from ashes and dust

location: the  winter  market  of  wintertown

it could not be more evident how many southerners were among them. the impractical fashions, the chattering teeth and shaky hands, but most notably, the way the moved about the town as though they were better than what the north had to offer when they were the blood of the first men, traditions going back hundreds of years. it was severely dampening the experience of finally visiting wintertown once more when it'd been far too long since wylla allowed themselves to leave breakstone hill. she walked through the stalls remembering times when she accompanied her lady mother here as a child when an awful screech cut through the buzz of bustling merchants and patrons. wylla draws close to take a look and has to bite back a laugh.

the affectionate touch does not come with ease between them – gilliane remembers lingering by wylla's bed as she haunted the halls of the flint's keep, wondering what it would be like to slip underneath her sister's furs, but she can not remember give in to the temptation. she is glad for the embrace now, however, as wylla still smells of pine and snow and smoke, all scents so familiar to her and so grounding, something she much required in this time. "there is black beer, and even dornish red, if you'd like." the tip of her nose scrunches up. winterfell's stock has never been so full, all at the behest of the king. "we have finally been deemed worthy of southern crops." she says, the bitterness strong in her otherwise placid tone.

it is a rather odd occurrence when reunions between siblings come so few and far between. you start life knowing someone from birth as they slowly become a person, then comes the day when chicks grow wings and fly the nest. the past remains only in memory with a rosy tint of nostalgia. but for wylla, she has remained frozen in the halls of breakstone hill. the days of monotony rolling into one and the older flint wonders if they prefer the routine or rather incapable of another path. with the death of cregan stark, change was upon them regardless of want. "black beer is good enough."

setting: the stables, minutes after wylla's arrival to winterfell, w. @cfashes

"i would not miss this opportunity." for more reasons than simply missing her siblings. the journey wasn't too difficult even if wylla found their mind wandering to worries and complicated matters involving their houses and the north's future. constant nagging worries in the back of her mind, the duty of it all, the need to give specific impressions to the guests from the south when wylla yearned for the solitude of the mountains. still, a smile graces her face as she dismounts. "both are welcomed," she reassures, taking the initiative to draw gilliane into an embrace. "though perhaps something a touch stronger than mead would not be ill-advised."

ENG: 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 💌 In the SOURCE LINK you'll find 878 gifs (268x150) of Zoë Robins in The Wheel of Time (season 1). All of these gifs were made from scratch by me for rp purposes, so please do NOT claim them as your own, repost, or add them to your gif hunts. Edit as you wish, but please give me some form of credit or tag me if you post it. LIKE or REBLOG if you’re using! If you're interested in a commission, feel free to check my blog!

𝐙𝐎𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐒. by clicking the SOURCE LINK, you will find 177 gifs of zoë robins in the wheel of time, season 2, episodes 1 & 2. all gifs were made by me and are for roleplaying purposes only. *this pack will be updated

ada wasn't quite sure what to do. wandering around didn't give her any satisfaction anymore and it was hard for her to find new things to discover or to figure out what happened in regards to her death. 

The customer's 'of course' soothed the tension coiled up in Cora. Even if it was a platitude, the werewolf could sense emotion through instinct and sixth senses rather than logic, she'd learn to take things at face value.

apart from decking the mayor in the town cemetery, emma can't say she's stayed in sparring shape ; storybrooke had been too quaint seaside town to have its own fitness center ( and henry would probably say something about the evil queen wanting to keep her subjects weak and powerless, or something like that. ) so she's off her game - but she doesn't care about form so much as blowing off steam. emma huffs and spins off from the trainer to land a frustrated kick on the post. ' i'm feeling great, ' she grits out, wincing and hobbling as the arch of her foot reminds her what a great idea that outlet was. ' not like it matters anymore. are you usually talking your clients into a therapy session ? '

Cassandra shrugged, rolling her shoulder to loosen some of the tension building. She doubted anyone from home could ever be convinced that she'd talk anyone into anything. Though Barbara and Steph had observed that she supposedly always had a way of cracking people open with a single knowing look. Miss Swan oozed pent up frustration, a fighting spirit unsupported by its body that needed to unlock its buried potential. She felt like a spring wound too tight that would either snap or bend out of shape. Not too surprising, Cass empathized, truly. What was the proper way to mourn your own death? "You risk injury. Makes it worse on body and mind."