After everything that had went on last night, Lanister slept heavily alongside his daughter, just barely prompted into consciousness when Nevayah shook him awake. He groaned, unhappy that he was taken from his peaceful slumber so soon, tempted to just turn over and forget the disturbance... that was, until Nevayah remarked that Izayah was probably outside right now, practicing with his blade. Immediately, the former slave jerked up in his bed, immediately regretting that decision as all the blood rushed out of his skull, causing an intense bout of vertigo and forcing him to flop back down in his spot, trying to blink the stars out of his eyes. Noting that he should probably be out there to stop him, Nevayah placed a kiss on Lanister's cheek, causing him to look over at her and smile, returning the kiss, but this time on her lips, then placing on his sleeping daughter's cheek. This time, Lanister rose slowly, slipping on a pair of sweatpants and a thick shirt to ward him against the chill of the morning. The moment the door to the bedroom closed, Emia's eyes fluttered open, her sanguine eyes fluttering open, realizing that she was in the embrace of her mommy within in her bedroom. The little girl smiled and hugged her mother tightly, feeling nothing but comfortable in the embrace of her parent.
"Good morning, Mommy..." She murmured before letting out a big yawn, her eyes still droopy and still waking up. Little Emia's brown hair was wild, but not crazy, still as curly and straight down her back as it usually was, but a lot of stray hairs poked out every which way. The untidiness didn't seem to bother her though... In fact, she somewhat rebelled in it."Did you sleep well....?"
Lanister stepped out into the chilling (just) morning air, seeing his son stand over by the half-finished fence, picking at his hands. One day, the fence he was leaning up against wouldn't look like it was made from scrap, termite infested scraps.... One-day it might actually look like a fence... But Izayah really shouldn't be picking at his blisters like that... It would likely lead to infection and then where would they be?
"Best stop ripping those blisters open, Izayah." Lanister called, likely breaking his son of his concentration. "You'll get them infected and mommy will have to make a tonic just for you." He walked barefoot upon the fresh dew-laid grass of his land, making his way slowly as he adjusted to the im-POSSIBLY bright morning sun.
"Listen, Izayah. We need to talk." Lanister said, getting right to the point. He reached out and gestured for the sword in his son's possession. "This, my son, is not a toy, you know this?" he asked, taking the blade whether or not it was given. "This is very dangerous. It can hurt anyone one of us... but you are in the most danger. I do not believe you are ready to carry it." Before Izayah could say anything in protest, Lanister held up a hand, commanding him to stop dead in his speech before it even began. "You are young and you can barely hold it up, let alone swing this weapon safely. As a result, you may NOT touch this weapon unless mommy or I are watching you practice. No more getting up this early, and no more spending all day out here, is that understood?" He spoke with a sort of authority that compelled obedience, but more or less, this coming here and explaining this to him was more of a formality than it was a necessity. He knew JUST how much Izayah was like his mother and he also knew how (god-forsakenly) stubborn they could both be. If the little boy was about to start any trouble, Lanister was getting ready to shut it down with parent powers.