001 | video

[tyrellrose]

[ taking place some time after this.

The Forge flickers on. A bright-eyed girl is looking into the screen, curly hair framing a gentle smile. She's wearing a Victorian men's jacket (sorry, Renly, you'll never get it back again) over what appears to be a wedding dress. Ulterior motives? Of course she has none. ]I do hope that you won’t scare off

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[tyrellrose]

[ooc; :D]

action;

[ Margaery's sitting at the edge of her bed in the Outlander Apartments, fiddling with her Forge. She has since exchanged her wedding dress for something more appropriate, albeit drabber, she found stuffed in a closet, though she still has on Renly's coat. She can't deny feeling a stab of nervousness at the thought of meeting the infamous Eddard Stark, legendary for his honour. Traitor or not, the entire realm knew who he was. Sansa, though, should be a welcome sight. She hopes that the broken little bird has started healing here, with her family around her, and feels somewhat guilty for abandoning her upon her marriage to the Imp. With the girl a Lannister, she could not trust her secrets to remain her own.

That was all in another world, however. In this one, one wrong move is less likely to bring her death, and she can develop her friendships without the constant scrutiny. For now, she simply waits and wonders about the future.

She heard a rumour somewhere that Eddard Stark never smiles. She hopes that it isn't true. ]

/s-slides in fshkfshk just tell me where to be!

[isherarmor]

[She's chosen a different cloak this time - a warm woolen blue - with her father's presence and her own memories of Margaery (hopeful, fond, twined through with sadness and disappointment that's somehow both closer and more faraway) she can leave that armor behind.

A bloodied, Kingsguard cloak was not what one wears to greet a queen - and Margaery was queen.

Another cloak is slung over one arm - it's finer than the one she wears, a pair of half embroidered gloves stuffed deep into one of the pockets, a dress beneath that, and a small, neatly wrapped parcel of lemon cakes in her free hand.

Don't worry, Ned - her hair is free of birds - but her stomach feels suddenly full of them.]

[tyrellrose]

[ She pulls open the door with a smile and dips into a curtsy. ]

Lord Stark. Lady Sansa.

[ And she whisks forward to kiss Sansa on both cheeks. That being done, she steps back and gestures them inside, all the while seeming like queen of her own humble abode. ]

I fear I cannot offer you much, but I will repay you this kindness when I have the chance.