moving his gaze from off all the silk and satin that carefully cradled their current topic of conversation to meet the eyes of company that was much more welcomed. “Don’t give the bards any idea, though. We’ll be singing about shouting babes striking fear in the hearts of warlord men from now until next Winter.”
Ꮺ open starter : currently uncapped.
slender fingers tap at the body of a silver chalice, with coral lips forming into 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖺𝖼𝖾 at the piercing melody of shrieks & wails coming from the silk-draped cradle. the poised nereid casts a soft gaze towards her nearest company, chewing on her words thoughtfully. “ she's certainly a ... 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 little thing. ” it seems that the gods had not bestowed ellaria with the maternal touch, nor the fortitude for infantile rattle. regardless, she remained blissful for her princess & their 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇. “ with that pair of lungs, she shall surely strike fear into our enemies, one day. ”