it  catches  beron  off  guard  for  a  moment,  so  much  so  that  his  eyes  lift  from  where  they  are  focused  on  his  hands  to  meet  the  dark  brown  of  the  lady  before  him.  normally  people  did  not  have  an  interest  in  what  he  did,  they  would  look  for  a  moment  and  then  move  on.  they  had  no  need  for  the  little  figurines  he  could  craft  with  his  eyes  closed,  no  need  for  decoration  that  was  made  by  someone  who  was  not  important  enough  to  remember  most  of  the  time.  sure,  his  stature  left  people  looking,  but  it  was  rare  that  he  was  remembered  for  anything  else.  though  it  is  not  that  he  wishes  to  be  remembered,  no  at  all.  beron  would  prefer  to  fade  into  obscurity  than  have  the  realm  keep  his  name  in  their  history  books,  but  there  is  a  sort  of  gentle  thrill  that  runs  through  him  at  the  thought  of  his  carvings  sittings  on  tabletops  and  mantles  throughout  the  kingdoms. "do  you  like  bears  then,  m'lady?"  beron  continues  his  work  while  attempting  to  keep  eye  contact  with  the  woman  before  him,  carving  lines  of  texture  to  mimic  the  fur  that  the  creatures  of  his  home  possessed.  "they  are  plenty  where  i  am  from  —  my  favorite."  it  feels  like  too  much  information  to  share  with  someone  he  does  not  know  and  he  can  feel  the  embarrassment  of  doing  so  creep  up  on  him.  "i  would  accept  just  a  handful  of  coppers,  but  i  would  not  feel  right  even  taking  that  when  i  have  yet  to  finish."  a  sheepish  look  sets  on  his  features,  "is  there  anything  else  you  like?  or  maybe—"  beron  pauses,  wondering  why  he  is  even  thinking  of  offering  the  suggestion  in  the  first  place,  but  like  most  things  that  beron  does,  the  words  tumble  out  clumsily  anyways.  "i  could  teach  you  to  do  it  yourself?  in  a  safe  way  that  will  not  become  a  mess."

“  no,  no.  a  few  coppers  would  not  do.  what  can  i  get  for  a  stag  ?  ”  sansa  asked,  prepared  to  carry  her  haul  back  to  the  allotted  quarters  cradled  in  her  arms.  “  i  can  just  come  back  for  the  bear  so  that  you  will  not  feel  rushed.  ”  declared  as  his  offer  hits  the  air,  eyes  going  wide  in  surprised  excitement.  “  really  ?  you  would  do  that  ?  “  her  grin  stretches  her  cheeks,  crinkling  her  eyes  as  she  nods  quickl  as  if  he  will  rescind  the  offer  if  she  takes  too  long.  ”  yes,  please  !  a  stag  should  cover  that  too,  right  ?  "  

she  reached  up  to  where  he  had  gestured,  patting  about  soft  curls  to  pull  the  stick,  brush  leaves  to  her  shoulders  then  off  her  person  entirely.  “  then  it  was  not  a  very  strong  oak  to  begin  with,  “  answers  with  another  laugh,  head  craning  to  look  back  up  to  the  branch  she  had  rested  on.  "  though  seated  up  there  i  had  no  way  of  telling.  i  did,  yes.  i  wished  to  see  the  statue  in  its  entirety  …  i  have  decided  it  does  not  look  much  like  him.  “  shoulders  lift  in  a  light  shrug.  a  man  she  had  seen  in  person  perhaps  twice,  but  looking  different  in  her  mind's  eye.  ”  i  also  saw  a  stall  with  cider  !  do  you  want  one  ?  "      

the  smile  froze  upon  her  lips,  a  slight  narrowing  of  both  brows  and  eyes  followed.  the  attempt  to  place  him  as  someone  known  to  her,  having  to  resist  circling  him  as  if  the  stretch  of  his  shoulders  or  a  different  view  would  jostle  something  from  memory.  “  i  am  …  ”  somewhat  slow  to  answer,  her  quick  list  of  ironborn  she  was  aware  of  not  offering  aeron.  “  have  we  met  before,  my  lord  ?  i  apologize  if  we  have  i  do  not  remember.  it  must  have  been  in  a  tavern  or  some  such.  ”  a  more  delicate  way  to  assume  that  she  had  been  intoxicated  with  spiced  wine  settled  in  the  pit  of  her  stomach.  “  oh  !  perhaps  it  was  in  gulltown  ?  yes,  that  must  be  it.  i  knew  i  would  remember  —  it  is  lovely  to  see  you  again.  ”   

the woman is a fair one, she notices, with the poised way in which she treats the salesman – for all of her nonchalance, it makes cerelle stand more firmly, more comfortable. "you are to give it to another?" she couldn't imagine such generosity; it is certainly not a trait she knows from most nobles. "there are better wares just a few stands back, if you want to rethink your purchase. some of the rivermen have brought their river's gold." the price was more expensive, but the quality wasn't as bad – at least as far as there would be around, since she can't see any westerman around. "and a topaz would look fine in contrast with your eyes, my lady."

a  light  hum  of  agreement  in  response,  taking  the,  now  packaged,  necklace  between  her  two  palms.  “  yes.  to  one  of  my  siblings,  perhaps,  or  one  of  the  handmaidens.  there  is  still  a  use  for  the  gold  that  is  not.  ”  minisa  means  it  as  a  joke,  the  smile  flashed  towards  cerelle  soft.  “  i  have  no  need  of  rethinking  my  purchase,  my  lady.  i  am  not  in  search  of  something  better,  as  you  phrase  it.  the  north  has  suffered.  ”  so  many  had,  portions  of  her  own  riverlands  only  just  beginning  their  recovery  —  but  what  she  could  aid  to  others,  she  would.  “  i  am  in  possession  of  topaz  already,  but  have  chosen  not  to  wear  it  for  such  somber  occasion.  is  it  that  you  are  surprised  someone  would  desire  for  something  cheap,  or  that  you  do  not  believe  he  should  receive  coin  for  his  effort  ?  ”  

as he approached a post to lean on, he watched someone throw the hammer and could not help but say some commentary on it to the person who stood near him who did not ask for this. " is it a little sad i can feel pity for the liege? all the muscle on him and yet he cannot throw the hammer any farther than a young child would throw their toy when they are having a tantrum. shameful really." dominic said sarcastically.

sansa  reclined,  content  with  watching  now,  one  hand  up  to  shield  her  eyes.  “  perhaps  he  does  it  more  for  fun  than  for  sport.  ”  she  had  not  signed  up  for  any  of  the  games  that  required  strength  alone  (  tug  o'war  a  group,  after  all  )  but  had  taken  enjoyment  in  watching  others  compete.  the  few  practice  throws  she  had  taken  gone  barely  further  than  the  tips  of  her  shoes,  yet  happy  all  the  same  as  if  she  would  be  declared  the  winner.  “  or  he  has  won  the  game  before  and  wishes  to  give  another  the  chance  to  come  out  victorious.  either  way,  he  looks  to  be  having  a  nice  time.  will  you  attempt  to  best  him  ?  ” 

he  did  not  think  what  he  had  said  required  challenge,  unsure  of  what  he  had  voiced  was  not  true.  a  higher  vantage,  seats  offered  to  those  that  wished  for  them  rather  than  to  stand  far  enough  away  to  see  little,  and  be  unengaged.  “  how  can  one  be  in  the  way  in  a  field  ?  ”  ample  amounts  of  space  both  next  to,  in  front  of,  around  him.  the  proposed  idea  of  it  comical  enough  to  comment  upon.  “  i  am  unsure.  i  do  not  have  the  desire  to  join  and  did  not  listen  when  they  were  explaining.  ”  he  glanced  around  briefly,  pointing  towards  where  bodies  had  gathered  in  a  clump.  “  most  likely  over  there.  ”  where  they  had  either  chosen  their  teams  or  were  in  the  process  of  doing  so.  

he  allows  his  gaze  to  track  over  the  princess's  features  then  back  to  the  glittering  statue,  tracing  over  the  clean  lines.  an  objective  thing  of  beauty,  yet  the  voice  of  his  father  rung  clear  in  his  head.  all  that  looked  pleasing  to  the  eye  not  what  it  seemed  —  what  glittered  not  gold. “  i  would  assume.  ”  had  often  felt  as  though  if  the  war  itself  would  not  be  his  death,  it  would  be  the  heated  sands  with  their  choking  nature.  each  time  a  retreat  allowed  for  them  to  return  to  the  stormlands  he  took  to  it  with  a  vengeance  …  and  now  they  were  here.  “  i  have  little  interest  in  games.  i  wanted  to  see  the  statue  without  many  bodies  around  to  allow  me  a  better  look  and  pay  my  respects  to  a  man  whose  legacy  preceded  him.  ”  someone  that  he  could  look  to,  difference  of  regions  be  ignored,  especially  when  he  had  gone  into  combat  with  his  ilk.  “  am  i  interrupting  you  ?  ”   

“  people  are  tall.  ”  simple,  a  gesture  towards  the  guard  a  punctuation  to  her  point.  “  i  could  not  see  as  well  as  i  wished  to,  even  when  they  moved.  i  found  a  solution.  i  have  seen  the  statue  in  its  entirety,  and  have  found  a  stall  with  fabrics  that  have  more  vibrant  colors.  "  counterpoint  to  the  mud  and  gray  of  the  skies,  her  foot  path  intended  for  it.           

“  i  had  expected  to  come  north  on  a  job,  ”  he  confessed  quietly.  the  smattering,  reckless  thoughts  of  a  man  annoyed  with  his  circumstances  and  the  desire  to  disappear  from  it  all.  “  i  sorry  for  your  loss,  friend.  i  know  it  does  little  to  help  especially  with  these  …  ”  insult  was  scathing  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  swallowed  for  something  less,  “  visitors  here  to  make  a  spectacle  of  it.  ”   

“  aye,  much  time  has  past.  to  be  expected,  as  i  no  longer  have  business  in  dorne  and  find  little  desire  to  return.  i  suppose  one  can  only  enjoy  blood  drenched  sands  for  so  long.  ”  a  turn  of  his  head  to  capture  the  princess  in  his  gaze,  voice  void  of  emotion,  expression  neutral.  as  if  they  were  in  discussion  of  the  weather  rather  than  double  marriage  to  the  very  same  that  spilled  their  blood  and  vice  versa  in  battle.  “  i  am  not  a  knight,  and  am  undeserving  of  the  title.  ”  those  that  would  hold  to  their  values  regardless  of  what  the  royal  family  would  do, who could temper their emotion and hold fast even when faced with questions that contrasted their morals.  “  lyonel is  fine. should you wish to give me name.  ”  he  did  not  think  any  of  the  dragon's  kin  would  keep  the  desire  to  for  long.

“  no.  ”  allows  the  word  to  hang  in  the  air,  uncaring  of  whom  it  hits.  the  statue  erected  was  a  symbol,  to  be  sure.  one  of  riches  that  had  not  been  offered  to  help  the  ailing  old  man,  a  name  that  struck  recognition  across  the  realm  regardless  of  alliance.  raised  in  a  house  that  espoused  loyalty  above  all,  the  former  dragon  kings  had  shown  it  meant  little.  if  they  thought  that  something  like  this,  something  that  could  be  knocked  down  and  trampled  in  the  same  sort  of  wars  that  he  and  countless  others  fought,  they  were  further  aware  from  their  reputation  than  he  once  supposed. a  balm  that  was  rotted  to  its  core  and  he  was  not  the  sort  that  would  coo  in  approval  of  something  he  was  staunchly  against.  “  it  is  the  opinion  of  the  starks  rather  than  myself  that  matters,  though.  ”  he  may  not  have  seen  them  in  some  time,  but  lyonel  was  doubtful  that  display  was  one  that  they  would  appreciate.