Video.
[ It's late at night, or very early morning, and Theon Greyjoy is standing in front of a wide-open window, examining his Forge suspiciously. Close, then distant, then jostled and skewed as he gets the hang of it. ]
Strange voices.
[ And familiar ones. It hadn't taken much toying for the scared dulcet tones of Brandon Stark to filter tinny to his ears. Theon has none of his typical smiles, his lips pursed and slightly petulant, a tired sort of anger in his eyes. ]
This is not the Wall, though it's as cold as Asha's cunt. Neither is it Winterfell.
[ Still the sharp tone, but in truth he's relieved. Theon has had enough of that bastard castle and its ghosts. The most he can hope is that it's spectres have not followed him here, wherever here is. ]
Speak, strange voices, and enlighten a man as to his predicament. Are you friends? Or foes?
[ Mostly he expects the latter. ]
Strange voices.
[ And familiar ones. It hadn't taken much toying for the scared dulcet tones of Brandon Stark to filter tinny to his ears. Theon has none of his typical smiles, his lips pursed and slightly petulant, a tired sort of anger in his eyes. ]
This is not the Wall, though it's as cold as Asha's cunt. Neither is it Winterfell.
[ Still the sharp tone, but in truth he's relieved. Theon has had enough of that bastard castle and its ghosts. The most he can hope is that it's spectres have not followed him here, wherever here is. ]
Speak, strange voices, and enlighten a man as to his predicament. Are you friends? Or foes?
[ Mostly he expects the latter. ]