#ask!thread

[warwaseasierthandaughters]

"Voldemort isn’t dead."

Ned looked at her from across the sofa where he was sat. Another Saturday where they had chosen to do nothing accept stay in, order a pizza, and watch whatever movie they could find. Tonight’s choice had been Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows: Part 2.

The film had just finished when Rowena had turned to him and spoken those words. His snorted in derision. “What are you talking about? We just saw him die. He disintergrated. Not even Voldemort could survive that.” He argued, grabbing a slice of pizza out of the box on the table. “Besides, if he’s not dead, then that mean all that Horcrux searching they did in the last film was all for nothing.”

[warwaseasierthandaughters]

"I didn't kiss her. Even if she says I did, I didnt."

Ned leant forward, his deep grey eyes boring deep into the eyes of the man stood in front of him. “And tell me, why should I believe the word of a Lannister Bannerman over the word of mine own daughter?

[crimson-legend]

Huffing softly the Al-bhed woman flopped beside Auron at the inn. Detained by the weather. It was reminicent of the thunderplains incident, save it wasn't for her benefit they were waiting. The roads were mud. So for the time being, a wet, but blanket wrapped Rikku settled beside him, handing off a warm cup of tea, a blanket for him slung over the arm that also offered the drink.

Thunder crashed outside, and - to her credit - Rikku flinched only slightly. They were lucky to have gotten inside when they did - the roads were bad enough now that even the most sure-footed mountain chocobo would get bogged down in the mud. He accepted both the blanket and the tea gladly, curling his hands around the mug for the warmth. His rain-sodden coat lay draped over a chair in a futile attempt at getting it to dry. 

"How did you know I like tea?"

[warwaseasierthandaughters]

*rubs against leg*

Ned looked down, knowing that only one thing could produce a sensation such as that. And he was correct. There it was. One of his children’s Direwolves. Each one had markings that showed which of his children it belonged to, and normally its master wasn’t too far behind. Bending down, he ran his fingers through the wolves thick fur and murmured, “So if you’re here, then where’s Arya?”