...𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫...
"Can you just stop dying?!"
"...Stop saying that like I do it on purpose, I don't."
↤↤↤↤↤ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they learn that snow makes the most difference together than...
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𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒, he did not bother to announce his presence before he barged into her space completely unannounced. Night had fallen leaving the outside an inky black, with nothing but the stars and moon to light the way. But with the night came a chill, an otherness that left her restless.
"What did he say?"
Jenesis did not bother giving him attention as she whittled away at the tenth figurine she had made that day. "What happened to hello? How are you?" The girl returned, "I thought men raised south of The Wall knew their manners."
The man did not care for her jest.
"The boy, what did he say?"
"What boy?" She hummed, pretending to be clueless about the matter.
"Don't play with me girl, Jon Snow, what did he say?"
"Jon Snow," she repeated, "I like that name. Snow."
"Answer me!" The man was agitated, she couldn't tell why—well she could she just didn't quite care.
She didn't care about a lot of things.
Him in particular.
"He didn't say much, he's not a talker," she shrugged, which was a lie, she knew he wasn't much of a talker but he said a lot more than she was expecting. But it wasn't like he would talk to her—he didn't like her.
She tried not to feel hurt by his reaction.
It was expected, people feared what they didn't know, perhaps she was too forward in her approach, she should have skirted around him like one would do an agitated dog. But she didn't feel like hiding herself, for what benefit would that be?
...perhaps it was childish but she wanted a new friend—no that was childish.
She couldn't afford to be childish.
The knife and wolf carving in her hand clattered to the ground with an angered swat. She froze a moment, confused, and blinked, the textured cloth catching at her eyelashes. Clicking her tongue she scowled, "You're quite rude."
"Answer my question, what did he say?"
Huffing, she leaned down and picked up her knife and carving, "I'm sure he said the same thing to me that he said to you."
"Which was?"
"That it's not yours," she shrugged her delicate shoulders. "He's not wrong either."
She feels Mance's eyes searing through her, she does not show that she is bothered. "That's not all he knows."
