Me: Idk What Im On Today - Blog Posts

who: @cfthornsandroses when and where: the verdant concord. context: bard bieber is performing his first show in years.

ruqaiyah had never been more radiant—at least, not this week. the great hall of highgarden had been draped in ivory silks and strewn with floral garlands that hung like lazy serpents from the beams, but truly, the decoration was incidental. the true centrepiece was her. ruqaiyah dayne stood near the front of the crowd, surrounded by sweating, desperate girls and the occasional knight too proud to admit he knew every word to bard bieber’s ballads. she, of course, did know every word. bard bieber was an institution. a cultural reckoning. the last time she had cried tears of joy, it was because he had winked in her direction during a performance in sunspear. and now—now—he was singing baby, and ruqaiyah was transcending.

the moment the minstrels plucked out the opening chords of sorry, she let out an excited gasp that would’ve embarrassed anyone who didn’t already think she was the centre of the realm. her bangles jangled as she lifted both hands dramatically to the ceiling. “you gotta go and get angry at all of my honesty—” she wailed, completely off-key and completely unbothered.

her silk was lavender tonight, barely-there and stitched with tiny mother-of-pearl beads. it shimmered like moonlight, the train pooling behind her like a spilled potion. she danced in place, twirling slightly to the rhythm, her hips swaying far more suggestively than the tempo required. “i know you know that i made those mistakes maybe once or twice,” she half-sung, half-declared, eyes fluttering closed. she tilted her head back, lip-glossed mouth open in heartfelt sincerity. "by once or twice, i mean maybe a couple of hundred times,” she crooned.

and then - disaster.

her heel stopped short. a jolt tugged backwards through her skirt. her eyes snapped open, fury already flooding her veins. she spun. someone—some painfully reach looking, dreadfully mannered girl—was standing directly behind her, her own heel planted on the silk like she’d confused it for a wine spill. ruqaiyah's jaw dropped in disbelief. “i beg your pardon?” she snapped, voice as sharp and clipped as the edge of a broken mirror. “do you—do you have eyes in that sweet little head of yours, or are they decorative?”

the girl blinked, clearly startled. ruqaiyah narrowed her eyes. “you just murdered a train of imported silk from lys, and you’re standing there like a startled sheep at a harvest fair.” she clicked her tongue, tugging the fabric back with a flourish. she yanked her train free with a dramatic flourish, setting her clutch down on a nearby table as if ready to get into a catfight. “this is bard bieber, not a barn dance,” she muttered, fixing the girl with a stare sharp enough to sheer wool. “if you’re going to hover, learn to hover with grace.”