Another Call to Arms

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 Anything, Tag: Open | Second Crone
 direct link • Jun 17 2017, 10:17 pm
• • 0 posts

There was only so much stabbing he could do. Not to say that if a Waynwood's skull popped in front of him right now it wouldn't be stabbed, just that, well he was tired of practicing. He was still human, at least for now. He wished he wasn't, if it had meant he could do right by his family, then he would gladly sacrifice whatever he needed to. Sad if you thought it a certain way, but to Ryon it was very basic. His family was everything to him. Nothing else was worth anything if they weren't alive and well and happy. That was that.

He sat, a drink on the desk, and paper sitting in front of him. Coming back from stabbing, he instead dipped his quill and stared for only half a moment before he wrote furiously. It was almost as exhausting as practice if he was being technical, but the difference was it was only his wrist and mind that grew tired. Not his chest and arm and whatnot. He wrote and wrote and wrote, and when a page was done, he flipped it to the side haphazardly, caring little for where it landed, and wrote anew. Across the page, across everywhere. Letters to Ashara, Daeron, Caelia. And, more interestingly, letters to Edmure, Robert, Mace, Tywin, and of course, Jasper Fucking Arryn. Fucking capitalized, for it was his middle name for as far as Ryon and anyone close to him was concerned. These letters worked out his frustrations, at least temporarily. Ryon was pretty sure he had an endless pool of frustrations. Bottomless well to draw anger from. He paused for a brief moment, and drank, the rum burning down his throat in a way that was refreshing and loosed his hand upon the page once more. Finally, he stopped. He breathed, setting his pen down. He looked down to the page below him, the one to Ashara, the others scattered around his chair. Ryon let his head slump and fall to the desk. He'd do anything to say these words to her face, do anything to know it was delivered. Ryon cried, a little for now. She could not be dead and gone. She couldn't. He still needed her.
 direct link • Jan 03 2018, 11:27 pm
28 years
ASHLEY • she/her • 1873 posts

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