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Entry tags:
OPEN | prompt four | TEMPTATION
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prompt four | T E M P T A T I O N dressing-room style. start your own thread. tag others. wash, rinse, repeat. open to all. |
Somebody sounds a li-ttle bitter.
'Trou—ble'. [ Mingniao's mouth threatens a moue which then recovers to prettiness with a flutter of her eyelashes. ] Less trou—ble now. For songbird and ma—ster. A long time, spent away. Time e—nough to hide.
[ The beds of her cuticles are bit ragged, blood welled at the edges of each nail. ]
You're giving him too much credit.
You're giving him too much credit.
I can't say I know your devil, but it sounds as though you've met mine.
[ She does not enjoy being left alone with Jaime Lannister and, in truth, Petyr (her lord and 'father') seems to enjoy it even less, given the way Sansa's temper flares and her hands shake. (—how much had she suffered beneath the weight of Lannister gold; how much had her house bled—) But there are times when it cannot be helped, given how he had been sworn to the members of her personal guard to ensure his fealty (a questionable act by many standards, given how the name 'Kingslayer' still bore its weight upon his back, given his golden hand).
Not black-cloaked or white or even rainbow, the Queensguard of the Mountain wear grey. (Grey, the color of rock, like the Mountain itself; grey, the color of Stark.) Sansa studies the hem of his cloak before turning away, a hand reaching to touch the delicate crown on her head. (No matter how hard Petyr tries to convince her otherwise, it remains something of an ill-fit.) ]
A woman once told me love was poison. But poison turned inwards, not out.
Not black-cloaked or white or even rainbow, the Queensguard of the Mountain wear grey. (Grey, the color of rock, like the Mountain itself; grey, the color of Stark.) Sansa studies the hem of his cloak before turning away, a hand reaching to touch the delicate crown on her head. (No matter how hard Petyr tries to convince her otherwise, it remains something of an ill-fit.) ]
A woman once told me love was poison. But poison turned inwards, not out.
[ A snort, juvenile. ]
Heh. 'Flesh'.
[ Ladies and gentleman: Flamma. ]
Heh. 'Flesh'.
[ Ladies and gentleman: Flamma. ]
Yeah, that's uh-- I think he's usually busy doing other things.
[ She crinkles her nose, swaying her head from side to side as she considers it. ]
Pretty sure it's meant to be a metaphor, kiddo.
Pretty sure it's meant to be a metaphor, kiddo.
Eh. There's a gem for every rotten apple.
[ He should know. One woman cursed him, another one salvaged him. So right now, they're breaking even. ]
[ He should know. One woman cursed him, another one salvaged him. So right now, they're breaking even. ]
It makes it easier, doesn't it? Placing blame like that.
[ Greedily: ]
A woman like that must be quite beautiful.
A woman like that must be quite beautiful.
Then he will still fail. The spirit is stronger than the flesh.
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