THE KIDS AREN'T ALRIGHT !

𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒  ,  𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍  &  𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐁 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒  ;  dappled evening sunlight streams through the breaks in dense foliage  &  warms the girl beneath  ,  poised in supplication amidst dragon’s breath blossoms  .  she appears as though a statue of marble  ,  immobile  ,  as if patiently waiting for nature to reclaim what was once earth  ,  what will be again  :  smokeberry vines tangled around her throat  ,  her mouth full and choking on crimson petals  .  it is all red here  . the plants  ,  the stone  .  she wonders if it’s a testament to all the blood that’s been shed  .  the news of queen daenerys’ death hovers over all of them like an omen  —  a swift blade in the hands of an executioner  .  they are the condemned  .

it’s not prayer  ,  for the fallen queen or otherwise  ,  that she partakes in  ,  though one would assume such from appearance alone  .  the facelessness of the supposed heart tree has left her awash in fear even stronger than previously thought  .  there is something stilted and dangerous about the clear irreverence displayed here  ,  in a place where they are claimed to be welcome  .   her stomach twists anxiously  ;  all she can see is the statue of lord eddard stark  ,  still  &  solemn in their crypt  .  he had been here once  .  he had died here  .  the beat of her heart hitches in fright for her family  .

it would be better to call it conversation that she engages in  ,  lilting  ,  stilling only to revive again  .  as her thoughts drift in between reality  &  obscurity  ,  wind rustles through the leaves overhead  ;  in it  ,  she hears her father’s tired  ,  gently chiding sigh  ,  and so she hums apologetically in response  ,  quiet and tentative  .  she can feel the old gods here  ,  even with the false heart tree  &  the blood of broken smokeberries staining the front of her silken dress  ,  fingers twisting in the grass &  stems of the lily  -  like flowers surrounding her  .  not a godswood  ,  but a garden  .  not a girl  ,  but a lone phantom  .

until another comes to haunt alongside her  .  she does not need to see him  ,  hear him  —  she needs only look to her heart and know  .  gaze does not flutter  ,  no move is made to turn towards him  .  it is unnecessary  .  they need no indication  . “  hello  ,  victarion  .  ” in her voice  ,  a smile trills  ,  a bluebird’s song on spring’s first morning  .  it is  ,  with little doubt  ,  the first and only she has worn today  .  the wind stirs again as if murmuring acknowledgement  ,  and her chin tucks atop bare shoulder to greet him with a fond gaze  .  he is a jagged shadow in the glow of the sunset  ,  hovering between towering elms  .  were she able  ,  she thinks she’d like to paint him here in shades of vermillon &  sable  ,  a wraith amongst men  .  “  if i try hard enough  ,  the petals of the dragon’s breath  —  ”  she offers up an aforementioned flower to receive his judgement  ,  stem weaved between her trembling fingers  . “  —  could be weirwood leaves  ,  don’t you think  ?  ”  it is the gentlest form of complaint one could hear  —  spoken as such that one might never realize it was a complaint at all  ,  if they did not know her  .

@wildlingsblood  .

WHITE HOT ,  BLARING IN THE SKY ,  the sun rained golden rivers over everything and painted the world  yellow  .  there might have been something magnificent about it ,  but vic had seen the morning light hit the fresh snow ,  sending  diamonds  sparking into a dangerous dance .  there was something about diamonds that made gold seem so dull .  it seemed strange that the sun was still shining on a day such as this ,  where a  gloom  hung over the city like a thick fog .  the queen was dead ,  and while vic had never held any love for her ,  this was the last thing he expected ,  the last thing he  wanted .  it was supposed to be a quick trip south ,  then back up the kingsroad to a castle in the snow where nothing  ever  had to change .  but now  ?   everything  was about to change .

the sun ,  it seemed ,  would  always  shine in the south where there were no snowstorms to block it out and no long nights where one could forget it’s face .  the sun did not care that it was  raining  within the walls of the red keep ,  tears carving rivulets into the ancient stone .  vic did not shed any tears ,  he said the proper words and hung his head when he fancied ,  but he did not cry .  he did not know the queen ,  did not care for her ,  and besides death meant something different in the north .  he did  worry ,  though ,  not because he suspected  foul  play .  he held it as a possibility ,  strange that death would come when so many new faces surrounded her ,  but death  was  strange . 

he would take this all in stride ,  one step at a time ,  and the first step was always finding rowena ,  being  certain  she was safe .  he was not with her always ,  though he might have  liked  to be ,  for only then could he  always  be certain .  even away from her ,  his mind always strayed to her and here ,  behind the strong walls and the safe swords of the city watch that could hardly be purely on the concern of her  safety .  upon finding her room empty ,  he set out across the vast castle gardens to find her .  a shadow raced between the manicured foliage ,  wide eyes peeking out behind the green .  “ crow , ”  he greeted ,  immediately searching behind the dog for her owner ,  who it did not seem was following .  “ where’s rowena ? ”

and like that ,  she was off ,  to find her person ,  his person , and he followed closely behind .  and as always ,  she led him  right  where he wanted to go .  he waited for her to notice him ,  she always did somehow ,  though he said nothing ,  made no sound ,  but she turned to look at him .  the old gods were not here ,  vic felt no sense of  holiness  and the look in  rowena’s eyes told him she agreed .  “ a poor imitation , ”  he admits ,  face contorting in distaste for only a moment ,  until he thinks better of it and meets her gaze with a smile .  “  but we won’t be here much longer ,  i promise .  i won’t let them keep us any longer than necessary . ”  he is worried about her ,  of course he is worried about her .  but ,  for her to come here ,  well it could only mean one thing .  “  are you alright  ? ”

Sofina dreaded this day. As much as she tried her best to be more sociable with others, it was exhausting, to say the least. Of course, her demeanor always seemed approachable, and even if she wanted to look more solemn she simply couldn’t. She made nice with all she spoke with, but she longed for the day to be over and to curl up in her room with a good book. Chatting with one or two people whose company she enjoyed was one thing, but this was a rather large event and she could barely name a handful of those around her.

She found some wine, thank the gods, and took a long sip of it, hoping to use the liquid courage to power through the rest of the day. As she wandered more she found a more quiet place to sip her drink and take a breather. She soon realized she wasn’t alone as the sound of music in the distance began to play and nearby a man made a rather humorous comment. She couldn’t help, but laugh. “Now, now, not all southerners have such terrible taste.” Sofina replied, finding the wine to work it’s way to her cheeks already as they became flushed. She could usually handle a cup or two without much change, but this was some sort of concoction she hand’t tried before.

he hadn’t heard the other approach over the loud voices of the nearby lords and that awful music still going ,  she moved rather quietly .  if he had seen her ,  perhaps he might have watched his tongue ,  but he was lucky to see no offence painted her features .  after all ,  not all those in the south were ,  per se ,  southerners .  he smiled at her ,  a genuine smile for the connection they’d already made in these brief moments .  “  ah ,  yes ,  just as not all northerners have lost their sense of humor . ” 

it was said it was so cold in the north that a man’s laughter could freeze in his throat ,  and he could choke on it ,  and that was why ,  perhaps everyone was so solemn .  to victarion ,  though ,  it seemed that there were simply different priorities in the north and not that joy was not one of them ,  but it was celebrated in a different way .  that was not to say ,  however ,  that northerners were not raucous ,  it was rather easy to pick their voices out of a crowd .  but the crowds were usually smaller ,  less extravagant .  “  the wine is ... truly something ,  though . ”  it wasn’t a lie ,  though the flavor was very foreign to vic ,  who was far more used to ale ,  though he wouldn’t say he enjoyed it .

it seemed half the day before he found a moment to slip away ,  not  alone ,  but where the noise was just quiet enough for him to hear himself think ,  and something else ,  distant ,  which sounded distantly like the yowling of a cat .  “ gods , ”  he breathed ,  only just hoping no one would hear him .  “ is  this  what southerners call music ? ”

yo yo yiggity yo! whats up homies im cal & i would actually die for any one of the stark children! im actually a big ass fan of the asoiaf books, so if anyone ever wants to talk lit, i’m your gal!!! because of this i also may just make a couple slip ups in remembering book canon vs show canon but please just bear with me and love me as i dont think it will really be a major problem!

( JAMIE CAMPBELL BOWER, 26, CISMALE, HE/HIM. ) could that really be ( VICTARION KARSTARK ), the ( LORD ) of ( HOUSE KARSTARK ) entering the keep ?  king’s landing is sure to benefit from the fact that they’re ( VIGILANT ) and ( ADAPTABLE ), but beware, they’ve also been known to be ( POSSESSIVE ) and ( UNPREDICTABLE ). they hail from ( THE NORTH ), and it’s said that they are loyal to ( HOUSE STARK ). only time will tell if that will last. ( CAL, SHE/HER, 21, MST. )