steeled wolf

RP partner: (writes fantastic starter with intricate dialog and plot settings)

     “Good.” It might not have been easily visible, but Ramsay could feel the thin cut open on the side of his neck, could feel the freshness of warm blood mingling with that that had already darkened and dried. A slight, sharp pain to combat the dull ache, the ringing of his head. 

     Ramsay had always done well with pain, even pain he didn’t enjoy. He could make a game of it, mind over body, his mind against that of whoever wished to harm him. “If you truly don’t want to kill me, you might want to move that knife.” His tone was pleasant, as if he were simply mentioning the weather. “You see, my dear, I could end your fun at any moment were I just to–” he pressed further into the blade, opening a larger cut now. “–lean forward a bit more. Never assume you’re in control. It lasts only as long as you work to keep it.” 

     He sat back in his chair, at least as much as he was able, moving a little away from the knife. “So tell me, my lady, how will we be passing the time?”

     The mere pression of the knife against his skin was enough for her to realize she was drawing blood, although her eyes could not see well in such darkness. That was not a situation that had ever happened in her life, still, it felt so real.

      Her heart stopped for a second, it was not his time of dying -- yet -- however, her hand remained firm, pressing deeply in his skin. She wondered if he would go as far as killing himself just to have the pleasure of contradicting her, of winning this one last game between them two. He was sick, it wouldn’t be a total surprise if he ended up doing it just to spite her. If he did, he would win, but she would not give him the victory of letting him see her shaken. “Yes you could.”, it was her time to lean closer, hand still at the same place. “But you would miss all the fun as well. Is that something you’re willing to let go?” Malicious smile took over her lips. Even at the dim light, at this close he should be able to see it. “I also didn’t take you for someone who gives up easy, Ramsay.” She took longer to say his name, mocking voice, smile still at her lips.

     The knife was removed from his neck, and in a quick movement, thrusted in his leg. “Did you really think I would have left you out? I’m offended.”, with both hands she hold his face up. “I’ve always appreciated your creativity.”

@reekcd

@thenothernwolf

@adamantislupa from x

“Oh, I’m not too worried about it. I’m to be his sister, as you say, and if anything happened to me, they’d have my whole family to deal with. For roses, they can be quite vicious when they like to be.” 

Turning her head to look at Sansa, she smiled brightly. “No need to worry about me, it’s you I worry about. Are you being treated fairly here, do you need anything? My family and I will help you if you need it, I swear.” 

She knew what Joffrey was like, had heard all the horrible tales around the keep and from her sister. The thought of the two being married made her sick to her stomach, but her sister was determined to be Queen, no matter what it took. Even if it may cost her her life in the end.

      Sansa nodded. Margaery was sweet, her friend. She even felt like a sister -- and if everything went well, she may even become her sister for real. However, she was incapable to say if the future Queen would be fierce enough. But she had met Lady Olenna and for the little she knew about her, she doubted she would ever let anyone hurt her family.

     Trysta had all the reasons to worry about the other, considering her situation as a prisoner and how badly Joffrey treated her in the past. Even though he seemed to be distracted by his new betrothed, she knew he still her considered Sansa his to torment.

     “I’m fine.” she wasn’t, but she hoped she would be when she was way back in Highgarden, away from the Lannisters.

Theon pressed a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles, and stood as straight as any prince might be expected to. He was resplendent in the black and gold of his House, having noticeably dressed for the occasion as proudly as any woman might. He gripped her hand gently, his own hands clad in gloves of velvet, and soon wound his other arm about her waist to gather her up to the dance floor with a characteristic grin. He knew the figure he cut in these clothes, with this name. He knew at these feasts he could be every inch the prince Sansa might wish for – until someone better came along.

“Were we on Pyke,” Theon muttered as he lead her through the steps of the dance with a surprising grace. “The feast would last well into next morning. I don’t know why you Stark’s seem to lack stamina.” It was a teasing line, and more than half a lie. At Pyke most would be in a drunken stupor by now, playing at the finger dance, challenging others to fights. What was a feast without blood spilled? Not that he could even remember the bulk of it all… Just his uncle’s presence, his brother’s rebuffs.

“Of course you’d likely prefer King’s Landing, wouldn’t you?” He teased. “A far warmer clime and better dressed company.”

     Sansa was the beauty of her family, the noble girl that seemed to know how to be a lady before she could even say a full sentence. There was no denying that from all the Stark kids, she was the center of the attentions, even more if compared to her little sister, now probably sulking in her place, wanting it all to be over soon. The girl with the long auburn hair, on the other hand, wanted to be there, dwellling on praises and attention. But no more than she desired to be at the court. 

     “Really?” Asked her raising an eyebrow in curiosity. There was no real interest in how were things on Pyke. From all the stories she’s heard, everything sounded dull enough for her to lose interest. But in his arms, it was a whole different story. One she might be interested to hear, if coming from him. “I’m not only a Stark, you know.” In truth, if someone didn’t know her as Ned’s daughter, some may mistake her for a Tully. “Maybe you should take me there one day and see if I’d still be up at morning.” Teasing, she wondered if she really would. Maybe with the right company.

      “You know how much I’d love to be at King’s Landing.” Everybody did. And it was past the point of her father sending her somewhere else.