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[mansuetus]

This day has found me sad.

[ there is not much of an introduction today. Lucrezia Borgia, wrapped in a blanket in her bed, pale fingers flipping through a book which lies open in her lap. ]

What can be done to expel such?

Comments

[mansuetus]

Much too glad.

[ to ease her mind, to guide back from the places it wanders to. ]

How long has it been since you have come here, Jon Snow?

[wolfinthesnow]

Many jumps. More than a year.

[mansuetus]

Do you think you shall ever see your land again? your realm of ice?

[wolfinthesnow]

I cannot think otherwise.

[mansuetus]

Why?

[ in truth, she cannot either. ]

Is it unthinkable that we will stay here forever?

[wolfinthesnow]

Aye, it is.

[mansuetus]

[ she smiles a bit ]

I am certain you will miss me when you go back; perhaps without knowing so.

[wolfinthesnow]

I will seek out just a touch of brightness.

[mansuetus]

Perhaps you will find the sun I miss so much, in your search.

[wolfinthesnow]

I do not think so. Winter is coming, Lady.

[mansuetus]

The sun flees from winter?

[wolfinthesnow]

Aye, for days, they say, at the highest point of winter, the Long Night.

[mansuetus]

Even then, I shall find you and I do not care how long the night will be.

[wolfinthesnow]

[Perhaps he hears the warning of a red priestess with those words, but he says nothing, just holds his tongue for a moment]

And I will await you, lady.

[mansuetus]

And then, that day, perhaps you shall finally call me by my name?

[wolfinthesnow]

Perhaps.