The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Jul 21, 2016 0:31:24 GMT
Riverrun's godswood is a bright and airy garden, with redwoods, flowers, nesting birds, and streams. The godswood's heart tree is a slender carved weirwood.
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Post by Tim of Raventree on Jul 31, 2016 19:36:47 GMT
11th day of the 3rd moon
Violet wore one of her simpler dresses for the visit to the godswood. It might be plain, but, with her hair tied loosely behind her head she looked as innocent as the Maiden. A warm cloak covered her from the cold and she wore hose beneath her gown and boots.
She stayed close to Tristan, keeping one hand free to aid him should he require it, while the other carried a skin of ale she had begged from one of the servants.
"Oh, it's so pretty!" She gasped. "So much prettier than Harrenhal's godswood. Almost like a garden!"
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Aug 1, 2016 3:38:19 GMT
Tristan hobbled along, clutching onto a finely carved oak cane with a derby handle, his mangled leg in a full length brace. He winced in pain with each step, an attendant following, though he waved off the help from the servant and Violet, not abandoning that dignity yet. "Whereas the Harrenhal godswood is practically a forest," he agreed, apparently having wandered its acres back when he was still able to.
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Post by Tim of Raventree on Aug 1, 2016 17:57:14 GMT
"Oh, yes. A dark and unfriendly forest," Violet agreed. "I didn't realise you knew it." Her heart ached to help him but she knew she must not do so unless he asked for her assistance. "Were you acquainted with Lady Danelle? I never met her."
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Aug 2, 2016 4:51:00 GMT
"As I said, before the war my father took me on his travels when he was hosted by vassals, Harrenhal among them," Tristan replied, precariously stepping over a root with another wince of pain. "A lord must know the lands he rules to know its people, he always told me."
"Lord Manfred was its ruler when I was there and he seldom allowed his daughter far from his side. More rumors, more ghost stories. I remember her being quiet and little else, but then I was not yet of age to take an interest in young ladies, far more interested in the cavernous halls of a haunted keep."
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Post by Tim of Raventree on Aug 2, 2016 18:18:26 GMT
"Of course. " She wondered if he was old enough to take an interest in young ladies now.
"I used to think it would be wonderfully exciting to see Harrenhal when I was a girl growing up in Harroway's Town, but it's not nearly as exciting when you get there." She sighed a little. "Riverrun is so much nicer. You are lucky to live here, truly." She paused to look around and listen to the occasional twitter from a bird.
"Oh, a stream! Shall we go see?" She wanted to trot off excitedly but courtesy kept her close to Tristan. She was determined not to move faster than he could go. "It must be wonderful to sit here in the summer."
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Aug 3, 2016 20:52:08 GMT
He certainly was, at least if girls interested him, as he was likely only a year her junior from appearances.
"You will forgive me if I hardly feel fortunate after trapped within its walls for a quarter of my life," he remarked, not unkindly, as he hobbled along. Considering what he had weathered, he was quite chipper. "Do you know how many stones are in the Wheel Tower?I do now."
"I was quite young during the last summer, but remember it fondly," he said, with a smile at her enthusiasm, despite the ache with each step over root and rock. "I used to catch fish in that stream with my cousins, with rods Uncle Torren had whittled for us."
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Post by Tim of Raventree on Aug 3, 2016 21:11:28 GMT
"Oh, wonderful!" She exclaimed. "And then you had them for dinner, I'm sure. Fresh-caught fish are the best. I've never been fishing, myself, though. I always thought it wasn't really an activity for ladies. Besides, looking at the worms makes me squirm."
After a moment she said "We could sit down by the stream if you like, and have a drink? But truly, if I had to choose between being trapped here and in Harrenhal, I would choose Riverrun. There is much beauty here, and Harrenhal is so grim It suits a soldier like Belric, though."
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Aug 6, 2016 17:42:51 GMT
He nodded at her offer to sit and drink by the stream, his leg aching, having no response other than a smile and shake of his head to her dislike of worms.
"I would hate to meet the man that Harrenhal suits," he remarked.
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Post by Tim of Raventree on Aug 6, 2016 18:29:17 GMT
She opened the wineskin and handed it to Tristan.
"Aside from Belric? Oh, well, maybe that's why they say the place is cursed. Because of all the bad lords who died."
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Aug 6, 2016 18:59:24 GMT
"Bad lords?" Tristan inquired. "From my readings, most of them seem as good as any, no worse and no better. "Qoherys, Harroway, Towers, and Strong. More competent lords than bad, from my accounts."
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Post by Tim of Raventree on Aug 6, 2016 19:04:17 GMT
"I didn't know that," she admitted. "So why did their lines all fail? Just bad luck?"
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Aug 6, 2016 20:15:39 GMT
"If you believe in that sort of thing," Tristan remarked skeptically, easing himself down with a hiss of pain and taking the ale gratefully. "Qoherys was killed in his own hall by the bandit king Harren the Red, Maegor the Cruel had the Harroways line extinguished on a whim, the Towers couldn't conceive an heir, and the Strongs died in a fire."
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Post by Tim of Raventree on Aug 6, 2016 21:30:55 GMT
His knowledge stunned her. "Maybe you should be lord of Harrenhal," she teased. "But let's not talk about Harrenhal any more. Do you have any dreams, Tristan?"
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The Gambler
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Post by The Gambler on Aug 6, 2016 23:42:08 GMT
"A curious question," Tristan remarked, cocking his head to the side. "“I’ve had a recurring dream about my teeth falling out in my mouth. They’ll feel loose and strangely shaped at first. In these dreams, they’re almost always too large for my mouth, and sometimes growing out at weird angles. They detach themselves and I have to spit them out. I’m always so embarrassed in these dreams, and try to hide what’s happening from other people. Strange what lunacy the brain invents in our slumber.”
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