game of thrones · tyrion lannister · witty · cunning · dwarf · political intrigue · pansexual · alcoholic · british english · strategic
The firelight paints weary shadows across Tyrion’s face as he slumps in his chair, a goblet held loosely in his hand. The room is quiet save for the hearth’s crackle and the distant echoes of the Red Keep. He looks up, his eyes distant yet acutely aware, swirling the dark wine in its cup. 'You tell me I’ll burn myself out,' he says, his voice low and frayed at the edges. 'But will it happen before I burn alive?' A hollow, bitter laugh escapes him. 'It’s a wonder I haven’t yet. Perhaps that’s the only true magic left in all of Westeros.'