faderift | the start of something new

WHO: Sansa Stark
WHAT: Sansa learns about the changing of the years in Thedas; Sansa works on her sewing.
WHEN: 1 - 8 Wintermarch
WHERE: around Skyhold
NOTES: A general catch-all for Sansa to start out the new year.

i. the changing of the year.

Sansa has slowly been learning how life in Thedas works since arriving through the rift two moons prior and one of the things she's learned about this month, actually, is that they celebrate the change of the year in Thedas with a holiday called First Day. It's a simple thing to celebrate, really, and somewhat arbitrary but Sansa likes the idea of visiting others throughout Skyhold and drinking with them, breaking bread with them and generally making their acquaintance.

She's been terrible at making acquaintances since coming here, after all, and so First Day and the days after give her a chance to work in the kitchens and make simple little cakes to pass along to others. It's nothing taxing, certainly not for her since she isn't much of a cook, but it is a kindness that she wants to bestow upon those who have made her feel welcome since coming to Thedas and she wants to demonstrate she has an interest in learning how their world and celebrations do work.

ii. slip a stitch into something new.

In the afternoons, Sansa likes to work on needlework. It's become a way to make a bit of coin while she stays in Thedas and she's always loved her embroidery besides so making clothes and mending cloaks has become a way to earn money and pass the time. It reminds her of long, cold days at Winterfell when she'd sit by the fire with her mother and the septa, learning how to make her stitches small and neat, and oftentimes she dreamed of mending things for her lord husband someday. It's a mundane dream but, funnily enough, one afternoon it occurs to her that she's done that very thing and sometimes she smiles to herself or laughs just a bit.

Yes, the shirts are much smaller than she expected of a lord husband and often they are in shades of Lannister red and gold but she doesn't care about that. Here in Thedas nobody cares about Lions or Direwolves or Stags and when she draws her needle in and out of her mending, it's a soothing and calming activity that she doesn't have to worry about. No one cares about the subject of her embroidery now and she's free to do whatever she likes. The freedom is exhilarating.

iii. the frost falls upon the ground.

When the weather is clear enough, Sansa takes the chance to walk around outdoors. It's cold still, even to someone with Northern blood like hers, and the ice is still evident upon the grounds. Sometimes there's ruts from horses or wagons, crusted over with mud and ice and Sansa is careful to keep her skirts clear of them; she still doesn't like to be dirty even if she's much less squeamish about it than she was as a child in Westeros.

When a bit of ice falls from the edge of a roof, she dodges it carefully and when snow slides into the back of her cloak after shifting off the eaves of Skyhold proper, she squeals in surprise but it doesn't drive her indoors. The winter sunlight is weak and thin but she soaks up as much of it as she can and when snowflakes alight on her cheeks, she often pushes back her hood so that they can catch in the shimmering auburn of her hair.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"My loins are currently cursing me a fool." He stated simply, before his lips curve up at the corners, "Mostly because I want very badly for you to kiss me once again."

"So why don't you?" Sansa asks, lips parting a bit and lashes sweeping down to present herself as demure. She isn't innocent any longer but she still knows how to play it.

"Why don't you, Tyrion?"

Something flickered through his gaze then, a spark of heat and a touch of ... hunger, before he cupped her face and pulled her down to kiss her. That spark flamed as his mouth moved against hers, and he tugged her all the way down so now that they were lying on the sofa together.

Sansa hadn't expected that, exactly, and for a moment her thoughts reel. They're in a semi-public place, for starters, and is Tyrion going to want to assert his rights here in the open?

That's silly, she thinks to herself. Tyrion doesn't think it's his right anyway.

"Shouldn't we...be somewhere private?"

He gives her what can only be called an impish smile, before he releases her, so she can straight herself out.

"Of course we should be, but you did want me to show you, did you not?"

"I did ask for it," Sansa agrees, nervously smoothing down the front of her gown even though it isn't very rumpled at all. She swallows thickly and tries to hide the fact that her cheeks are warm. She's not successful.

"If we go to our tent, it's likely cold. We'll have to stay close."

He gave her a sly little smile, before he smoothes back his own curls. His green eyes are brighter than normal, even as he gives her an oh so innocent look.

"Well yes we would. I would hate to say that I might have to demonstrate myself again, though."

[Continued Here.]

the start of something new

Re: III

Re: III

Re: III

Re: III

Re: III

Re: III

Re: III

Re: III