#speckledarrows

*raises hand?*

The words came to him with effort at first. Many years had passed since Daario Naharis had last heard this song sung by a better voice and a kinder heart. First he hummed, until the fragments of stanzas and tune returned to him with more clarity. The Tyroshi had never been the best of singers, but sometimes you did not need a beautiful voice to do justice to emotion.

As he trailed off on one end of a line, he heard Sade's small voice and turned quickly on the spot. He was not embarrassed, per se -- just vexed that he had not heard her approach him.

ooc:

                `☆; Mya had lived half of her life in the summer, but she did remember the last winter only vaguely. Cozying up with her mother in front of the hot stone pit located in the cellars--the heat toasting her wool socks before she put on her leather boots or drying her long hair from a washing. So long ago, yet the crisp, snowy air the blew against her face at the base of the valley let those memories be relived in one brief moment as she closed her eyes... and it was almost as if her mother were alive again. But the sound of a man's voice calling to her brought her out of the temporary and out of character daze, her eyes opened, and she was once again only surrounded by her mules, the only warmth her life had to offer.

Whitey looked at her with soft brown eyes, large ears off to the side in relaxation, and seemed to share the bitterness she felt. But even as she stood behind him and amongst the other mules with a pale empty of feed, he did not kick at her and only stared. She let out a huff, perhaps guilty that she had already fed the others before she had gotten to him, her favorite, "Come on, don't look at me like that..." She lifted the pale from the feed trough before retrieving a partially molded loaf of bread she was supposed to give to Lord Royce's horse, tearing off a bit of the soft part in the middle and giving it to the albino mule. He took it without qualms--it was winter, after all, and there wasn't much grass to graze on, hay was going to be scarce all around, and sweet feed was expensive.

As she made her way back into the stables where it was a little warmer, she noticed a stranger standing in the yard--black hair like her own, long and pretty, but a face that was stern and perhaps a bit afraid. Mya set down the bucket just outside the entrance of the barn, not minding the hungry horses protesting as she left them behind. She brushed her hair out of her eyes with gloved fingers, snow flakes melting into the ebony strands, "Are you alright?"

7: Romantic Kiss

Gerion was quite sufficiently drunk with a sword-maiden he had met at the lower docks in King’s Landing. He had bought most of the drinks with his sort of allowance he had received from the Queen, but the amount did not seem to matter to Gerion. They had begun drinking with others, but soon enough they had wandered out of the tavern they had acquired the liquor at and had started walking together.

It was not long before Gerion turned to the young woman with him and pulled her close with one hand around her waist. Before she could reach for her dagger, Gerion’s lips had found hers. His other hand had brushed the hair from her face. His touch was almost careful—though that could have been the alcohol—and he kissed her slowly, as if relishing the moment.