⊰ agreygoosefeather ⊱

Theon continued to stare, something he was sure to be shouted at if caught
by the ever looming presence of Septa Mordane. Had he not come to gain
a slight CHILL from the weather, he would be out in the yard practicing 
with his bow, or simply milling about seeking the attention that young 
women offered. Yet, he was ILL and very much not in the mood to do
either of those things. 

“You make it look so very EASY,” he answered softly. Not wishing to arise
any suspicion. “What exactly is it that you are creating? A sky at dusk?” 
From the distance apart that they were seated and the angle at which 
she held the cloth she worked upon, he could barely make out the small
gold stars that etched across the cloth. “Archery is MUCH easier than 
what you are working on, m’lady, that much I assure you.” A smile 
mimicked Sansa’s when their eyes met for the briefest of moments as
she looked up. He wasn’t TRYING to distract her at all.

          Whilst quietly assured of her own superiority to wild-blooded sister, Sansa nonetheless felt perplexed whenever one of the boys — other than Robb — saw fit to seek her out. She shared none of their boisterous whims nor their aspirations towards valor, as Arya often did; with all her lady mother’s poise the girl instead strove to remain a measured observer, unswayed by the fluctuating humors of men. Though such gentility might render her stoic or aloof towards all activity, indeed Sansa found great joy in her daily occupations, be they lessons, frolicsome jaunts, or sessions of twittering gossip shared with Jeyne. Yet none of those necessitated the presence of Theon, now so studiously bent over one shoulder. 

             Her smile faltered, then brightened ever the more, for Sansa had considered nothing other than how thread and ribbon complimented one another. Had Arya asked, in her belligerent way, what the girl was sewing she would have, of course, spun some fantastic vision held all along. For warded kraken to take such swift, imaginative notice momentarily surprised the girl, courtesy swiftly smoothing over impolite astonishment. “Merely stars,” she admitted sheepishly, tilting the ribbon further for his inspection. “Lady’s collar has grown quite tattered, and I finished septa’s assignment earlier than all the others!” Of course it is, if Arya might excel at it. Yet Sansa stayed her tongue. “Nonsense, for I have seen Bran work quite doggedly with his bow. It must be near as difficult as the sword to master.”

⊰ riiversunderstars ⊱

               ❛ … I was born in the Reach and raised in
      the North. I’m about as much from across the Narrow
      Sea as that tree over there. ❜

          “Pray forgive me then, I meant no intrusion. Though ‘tis
               remarkable you have come so far south of the Neck — all of
               court whispers on how the countryside burns.”