#orderspride

The   soft   slikt   of   the   whetstone   along   the   length   of   a   short   sword   demanded   most   of   Lucanis’   attention,   feet   kicked   up   on   the   former   templar’s   desk   and   looking   the   very   picture   of   relaxed.   ❝   The   walls   will   keep   most   out,   but   your   guards   are   far   too   comfortable   accepting   drinks   on   duty.   ❞

she has it all wrong and, for a moment, when his gaze is hardest and cullen's jaw has knotted itself with subdued contempt, he considers sharing as much. reminding the inquisitor that not all his opinions stem from someone else's poor choice of words. sometimes, in the bitter, haggard pit of his belly, he allows that awful thing to yawn. stretch out. he meets its gaze and doesn't fight back when honied eyes turn cold on another mage walked through their gates. it doesn't take templar training to see what they're capable of, these days. but in having it.. maker, his fingers flex against tight joints.

" we don't know where they came from, " a weak defense, he knows, but gives it nevertheless. speaks it to the ground he's found so much interest in, hands wringing one another where they hang, between knees, propping his elbows. " you assume they speak the truth about what circle they hail from, but i have my doubts. " and his doubts have him.

the walls are singing, sighing, moaning.. the light dims and flickers, there's a face in the shadows and he's suddenly naive enough, again, to meet it. it smells of honeysuckle and lavender. the tower shrinks. he shrinks. the world is in his cell and he is outside of the world—

how he chafe's his nape with hard squeeze is all that pulls cullen from the memory. not something he's shared at great length with anyone besides cassandra, but what colors his outlook, now, regardless. in spite of himself. in spite or mirevas.

" i'll trust your judgement, but.. " —that trust comes with reservations. it comes with cornered gaze and a tapping boot. all measures that remind him she'd not easily bend to his concerns. no matter how staunch he presented them. in a raised voice or a slammed fist when he forgot himself. in a bitten tongue or an indifferent so be it when he didn't. " ..you'll forgive me if i do not have the same faith as yourself in doing so. i'll leave their dealing with to you and leliana. you're both more.. tactful in conversation with them. " them because they have no names. no faces. they were still, as they have been for decades, one more bad choice away from the very monsters they swore to help fight.

" forgive me, it's been.. a hectic few days. i'm sure a good night's rest will help me see your perspective in the morning. " @dinnanshiral

———————   IT  HAD  BEEN  ANOTHER  BURDEN  TO  BEAR.   deciding to make the attempt to be proactive for once,  to give the people of the north a chance at moving forward & to continue rebuilding that which had been ruined.   her brothers not capable,  brandon with his bad legs & rickon still feral from his time on skagos,  it had all fallen onto sansa’s worn shoulders.   handled with as much grace could be mustered,  intent on staying as honorable as her father while implicating the years of lessons at the hands of people more cruel than she could stomach.   things had been going swimmingly enough,  ravens sent in & out constantly by the maester until finally,  it was settled.   a knight from a foreign land rarely spoken of,  captain of some thing or another she couldn’t quite remember.   winterfell’s first guest in months that hadn’t come begging for food, fabric, warmth,  or all three together. 

it had been an undertaking to decide which spare room to have cleaned and readied,  another to quell the nerves of bran who’d taken to seeing and saying things even she seldom understood,  and more trouble than was worth it to beg rickon to keep his feelings in check  (and a steady hand ‘pon shaggydog’s lead).   finery she’d long since thought lost brought out from hidden compartments,  a stark grey gown stitched together by her own hand,  and servants given their direct orders  --  sansa’d not spared any thought,  intent on making the castle a welcome glimpse to northern life without much sugarcoating.   it’d have served no purpose to dress it up southron,  a disservice to the north’s people if ever there was one.   stood atop at the lord’s seat,  various men and household servants at her sides,  her gaze is directed calmly at the door when the sound of footfalls on stone echoes through.   there are no preconceived notions,  no thoughts that knights must be valiant as they are handsome,  she’d long since discovered the cruelties of armored men.   

for all that she’d not been expecting,  she’s gracious that he’s mannered,  even if the kiss placed upon her hand is uncomfortable at best.   a custom not often used here,  too gentle for the roughness of the people.   at least the blush that settles ‘long her cheeks is light,  not much for being noticed among the dark,  dimmed walls.   she’d shame herself for not losing that foolish habit years ago later.   ❛  a pleasure,  ser cullen.   welcome to winterfell.  ❜   as kind a greeting as she dare offer to a man she doesn’t know,  tone kept gentle yet stern;  a voice she’s practiced day in and day out,  hoping to achieve the same effect her mothers had once had. 

❛  your arrival has been much expected,  ser.   though i fear i am not as well informed about what it is you seek.  ❜   what information had been given was curt,  more vague than she preferred,  but she’d settled her nerves on the insistence she’d be able to get the rest out of him eventually.   sansa was nothing if not confident in the skills she’d learned under the hand of littlefinger.   hands smoothing over her skirts,  a wide smile is placed onto measured features before she gestures to the high table.    ❛  but such talks can wait,  let us sit and break bread so you may know that while you are under my roof,  no harm shall come of you.  ❜   a silly custom to most,  but one she takes to heart  --  guest right was still sacred here,  in spite of lord frey.