β¦ She must let him live the wordplay down, of course, but he can see the corners of her mouth curve up as she lowers her head to conceal it.
Quickly enough, she sobers again ββ they have had talks like these, of his world, of hers, but some things were avoided, safe for the saying she can't seem to keep to herself. β¦
The Night is dark, and full of terrors. β¦ She nods, says it to give him certainty of her knowing what he is aiming for. β¦ In death, we are meant to ascent to a Hall of Light. No darkness, anymore, no pain, no fear. Easy to tell it did not work out quick like this. β¦ Her own attempt at a jest. β¦
The war I was fighting... Some of the faith is talk. All faith needs stories and rites, and not all of them are true or serve purpose beyond communal rejoicing, strengthening of the congregation, somesuch thing. But the war is real. The Others β dead creatures of ice ββ are rising, after ten thousand years, and they make for one final attack. Some of the men I knew have already fought some ββ well, some of the men I knew managed to narrowly escape as their weapons shattered against undead skin and their brothers were turned to the same kind of beast before their eyes.
β¦ She meets his eyes, blue to red, earnest. β¦ They will march on Westeros, and if they are not defeated in the war for the dawn, they will march on the rest of the world, and then, the Long Night, the neverending darkness, will come and devour all.
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Quickly enough, she sobers again ββ they have had talks like these, of his world, of hers, but some things were avoided, safe for the saying she can't seem to keep to herself. β¦
The Night is dark, and full of terrors. β¦ She nods, says it to give him certainty of her knowing what he is aiming for. β¦ In death, we are meant to ascent to a Hall of Light. No darkness, anymore, no pain, no fear. Easy to tell it did not work out quick like this. β¦ Her own attempt at a jest. β¦
The war I was fighting... Some of the faith is talk. All faith needs stories and rites, and not all of them are true or serve purpose beyond communal rejoicing, strengthening of the congregation, somesuch thing. But the war is real. The Others β dead creatures of ice ββ are rising, after ten thousand years, and they make for one final attack. Some of the men I knew have already fought some ββ well, some of the men I knew managed to narrowly escape as their weapons shattered against undead skin and their brothers were turned to the same kind of beast before their eyes.
β¦ She meets his eyes, blue to red, earnest. β¦ They will march on Westeros, and if they are not defeated in the war for the dawn, they will march on the rest of the world, and then, the Long Night, the neverending darkness, will come and devour all.
β¦ She knows it's a wild story. β¦
Would you like to see one? One of the Others?