UNDERNEATH IT ALL, WE'RE JUST SAVAGES | PRIVATE

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It was not often that Margaery visited her bunker room and didn't tightly shut and lock the door. In fact, this was the first time that it was left wide open, revealing the neatly organized bookshelves lined with artifacts and books from times long ago as well as the chests and crates filled to the brim with god knows what. The owner of the collection herself was situated in the center of the room, her back facing the door as she poured over what looked like a finely aged leather-bound journal of sorts.

It was her father's and in it, it detailed a part of her history that she'd rather forget. But alas, it was almost necessary that she read up on it now. She needed to understand the leeches better and more than that, needed to understand what would soon face her in the future. Soon, she could feel it on the horizon. An impending doom. A dark shadow. A beast made of flesh and blood. Ugh.

Releasing a sigh, Margaery would suddenly slam the book shut, a cloud of dust instantly rising and causing her to halfway cough up a lung. [color=#b14767]"This sucks," She commented idly to herself, [color=#b14767]"And I hate my father so much."