Asks from the heart

[processions]

ask questions from the heart: the original flavor Finally! You can ask all the questions about matters of the heart, love, and romance that have been burning that hole through your curiosity. Ask away! Delve deep! Nothing is off-limits! Except for that. RULES ○ Comment with your character. ○ They're asked love-adjacent and related questions!

Comments

[starkofwinterfell]

I have very little family left.

[ A sorrowful reminder. Her family is either dead or scattered to parts unknown save for Jon at the Wall. She longs for home, but home is a place ruled by the Flayed Man. ]

She was-- you both were very kind to me before. I want you to know it was deeply appreciated.

[housemartell]

I did not know.

[ The world having less Starks in it wasn't something he'd mourn. But his tone is still sensitive, for the sake of Sansa's own loss. A loss of family is something he knows all too keenly. ]

A kindness you have repaid with your company, and one we would both be happy to share in again. [ He takes one of her hands and holds it between his palms briefly, a comforting touch to match the words spoken. ]

[starkofwinterfell]

[ She doesn't recoil from his touch. It's been such a long time that anyone has touched her with a kind hand. It feels strange and nearly intoxicating. She lets her hand remain in his. She studies him intently. ]

Do you truly mean it? You would host me in Sunspear?

[housemartell]

Yes, of course.

[ He releases her hand, a look of slight confusion passing momentarily. ]

Why would I make the offer if I did not intend on honoring it? [ He offers a warm smile of reassurance. ]

[starkofwinterfell]

[ His confusion is so genuine, it nearly makes her laugh. She restrains herself for fear of offense. Prince Oberyn, perhaps even all of Dorne, are so without the trappings of false kindness that run rampant amongst the courtiers. ]

For courtesy sake and that alone. I cannot return home, and I do not wish to fall on the mercy of the Lannisters. I would be honored to see your home.

[housemartell]

[ He smiles, huffing an amused breath at the idea that he'd make such an offer based purely on courtesy. ] It is my home. [ No shortage of pride in his voice with that statement. ] If I did not want someone within it's borders, I would not ask.

[ The mention of the Lannisters sweeps away all warmth from his expression and his eyes, replacing it with an anger he does not bother to hide. ]

They are without mercy. Without honor. I would hope for your sake that you would stay far away, for the foreseeable future.

[ He pauses to take a breath, and gradually the warmth returns; like sunlight once again emerging from behind a cloud. ]

Then you will come to visit?

[starkofwinterfell]

It is my greatest hope.

[ She would rather die than be back in the lion's den. Cersei wants her dead. She is a Stark without a pack and without a home. It feels immeasurably lonely. She doesn't have the force or the power to take back Winterfell.

She is simply Sansa Stark. Anyone else would want to wed her and put a babe in her belly to take the North. She doesn't see that sort of megalomania in him. She hopes this time her instinct proves her right. ]

As soon as you will have me.

[housemartell]

You will need more suitable clothing, I think.

[ There is an air of slight teasing in his tone, but good naturedly so. ]

There is no more different a climate from Winterfell than all of Dorne. It may overwhelm at first, but you will be welcome among my people. And, you will be safe. On that you have my word.

[ The conviction in his tone is clear. He knows what she has been through at the hands of the Lannisters, and there are other untold pains that linger somewhere in the depths of her gaze. He can only imagine, though he does not focus long on that. ]

[starkofwinterfell]

[ Indeed. Her favored wools in darker shades will need to be traded for light linens in lighter colors to fend off the heat of the sun. She has a feeling that she'll need parasols and plenty of shade lest she burn fiercely.

Dorne sounds like a dream to her. A place of solace. A place where noble ladies aren't beaten before the court. She trusts in his word even if she is wary. She always expects something terrible to happen when presented with something good.

What else can she lose now? Always something, she's learned. ]

I fear I'll turn white red beneath the Dornish sun. My complexion isn't very forgiving in it.