-【❀ℒ✿】- A few polite nods are given as they pass various Lords and Lady’s, though Loras doesn’t particularly care for any of them. The majority of noble folk can be quite boring and he prefers to mingle with other Knights and warriors despite his own noble upbringing. “I do not believe we’ve ever experienced snow in Highgarden during my time. But I’ve been told of winters past where all the flowers died—-even the ones fit for winters harshness.”
“Most of my adolescence was spent in Storm’s End where even when the sun shone there would be a fierce wind. Thunderstorms were also very common along with vast amounts of rain. Many think that such a place to be horrible to live in—-but no, it was very beautiful in it’s own way. Lush lands, great clouds, thick forests where mystery lays. As much as my heart belongs to my homeland. The Storm Lands brought me many adventures that all children should be able to experience. I was technically a prisoner—-but never truly felt like one.” Even when he’d disobeyed and rebelled none had treated him ill spare a few punishments most children received
“Mmm, as my house displays it’s beauty. I must say that roses are indeed my preferred type. Some might think it cliche perhaps to adore the thing that represents you, but there is too much beauty in a rose for me to love anything but. They’re an embodiment of love, passion, grace, and lust in some cultures. Yet their thorns can cause pain and strike with out expectancy. Most people do not think to check a rose for it’s thorns, that’s when it gets you most of all.”
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
Unlike Ser Loras, Sansa carefully notes the various Lords and Ladies that pass them for they are not in court too and under the guise of polite propriety, her lowered gaze hide shrewd eyes. Spies, all of them. The Lannister pockets are deep and Cersei seem to spare no love for her.
The clouds cast a light shadow over them all, carrying with it a breeze that is a rarity here in king’s Landing. She feels goosebumps on the back of her neck, a sign of rain to come and Sansa can’ help but smile. It’s the little things.
Talks of being ward reminds her of their own, and the ultimate betrayal. It must be the luck of the North, she thinks as she looks upon Ser Loras’ face. He fights for his foster family and Greyjoy beheads them instead. “They sound like very different places– it’s difficult to imagine finding a home in both of them. I’m glad you did Ser Loras.”
“The Stormlands have always seemed intimidating to me, though I cannot say if it is the place or the lord that scares me most. He is ever so serious,” Sansa adds with a small quirk of the lips. She feels comfortable enough to mimic the patented Stannis frown though she is not as adept at grinding her teeth.
Slowly, they make a turn around the gardens, so lush and green. Despite the lack of rainfall, they are well-kept while outside, people starve. Sansa finds herself critical about such matters when it did not seem quite so important to her before. She reaches out, runs her finger along the petal of a peony before turning back to Ser Loras.
“I don’t think anyone can think you any less than a full rose, thorns and all now, Ser Loras. Your whitecloak and gleaming sword is evidence enough. Do you have blue winter roses in Highgarden? They grow wonderfully in the north, you have to see them some day.”