#prodigum

ben dovah

❛[ UNPROMPTED ASKS ≻ always accepting !

“&– - I'd marry you just to divorce you for that alone.” // @prodigum

𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙. at least it feels that way in this very moment. one second, she is having the time of her life with her sorority sisters, the next ; graphic flashbacks of her father's accident. grief doesn't discriminate, nor does it care what you're doing and where. it's like the tide, coming in and out, and when that tide is high, you are sure to be drowning underneath its current. the drink in her solo cup was her attempt at oxygen, though despite how much she tried to resuscitate herself with cheap beer and jungle juice, all sansa achieved was frantic hysterics on top of drowning depression.

she didn't wish to return to school this semester. she swore to her mother she'd go to school at home online, she'd help her with the younger boys. though, as any mother would insist, catelyn stark knew sansa's ambitions in academia were far too deep to put on the back burner. so, here she was. some days sansa is far too distracted with lectures, exams, and charity galas to process it all. though days like today, grief sneaks in when she dares enjoy life.

there is a benefit, however, in all this mess. winterfell state is not just her school - but her older brother's as well. taking shaky breaths, sansa abandons the dorm party, hiking halfway across campus to find robb's room. there is no one else on this campus who knows what she's going through better than him - and these past few months they've been able to provide each other solace, while maintaining a life of somewhat normality. the air is ice, which shoots her with the sobering thoughts that crop tops and short skirts may work for a dorm party, but not in winterfell in the dead of winter. sansa is shaking, though this is more from the distressed sobs leaving her than the cold.

arriving at his door, she raises a delicate and frozen fist to knock thrice. the young girl is forcing deep breaths to calm hysterics and to avoid looking like a drunken mess. prior to her father's death, the only other time robb had seen her like this was after joffrey... she'd hate for his mind to go there, when this was not the case at all. sansa turns her back to the door, desperately trying to collect herself between hiccups and sobs. when she hears the door open, she whirls around, red curls twirling. swallowing, she sees theon - her brother's roommate, best friend, shadow, childhood nuisance... she need not go on.

typically, she'd throw him a snarky comment, sarcasm the fuel between the pair. but right now her feet are on tip toes to see past him, blue eyes scanning the room for any sign of her brother. there is none, which causes teeth to worry on her bottom lip. another desperate sob erupts from her, leaving sansa to do something she'd never consider if fully sober or sane: bury her head in theon's chest and wrap her arms around him. she has no choice but to blubber into him.

“&– - Because everything that you are is everything there is.” // @prodigum liked for a lyrical starter

@prodigum gets a starter! benjen + rickon

Rickon hasn't seen Benjen in years, and yet here he is! Rickon had spotted him in Shaggy Dog's vision while the direwolf had been hunting, and had hurried to summon him back so he could ride out to where he'd last been. Rickon is wearing the greys of a wildling, looking nothing like the young noble he'd once been, and yet he's unmistakably a Stark as he rides Shaggy Dog through the snow.

He slows his approach when he gets closer. He's heard plenty of stories about the white walkers, knows better than to just run up to him, but he wants to. He wants to so badly it hurts.

The way Shion looks at him, the way his eyes look like freshly spilled blood and roses and his hair as white as the falling snow all around them, the way he never hesitates to touch him even after all these years makes him want to burn himself alive. He swallows the urge to slap his hand away on instinct, restraining himself while Shion explains his (understandable) fears. By the time he's done, the freeborne leans in.