[ A soldier-for-hire is what she wishes for above all else; nothing would be of higher value in this moment than a man willing to draw his sword against her foes for the promise of future riches. A mercenary with no mercy to speak of. He does not count himself among such men, to her disappointment.
A scientist, he says, and when she thinks of the sciences, she thinks of maesters, of pyromancers, of gray, studious men who pale at the sight of blood. Men for whom money means nothing, keeping as they do to the higher virtues, like honor and duty and good. She has never once understood how such men operate, or how they experience what it is to simply live. Do they truly choose nobility above the hot rush of blood?
Her disappointment is short-lived, a twist of smoke above the gathering promise of a fire, for then he proffers the words she has most needed since arriving. You may stay close to me. When, even before the drear fact of this place, has she ever felt able to protect herself? Never was she given sword or lance, or any mentionable purpose beyond marriage and breeding. She was never meant to bear weapons.
This is why she relies on proper warriors to bear them for her, and if all that is asked of her in exchange is her wit and scheming, then it is a lucrative transaction indeed.
She does not hesitate, prowling in closer to his side as if she means to shroud herself in his kindness this instant, regretting only that he seems so strangely devoted not only to his own survival, but that of their captors. What are the lives of traitors worth? Why bother to preserve them? ]
You are never safe if you are in the habit of letting your foes live. [ Perhaps this is a soft-hearted habit that can be reversed. She lifts a hand to take his arm, as if he is her formal escort for a courtly affair. Despite her wariness toward his tender outlook, toward his cool remove in general, her own face is not bereft of vague amusement. ]
You are not skilled in negotiation, and yet you win your battles without violence? Do tell me the secret of how this is done. When a man refuses steel, must he not turn to words?
no subject
A scientist, he says, and when she thinks of the sciences, she thinks of maesters, of pyromancers, of gray, studious men who pale at the sight of blood. Men for whom money means nothing, keeping as they do to the higher virtues, like honor and duty and good. She has never once understood how such men operate, or how they experience what it is to simply live. Do they truly choose nobility above the hot rush of blood?
Her disappointment is short-lived, a twist of smoke above the gathering promise of a fire, for then he proffers the words she has most needed since arriving. You may stay close to me. When, even before the drear fact of this place, has she ever felt able to protect herself? Never was she given sword or lance, or any mentionable purpose beyond marriage and breeding. She was never meant to bear weapons.
This is why she relies on proper warriors to bear them for her, and if all that is asked of her in exchange is her wit and scheming, then it is a lucrative transaction indeed.
She does not hesitate, prowling in closer to his side as if she means to shroud herself in his kindness this instant, regretting only that he seems so strangely devoted not only to his own survival, but that of their captors. What are the lives of traitors worth? Why bother to preserve them? ]
You are never safe if you are in the habit of letting your foes live. [ Perhaps this is a soft-hearted habit that can be reversed. She lifts a hand to take his arm, as if he is her formal escort for a courtly affair. Despite her wariness toward his tender outlook, toward his cool remove in general, her own face is not bereft of vague amusement. ]
You are not skilled in negotiation, and yet you win your battles without violence? Do tell me the secret of how this is done. When a man refuses steel, must he not turn to words?