[ Yes, he is nothing if not deliberate. In that touch: stay by my side. Be bold, and remember — anyone who isn't us is our enemy. And perhaps it is true that the secret of Alayne Stone has never taken as well in his heart as it has in hers — it was Sansa he had kissed, out in the snow, and Sansa to whom he had brokered the engagement to Harry the Heir — but here, where names mean nothing and there is nothing to be won by them, the identity of Alayne is to his advantage. Here, the Stark name is not tarnished. She is no longer a hunted girl. There is nothing, in the strictest of terms, to bind her to him. But as long as she takes his name, she is his.
To that end, there is a little of both of the men that she has come to know — both Petyr and Littlefinger — in the way that he looks at her. He knows the way of placing himself in her heart is to open his, but in having to have that motivation in order to do so taints the action already.
Gently, he takes the blossom from her with a nod of thanks, balancing it in the palm of one hand as he inspects the petals with the other. ]
Sothoryos would be the place for anything so exotic, I suppose; I recall no flower so strange in Westeros.
( ACTION )
[ Yes, he is nothing if not deliberate. In that touch: stay by my side. Be bold, and remember — anyone who isn't us is our enemy. And perhaps it is true that the secret of Alayne Stone has never taken as well in his heart as it has in hers — it was Sansa he had kissed, out in the snow, and Sansa to whom he had brokered the engagement to Harry the Heir — but here, where names mean nothing and there is nothing to be won by them, the identity of Alayne is to his advantage. Here, the Stark name is not tarnished. She is no longer a hunted girl. There is nothing, in the strictest of terms, to bind her to him. But as long as she takes his name, she is his.
To that end, there is a little of both of the men that she has come to know — both Petyr and Littlefinger — in the way that he looks at her. He knows the way of placing himself in her heart is to open his, but in having to have that motivation in order to do so taints the action already.
Gently, he takes the blossom from her with a nod of thanks, balancing it in the palm of one hand as he inspects the petals with the other. ]
Sothoryos would be the place for anything so exotic, I suppose; I recall no flower so strange in Westeros.