isherarmor: (There's naught through the haze)
—(••÷[ςάήςά ςτάʀк]÷••)— ([personal profile] isherarmor) wrote in [community profile] meadowlarklogs 2019-03-12 03:23 am (UTC)

[Had she heard that, truly? It was as if she'd heard her brother's name - the ghost of a ghost of a low whisper, and she shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts - surely it can't be Robb that's---


---no, no sight of his Tully-red hair, but then she hears her own name, and not from the voice of an acquaintance or stranger. She knows that voice - knows before she meets his eyes, grey eyes - Stark eyes - and before she can think to speak his arms are around her, and hers clasp him right back. If it's a little too tight she's sorry but she tried not to hope and---

I didn't mean to lose you, I didn't mean to leave, I'm so sorry, so, so sorry.

---she's afraid to let go, afraid this is a dream, a trick, and all she can do is hold fast and cry against his shoulder, even as she answers his question.]


They cut it, but it's better now. I fixed it. Prompto fixed it. It's all better now. Everything's better.

[Is she talking about her hair still? N....o. It's a strange thing - surprise and tears have stolen half her breath, but this is the first time, she realizes, that she's been able to really breathe in days. There's a wave of relief followed by sorrow - a fresh rush of remembrance of her older brother Robb - gone from her so long.]

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