The Deck, Sunday afternoon
So, it hadn't actually been a dream, after all. Margaery didn't know whether she was disappointed or not when she opened her eyes this morning and once more wasn't greeted with the vaulted ceiling of her bedroom at home. On the one hand, she had no idea how to get back, or whether she could even contact her family at all. On the other, this place already seemed much more fun than she'd thought school would be. So perhaps staying awhile wouldn't be the worst idea.
She'd lazed abed for a while, and would blame the ache of being on horseback for two days if anyone should have questioned it, before finally rising and making her way out to face the land of the living. After retrieving an apple from her common room - she was immensely grateful to see something she recognized right away - Margaery made her way down to the deck she'd noticed the day prior to work on the first of several letters. She had always worked on her correspondence in the garden at home, and it was far too beautiful a day to develop a hand cramp indoors.
By her count, she had five letters to write to start, and so she'd brought her inkpot with her, as well. But she found, once she had quill in hand, that she had no idea how to start.
"'Dearest Grandmother, did you know you were sending me to another world?'" she tried out loud. "No, that's horrible."
Five variations on that later, and Margaery had a collection of crumpled parchments at her feet and was vaguely wondering if she should just write to Loras about the shirtless boys. That seemed easier to discuss.
[open open open!]
She'd lazed abed for a while, and would blame the ache of being on horseback for two days if anyone should have questioned it, before finally rising and making her way out to face the land of the living. After retrieving an apple from her common room - she was immensely grateful to see something she recognized right away - Margaery made her way down to the deck she'd noticed the day prior to work on the first of several letters. She had always worked on her correspondence in the garden at home, and it was far too beautiful a day to develop a hand cramp indoors.
By her count, she had five letters to write to start, and so she'd brought her inkpot with her, as well. But she found, once she had quill in hand, that she had no idea how to start.
"'Dearest Grandmother, did you know you were sending me to another world?'" she tried out loud. "No, that's horrible."
Five variations on that later, and Margaery had a collection of crumpled parchments at her feet and was vaguely wondering if she should just write to Loras about the shirtless boys. That seemed easier to discuss.
[open open open!]