30 Days Writing Challenge [ #1 ]
So, there's this writing challenge on tumblr that popped up on my dash earlier this morning... or was it the afternoon. It doesn't matter. So i decided, hey why not. I have no life anyway ( insert sobs here ). Besides i needed a lil push. And .. this writing challenge will not be one character , nor will it be one fandom centric. ( i split it into three, so 10 days for Ned Stark POV, 10 for Brynden Blackfish POV and the remaining 10 for a Boromir POV ). So bear with me and here goes.
Title: Colours.
Pairing: Ned Stark/Catelyn Stark
Rating: PG
Words: 487
Warnings: None.
Prompt: Summer.
Summary
Summer was the sun, and blue skies stretching far above him towards the horizon. Just blue. And bright. It blinded him sometimes, the way everything burst into colour in the summer. It was as if his eyes thought them alien and felt that the existence of such colours were impossible. It made sense, he supposed, as most of his life he had been blanketed by the whites of the Northern snow, the greys of the walls of Winterfell and the blacks of the trees in the Wolfswood.
He wondered if his eyes will ever adjust to the colours of summer. He doubted it.
Now, summer meant something else to him. There were more colours. More than he had ever seen. Or perhaps they were the same colours, only with different shades. But they were no less brighter than they had been before. They still glared at him, making him blink as he forces his eyes to learn, to become accustomed to them. The blues were still blues. There was the sky, in hues that made him think of peace and calm. And the rivers, whose colours shifted and flowed as they ran past his fingers. And her eyes. They were different sort of blue... and yet they were all and the same.
They were fierce. And warm. And gentle.
When she smiles. When she looks up; in that one small moment before she closes her eyes to kiss him.
Summer brought flowers. Little drops and splashes of purples and yellows and pinks in fields of rolling green. He had picked her one before, a white daisy with nice thin petals and tucked it behind her ear, into her red hair.
His eyes did not mind red as much as they did with the other colours of summer. He had seen red before. In blood and in fires. He remembers how red used to scare him, when he was younger, smaller. It made him think of death and ruin. It made him feel sick. He hated it.
But the red of her hair was different. Almost strange to him. It was beautiful. It was comforting. It was soft.
She liked to tie her hair into braids, intertwining locks of red around each other, making designs and patterns on her head and down her back. Sometimes he would help her with them, as much as his clumsy fingers could, but most times he liked to pick and pull at them, undoing her work and making her lips frown and laugh.
Then he realises. Now, summer was the blue in her eyes, and the life that played in them. To him, summer was the red in her hair, the flare and the halo around her. From this day, summer was the heat beneath her skin as she lays beside him through the cool nights, her head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist.
She is the summer.
And he loves her.
Title: Colours.
Pairing: Ned Stark/Catelyn Stark
Rating: PG
Words: 487
Warnings: None.
Prompt: Summer.
Summary
Summer was the sun, and blue skies stretching far above him towards the horizon. Just blue. And bright. It blinded him sometimes, the way everything burst into colour in the summer. It was as if his eyes thought them alien and felt that the existence of such colours were impossible. It made sense, he supposed, as most of his life he had been blanketed by the whites of the Northern snow, the greys of the walls of Winterfell and the blacks of the trees in the Wolfswood.
He wondered if his eyes will ever adjust to the colours of summer. He doubted it.
Now, summer meant something else to him. There were more colours. More than he had ever seen. Or perhaps they were the same colours, only with different shades. But they were no less brighter than they had been before. They still glared at him, making him blink as he forces his eyes to learn, to become accustomed to them. The blues were still blues. There was the sky, in hues that made him think of peace and calm. And the rivers, whose colours shifted and flowed as they ran past his fingers. And her eyes. They were different sort of blue... and yet they were all and the same.
They were fierce. And warm. And gentle.
When she smiles. When she looks up; in that one small moment before she closes her eyes to kiss him.
Summer brought flowers. Little drops and splashes of purples and yellows and pinks in fields of rolling green. He had picked her one before, a white daisy with nice thin petals and tucked it behind her ear, into her red hair.
His eyes did not mind red as much as they did with the other colours of summer. He had seen red before. In blood and in fires. He remembers how red used to scare him, when he was younger, smaller. It made him think of death and ruin. It made him feel sick. He hated it.
But the red of her hair was different. Almost strange to him. It was beautiful. It was comforting. It was soft.
She liked to tie her hair into braids, intertwining locks of red around each other, making designs and patterns on her head and down her back. Sometimes he would help her with them, as much as his clumsy fingers could, but most times he liked to pick and pull at them, undoing her work and making her lips frown and laugh.
Then he realises. Now, summer was the blue in her eyes, and the life that played in them. To him, summer was the red in her hair, the flare and the halo around her. From this day, summer was the heat beneath her skin as she lays beside him through the cool nights, her head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist.
She is the summer.
And he loves her.