[Something had seemed strange about her a moment ago, not just what little he could see of her hair, now revealed to be strange indeed. And what she says to him makes him understand what it is: she is so much younger than the Sansa he left as regent in Winterfell. She had lived in the Vale for a time, with Littlefinger as her protector — not much of one, it had turned out. She she looks fifteen, at most… around the age she was when she was there.]
The Vale’s not your home. Winterfell is your home.
[But he sounds baffled. Why can’t anyone he meets who knows of Westeros at all remember anything about the last two, three years?
And why are her hands painted so?
If she tugs him again, he will follow.]
[OOC: unclear phrasing, my bad! I meant for him to be following, just skeptical about it. Let’s go with this though: it works either way. ]
no subject
The Vale’s not your home. Winterfell is your home.
[But he sounds baffled. Why can’t anyone he meets who knows of Westeros at all remember anything about the last two, three years?
And why are her hands painted so?
If she tugs him again, he will follow.]
[OOC: unclear phrasing, my bad! I meant for him to be following, just skeptical about it. Let’s go with this though: it works either way. ]