"I would be grateful for the help with her collar, thank you." She smiles sincerely, adding some colour to her cheeks that has nothing to do with the bitter winds buffeting against them every other moment.
Sansa was born at the breaking of a brief winter. Unlike her older brothers, who were born during a false spring, or her younger brothers and sister, born in a years-long summer. The cold has always been in her cradle.
The winds blow at a speed where you can guess how quickly the snowfall is approaching. They should have a few hours at least, with enough light to make it half a league before the night comes. But she could be wrong. This place feels different, and not just from the few terrifyingly foreign things she's already seen.
But there are records, Lady Randvi says. Perhaps she might read them, if she's allowed. "Is there a Maester in town, my lady? Or if this Methuselah is a scholar, a learned man, will he hear questions from a newcomer?"
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Sansa was born at the breaking of a brief winter. Unlike her older brothers, who were born during a false spring, or her younger brothers and sister, born in a years-long summer. The cold has always been in her cradle.
The winds blow at a speed where you can guess how quickly the snowfall is approaching. They should have a few hours at least, with enough light to make it half a league before the night comes. But she could be wrong. This place feels different, and not just from the few terrifyingly foreign things she's already seen.
But there are records, Lady Randvi says. Perhaps she might read them, if she's allowed. "Is there a Maester in town, my lady? Or if this Methuselah is a scholar, a learned man, will he hear questions from a newcomer?"