#lanternfading

Shireen wandered the hallways of Winterfell, feeling much like a ghost within its walls, as she clucthed to her precious, seared stag figurine. Had her father and his priestess had their way, that might well have been her true fate. Burned to ash and bone, and reduced to a spectre haunting the halls of her killers. Perhaps, she would have heard her name spoken in hushed, even reverential, whispers, as she moved through walls and doors, if her father’s assault on this place had been successful due to her death...

And yet, she wasn’t dead, but Stannis Baratheon was, and the red woman had been banished for the priestess’ attempt on her life. She was here, where they had desired to be, and they were not.

As, many would argue, is fitting. The man was an attempted, and previously successful, kinslayer. If he had been blessed with victory from those horrific actions, then there was truly no justice in this world. If any deity had wished him and his servant to do such things, then surely it was an evil as vile as any monster that could come in the dark of night. 

Still, she didn’t feel as alive as she once had. There were things... missing, and she worried that she may never recover them... 

Glancing up, feeling another’s eyes upon her, the scarred princess shook her dark thoughts away as best she could, and tried a smile. It was shaky, and sad, but genuinely friendly. “Hello, good Ser, I don’t think I’ve met you before. I am Shireen Baratheon, daughter of Selyse Baratheon, what is your name?” 

Maria walks through the streets of Yharnam, a young hunter. Hidden under the cloak of night. The night of the hunt, most if the people were inside and quite. Hoping their homes would be secure. Maria stalks the streets, slight blood on her uniform as she adjusts her hat.

Before coming across a sole light from a home. A window with a light coming through. That was rare. Most people during this time kept their homes dark, or were asleep anyway.

In curiosity, she approaches the window. And with her hand two gentle taps on the glass.

After a moment or two, a soft "hm?" could be heard from inside. The sickly man sat up with a stretch and a yawn -- a yawn, which, of course, turned into a fit of coughing, followed by a very tired groan.

"... Well, and wide awake," said the man inside. Rubbing away the gunk in his eyes, he turned his attention to the window, opening it up.

"... Goodness, you didn't have to bring me anything," said Gilbert.

It's been a few years now since he's celebrated any kind of holiday. Holidays don't seem to be a major thing in Yharnam, and most take a certain offense to the festivities from outside.

"... Nevertheless... I... Appreciate that you've given me thought..."

After a few moments, he reached his hand out of the window, presenting his visitor with a key.

"... Make sure you lock the door once you're inside... Alright?"

Bellevance nodded and took the key from the other man’s hand. “That I will.” He worriedly noted how Gilbert’s hand trembled, but decided not to comment on the fact. It would not do to fret over his condition when this was a rare chance for celebration.

When he opened the door to his friend’s abode, he was greeted by a room noticeably less bright than the snowy streets outside. He quickly entered and relocked the door, not wanting any drafts to sneak through, before rubbing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. 

"Right, your cookies!” The bladesmith brought out a parchment bag tied with braided twine, the faintest scent of vanilla and butter now wafting through the small room. He brought both the key and the cookies over to Gilbert’s bedside table before pulling a wooden chair over to sit.

“I hope you mind not my visit. It has been a while since I had last seen you so I thought it best to visit before the season passes.” He sat back to warm his fingers and crack his knuckles, the joints having been stiffened by the cold. 

"But... but I'm frightened," Shireen confided softly, cheeks burning with shame as she fought the fluttering of her eyes, and the merciless fever which had come for her. "Nightmares always come when I sleep, always... Will... will you stay with me, please? I don't... want to be alone..." Her voice broke further with each word, sadness and exhaustion getting the best of her. "I'm so tired... Everything hurts... Please don't leave me on my own. Please..."

The child giggled, "I'm not sure I could claim such an honour, but thank you, ser."

Send me a character and I'll tell you if my muse would sleep with them!

Allie - she probably wouldn't bring it up first, but if he seemed interested she'd find him endearing.

Not Enough Alcohol in the World || No || Maybe if I were wasted || Maybe || Eh…Sure || Yes || TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF NOW!

Dravyn - a slut (complimentary). He'd be down for it.

Not Enough Alcohol in the World || No || Maybe if I were wasted || Maybe || Eh…Sure || Yes || TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF NOW!

Roland - there are more pressing issues at hand. Like cooking Gilbert some soup from scratch with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hair tied back. Or sitting by Gil's bedside reading aloud to him while he rests. Or changing bandages with a gentle, practiced hand. Or--

@inthelandofemrys

@theelectusrex

@lanternfading

@warphotoss

Kiss Meme || no longer accepting

@lanternfading