timestamp: the lion’s bride, pt. i ; second seed, 300 ac location: king’s landing, the docks tagging: @blacktde
the bone hand’s heir is not a man unacquainted with ghosts. enough skeletons — — man and beast alike — — had washed upon the shores of old wyk ; tidepools with salt crystalized formations that became home to the gaunt figure, even then something peculiar about the boy. that said nothing of the family’s own ghosts, where the sentiment of women and children first seemed to linger. after three decades of such an existence, little should truly startle him.
yet, as he returns to the docs in the light of the sun dipping over the horizon, his breath catches without water to fill his lungs. the sight of a man he had once known, once ... once. the ring that did not quite fit his knuckle seemed suddenly heavier, and lithe fingers begin to spin the thing around and around, a whirlpool - like motion. it would be best to say something, to acknowledge what the waves had returned to him, but instead he stands still as the grave and watches, waiting to be spotted himself.