very hesitant voicetest

[needsnoheadsman]

I've no time for your games, my lady, as...fascinated as you are by the idea of putting me in one of them. I have a war to fight, and a wedding to attend. How am I to command an army if I am stuck here attending to your every fancy?

[sigh.] And despite what you might think, I don't wish to somehow make time to participate in your games, either. I have duties to fulfill, and they are more important than playing along with whatever jape you have planned for me. [See: army, wedding, and the wife.]

Comments

She's generally end of DwD, is that okay spoilers wise?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[ASdfjkh no Robb, no weddings, games are better than weddings.]

Don't go.

It's fine, I've read all the books!

[needsnoheadsman]

[It's Arya. Her hair's shorter, and she's taller than when he last saw her, but by the gods, he knows his little sister anywhere.]

Arya, it's--I can't not attend, not after what happened.

Awesome! And sorry for the wait, my saturday disappeared /o\

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

You can, and you shouldn't. Promise you won't!

[thelastking]

Your stern words fall upon deaf ears.

[needsnoheadsman]

As they seem to be. [Not happy about that fact.] My lady mundane is set on sending me as far away from Westeros as she can.

[It's for your own good, man. Weddings never end well for you.]

[impitoyable]

[ there's a dry yet equally bemused smirk. ] And I had a throne to take back.

But they do not show much care for those troubles.

[needsnoheadsman]

I've heard of that tendency. [Not to mention, he's currently experiencing it.] Would that she'd at least listen.

[impitoyable]

[ There's a scoff. ] They've no talent that.

We are nothing but puppets, expected to follow their whims and not even magic can change that.

[ A tone that hints at experience. ]

[needsnoheadsman]

[He's a bit taken aback by the mention of magic--he's heard some queer tales around the camp, and of course there's Old Nan's stories, but...well.]

I suppose they're extraordinarily stubborn, then, if not even magic can bend their whims.

[wont]

[ The girl looks like his sister, but their time apart has made her taller, older; less the girl that she once was on the day they parted ways at Winterfell. Her hair is brown and her dress is plain. Sansa and yet somehow— not Sansa at all. ]

Fight your war, noble lord. But I beg: leave the weddings to some other attendance.