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onlyvengeanceWHO: Catelyn Stark and Theon Greyjoy
WHERE: vague mumblings of a placename shh probably somewhere kind of mildly remote and possibly unnamed
WHEN: now
WHAT: Theon has a Feels and things go poorly, as always
WARNINGS: grown men crying = always hurtful ok. In all seriousness, usual Game of Thrones topics....
It was odd to think of riding a horse as something one did for fun, and yet so it had become, if not exactly fun, then a distraction of sorts. There was something about choosing a direction at random and going along and purposefully not thinking. Kind of the medieval version of driving in the car listening to the radio for no real reason other than to get into that almost zen state of thinking/not thinking. She might be living in more modern times, but in a lot of ways, coping strategies included, Catelyn Stark is still stuck in the middle ages, ok. She had learned as a small child to orient herself by the position of the sun in the sky, and she had an unerring sense of direction, so she wasn't concerned with getting lost. She knew the way home.
And so she pushed on, deeper into the still unfamiliar countryside, only occasionally startled by the jarring presence of something or someone more modern, such as a truck rambling past on a section of road. And as the distance slipped away, so did some of her worries. Most of them were in regard to her family, and those that were not present in this world were beyond her aid, anyways.
She had been for the most part, alone. But the quiet, muffled sound of distress cut through her reverie, and she turned her horse from the path and more along the direction of the sound. She could not have said what she expected, but Theon Greyjoy with the tracks of tears on his face was not it in the least. She drew rein and let her gaze drift over him. He didn't seem to be hurt but that didn't necessarily mean he was not. Turncloak he may have become, but it was ....unsettling to see him like this. "Theon?" she queried, not certain what she may receive in response.
WHERE: vague mumblings of a placename shh probably somewhere kind of mildly remote and possibly unnamed
WHEN: now
WHAT: Theon has a Feels and things go poorly, as always
WARNINGS: grown men crying = always hurtful ok. In all seriousness, usual Game of Thrones topics....
It was odd to think of riding a horse as something one did for fun, and yet so it had become, if not exactly fun, then a distraction of sorts. There was something about choosing a direction at random and going along and purposefully not thinking. Kind of the medieval version of driving in the car listening to the radio for no real reason other than to get into that almost zen state of thinking/not thinking. She might be living in more modern times, but in a lot of ways, coping strategies included, Catelyn Stark is still stuck in the middle ages, ok. She had learned as a small child to orient herself by the position of the sun in the sky, and she had an unerring sense of direction, so she wasn't concerned with getting lost. She knew the way home.
And so she pushed on, deeper into the still unfamiliar countryside, only occasionally startled by the jarring presence of something or someone more modern, such as a truck rambling past on a section of road. And as the distance slipped away, so did some of her worries. Most of them were in regard to her family, and those that were not present in this world were beyond her aid, anyways.
She had been for the most part, alone. But the quiet, muffled sound of distress cut through her reverie, and she turned her horse from the path and more along the direction of the sound. She could not have said what she expected, but Theon Greyjoy with the tracks of tears on his face was not it in the least. She drew rein and let her gaze drift over him. He didn't seem to be hurt but that didn't necessarily mean he was not. Turncloak he may have become, but it was ....unsettling to see him like this. "Theon?" she queried, not certain what she may receive in response.