“You have a good heart, my lady,” she said to Sansa. “Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf.”
A good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?
she reads books as one would breathe air
im·o·gen /ˈɪmədʒən/
n. a young adult with her nose buried in a book and a creative streak; aspiring actress; frequently found singing at the top of her lungs to pop-punk, musical theatre or disney; sobs for her dead otp and drinks diet coke more often than she should. sidebar fanart by anxiouspineapples.
to fill up and live
