OPEN | prompt three | PAIN

[wrens]

prompt three | P A I N dressing-room style. start your own thread. tag others. wash, rinse, repeat. open to all.

 

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[betrothals]

Yes, father, [ Cat's own obeisance comes trippingly after Petyr's and she ducks her head out of genuine admonishment, having been far more humbled at the prospect of Petyr being sent away than he was. She is the fiery-spirited Tully sister, but there is no denying Catelyn's dutifulness, her desire to embody those Tully words to the best of her strong-hearted ability.

(Family, duty, honor. Away from Lord Hoster's gaze, she is quick to be daring and bold just as Petyr is; but in the sight of her father, Cat knows the hows and whens of folding her hands, of dipping her chin, of being a silent but strong daughter.) ]

Good. [ Hoster Tully nods his head, giving a low thoughtful grumble. ] Good. Now you will leave so that I may speak to my daughter. You will not linger and you will not wait to see her again. Instead, you will go to the Water Gate and you will offer your services there for the fortnight. Perhaps your misplaced humility will find itself in the shadow of the great waterwheel.

[pauper]

[ Despite Hoster Tully's commands, as soon as Petyr has bowed and ducked out of the room, he lingers in the shadows down the hall, waiting for Cat to emerge. (Two weeks at the Water Gate. So be it. If it means that he must sneak up to the castle to see her and forgoing sleep, then he will.

That much, at least, is fairly common knowledge: there is nothing that the Baelish boy wouldn't do for the eldest Tully daughter.)

When she does, he waits until he's sure her father hasn't followed her out before whispering her name, a sliver of his frame visible from where she stands. ]

Cat.

[betrothals]

[ Her father lecturers her and, beyond the usual postures of contrition, Cat feels deeply and genuinely sorry for having incurred such ire. Such carelessness showed poorly on the house, on her fiance, herself and — perhaps most importantly — on Petyr. Although she is never truly unaware of the rungs of birth and legacy that separate her from the Baelish boy, there are times when she has difficulty bringing them square into focus. And that Brandon Stark, her betrothed, had little love for her (save the agreement that bound them together) did very little to inspire Cat to try.

The halls are empty when Cat finally leaves her father's study with instructions to appeal to her Septa. Skirt gathered with both hands, her footfall is accompanied by the rustle of fabric — a sound with pointedly stops when Cat hears her name and hurries forward to steal into Petyr's swatch of shadow. ]

You're welcoming expulsion, Petyr, [ Cat whispers hurriedly, glancing this way and that. ] Who then will keep me company when your willfulness has made sure to send you away again?