It is done. Splayed on the stones below her. Screaming. Crimson in his golden hair.
The sun is in her eyes. And the light flashing from armour, as they rush towards her, anger, hard shouts. Traitor.
She is swaying even before they strike her down; her vision tilts drunkenly upwards. Her father is staring blindly out over the wall. Above his head, ravens are circling.
TwoSansa's cell is colder than anywhere she has been since first coming to the city. She closes her eyes and thinks of home; jolts awake to the sound of boots on stone flags. The queen is a pale figure in the darkness, the guards flanking her mere shadows. She is drawn up very straight and very tall
( ... )
This is really marvelous -- I love how calm Sansa is at the end and when she's facing Cersei. And even though it's tragic, it's also hopeful. Really, I love every word of this.
This is lovely. The sparcity of the prose really works here, especially in the short, abrupt sentences of the beginning. I really like your descriptions throughout, and Sansa's thoughts at the end.
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It is done. Splayed on the stones below her. Screaming. Crimson in his golden hair.
The sun is in her eyes. And the light flashing from armour, as they rush towards her, anger, hard shouts. Traitor.
She is swaying even before they strike her down; her vision tilts drunkenly upwards. Her father is staring blindly out over the wall. Above his head, ravens are circling.
TwoSansa's cell is colder than anywhere she has been since first coming to the city. She closes her eyes and thinks of home; jolts awake to the sound of boots on stone flags. The queen is a pale figure in the darkness, the guards flanking her mere shadows. She is drawn up very straight and very tall ( ... )
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Great job! Thanks for sharing! :)
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