She makes a funny picture sitting outside, her embroidery laying forgotten in her lap and her fingers holding fast to a single pin. The wind blows her auburn hair into lazy waves and curls, but her Tully blue eyes remain unfocused; empty. She is elsewhere. A touch will bring you along for the journey or you could simply be standing too close to her.
Winterfell (Snowy Keep)
The air is cold and crisp, yet there is a bite to it that suggests it will be much colder soon enough. Sansa can see her breath fogging the open air and she can feel the prickly, pin-like sensation on any skin that is exposed to the chill. Fat snowflakes are falling fast all around her and soon it's hard to tell the true color of her hair or her wardrobe. She comes back to herself with a small gasp of surprise and turns quickly, walking down the path that will take her to the Keep.
She pauses at the old, familiar doors, her pale hands shaking as she pries them open. She is home, but at the same time, she isn't. There is a cold lump in her stomach - composed of regret and guilt - and she can't quite bring herself to believe the vision before her eyes. The Keep is just as she remembers it. The building was built to withstand the strongest of Winter storms and within, the walls and floors are grey. However, a merry fire is crackling in the fireplace and the light calls to her; when you live in a place that constantly snows, you appreciate the warmth of a good fire. Stiffly, Sansa walks towards the bright flames, shedding her cloak and brushing out her snowflake laden hair with her fingers.
I'm home?
The words echo hauntingly in her mind and she can't even bring herself to respond when Jon asks her a question.
I don't know...anything.
Maybe she never did. She is exactly where she is supposed to be - for the first time in almost two years - and yet this isn't where she wants to be.
Winterfell (Hot Springs)
The ache in her stomach doesn't subside and she is finding it difficult to eat, to drink, to think and so she takes herself to the hot springs. She hasn't visited them since she was a child and now she is looking at them with new approval. Perhaps the heat can do what all other methods have failed to do. She glances around warily and then slips into one of the pools wearing only her shift.
While the heat does relax her body, her mind is still wandering, unhappy and conflicted. She should be grateful to be home; she should be thankful that she has made it back in one piece! Yet her experience hadn't been all bad and there were - are - parts of it that she wishes she didn't have to let go.
"I had another family...for a time." she whispers to no one, "They were very like the Starks." she extends a leg under the water, glancing down at it, eyes unfocused, "But I lost them too."
All around her, the snow falls softly and the trees of the godswood watch silently.
Winterfell (Library)
The smell of parchment, ink and books fills the room. All things considered - such as the rarity of bound volumes and the price of them - there is an impressive amount of books in the Winterfell collection. Though, once, there had been more. A fire had claimed some of them, but, thankfully, not all of them. Sansa is seated in a nook with a pile of said volumes at her side. She flips through one, smiling faintly - almost sardonically - to herself. Once, these books had been her picture of the outside world. She had thought that knights were always true and that maidens were always rescued. Reality has been - and continues to be - a bitter reminder that no one can be trusted. At least not...fully. Utterly.
Even those she loves could turn on her and, in some cases, she might let them do as they pleased. Yet, at her core, Sansa realizes that she wants to survive. As close as she has come to death, each time she has been grateful that it hasn't come to pass. However...
That doesn't mean she isn't prepared to see to the deaths of others. In her tale, the maiden, the lady or the princess will have justice without any pesky knights interfering. Then she will know, without a doubt, that Westeros - and the world - have been freed of a handful of monsters. Oh others will rise and take their place, but they won't hurt her or her family as much as the current ones did.
Closing the book in her lap, Sansa looks out one of the windows, watching the grey sky beyond. How close are the Lannisters? How close are the White Walkers? She shivers and draws a blanket around her shoulders.
Sansa Stark | Open
Winterfell (Snowy Keep)
The air is cold and crisp, yet there is a bite to it that suggests it will be much colder soon enough. Sansa can see her breath fogging the open air and she can feel the prickly, pin-like sensation on any skin that is exposed to the chill. Fat snowflakes are falling fast all around her and soon it's hard to tell the true color of her hair or her wardrobe. She comes back to herself with a small gasp of surprise and turns quickly, walking down the path that will take her to the Keep.
She pauses at the old, familiar doors, her pale hands shaking as she pries them open. She is home, but at the same time, she isn't. There is a cold lump in her stomach - composed of regret and guilt - and she can't quite bring herself to believe the vision before her eyes. The Keep is just as she remembers it. The building was built to withstand the strongest of Winter storms and within, the walls and floors are grey. However, a merry fire is crackling in the fireplace and the light calls to her; when you live in a place that constantly snows, you appreciate the warmth of a good fire. Stiffly, Sansa walks towards the bright flames, shedding her cloak and brushing out her snowflake laden hair with her fingers.
I'm home?
The words echo hauntingly in her mind and she can't even bring herself to respond when Jon asks her a question.
I don't know...anything.
Maybe she never did. She is exactly where she is supposed to be - for the first time in almost two years - and yet this isn't where she wants to be.
Winterfell (Hot Springs)
The ache in her stomach doesn't subside and she is finding it difficult to eat, to drink, to think and so she takes herself to the hot springs. She hasn't visited them since she was a child and now she is looking at them with new approval. Perhaps the heat can do what all other methods have failed to do. She glances around warily and then slips into one of the pools wearing only her shift.
While the heat does relax her body, her mind is still wandering, unhappy and conflicted. She should be grateful to be home; she should be thankful that she has made it back in one piece! Yet her experience hadn't been all bad and there were - are - parts of it that she wishes she didn't have to let go.
"I had another family...for a time." she whispers to no one, "They were very like the Starks." she extends a leg under the water, glancing down at it, eyes unfocused, "But I lost them too."
All around her, the snow falls softly and the trees of the godswood watch silently.
Winterfell (Library)
The smell of parchment, ink and books fills the room. All things considered - such as the rarity of bound volumes and the price of them - there is an impressive amount of books in the Winterfell collection. Though, once, there had been more. A fire had claimed some of them, but, thankfully, not all of them. Sansa is seated in a nook with a pile of said volumes at her side. She flips through one, smiling faintly - almost sardonically - to herself. Once, these books had been her picture of the outside world. She had thought that knights were always true and that maidens were always rescued. Reality has been - and continues to be - a bitter reminder that no one can be trusted. At least not...fully. Utterly.
Even those she loves could turn on her and, in some cases, she might let them do as they pleased. Yet, at her core, Sansa realizes that she wants to survive. As close as she has come to death, each time she has been grateful that it hasn't come to pass. However...
That doesn't mean she isn't prepared to see to the deaths of others. In her tale, the maiden, the lady or the princess will have justice without any pesky knights interfering. Then she will know, without a doubt, that Westeros - and the world - have been freed of a handful of monsters. Oh others will rise and take their place, but they won't hurt her or her family as much as the current ones did.
Closing the book in her lap, Sansa looks out one of the windows, watching the grey sky beyond. How close are the Lannisters? How close are the White Walkers? She shivers and draws a blanket around her shoulders.