dammitmasa (
dammitmasa) wrote in
munebox2013-09-10 12:14 pm
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Call me Out
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- Prose or commentspam are fine! -
- Start with a scenario or give a prompt for one you'd like to see.
Preferences:
- I don't play for shipping, fluff, or smut. If it arrives naturally, I'll play it. But not as a starting point.
- In universe, AUs, crossovers, post-game, or other situations are cool.
- I will play prose or brackets, but definitely prefer prose.
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Gendry had little concept of foods that were nourishing for you or simply indulgent. He'd never had any instruction in health. When you lived at the bottom, you couldn't afford to choose which foods were best for you, only what was available. So why not eat sweets all the time? It tasted good, so he reasoned it could only be good for you. Lords only ate the best.
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Robin piped up from Sansa's other side: "My mother always let me have whatever I wanted!"
And there, Sansa thought with a frown, is my argument made for me.
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"My master told me hard work is what makes you strong. Pain is strength."
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It wasn't something she knew innately. She had never been taught such a sentence. But she had overheard it said in the Small Council's chamber when she'd dared to stop by its doors and listen in on old men talking. They had been discussing the grain shortage in King's Landing, and Petyr had made the persuasive point that starving the smallfolk would only lead to an unproductive city. She had almost loved him, in that moment -- so eloquent and gentle-mannered. She wondered now whether it had been part of some larger ruse, for she knew better than to think Petyr would do anything that did not benefit himself in the end.
And if pain is strength, then I must be very strong indeed...
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"I can load the stores," he said instead. "I just need to know where it goes."
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Sansa cut a narrow wedge into her tart and pulled it out from the larger circle. Half a bite's worth, maybe. But before she brought it to her mouth, she added: "We will need to take a few things from the library."
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But he nodded dutifully. "Aye. I'll find Fallon."
With his plate finished, he sat back again and marveled. It was a strange thing to have a voice, even a small one, in the company of lords, ladies, and wise maesters. He'd never get used to this. He also suspected he'd never live long enough to.
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But whose interests had turned out to be wrong in the end? Sansa frowned. All her fairy tales had failed her.
"I have my own things to pack," she announced, standing from her chair in one motion.
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"I should see to the forge. M'lord, m'lady." He nodded at each one respectively. "Thank you for the feast."