[ She has been to the oxygen garden a few times already. Once with Bran and the Pie Maker whose name is Ned, and once with simply Bran himself, though the latter proved much more of a struggle with only Alayne to help Bran's chair along. With only Petyr to accompany her now, she is given much more reign over where she can go and how eagerly she can make her way. And so armed with that newfound freedom (as well as the boldness provided by her father's nearness), Alayne ventures more readily into the farther reaches of the cultivated wilds, straying from the neatly arranged plots of land separated by metal walkways and paths. In the further reaches, the land has been left to grow wild, the plants have been allowed to grow tall and unkempt, the crowns of which brush the illuminated ceilings above (blue, but not the color of sky, the color of space — metallic and cold).
There are no animals here save the various insects that buzz and chatter and alight on the fabric of Alayne's dress, but Alayne does not know that and so remains weary of every soft rustle of leaves and every pitch and sway of boughs in the distance. Here, the air is rich with moisture and is heady with the smell of exotic blossoms and heavy-hung fruit. To Alayne it is an amazement, unlike anything she has seen before or heard of songs or stories. Even though the dampness of the air makes her dress cumbersome, she does not complain, her spirits bouyed on by her enthusiasm and the opportunity to walk a while by her father's side.
(There is a rift in her heart, a hair-line crack so finely wrought that is impossible to discern by sight alone. One one side of the divide stands Petyr and his mockingbird, on the other sits Bran and the promise of wolves.)
A hand touches Petyr on the elbow as Alayne pauses beside him, distracted by the clusters of red-faced flowers which seem to bloom from the knots of a nearby tree. It makes Alayne smile brightly to herself, bending at the waist to look upon them closer. ] Sometimes I think myself dreaming, father, [ she says to one of the flowers. ] Have you ever before seen such a place?
( ACTION )
There are no animals here save the various insects that buzz and chatter and alight on the fabric of Alayne's dress, but Alayne does not know that and so remains weary of every soft rustle of leaves and every pitch and sway of boughs in the distance. Here, the air is rich with moisture and is heady with the smell of exotic blossoms and heavy-hung fruit. To Alayne it is an amazement, unlike anything she has seen before or heard of songs or stories. Even though the dampness of the air makes her dress cumbersome, she does not complain, her spirits bouyed on by her enthusiasm and the opportunity to walk a while by her father's side.
(There is a rift in her heart, a hair-line crack so finely wrought that is impossible to discern by sight alone. One one side of the divide stands Petyr and his mockingbird, on the other sits Bran and the promise of wolves.)
A hand touches Petyr on the elbow as Alayne pauses beside him, distracted by the clusters of red-faced flowers which seem to bloom from the knots of a nearby tree. It makes Alayne smile brightly to herself, bending at the waist to look upon them closer. ] Sometimes I think myself dreaming, father, [ she says to one of the flowers. ] Have you ever before seen such a place?