Inbox (In the Night)

[chivalrouswench]

I... this is Brienne of Tarth.

[ Insert long, awkward pause here. ]

I am not available at the moment, but leave a message and I will respond as soon as I can.

Comments

[preseance]

( christ o'lordy. gene ain't often one for stickin' his foot in his mouth, but he can all but taste boot leather now. he ducks his head some, spears a piece of pie on his fork that he don't much feel like eatin'. )

Must'a been hard, then. Growin' up like that.

( normal folk don't see ghosts, but that don't mean they can't be aware of 'em in some small way. that sorta thing wears on a soul, because like it or not you carry death the whole of your life. )

[chivalrouswench]

[ It isn't Gene's fault that Brienne spoke of her siblings in an ambiguous manner, and she doesn't hold his assumption against him.

As to his next statement, at first she simply shrugs. The habit to keep her own council is so deeply ingrained that it's hard to talk even to someone who seems to genuinely want to.

But what good did her silence really bring her in life? It certainly did not save her from hurt, all it did was make her lonely.

Mother have mercy, she is tired of being lonely. ]

Where I come from, they tell stories about Ser Galladon. The perfect knight. They named my brother after him. My father lost his son and heir and only got to keep one daughter. The one so ugly he couldn't find a suitable husband for her.

[ Why didn't the sea claim her instead? ]