Post by Light on Nov 20, 2014 14:27:37 GMT -5
Title: dame dame da ; absolutely no good
Crimmen only~!
It was a well known fact that the Tully house rarely partook in anything that didn't and wouldn't directly affect them. That's why they didn't really fight in the war between the Starks and the Lannisters--not directly of course. They provided what they were asked of, and in return, per their agreement with the Starks, they got to keep their land and didn't have a sword turned at them from any that sided with the group that opposed the Lannisters. Most call them cowards--and a lot of them are; but for every coward, theirs someone in the background that knows what they're doing. Which, happens to be not losing in this case.
So, a few months ago when Lady Veil sent a letter to the Tully's asking for one of their best, they really couldn't refuse them. Who would want to make the Iron Born angry? Not the Tully house--which is why they did just that, and sent their best. So, when a ship with red and blue flags started it's trip to the Iron Islands, and arrived several weeks later, the Tully house was one less a warrior and the Greyjoy's had a new visitor. The warrior seemed to fit in with the colors of the people; he had dark black hair and and monochrome colored clothes. He wasn't wearing the ridiculous colors the other men on the ship had flapped around--just a large grey cloak lined with fur covered his shoulders and made him blend into the crowd as he shuffled through it. The only thing that stood him apart from the other males on the dock was his eyes--a beautiful blue that promised nothing in their blank depths.
He almost made it off before his head was grasped by one of the larger men, a condescending grin on the older mans' face. "Hey-hey, Brat, you stepped on my foot, and it hurts now. How you gonna make it up for that, huh?" He harshly pushed his head around in a rougher version of a head rub that would snap a child's neck. He looks back at the men behind them as they begin to roar in laughter, the smile on his face widening.
"...--it--..." the boy softly murmurs something, and the man bares his teeth menacingly and pulls on his hair.
"What'd you say brat? Couldn't hear you!"
His shoulders seem to rise in fall in a shrug, an uncomfortable and annoyed glaze over his silver eyes. "... --cut it off..." he repeated in a louder voice. The man releases his head then, and starts to swing down at his face. A pained screech follows and the sailor's companions rushed forward and pull him off of the younger man, only to find that the one screaming was the larger man.
"LITTLE B----D BIT OFF MY FINGERS...! HE-he...!" the boy makes a face afterwards and spits the fingers that he had taken out onto the wooden deck. When he straightened back up, he lifted a hand up and started to wipe his face clean with the back of his hand.
"...rotten... fish guts..." the boy tilted his head down again as he spat out blood on top of the fingers.
Crimmen only~!
It was a well known fact that the Tully house rarely partook in anything that didn't and wouldn't directly affect them. That's why they didn't really fight in the war between the Starks and the Lannisters--not directly of course. They provided what they were asked of, and in return, per their agreement with the Starks, they got to keep their land and didn't have a sword turned at them from any that sided with the group that opposed the Lannisters. Most call them cowards--and a lot of them are; but for every coward, theirs someone in the background that knows what they're doing. Which, happens to be not losing in this case.
So, a few months ago when Lady Veil sent a letter to the Tully's asking for one of their best, they really couldn't refuse them. Who would want to make the Iron Born angry? Not the Tully house--which is why they did just that, and sent their best. So, when a ship with red and blue flags started it's trip to the Iron Islands, and arrived several weeks later, the Tully house was one less a warrior and the Greyjoy's had a new visitor. The warrior seemed to fit in with the colors of the people; he had dark black hair and and monochrome colored clothes. He wasn't wearing the ridiculous colors the other men on the ship had flapped around--just a large grey cloak lined with fur covered his shoulders and made him blend into the crowd as he shuffled through it. The only thing that stood him apart from the other males on the dock was his eyes--a beautiful blue that promised nothing in their blank depths.
He almost made it off before his head was grasped by one of the larger men, a condescending grin on the older mans' face. "Hey-hey, Brat, you stepped on my foot, and it hurts now. How you gonna make it up for that, huh?" He harshly pushed his head around in a rougher version of a head rub that would snap a child's neck. He looks back at the men behind them as they begin to roar in laughter, the smile on his face widening.
"...--it--..." the boy softly murmurs something, and the man bares his teeth menacingly and pulls on his hair.
"What'd you say brat? Couldn't hear you!"
His shoulders seem to rise in fall in a shrug, an uncomfortable and annoyed glaze over his silver eyes. "... --cut it off..." he repeated in a louder voice. The man releases his head then, and starts to swing down at his face. A pained screech follows and the sailor's companions rushed forward and pull him off of the younger man, only to find that the one screaming was the larger man.
"LITTLE B----D BIT OFF MY FINGERS...! HE-he...!" the boy makes a face afterwards and spits the fingers that he had taken out onto the wooden deck. When he straightened back up, he lifted a hand up and started to wipe his face clean with the back of his hand.
"...rotten... fish guts..." the boy tilted his head down again as he spat out blood on top of the fingers.
