To epitomize the world in which we live, we must first step back and remember that we are flawed.
But to understand the world in which we live, we must recognize that man realizes just this: the good exploit the flaws and the wicked jeopardize their...
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"My thoughts on the matter align with your own. The High Septon's behaviour was corrosive, as was his attitude. Having a man like that reside in the Sept eats away the Faith from the inside. So now he resides in the Red Keep's dungeons instead," Cersei relates to the sordid man called the High Sparrow in the depths of the King's Landing squalor. "The Faith and the Crown are the two pillars that hold up this world. If one collapses, so does the other. We must do everything necessary to protect one another."
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Gabrielle's about to throw herself from the insipid carriage by the eighth day of the trek to Volantis, much like Tyrion himself but entirely due to Tyrion himself. Her hands ghost softly and quickly through the lengths of Trident's fur, weaving together a long braid that goes from his head to his tail as she tries to keep the wolf cool in the heat of Essos. And beside her, like a gnat in her ear, the sound of Tyrion opening and closing the window buzzes fiercely, and she has to choke down her irritation at the company as she hisses, "You'll break it if you keep doing that."
"I'll break your hand if you keeping doing that," Oberyn threatens the dwarf, revealing that even this lax character seems certain to throttle Tyrion is only to silence the sound of glass against wood.
But the imp does not seem to understand the danger of his position as he huffs incessantly, "I have to get out of this wheelhouse."
"Volantis is a large city," Varys reminds him.
But Tyrion does not seem to understand as he again proclaims, "I have to get out of this wheelhouse."
"The likelihood of you being spotted here increases a hundredfold," Gabrielle explains to him, her patience dwindling quickly at the ignorance of the dwarf, "especially if I were to run after you with Trident."
"Then don't run after me. I have to get out of this wheelhouse."
"I'm not sure how many new ways we can find of saying this," Oberyn actually hisses like the viper he is, although Tyrion pays him no mind as he walks over to Varys who looks the least irritated out of the bunch.
"I will not be of any use to Daenerys Targaryen if I lose my mind," Tyrion tries to reason with the eunuch who cannot help thinking that this is the worst time for Tyrion to escape. "I can't remember the last face I saw that wasn't yours, Oberyn's, or Gabrielle's."
"She has a very nice face," Oberyn has the gall to flirt with her, but she's past the point of caring as she glares at him with the air of irritation pressing into their hot skin
"I'm losing my mind, and that dog's whining," Tyrion almost shouts, turning and pointing to the shuffling wolf at Gabrielle's feet, "is not helping."
"If anyone recognizes you, you'll lose more than that," Varys responds.
"Look, we are thousands of miles from Westeros," Tyrion tries again, seemingly more sober than anytime in the past months as he pulls his hood over his head and asks, "What am I? One more drunk dwarf."
