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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Melisandre stares at the body before her, cleaned now by the work of her hands and potentially not gone at the muttering of her spell. With those around, none meet her blue eyes that tear up in Jon's silence and lack of heartbeat, silence and waiting and nothing to reveal life within those deep brown eyes. Sighing and letting the tears fall, Melisandre hopelessly turns back to Davos in that new statute of the sorrowed and unbelieving witch. From across the table, Tormund scoffs and stomps from the room, followed more slowly by the Red Witch and Edd, whose hearts fall with each step away from the body.
Only Davos stays for a moment longer, finally forcing his feet to unfreeze from the floor and leaving the room altogether. The crackling of the fire sounds in the background as the winds howl loudly and cruelly outside, bringing the endless storm of many days past. And though not perceptible to the human ear, the wonder of direwolves holds no bounds and the rhythmic thumping of blood from within that room. Ghost and Summer's heads rise and look to the table where Jon Snow lies, a whine breaking from the lips of the former, and just then do the brown eyes of a risen boy break open and a gasp escape his mouth.
Ears sensitive to any sound from that room—hopeful even as the others weren't—Davos bolts back into the room at the sound of a breath not belonging to a direwolf, not a man, but a man risen from the dead. Before him, as he presses into the room, the chest of Jon Snow rises and falls from upon that table, eyes shifting wildly upon the ceiling as both wolves crowd the area. Rising slowly with the clenching of pained muscles, Jon looks down to see the six stab wounds to line his gut—it wasn't a dream, this is not a dream. Touching one, Jon gasps at reality, his breath heaving loudly in that room and his nerves all shaking wildly from head to toe as Davos rushes across the room. Swinging about to lay his feet on the floor—to make sure this is real—Jon stumbles and begins to fall when the unexpected Davos catches him and wraps him in the warmth of human cloth, like swaddling a baby—this is a man reborn.
"Easy, easy, easy," Davos echoes in his ear, forcing Jon to sit back on the table as the door creaks open and the Red Witch enters, blue eyes wide in shock of his return via her own magic. But Jon's not paying attention to that, but the floor and wolves and this realization of life, Davos lowering himself to meet Jon's brown eyes as he asks, "What do you remember?"
"They stabbed me," Jon's voice—the same—hitches with his breath and trauma as his gut aches in the feeling of betrayal and multiple stab wounds. "Olly...he put a knife in my heart. Valyrion came and there were songs. I shouldn't be here."
Jon's eyes prick with tears as he shakes his head, desperate to understand this reality where he can die and then live in the same body upon the same earth. His heart beats in a frenzy as he attempts to keep it calm to little success, taking faith in Davos alone as the man tells him, "The lady brought you back."
Lady, and all Jon can think of in that moment as his brown eyes widen and heart thrums with feeling, "Gabrielle?"
Davos's eyebrows furrow in surprise at Jon's perception of the Mock Queen's power, suddenly wondering if he has missed something. But all the same, Davos shakes his head in denial, "No, Melisandre."
