CARPE NOCTEM, jon snow

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀six

six. samwell

loc. castle black, the wall. 298AC

⠀⠀⠀Ceria shoved with all her strength, and Rast fell hard against the frost-hardened earth, grunting as his spine crunched against the gravel.She smiled in rare victory. Her nightly lessons with Jon were definitely paying off—her skin had become so blistered that it had adapted a thickness alike to leather, and her bruises didn't ache as much in the night. She was even growing a little bigger on the arms and stomach, muscles beginning to harden as she grew wiry. Ceria went to sleep and woke up aching, but each hurt was a reward, because slowly but surely, she was getting better.

⠀⠀⠀Now she had shouldered big Rast to the ground, and herself only attaining a blow to the arm. Jon had been watching, and returned the nod she gave him. A tall, gainly boy named Rogon stepped up in Rast's place, but Ceria's mind was no longer on duels. She had distanced herself from Jon since the episode with his direwolf a week ago. They weren't friends, and perhaps they never would be. He was gloomy and cold, not the sort of boy who invited a sense of safety or protection. Not that Ceria seriously thought Jon would hurt her, only that he was more than capable of it.

⠀⠀⠀Still, Ceria found herself spending more time with Pyp, who she had grown to appreciate. He was less rough than most of the men at the Wall, only a sensitive boy at heart. She usually dined with Pyp and paired up with him in training, and Jon seemed to be happy enough on his own, now that he'd dropped the self-righteous horseshit and was working with rather than against his fellow brothers.

⠀⠀⠀Rogon and Ceria wrestled, their blades grinding together with a noise as unwelcome as a babe'e wails. Rogon was tall and slight, and after a few long moments, Ceria had shoved him back, hit his sword so hard he nearly dropped it, and toppled him into the hard earth, groaning and ruddy-cheeked. He pushed himself to his feet, grinding his jaw, and did not look at her as he strode off. As she watched him go, she heard the boys he rejoined jeering and ruffling his hair.

          "Got yer arse beat by the sparrow boy, Rogon?"

          "Piss off," her sparring partner hissed, and shot Ceria a look so cold it might have frozen magma.

           Grenn's crude voice cut through the air. "What in seven hells is that?"

⠀⠀⠀ Ceria tore her eyes from Rogon's glare, turning to see what Grenn had exclaimed about. Alliser Thorne was striding out the shack behind them, and he wasn't alone.

⠀⠀⠀Walking along beside him was, without a doubt, the largest boy Ceria had ever seen. His limbs filled his sleeves and leggings which, Ceria couldn't help but notice, were fine black velvet, tailored to fit his form. His face was a round, pale moon, shiny with sweat despite the frigid air, and his eyes, pallid but kind-looking, glinted out of the rosy skin of his face.