Gods. Moira almost laughed at that, “I think I’d have better luck if I tried begging you than praying to the gods,” not that she would start begging any time soon. If the Gods had ever truly cared about the trifles of people, though, then she wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. Her family would still be alive, and much else. No, when it came to where she put her faith, it was in people.
They were the ones who acted. If there were gods, they were sick sadists who just sat back with their wine and watched the show.
Still, she knew the risks when she acted, up to and including death, if the Lord did not feel like following his King’s commands. Still, death never seemed to come for her, another cruel act of the gods in some ways. They took just enough to keep her alive, and hoping…always, just enough, and never more.
The red-head wouldn’t tease Roose further with questions of what would happen. He wouldn’t divulge, after all. Part of the game to break people was to do something unexpected, and he would try. He would fail, Moira was confident in that, and she would end up free, whether by the Farmans or her own luck. Either way, Roose would hate her by the end of it, if he didn’t already.
~***~
The instruments of writing were handed off, and the Kraken’s son observed the blonde woman take to it immediately, writing out the words for her father. He didn’t intend to linger – he would make good on his threat of a time limit, “When I return, if you have not finished writing, you will not be coming along.” He stated. He wasted no time himself, either. He left the room, to go and get himself dress into more proper attire for hunting, removing any of the unnecessary finery to dress more into light armor.
Lessons were learned – boars and wolves could be vicious creatures, and a bit of armor was always a boon and not a bane. He would then get his own hunting knife, as well as his bow and arrow. Some preferred crossbows, but Theon wasn’t one of them. They weren’t nearly as efficient, and they only shot in a straight line. The bow was better for its accuracy.
The boots he wore were heavier, thicker, for the hunt. He went out to make sure the horses were being prepped, and found some of the men tending to it, albeit with unsteady hands. He had to assist, and he grumbled over how his own men didn’t know anything about horses.
‘Well of course not, they’re Ironborn.’ Very few horses on the Iron Isles. Soon enough, though, they were all wearing their tack, and that was when Theon would return to the room to see if Marinah was, indeed, finished with her letter and ready to go.
They were the ones who acted. If there were gods, they were sick sadists who just sat back with their wine and watched the show.
Still, she knew the risks when she acted, up to and including death, if the Lord did not feel like following his King’s commands. Still, death never seemed to come for her, another cruel act of the gods in some ways. They took just enough to keep her alive, and hoping…always, just enough, and never more.
The red-head wouldn’t tease Roose further with questions of what would happen. He wouldn’t divulge, after all. Part of the game to break people was to do something unexpected, and he would try. He would fail, Moira was confident in that, and she would end up free, whether by the Farmans or her own luck. Either way, Roose would hate her by the end of it, if he didn’t already.
~***~
The instruments of writing were handed off, and the Kraken’s son observed the blonde woman take to it immediately, writing out the words for her father. He didn’t intend to linger – he would make good on his threat of a time limit, “When I return, if you have not finished writing, you will not be coming along.” He stated. He wasted no time himself, either. He left the room, to go and get himself dress into more proper attire for hunting, removing any of the unnecessary finery to dress more into light armor.
Lessons were learned – boars and wolves could be vicious creatures, and a bit of armor was always a boon and not a bane. He would then get his own hunting knife, as well as his bow and arrow. Some preferred crossbows, but Theon wasn’t one of them. They weren’t nearly as efficient, and they only shot in a straight line. The bow was better for its accuracy.
The boots he wore were heavier, thicker, for the hunt. He went out to make sure the horses were being prepped, and found some of the men tending to it, albeit with unsteady hands. He had to assist, and he grumbled over how his own men didn’t know anything about horses.
‘Well of course not, they’re Ironborn.’ Very few horses on the Iron Isles. Soon enough, though, they were all wearing their tack, and that was when Theon would return to the room to see if Marinah was, indeed, finished with her letter and ready to go.