( ❛ & ??? )

The snow was thick and made her quake and shiver as it fell around her. In moments she’d felt the earth move against her palms and whirl her way to a land of snow and ice, where frost graced the land and Claire knew in the pit of her stomach, if not by sight, that she was not in Inverness anymore. The Scottish Highlands she knew, felt miles away and she felt as though she were running from something but nothing at the same time. As though this were all a cruel dream that she might wake from soon enough, but the cold snow that sank around her ankles were cold enough to make her teeth natter and numb her pale skin, and that’s when she was absolutely certain this was not a dream, this was reality.

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The white cotton dress she wore offered no warmth, and her thin leather pumps where not accustomed for snow. It occurred to Claire that perhaps she had just drifted off on a walk too far north, it was after all not unheard of for Snow to fall on the mountains of Scotland, especially this time of year. But now she was just kidding herself, if not to deny the reality that she wasn’t in Scotland anymore, at least not in 1945. 

This realisation came to her when a girl was seen in the distance, wearing a dress to the ground and fur adorned her shoulders. Claire felt like an idiot, standing in the thick snow, with her arms hugged around herself to keep the heat from seeping out of her, what little heat she had, that was.

                     ”I seem to be lost.”

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Claire confided in the girl as she came close enough into ear shot, feeling utterly stupid. What must this girl think of her? A tourist from the South, used to warmer conditions and nowhere prepared for the ever changing it seemed, Scottish weather.

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     & she revels in it, the cold, the snow ;; all proof that she is home within the north that forever shall welcome her warmly & she would feel very little chill, even without the fur draped ‘pon slender shoulders with design to keep young northern lady warm amid dropped temperature for was not frost, ice, winter within very veins laid out within patchwork designs just below fair flesh? she was product of this all ;; if sovereign family was of fire, why could her own not be of its antithesis

     it is rarity that she leaves lands lord father wardens beneath the king &, by consequence, rare should she return from journey but such is where she finds herself now, away from those who currently work to bring belongings back to chambers, separate northern dress from southron 'fore putting the latter away for when next she should make the trip to warmer climate & would find herself in need of such thin, fragile fabrics meant more for appearance than warmth. ( & any silly enough to not make the change would surely FREEZE, no matter how fine the weather of her home. ) 

     & actions betray age, betray youth she truly is despite station ever high ;; dancing, kicking, tumbling by the end she is so covered with soft white she must appear child of the elements about for a frolic but surely it was nearing time to return to great stone keep 'fore father sent servants out to retrieve wayward daughter 'fore fingers, toes, lips turn unflattering blue & so she stills, begins to make undesired return to home but she does not get far 'fore foreign voice calls & she { s p i n s }, wild pulchritude marred with the color of surprise

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     emotion is deemed warranted the moment charcoal irises land 'pon form of the other, surely near freezing within state of dress & there is little doubt lingering within adolescent mind that what was spoken was truth for none within their mind would be out in such conditions in such state of undress

                                                  ❝                      I see that, stranger. ❞  

     tonality one of confusion as diminutive feet lead her closer & lithe hands pull fur trimmed cloak from own shoulders to that of the other & there is worry so blatant 'pon curves of mien. There is no need for cloak in this moment for she has long sleeves & thick fabric to keep flesh warm, flesh ever used to chill & for a moment, child-woman internally questions strangers state of mind for only one ill would traverse the snow with so little layers, no fur to trap heat even among her fathers hearty men & women. 

                   ❝ How is it that you’ve found yourself in so little? I have not heard of bandits in this area… ❞

/ /

EVERY GIRL

ind. priv. sel. canon divergent book based lyanna stark from asoiaf established: 9.13 && rebooted 1.14.
written by JAILIN
{ 22 | she/her/hers | pst }

#ofwolfmaids

HAS WOLVES

drafts. starters owed. inbox.
permanent starter call.
thread tracker.

PACING RHYTHMS

i am not your apocalypse, i am not your salvation, my body is a kingdom meant only for a queen. i will take your crown, i will shape your stars, my life might not be my own but yours ?? i will make it so !! immortality is an escape, absolution from revolution, blessed by dying breaths of kings who lived too long. you called me an angel, blessed me with candle-bright lies. i will make angels fall, i will burn your kingdom down. immortality belongs to the dead, so bury me with my crown.

IN HER VEINS !!

i am not, nor do i claim to either be or be affiliated with hailee steinfeld or any of my face claims or have any connection to asoiaf. all writing here is my own, however, && my portrayal is based off of my own headcanons && beliefs formed upon watching the movie. i ask you to not take anything used here for yourself, with the exception of utilizing headcanons in our threads, without my permission.