// 003. [video]
Rickon? Catelyn?
[The feed opens on an ornately carved cage. Weirwood, if one is passing familiar or interested enough to look. The two nightingales inside are huddled together, asleep on their perch.]
Should I be worried?
[A slender, pale hand upturned - a palm full of berries, but neither bird opens its eyes. Sleep is much more interesting ( Read more... )
[The feed opens on an ornately carved cage. Weirwood, if one is passing familiar or interested enough to look. The two nightingales inside are huddled together, asleep on their perch.]
Should I be worried?
[A slender, pale hand upturned - a palm full of berries, but neither bird opens its eyes. Sleep is much more interesting ( Read more... )
Comments 39
[ while she's sure they'd sing beautifully -... if that type can even sing; she doesn't know much about birds - they are cute sleeping like that, and the excited little one makes her smile. ]
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Thank you. They're usually much more lively. Do you know much about birds?
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i know a little .
[ She may posses wings, but they are not bird wings. ]
maybe your birds are just sleepy . or sad today , but i would guess sleepy . they will be lively again .
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[But they are lovely wings.]
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I don't want to do anything! [pout] I've slept all day.
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[But she slides a little forward, sitting up straight is too much work. This is easier - she doesn't even have to hold the Forge, just lie her face next to where it's sitting. Much better.
Better for Sandor to poke at the screen before hopping out of her hair, across the Forge and onto the table.]
Just so sleepy. Do you think it's a sickness? Should I...
[You know what? The rest of the words are too much effort, and she's trailing off again.]
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[She worries at her lip a little, silent. It's as if she forgets she's talking to anyone at all until the sparrow starts cheeping.]
I thought if I named them, they'd come. It worked with Arya.
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Her mouth opens and no words yet escape it. Teeth hemming the edge again and a small sigh.
Yes? No? Maybe? Yes.]
It would be ...better to know his whereabouts than to wonder...[if he's dead.]
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[He's talking before he even thinks about it, which leads to the following awkward pause.]
[...]
[..they're just birds.]
What's wrong with them?
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I don't know. They won't stop sleeping. When I try to wake them they just fall asleep again.
[Wait. He'd said something else, hadn't he?]
Did I what?
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[You know, like San...dor... --wait.]
Did you name your bird after the Hound?
[WAIT, AGAIN. He stares into the Forge, frowning.]
Sansa, you're yawning. Didn't you sleep last night?
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[Birds aren't someones. Right.]
...oh.
I...
[And she just sort of ...blinks. See how slick she isn't, Bran? Unskillfully dodging that question on account of too tired to form words.]
...I did. [But now you've said yawn and that just makes her do it again. Not even into her sleeve, either.] And I rose so late, but I feel as if I never slept at all.
You don't?
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[...]
I won't stop hoping.
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The sparrow was watchful, and there's a dark patch near his beak where...
[No, Sansa, Robb probably is not looking for the literal why. More like the what were you thinking why.]
It came to mind.
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