dear_mun | at magicdraft; post may contain spoilers for ASoIaF

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canon: a song of ice and fire

at magicdraft; post may contain spoilers for ASoIaF

It is not that I am ungrateful for your attention, my lady, though I cannot share in your renewed enthusiasm. I would have you remember, please, that even away from my lord father - especially then, perhaps - I must be careful to conduct myself as is befitting. I will not give him reason for disappointment, least not when I walk alongside such noble names.

As for - circumstances as they are, it is far better this way. That door may be closed now, as it should be, and so it shall remain.

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[her feet move to step forward, and then stop.

This, if a little informal, is not too much of an affront. (She blushes, all the same.)]

If you would be so kind.

[He sets his hands at her waist, doing his best to be gentle despite the difference in their sizes. In one smooth motion, he lifts her and sets her atop the bird's back.]

[He lifts me near as easily as the Hound did. The thought rises unburden and she crush the memories down, shifting for a more secure seat. Birds are rather different from horses, she quickly realises.]

[He runs a hand up the bird's scruff, giving her a moment to get acclimated.]

He's comfy, right?

He's - [She attempts not to hold on for dear life, because the bird is stationary and by all accounts quite placid for now.] - He is quite different from what I'm used to, my lord.

[And then, with a bit of a grunt, Groose heaves himself bodily upward to land on the bird, in front of Alayne.

Maybe he flexes a little while he's doing it.]

[Shifting to give him room, she hesitates, hands clasped in her lap before she decides she'll need to hold onto something. Reaching, she clutches the edges of the bird's saddle, almost forgetting her unease in lieu of peering curiously at the man's pointed ears.]

[He grabs at the bird's reins, giving them a testing pull, and then turns his head a little toward her.]

You ready?

[She tells herself she is, chin dipping in a nod.]

Yes, my lord. [And then she's looking down at the bird again because really is this going to be able to fly.]

[AND I CAN FLYYYYY LIKE AN EAGLE

But no really, flying now.]

[And for all her steeling herself, Alayne all but yelps when the bird takes off. It quickly becomes clear that gripping the saddle simply isn't practical, so she's wrapping her arms around him instead, keeping her eyes skyward to avoid looking down (a lesson learned at the Eyrie) and trying to remember how to breathe.]

[Groose's breath hitches a little in surprise, a flush climbing up his neck. For all his bravado, he's never had a girl wrap her arms around him before and takes a moment to -- appreciate.

She smells nice.

So he blurts out - ] You smell really nice.

[Wait, what?]

Uh! I mean! Wait! [Confused by his shout, the loftwing stumbles a little in the sky before regaining its footing and dropping into a smooth glide.

In a normal tone, Groose chuckles self-consciously.] -- Sorry.

[She barely hears him. She's too focused on keeping her breath steady, on the beat of the bird's wings and the rush of the air - she's so focused on not being terrified that she has to strain to hear.

But she does, of course, and such a compliment said so suddenly would be enough to make her recoil were she not in such a precarious position. Much as the words unsettle her, though, he does not say them as Marillion might have, hands trailing over, and that is a comfort.

She's spared having to answer, however, by the sudden swoop, and though it isn't too great a disruption, it's enough to make her cling tighter, breath caught in her throat. (Alayne stammers a 'thank you', then, perhaps about the compliment but probably about keeping the bird steady.)

She's secure against his back, though, and now the pace is even - smoother than riding a horse, perhaps. She's flying on some strange beast with a stranger - perhaps the wind whipping in her hair has given her a rush of adrenaline, but she decides to chance opening her eyes.

They're not particularly high up (she's seen more daunting views from the windows of the Eyrie) but the scenery sweeps past with a smooth speed that takes a few moments to grow accustomed to. When she does, however, she finds herself admiring it - the floods of colour, the loftwing's bright feathers, the open sky. It is beautiful, and exhilerating - but she's still not entirely content with the whole situation.]

[As much as Groose has been taught humility and how to make a really tasty spicy gumbo by Granny, sometimes old habits creep back in. He can't quite shake his old need for showboating and digs his heels into the bird's side a little, causing the slightest increase in the speed of the glide. Wings flapping with a little more purpose now, he brings them up a little bit further.]

You -- heh, doing alright back there?

[She nods against his back, the newfound speed alarming, but something she can get used to. Alayne Stone is braver than a young highborn lady, after all. After nodding, however, she realises it isn't the most effective way to answer.]

I'm - [but her voice sounds small to her own ears, so she makes effort to speak up] - Yes, my lord. I'm - I'm quite fine.

You're - a very skilled rider.

You bet I am! I trained on Skyloft.

[He pumps a fist into the air, and maybe his pompadour stretches a little straighter with pride.]

I mean, uh.

Thanks.

[She finds herself smiling.]

I am sure it is reason enough to be proud.

Do you want to see the waterfall?

[There's a waterfall now, you know.]

[Turning her gaze from him to their surroundings once again -]

I would like that, my lord.

[He pulls on the reins a little, veering the bird left and over to a flowing falls, hovering in mid-air when they're close enough to feel the water's faint spray.]

It's so lovely. [She says, with a sigh in her voice.] Like Alyssa's Tears in summer.

Alyssa's what?

A waterfall, near my home, my lord, named for an old story. They fall from so high, the water never reaches the valley below.

Really? [He looks over at her, his brow furrowing.] What happens to it?

It's lost to the wind and amidst the mountains, my lord, and trickles to nothing. [Her voice becomes a mite softer.] Long ago, a lady of the Vale was forced to endure the sight of her husband, her brothers, and her children all slain before her eyes. But she swallowed her grief, and would not cry. The gods condemned her to weep until her tears watered the lands of the Vale, and so she weeps still.

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This isn't the longest thread we've ever had yet.

There's still time.

... 250+, we'd have to aim for. Are we ready for that?

...is that seriously how long that thread was

We could not be stopped. Or - rather - I guess it was them.

I blame them.

Forget them. We have Sansa and Groose now!

Can't I have them too.

... If I say no, which will you choose?

...why do you ask me these things. I GUESS IT WOULD BE...

... Yes? Go on. :)

........the heartbreakers

I wouldn't make you choose. But aw. :D

as if there was really any question :|

[swoon]

B)

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