( on her mun's track record for doing hideous things to her characters | voicetesting )

[sorrowed]

...If it pleases you.

( sullen or anxious, perhaps. a tinge of it. but not enough for impudence; a lady's armour is her courtesy. )

Comments

Who doesn't do hideous things to their characters?

[starkbastard]

Sensa?

[Jon's voice is soft, with a hint of concern for his half-sister. Ravens can only carry so few words and it's good to see her well, though seeing her here means that her suffering may not be over yet either.]

exactly! I just love doing it way too much >>

[sorrowed]

( dark wings, dark words. a raven would have told jon very many things, none of them good. but either way, sansa has been longing for anything that reminds her of winterfell for the longest time and for a moment the words get caught in her throat. )

Jon.

Hahahaha same here!

[starkbastard]

[All what the ravens told him was that his father died with the secret of whom is his real mother, that the Stark have been scattered to every wind and that there was no news of his sisters. Robb is warring in the South and as much as he knows his sword should be by his brother's side, his duty is to the Night's Watch and all he can do is to pray to the old Gods for them to watch over the rest of the Stark House.

They both long for home, and while Jon is not as close to Sansa that he is to Arya, he still cares for her and his brow creases into a concerned frown at her tone]

Is everything well?

[It's a useless question, Jon knows nothing is all right and he suspects that harder time may be coming to them, but he wants for his sister to share with him what troubles her.]

oh gosh sansa poor bb

[menaced]

If what please who?

I swear I'll try to be nice!

[sorrowed]

My lady mun. If it pleases her to...play me.

make sure to give her hugs! even if they aren't lady-like

[menaced]

[Why does that sound like the girl is accepting a death sentence?] And what happens when she...plays you?

[youngwolf]

... Are you well, dear sister?

[ Despite the question, Robb supposes he already knows the answer. He's sung the same song before, but hers is sweeter in nature. His tone, however, is unwavering. It's only softened by the presence of the sister he's failed on varying degrees. ]

[sorrowed]

( robb. robb is here, and not in the north. robb, whom they made her denounce as a traitor just like their father and mother. sansa's mouth opens and closes momentarily; she feels like a stupid fish, dumbstruck.

no, she wants to scream, and cry. no, I want to go home, please let me go home. to winterfell, and bran and rickon and even arya, there would be nothing she wouldn't give to see arya again. sansa swallows heavily instead, determined not to make a spectacle of herself. )

As well as can be, given the circumstances.

( it's too polite. sansa's voice wavers at the end, even though she tries not to let it. )

[youngwolf]

[ Robb knows Sansa well enough to read what's underneath that courtesy -- the ache for home. He wants to close the distance between them and pull her into a fierce hug.

But he is a king and she a lady and there is scarcely room for familial wants and needs under the weight of those titles. Or so he'd like to tell himself.

It's when he catches the waver that his resolve crumbles and he takes a step closer to her, lifting a hand to brush gloved fingers against her shoulder if she'll allow it. ]

I'm sorry. [ The words are soft and they hurt just as Robb suspected they might with the implications they carry with them. They are not a king's words, but a brother's instead. ]

[sorrowed]

( king in the north. reclaiming winterfell's independance. she's heard robb's name at court a number of times now, whispers of his successes in battle. sansa knows each one of them intimately, because every time robb won a great victory, joffrey would send one of his knights to beat her. ser meryn trant, more often than not. yet sansa would sit there and silently revel in it, despite everything. robb was winning. robb would give her joffrey's head.

there's a motion when he puts his hands on her shoulder; a flinch. barely perceptible but there, though sansa does not move. she wants to throw her arms around him, like she might have when they were children, but for the moment refrains. )

Please don't be.

( her words are just as wounded as his; whispered and somehow moving beyond courtesy and the parroted words of a pretty little bird. )

[youngwolf]

[ There's a certain way his breath catches when she responds that might belie the expression he's struggling to uphold. He knows he needs to be strong for not only her sake, but their entire family's. Sixteen and already a king, but only in title -- of this Robb is certain. Though his posture is rigid, his spine is all but aching with its eagerness to bow.

He exhales, staying silent for the moment as his eyes roam her features to make sure she's in one piece, to make sure she's real. She's a child of war now, but they both are. The thought nearly pushes him to advert his eyes, but he fights it. ]

You're as strong as our lady mother. [ The moment the words leave his lips, a flicker of vulnerability crosses his features. It's gone as soon as it appears with a slight tensing of his jaw. A fondness remains, though. ]