his horse's reins looped over a tree branch — flowers tucked into her bridle purely because he thought they were pretty; he'll give them to ella, if he sees her, or stick them in a cup of water — fionn has taken up residence on the ground, his back against a tree. he's dirtying his breeches, but who cares, really? who cares about anything? it's hard for fionn to muster the heart for it, when his own seems to be bleeding into his chest cavity, an ache he can't run from, even on horseback.
he'd hoped the fresh air and good view would make a difference, but it is, it turns out, a little hard for a summer breeze to blow away the fact that his father has disowned him, and that despite everything, it still hurts. but at least he's here, and not hiding beneath his bed covers. or in a bottle. that one was hard, today.
he closes his eyes anyway, opening them only when he hears hoofbeats approaching. company could be great—or it could be awful. fionn sighs, and opens his eyes. ❝ baratheon, ❞ he greets, relieved; a friend, and one he knows is like him, is a far better option than it could be. he shades his eyes from the sun as he looks up at renly. ❝ do you wish to join me? pull up a chair. ❞
@hostiae (renly)