The last few days had been perplexing, in a way that Sansa had never anticipated. She was surrounded by wildlife - wildlife out of drawings, birds that braided her hair, that brought her towels when she bathed. Flowers sprung from her steps, and she spend the nights sleeping on moss as soft as lamb's wool, with rabbits bringing her her blankets.
It was... disconcerting, especially given how she knew others on the station were not so lucky. Her mind had been focused on her own state - that Ser Jaime Lannister was here, that it made it even more likely that the horrible man who had ben collecting rats was not wrong - that there were more people from Westeros who she did not know or see. She had settled in the grand, open room where they had all begun, listening to the echo of the birdsong as a pair of squirrels played in front of her, a doe lying on her side next to her fawn. It made her miss Lady, it made her miss everything - things that couldn't exist any longer, that she had never seen - Life was not the way it was in stories, but this - this surely must be from a story, did it not?
Sansa looked up at the birdsong stopped, as the the doe nudged her fawn up, as they both bounded away, white tails marking their fear. The birds and rabbits and squirrels got her up, the birds drawing on her hair and clothes as they tried to pull her away. "What? What are you doing? Stop it- I'm sorry, but-" As if they would understand.
They gave up and flew, they bounded and ran as Sansa whirled around, standing in a meadow that had not been there that morning - and she saw Alistair, and the monsters behind him, and she stared with wide eyes, taking a step back, then another, crushing a flower under her foot, too frozen by her own fear to know if she should run or stay or hide.
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It was... disconcerting, especially given how she knew others on the station were not so lucky. Her mind had been focused on her own state - that Ser Jaime Lannister was here, that it made it even more likely that the horrible man who had ben collecting rats was not wrong - that there were more people from Westeros who she did not know or see. She had settled in the grand, open room where they had all begun, listening to the echo of the birdsong as a pair of squirrels played in front of her, a doe lying on her side next to her fawn. It made her miss Lady, it made her miss everything - things that couldn't exist any longer, that she had never seen - Life was not the way it was in stories, but this - this surely must be from a story, did it not?
Sansa looked up at the birdsong stopped, as the the doe nudged her fawn up, as they both bounded away, white tails marking their fear. The birds and rabbits and squirrels got her up, the birds drawing on her hair and clothes as they tried to pull her away. "What? What are you doing? Stop it- I'm sorry, but-" As if they would understand.
They gave up and flew, they bounded and ran as Sansa whirled around, standing in a meadow that had not been there that morning - and she saw Alistair, and the monsters behind him, and she stared with wide eyes, taking a step back, then another, crushing a flower under her foot, too frozen by her own fear to know if she should run or stay or hide.