I Write One Thing, I Get Sleepy, I Say Good Enough And Go To Bed.
i write one thing, i get sleepy, i say good enough and go to bed.
More Posts from Petitmortes and Others
@50yds said: you were right there ! don't tell me you did nothing !
the guilt rattles in her chest. a trembling hand curled around her bow, an attempt at steadying herself as she steels herself to meet her nephew's gaze. she'd told herself she would not cry in front of him, that she would be the adult presence he'd needed – the unwavering rock he'd undoubtedly need in the wake of hearing of his father's death. but she'd not been prepared to hear him accost her so. deservedly, alysanne decides – her arrow too late to save her brother's life, his child now left to her; and who was she, but barely old enough to be considered a woman herself?
the shaky exhale that precedes the heavy footfalls of her boots across the floor is one she hopes he does not hear, her hand pressing out onto his shoulder. “ i did all that i could do, benji. ” lips made into a thin line, a chant in her head over and over again that she would not cry. “ an eye for an eye, lord bracken no longer breathes. i – should have been quicker. ” it was not often that aly admitted to her own faults, that she took measure to state her own faults, but now was as good a time as any. for the only person who would ever deserve to hear them.
“ i'm sorry. ” a sniffle, before she brushes the back of her hand against her cheeks, and muscles benjicot into her arms for a hug, whether he is willing or not. “ if it is your wish, i will slaughter every last bracken until my fingers bleed. ”
getting things into my queue .-. i have sunday off and then i work four days in a row again so uHHHh i'll be sparse here from monday to thursday
idk … if ur concerned about blogs that may write content that doesn’t give you the warm and fuzzies this may not be the blog for you
gold dust woman by fleetwood mac vs cassandra by florence + the machine in a battle of which song is more helaena
to add more hotd / asoiaf characters or to not add more hotd / asoiaf characters
girls had no right being smart, had no right to be clever – or at least, that was the gist that had so long been spoken about women, the gist that had not taken hold in myranda, whose mind ticked and formulated thoughts and ideas far quicker than some of the men she'd seen taking up armor in hopes of becoming one of the winged knights. though the blackfish might not have fully caught on to her words, there was no doubting the curiosity she knew she had piqued by her line of questioning – no doubting the fact that the man who'd known her since she was little and ever more full of questions knew she did not ask unless she already had an inkling of the answer she'd receive.
myranda only smiles, warm and sweet as she brings her goblet of wine to her lips and drinks, before placing a hand upon his arm carefully. “you must stay for the tourney lord littlefinger is insisting we hold, i believe your little grand - nephew would find comfort in your presence.” that was, if the sweetrobin even made it down the mountain, she was starting to have doubts – starting to feel the ill at ease settling in her stomach that often came with a shifting tide. harry the heir was not being called to heel at last for only a sweet showing of kindness before his little lord paramount. but myranda was more interested in directing brynden's gaze to the girl littlefinger had touted as his bastard daughter, more interested in piecing together the missing link to the question of who she really was. she already had an idea, but proof . . . proof was necessary.
“perhaps he might even see fit to name you one of his winged men, if he does not find you have grown too wrinkled to wield your blade.” her lips curl into a teasing grin, the jest off of her tongue as easily as if she had been speaking to a friend her own age. “or maybe you will finally find yourself taken with a lady so that you may settle, i hear baelish's bastard daughter is quite lovely, pretty eyes. bluer than blue.”
TIME HAD SEEMED TO SLOW SINCE HIS ESCAPE . Riverrun was now in the past , as was the self - righteous look upon Jaime Lannister's face , occasionally still haunting him in short , subtle nightmares . should've socked that ugly git in the mouth when he'd had the chance . should've faced him in combat , maybe , and gone down like a true knight . . . and forsake every chance to ever help his family again . the few of them that were still alive , that was .
the Blackfish turned his own goblet in his hands , slunk down in his chair . he had believed the Eyrie safe to return to , but the news of Lysa's death had reached him just in time - and his journey thus had ended at the Gates of the Moon ; safely tucked away , for now , in the stronghold of a friend , until he had recuperated and healed the few wounds he had suffered during his escape . " I'll let you know once I've spotted a foolish girl around . " his voice sounded gruff as ever , but there was kindness in his eyes . he'd known Myranda since she was but a girl . since the days when she'd been unwed , unwidowed , and a little more lucky than she seemed these days .
Littlefinger knew of his presence and had offered copious invitations for him to stay at the Eyrie , but an ugly little weasle remained an ugly little weasle and he'd rather drown himself in the moat , than trust Petyr Baelish . to the daughter he had claimed was his , had Brynden paid no attention at all . " Catelyn , " he replied almost into his goblet , tully blue eyes grown distant for but a moment . he had failed his little Cat and now he sat trapped in the Vale , unsure of where to turn . his gaze switched to Myranda then , curiosity peaked at the odd question . she was a smart girl ; quick - witted and fast to catch on . and beyond the reputation as a terrible gossip , Brynden knew she rarely asked questions just for idle conversation . " why the sudden interest ? "
there is a part of helaena that knows, that understands the way her mother had formed her own conjecture – had come to the idea that this had been the answer required to keep her safe, and yet . . . there is another notion altogether, buried deeper down that she cannot help but to hear bubble off in the wind, asking, wondering, if her mother had ever considered the fact that aegon and the word mercy did not ever belong in the same sentence.
too fragile, too broken on his own accord; suffering at the same cruel hands of fate that'd been dealt to her, it was no wonder all three of the queen's children held their own unfortunate misgivings. helaena flinches as her mother steps closer, a nervous habit – a worrisome, rabbit's heart within her chest; she'd not been well since their boy had died. since helaena had been forced to choose. her hands wring together in her lap, another nervous tic, inherited no doubt from the woman that stands before her.
“i do not feel . . . much loved in this moment, mother.” spoken truthfully, honestly, as her hand releases its hold on itself and extends out from her lap, reaching out in search of alicent's hand and curling delicate, nimble fingers round into hers. the way she has ever since she was a child. “i am – terrified, i do not want this. i do not want for any of it. and yet i know there is nothing i can do or say to release myself from it.”
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. a voice that, in her mind, whispers nothing but wrong decision & failure. to know she's had a hand, no matter how inconsequential it felt at the time, in helaena's pain was enough to make her stomach turn. to cause another crack in her heart. like helaena, alicent lives her life in a certain state of discomfort which never wavers . . except now, she feels, when things look to be worsening rather than getting better. was this the gods punishment onto her, then ? ( to see her children, one by one, turn on her or destroy themselves. to witness their suffering & only have empty palms to remedy it. a mother is suppose to comfort her children, to assure them, to make them as content as possible. why couldn't she ever do that one thing right ? why, gods, why ! )
@petitmortes said, " DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT I NEVER WANTED THIS TO BEGIN WITH ? "
brown eyes, so full of sorrows as of late, widened as mouth hangs slightly agape. hand rests about her stomach to keep teeth from picking at skin, a shaky breath taken before the mother can speak: ❛ of course i have, helaena. ❜ spoken softly, voice thick. tears well in the queens eyes, but none fall in the moment. ❛ i- . . marrying you to aegon felt like a mercy. it felt better. better you marry someone you know than a stranger. better you remain somewhere familiar, surrounded by those whom love you. ❜ all the things i was not spared, not given, briefly thought internally. lips press together, discomfort settling into her bones, as alicent takes a step forward. ❛ my girl, do you know how it hurts me to look at you at times & see a mirror of myself ? to know i . . i was the cause of some of your pain, your discomfort, when i believed myself protecting you. ❜
her mother had always said she was made for dancing. made for more than harsh winters with little sunlight. and in this moment, sansa looks every part the graceful lady, not a single curl out of place – each step taken in fluid movement that looked so effortless. perhaps, too, it did not hurt that she had every reason to want to look like such an imagine, that sansa, in her effortless state, had put in more effort than she can recall ever having cared for previously . . . for the sake of not looking the fool when it was his careful hands that spun her 'round the room.
her brows furrow momentarily, felt off guard by the idea that he had thought she wouldn't be kind to him – delicate fingers placed upon his shoulder as they step in time with one another, sansa's head shakes ever so slightly, just enough to relay her own momentary thoughts. “ . . . whatever whispers cregan has been telling you of me being unkind, i hope you know he is jesting and only spreading such unseemly words because i said he shouldn't have a third helping of desserts if he wished to continue to fit into last winter's breeches. ”
her cheeks flush along the apples at the admission, her relationship with her cousin ever more akin to that of a sibling – ever more apparent that he remained the only family she had left with her own brothers, who had never managed a kind or caring word of her, rotting away in the wolf's den along with her father. better not to think about who had put them there, even better to not consider why they were there at all. sansa wonders, momentarily, if it had been cregan saying such words to jacaerys at all – and if he had been, whether her name had often been a topic between them. and if it had, did that mean the prince might have considered her as often as she had him?
“ you are most deserving of kindness from all, don't you think? ” she asks, a gentle smile curled onto her lips. “ i think i would have to disagree with anyone who said differently, you have been nothing but kind in return to me, i – fear i will be most heartbroken when you leave. ”
Jacaerys blinked, startled by the question that pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn't meant to let the silence stretch so long between them, yet something in Sansa's quiet presence had drawn him inward. Jacaerys extended his hand, bridging the gap between them. Her hesitation was brief, her fingers slipping feather-light into his.
Her hand squeezed his lightly, a gesture meant to reassure, to tell him that her words had been in jest, that she wouldn’t have accepted if she hadn’t wanted to. He could feel the slight tension in her grip, the unspoken thoughts that swirled just beneath the surface.
Sansa, always poised, always graceful, but never without a careful guard around her heart. He wondered if she felt the same stirrings of uncertainty that had begun to grow in him, or if this, for her, was merely another polite moment, soon to be forgotten. At her question, though, his gaze softened. “Troubling?” He almost laughed but held it back, not wanting to misstep in this delicate exchange. “No, Lady Sansa. Nothing troubling. I just... hadn’t expected your kindness.” The words felt weightier than he'd intended, but he didn’t pull them back.
@turpitudae did not ask for this but is getting it anyways
she lingers like smoke in the air – heavy, staining every surface with her until there is no escape; it was what he'd deserved, after all, to not know peace unless it was given by her hands. to not know the comfort of silence in his head unless she was offering it. what was affection if not akin to a parasite? eating you whole and leaving you littered with holes in the wake.
her hand coasts around his wrist, lithe fingers curling around muscle to pull him to a stop – to pull him into darkened corridor, dimly lit only by the faintest glow from a cracked door.
“ where's the fire, handsome? ” asked as if she didn't already know, as if she hadn't been the one to light it and step away just as innocent as the rest. liv had always been so, claimed innocent to the world around her while pulling strings behind a curtain – anything to get her way. damian was no different; no change in action to specifically seek him out, only a continuation of her descent into taking – always taking, any and everything that belonged to rhea, at any means necessary.
delicate blue hues shifted up his features, lingering on his lips – momentary, but poignant, an action meant to be noticed, before they land upon his eyes proper. “ how about a good luck kiss, hm? ”
