[ That’s where it gets to be too much. It isn’t the mockery or insensitivity, but it’s the mention of Robb and the suggestion that he feels nothing for what he’s done, that he doesn’t feel the smallest amount of guilt just because Robb is here and alive and—
He snaps. Perhaps it’s a moment of clarity, or perhaps it’s a moment of true madness, but his fingers finally find the dagger at his belt. It draws it out and pulls Ramsay back in, fitting the blade beneath his chin and not caring that there are still a few stray passersby lingering.
Never said he was smart. ]
What would you know about what I can or cannot feel?
[ Hatred, fear and pain all burn behind his eyes. Hatred and fear for Ramsay, pain for what he’s done. ]
I feel guilty for his death. I would not feel as much for yours.
[ It's not like he can bring himself to do it, what with his hands full on trembling and all. ]
no subject
He snaps. Perhaps it’s a moment of clarity, or perhaps it’s a moment of true madness, but his fingers finally find the dagger at his belt. It draws it out and pulls Ramsay back in, fitting the blade beneath his chin and not caring that there are still a few stray passersby lingering.
Never said he was smart. ]
What would you know about what I can or cannot feel?
[ Hatred, fear and pain all burn behind his eyes. Hatred and fear for Ramsay, pain for what he’s done. ]
I feel guilty for his death. I would not feel as much for yours.
[ It's not like he can bring himself to do it, what with his hands full on trembling and all. ]