SANSA STARK
7.06, Beyond the Wall
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She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.
All Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.
RANDOM STUFF: Daenerys and Sansa reminiscing about childhood even if they are still technically children.
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SANSA STARK APPRECIATION MONTH + DAY TWO: DIREWOLF
“A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table,” she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread.
“She’s not a dog, she’s a direwolf,” Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue...
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SANSA MONTH | Day 1: Flowers
To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. “Sweet lady,” he said, “no victory is half so beautiful as you.” Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off.
— AGOT, Sansa II
@sansamonth2022
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Sansa Appreciation Month 2022: Day 3 - Snow
The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. All color had fled the world outside. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here.
Yet she stepped out all the same.
Her boots tore ankle-deep holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound. Sansa drifted past frosted shrubs and thin dark trees, and wondered if she were still dreaming. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.
- Sansa VII - A Storm of Swords
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You wouldn't say I'm causing all this drama.
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My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.
—c.m.
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