Send a ✿ if you would ship your character with mine.

    {   heather ✘ alex ✘ wally ✘ sara ✘ amanda ✘ mehak  ✘ heather f. ✘ shin ✘ tyler  }

r u l e s ;

p r i z e s ;

You’re not my real dad

You’re not my real daughter.

Ergo STOP BOSSIN ME AROUND

Send me a stereotype about my country and I will tell you if it applies to me.

For the rebloggers: Make sure to put your country’s name in the tags UvU

Happened by chance

—- ➽

    Upon her being given a chambers she was then let to clean up.

A large tub was full of hot steaming water and fresh oils.

          Slowly she rid herself of her dirty and ripped clothing.

Its heavy fabric leaving her body like a giant weight.

  It hit the stone floor along with her small clothes. Carefully

she stepped into the tub. Hissing slightly as the water touched her skin.

Catelyn sunk down in the tub, the water consuming her.

     After a moment she started to unravel her tangled hair.

She picked out the leaves and twigs that had found their way in her

  deep auburn locks.

The bath was completely satisfying, and she sat in the water for as long

as she could handle.

    The clothing that was given to her was not of her own.

It was more accustomed to the Eyrie, than of Winterfell.

      She was grateful, for she did not have any belongings with her.

After slipping on a night dress she pulled on a blue robe, its

  fabric light, and full of air. Catelyn almost felt naked wearing it.

Letting out a heavy sigh she looked around the room. How she wished

  she could have ran North. But they would have found her. 

Such thoughts were cut short as she heard someone outside the door.

  Turning slowly she straightened her back, making her way to the

dark wood that separated herself from the outside world.

Her thin hands reached out for the iron hook, pulling it the door

     creaked open.

Catelyn’s breath caught in her throat when she saw the person

  on the other side.

Could it really be her? Could it really be her sweet summer girl.

    ❝Sansa?❞

Her face was almost as she remembered it-- so like her own, everyone said, with Tully eyes and auburn hair. Catelyn's face seemed to be lined by more than a mere two years' passing: she was wan and ashen with grief, though newly bathed and scented. But Alayne had been her daughter a century ago, it seemed; the hair on her head was brown, never red, and her father still lived, and she was bastard born, she had to be, to be Alayne inside and out...

But could not, not now. Sansa's fears and loneliness, all her grief and loss came forth with a torrent of weeping. She collapsed into her mother's arms, gripping the gauzy sleeves of her bedrobes. Despite Lysa's bath oils in the air-- lavender, lily, and cinnamon-- there was still a breath of home in the smell of her mother, something she could not place. She clung desperately to it, in some vague hope that it might transport her back home, to a Winterfell full of her brothers and father and sister, a Winterfell that stood proud with its history and hot springs.

"They said you-- you were gone, Robb too, and I was--" I was the last one, save Jon, she nearly said. "I believed them." Sansa took three steadying breaths before she could straighten up; her hands still held her mother's sleeves, as though in letting go they might vanish. "I'm sorry, I believed them..."

               “Well apparently it’s Greek, so maybe that’s why I feel like it’s a bit out of place,” Cyr laughed lightly, shrugging his shoulders. Her explanation left him with furrowed eyebrows. That was definitely not something he had ever tried before, though it didn’t sound too unappealing in any way. No fish and he’d typically be okay with whatever. “Well, lead the way then.”

"Greek? Is your family Greek, too, or just your name? Mine's Spanish, but I'm not. Really, it's better than having something ordinary like John or Elizabeth, I think," Sansa smiled. She took her companion by the wrist and half-dragged her companion down the sidewalk. "Unless something else catches your eye, it's about five blocks. You're paying, after all."

"It’s not nonsense. You just don’t know the context yet,but yes, I do. It’s not easy for people to realize what they can really do. Some reject it, others will go far. Farther than they could ever have dreamed,but it’s up to them to choose if they want to do it.”

"Sure, ambition... Right?" The whole conversation was getting a little heavy for her. A little-- close to the marrow. Something in what he said nagged at her, set moths aflight in her stomach. "Do what you can and be the best you can be, there's nothing to hold you back. Well, mostly, I mean if you wanted to... Kill a man, or something, there's a few things to stop that."

Only a man who’s been burned knows what hell is truly like.