#ii. written.

[soothsaver]

open starter (0/3)

she would rather walk, but the castellan had warned her there is long distance and long walks within king's landing, longer than there are on her corner of the world — albeit doubtful of such words, she heeded to the old man's advice and went on to the stables. arriving there, it was clear that she was not the only one who had such a thought; she had forgotten about the competition on the nearest days. had all of these horses been brought by the lieges or were they simply owned by the crown, ready for lease to their guests? one would think they were generous. "hello," she greeted, looking from the stalls to the nearest person. "have you come to choose your ride for the competition or do you simply need to get out of the castle?"

[soothsaver]

@kingcdoms

she is lost. it's not a feeling pihla enjoys, and finds it so unfamiliar when she has always believed herself good in her tracks — but one thing is to make your way on the wild of the true north, and another is to cross some hundred corridors that all look the same. one more turn and she believes she has seen the same tapestry of dragons at least twice now; rare irritation twists her features and she exhales a noise of annoyance, before sight catches onto another person walking by. "you —" the wildling calls out. "where are you going?" then she bites her tongue. "my lady?"

[soothsaver]

@wolvcs

she had thought winterfell left her without most common duties, but it's a whole new scale in the red keep — and she does not care for it. the boredom is such she finds herself pacing her (too large) chambers until the septa has returned with the boys, to whom her attention then turns. even when the hour grows late and rob fusses his way into slumber, she remains, torn between looking across the balcony (how can this be the same moon she had seen years ago, on her own home? how can so much have changed?) and to glance to the sleeping children.

attention becomes pronged when she notices familiar set of steps in her proximity. gaze does not shift, but her shoulders, unusually bare to handle the scorching heat, relaxes. "i should not be here." she tells the truth. "nor should you."