( sorry for the crazy delay in responding, i had to call a hiatus in late february due to health and work reasons, and i'm only just coming back from it! if this is too old to continue, i totally understand, and if you'd rather handwave the rest, let me know if you want to hash out what goes on by pm-ing me or contacting me on plurk @ ~celen! thanks for understanding ♡ )

[ indeed, she hardly looks surprised at that — there's something similar in this man as there is in Ocelot, something in the way he stands, something in the line of his shoulders. perhaps it is that similarity that makes her answer with surprising honesty, to consider his question truly. ]

... this, this isn't something we did, back in Westeros. Women, that is. War wasn't our business. My sister was better at it all than some of my brothers, and she is better than most men now, but I — I'm not like her. [ the weight of the gun in her hand is strange, and stranger still is the thought of fighting, shooting. she trusts herself to navigate courts, politics, words and manipulation. not weapons. ]