nysalogs | [OPEN] I know it sounds sordid but you'll be rewarded

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got: ramsay bolton

[OPEN] I know it sounds sordid but you'll be rewarded

Who: Ramsay Bolton (calling himself "willem")

veneries & open
What: 1. Wandering around the cities meeting people and collecting protection money from businesses, 2. checking out the empty (or not empty) houses in Olympia, 3. getting into fights and being super sketchy at the parties
When: December
Where: Wyver and Olympia
Warning(s): violence/torture, threatening and agressive behaviour, the presence of an aggressive dog, rapey-behaviour. More details under the cut.

[warnings: 1. violence/torture. while Ramsay is still pretending to be a nice guy "Willem", he's acting more and more his usual violent, self-centered self. Minor violence may be likely in some of these threads, especially if your character is threatening him. Please let me know if this is something you want to avoid.
2. threatening/agressive behaviour. Similar to the above, before he resorts to violence he'll likely become verbally agressive and coersive.
3. dogs. Ramsay now has a dog that is not friendly and may also be involved if there's violence. Please also let me know if this is an issue for you and I'll have his dog be elsewhere.
4. SUPER rapey-behaviour. In the final prompt for the parties, Ramsay is on the lookout for people to take advantage of.

For more information about him I have an information post for Ramsay here which also links to an opt-out post if you don't want Ramsay in your character's life ever.]

A. All Month - around both Wyver and Olympia - Taking care of business

[The extended stay in Wyver has suited Ramsay well, landing him work that allows him to travel freely between the cities, helping local businesses stay safe by ensuring they pay their protection money on time. It's work he enjoys, as it gets him out and about and has him meeting a lot of new people. Sadly, some of those people aren't too thrilled to meet him...

but he enjoys that part of his work too. Some people just need to be worked on a little before they come around to see sense. Losing a finger, an accidental fire at the family home, the death of a beloved pet... it's the little things that help people see reason.

* Ramsay can be met anywhere around either city, usually wandering with his dog Alison at his heels. She's not friendly and will snap at anyone who gets too close. Your character might see a child get too close and narrowly avoid being bitten. The child returns to it's mother crying, but Ramsay seems not to mind at all. He'll comment to anyone close by:] I hope they've learned their lesson. Not many dogs are as patient as Alison.

* PC Shopkeepers can have Ramsay visit their shops to collect protection money, and guards can have altercations with him if they're called in by shops. PM me or hit me up at

sprakles to chat about this!
Assume if you haven't signed up that your shop won't need to pay any protection.

* He isn't worried if there are other customers in the shops while he's working, you might overhear a heated conversation or see money changing hands. In one store in particular the owner loudly threatens him with a gun and demands he leave the store. Ramsay, hands raised in a shrug, is content to leave peacefully.] Well- he was in a bad mood, wasn't he?

B. Week 1+2 - Olympia residential district - Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

[Most of the refugees still haven't returned home, so Ramsay has taken it upon himself to check out the area. He's knocking on doors-] Hello? Anyone home?

[If no one answers he'll let himself in and help himself to anything of value he finds in the place. It's more than likely he might have entered a home with someone already inside, or someone might have followed him in.]

C. Week 2 - Wyver festivities - 'cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dancy, well they're no friends of mine

[Ramsay is having a lovely time. He'll chat with people he knows, make new friends- that's what parties are for, isn't it?

* He has no qualms starting up conversations with strangers around him, smiling broadly and introducing himself as Willem.] It's nice that things are calming down a little, isn't it?

* At one point Ramsay's had one too many insults hurled at him by a drunk citizen, insulting his looks (which Ramsay doesn't care about) and his lineage (which he does). While he's smaller than the other man he gets in a few punches. Before long the other man's friends draw closer, looking like they'll join in the fight if no one pulls them apart.

* If your character notices such things, Ramsay and a very drunk young woman are standing chatting together in a dimly lit corner of the party. Rather than cutting her off or encouraging her to eat or drink some water, he's instead getting a little too close, perhaps a little too handsy.]

[ooc: Feel free to be creative in your replies or contact me on plurk/via PM if you'd like a personalised starter!]

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[ Theon’s mood, always low these days, has sunken even lower with Robb’s return to stasis and Lord Stark’s sudden appearance. With so much going awry, he can’t help but feel as though the entire world is against him specifically. He performs his guard duties with minimal effort and minimal interest. When he’s called to deal with an altercation, he goes about it a bit more slowly than he should, and when he actually arrives at the scene…

He doesn’t engage. He makes brief eye contact with Ramsay, and keeps walking, disappearing around the corner instead. He already knows that when it comes to Ramsay, it’s more trouble than it’s worth. It isn’t something he wants to handle, but if someone else wants to try, they're free to. He’ll come up with a clever lie later, as to why he was unable to stop it. As far as he knows, no other guards are in the area to say any differently. Instead, he stays nearby and listens for the sound of heavy paws and boots that signal Ramsay’s (and Alison’s) arrival. He tries to ignore the dog. The hunting hounds that Farlen kept never looked quite so vicious; but maybe that’s because they were familiar dogs. ]

New job? Or did you just feel like trying out a bit of extortion today?

[ He doesn’t sound angry, or even accusatory. He just sounds exhausted and a bit annoyed. It gets tiring, having to carry around all that crushing guilt. ]

[Alison's ears prick towards Theon as they round the corner and Ramsay gives her a quiet whistle that has her trot over to sit at the man's feet, staring up at him. (They're still on the street, she's still working so she can't jump at him as she'd like, but she knows Theon and practically vibrates with excitement to see him.)

As for Ramsay, he has a purse full of coins and there's a spring in his step. Seeing the guardsman so dispirited can't help but make his day that little bit better.]

A man's got to earn his keep, doesn't he? And with Snow in the guard that hardly leaves any kind of respectable work open to me. [He fishes in his purse, pulls out a gold coin.] I knew I'd be able to count on you, by the way. Here's your share.

[Yes, he'd found out when and where Theon had his shifts. No point not taking every opportunity he could get, right?]

[ Theon dislikes the way Alison looks at him. It isn’t with the loyalty a dog shows for its master (his own traitor of a dog will stare at anyone who offers her food with that sort of adoration), but rather in the way an animal perceives another member of its pack. It makes him feel uneasy, and he edges away from her, not fearing her bite, but fearing a distant thought in the back of his mind. Sansa found you in the kennels. Hadn’t Jon told him that, when they first met here? After being faced with the news of Robb’s death, everything else had suddenly seemed so unimportant. ]

I don’t—

[ He stares at the gold, feeling ill. He doesn’t have it in him to feel guilty that he walked away, or that he’s a man without honor. He's lacked honor for some time now, but something about the fact that Ramsay considers him deliberately looking the other way to be worth rewarding makes his stomach churn. It offends, angers, and irritates him on a deeper level. He shakes his head, jaw clenching. ]

I do not want your coin.

[ He earns his own, thank you. It may not make Balon proud, but he saw what happened when Victarion tried to pay the iron price here. ]

Snow patrols the entertainment district. I don't know when. I don't care enough to follow that closely, but he never comes this way.

[ He doesn’t mention Robb. Robb never knew Ramsay, and Robb is gone. ]

[Ramsay's eyebrows rise as Theon refuses the coin, but says nothing. He keeps it out as he puts his purse away.]

Snow in the entertainment district? He'll be enjoying that. Lots to see over there. [If Theon can't guess what he's implying, he's hardly a man. But it has Ramsay grinning.

Now he knows Snow's patrol, he can better avoid him. It leaves the rest of the city open.]

What about king Robb? [He's learned that Theon doesn't mention everything. Asha, for example. It's something he's not likely to trust the man about again.]

Gone.

[ His tone is clipped and bitter as he pointedly ignores the coin. He knows better, but he’s stubborn and nothing about refusing money strikes him as particularly treacherous.

He would be lying if he said Robb wasn’t the main reason he stayed with the Starks. It was an act of stubborn rebellion that turned into the same old loyalty mixed with the fragile hope that maybe, somehow, he could do something to be forgiven. Robb had every opportunity to kill him, after all, and he had refused on more than one occasion. ]

Returned to stasis.

[What excellent news. One less Stark to deal with!]

Whew, that'll be a load off your mind. [He can see that Theon isn't thrilled about it, but he doesn't care. He grins.]

[ Theon’s eyes narrow. There’s obviously something he doesn’t appreciate about that statement, but again, he doesn’t say it. When it comes to Starks, Robb is a particularly sore topic. ]

Or a load off of yours.

[ Perhaps it’s too bold of a response, but he doesn’t withdraw afterwards or make any attempt to disguise his meaning. ]

It makes things easier for you, doesn’t it? Him being gone gives you free reign of one more district.

[With a sharp look Ramsay looks over, possibly about to put Theon in his place for the out of place boldness.

Instead he breaks into a sudden smile and laughs. His tone is almost condescending when he replies.] Very clever, Theon. I see you've got a mind just made for work like this.

[At his laugh Alison relaxes and approaches the guardsman, tongue out and panting.]

[ Theon only tenses at the laughter, teeth gnashing together as though the sound of it pains him—and in a way, it does. He and still see Winterfell burning along with that laugh. Despite the way he’s grown to mistrust his own memories, this is a particularly difficult memory for him to completely disregard.

No part of him enjoys Ramsay’s company, but he never asks himself why he bothers. It’s all out of what feels like necessity. Everyone else is gone, or lying to him, or considers him to be little more than a turncloak. Alison doesn’t help him to relax much either. Theon doesn’t flinch as she approaches. He knows what a hostile dog looks like, and Alison shows none of those signs despite her vicious appearance. It’s her familiarity that makes him uncomfortable. ]

I don’t recall the Dreadfort being known for its hunting hounds.

[ He doesn’t know why he cares. He doesn’t. He just doesn’t want to talk about the Starks. It isn’t as though he recalls much properly anyway. ]

She got to know you when you stayed with us. You were a favourite. [His pleased tone doesn't quite convey his true feelings on the matter. He'd put Reek in the kennels to be out of the way, to train him as he would a dog. He hadn't expected the bitches to take to him.

But if Reek truly didn't remember all that then what did it matter?] Give her your hand if you like, for her to get your scent. Don't try to pet her, she'd probably take your arm off. [Ramsay did not train his dogs to be touched. Touch mean they were being attacked.]

[ He shoots Ramsay a glare, but his doubt dilutes the ire behind it. He may not be an expert, and Farlen may not have trained particularly bloodthirsty hounds, but he knows how hunting hounds work. They’re not lapdogs and they’ll snap if you interrupt them while they’re on the job. The difference is what had always intrigued him about the direwolves; they were hulking, wild creatures, but they took after their Stark masters rather than after any trainer. When Robb was calm, Grey Wind was calm. When Robb was angry or upset or worried, Grey Wind grew restless. He would attack viciously with no more than a quiet word from Robb, or stay put with the same. No one had ever taught the wolf any of it. It seemed to become second nature. ]

A favorite what?

[ Against his own judgement, he does hold his hand out to the dog. He would rather not, but she doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and he imagines he’ll be seeing her by Ramsay’s side more often than not. ]

Jon Snow told me a curious thing once, long before you woke here.

[ He tries to sound casual, but it’s difficult not to let his tone become somewhat accusatory now. He’s all mixed up; he doesn’t trust Jon, and as much as he dislikes Ramsay, he does trust the man to tell him whether or not what he’s heard is the truth. He was upfront enough to Theon about his fingers, at least. ]

Something about being found sleeping in the Dreadfort's kennels.

[The incident with the small child happens at some point when she's dozing on the steps of some communal home not too far from the scene. At the scent of Alison, she'd peeked one eye open, about to get up to go greet her. No life is exempt from her usual care, and she's easily gotten on the good side of many dogs. But similar to all other species of animal, once she's brought them a gift, they seem easily to recognize her place in the world. They can see her as she truly is, same as they can sense it otherwise. An unmistakable, maternal warmth. Mother of all things. A fixed giver of life.

As the child, frightened, hurries back to their mother, with paws hanging off steps, she merely raises her head instead of opting to approach. She won't assume that Alison will take to her like other dogs, and while she isn't worried about herself, she'd hate to be the cause of misdirected aggression. She even resists the urge to give Ramsay's dog a disapproving look; it's rare that dogs are vicious from the start, and she does seem close to him. These are all assumptions, however.

Her ears prick with interest at his words. What a thing to say. His lack of remorse doesn't get by her. No going to comfort the child, or gently scolding the dog, or anything. It's slowly that she lowers her head back to rest over her draped legs, canting her ears moodily, but otherwise, shifting her gaze elsewhere to feign disinterest and boredom with man and dog both, and it's not until they've gone someways ahead that she's briskly going down the few steps to find mother and child first. The little one is all right physically, but she still sees them off with a groom to their hair, rewarding them the attention they so sorely missed with dark, but beautiful Alison.

And from here, Ramsay and Alison have earned themselves a white shadow: first following after their scents, keeping a few yards distance. Smaller than direwolves he may have seen; closer to Alison's size, possibly smaller. Stopping when they stop, quietly in observation of where they go. She doesn't put a single bit of effort into obscuring herself, maybe she wants him to know she's following, but if he ever happens to look back in the direction he came from, she won't be hard to miss. It's never Alison she looks at either, but him, locking golden-eyes on his, even from this far off.]

[Eventually Ramsay notices he has a tail. He's never been followed by a canine before, and he's expecting that there's an owner of the wolf that he just hasn't spotted yet also lurking about.

He makes his way into a secluded alleyway, drawing his bow to wait for whatever's following him.]

[This is absolutely one of those times she should be considering what she's doing, but even she, more often than not, forgets to deliberate, and instead follows instinct. He's ahead of her, and can realize sooner than she can that the alleyway is empty.

Her head is partially turned from him as she comes to the opening, distracted momentarily by some other sound or smell. It's only a short second, then she's turning it to look for him.]

[If it had been a human rounding the corner Ramsay would have shot the moment they came into sight.

But it's an animal. The white wolf again. Alison's ears prick forward, sniffing the air curiously. Ramsay doesn't want her to attack either, in case it gives away that they're waiting here.

He reaches for the pouch at his belt, takes out some dried meat he keeps on hand for Alison. Hopefully this animal will be tempted by the smell.] Come here, mutt. Lead your master this way.

[Originally, only Alison has her attention. She sits slowly, almost primly, and doesn't approach them, but she lowers her ears part way to communicate with dog that she's no threat (although, this may not matter at all; it's habitual of her), and tilts her face at her. Calm curiosity.

But Ramsay does earn the shift of her eyes, first, when he speaks. Many people talk to her like this, so she feels no particular offense, and her ears spring up the second he brings out those morsels. How can they not when she's such a lover of nearly every kind of food? He can probably see her nose twitching at the air now while she gets an idea of what he has.

Other than her ears flying back with the long stretch of her mouth to squeak out a yawn, and her lowering to stretch her shoulders and front legs after following them a ways, there's no real hesitation when she unhurriedly approaches him. For anyone else, she might briskly trot, but this is conscious. She's no dog, so she wants him to see that she won't rush up to him, even if the scent of food draws her. There's no Master waiting or following, of course, why hurry? And Alison is a distraction. Not a bad one. But she does keep glancing to her, and hiccuping the maternal whimpers of a mother wolf or mother dog speaking to puppies who are straying, or are lost, or frightened.

She stays to the opposite side of the alley to leave Alison with respectful space, but still tucks her ears and waves her tail at her, and stops when she's a foot or so away from them, tongue passing over black nose when the scent of the treats in Ramsay's hand filter in more strongly.]

[Ramsay's grown up with dogs. He's trained every bitch in his hunting pack himself, handpicked them and molded them into the obedient and merciless creatures he needs them to be.

There's something very wrong with this dog.

Alison is wary, confused- and if she weren't so well trained Ramsay's sure she'd leave his side to investigate the white dog. Scowling, Ramsay looks from her to the dog. He doesn't offer it the meat.]

Okay, what the fuck are you?

[Dogs don't need words to understand each other, to know emotion and intention from each other, so when she feels Alison's wariness, she drops to sit and huffs heavily to suspend her own vocalized reassurance. She won't continue with it if it upsets her, or if she doesn't understand, it would be demanding too much.

Her gaze averts to Ramsay again for his question. Has she frightened the both of them perhaps? Well, if he was only taking caution in finding out who was following him, and if he doesn't intend to share, she supposes there's no reason to hold them up—although she does mean to pursue them not in order to keep them from their choices, but mend, if she's able, anyone he hurts. For now, unworried and casually, she turns from them to head to a stack of crates she passed on her way to him, and leaps on one, then a second to gain access to the roof of one of the buildings beside them.

What he's up to is of uncomfortable interest to her, but she's still an animal, and she still departs from them as if she couldn't care less or has other concerns. That kind of aloofness only possessed by undomesticated things.]

[The flat in Olympia Takasugi returns to isn't much of a home, and is certainly nowhere he's missed in any capacity. All the crumbling walls and musty furnishings offer is a place to sleep.

And not even a safe one, judging from the disturbed silence he finds it in when he returns.

Someone has slipped inside, not unskilled in their entry, but the walls buffer no noise, not even the subtle creaking of floorboards.

Takasugi enters with no such discretion.] If you're looking to find something of value, I hope you're quite the salesman. [The rug could be worth some silvers, he supposes, if one convinced a naive peddler of its 'antiquity'.]

[The sound of someone else entering the house can't be missed. It sets Alison growling as she lies in the doorway of the room Ramsay's in.

Not waiting for her owner she comes into the main room, teeth showing and ears pricking forward towards him.]

No, it's rather poor pickings. [Ramsay doesn't attempt to hide his presence, wandering into the room after the dog. He stands beside her easily, a bag slung over his shoulder and a grin on his face.] But that's life, isn't it?

[Takasugi greets the beast's grin with his own, lips peeled back to display teeth in a smile no friendlier than the dog's. It seems to be a loyal thing, not in how it stands sentinel for it's master but in how it withholds its bloodlust.

To the robber Takasugi offers a nod, almost familiar, head nodding from side to side in affirmation.

There's very little of value in life.]

Aa. You'd have better luck letting your dog sink into a hapless drunk, and taking what you want while it eats. [Suggestion offered, Takasugi crosses near the hound to sit on his couch (it's more of a bench), reclining into the armrest.]

[Alison barks as the man gets too close and snarls at his ankles. Ramsay counters with a sharp down and she settles back- still watching the man intently.]

Shall I buy you a drink, then? [There's nothing threatening in his tone, so far Ramsay's almost impressed with the stones of the man. He enters the room, crossing to a cupboard to check inside it (it's empty).] Alison prefers a good hunt to just taking out easy prey, but if that's how you'd prefer it.

[His laugh is sharp, quieter than the dog's bark but no less piercing. The smile that splits across his face never quite diminishes.

This thief's got a good sense of humor.

Takasugi spares the dog a glance, its readiness - eagerness, craving - to tear into him almost endearing.] And how do you prefer things?

Picking through abandoned apartments isn't exactly an arduous task.

[There's an answer on the tip of his tongue (he likes hunts too) but Ramsay pauses. He likes things drawn out, enjoys seeing how people break under the knife- just how far he can push them before they give.

And this man's grin is starting to get on his nerves.] Right now I'll take what I can get.

[He turns towards him, giving him a thorough look over.]

[Takasugi takes being appraised almost as if he's basking in it. To the roaming eyes he returns a stare, the intent in his focus a compliment to the bare chest framed by his loose yukata and the blade sheathed at his side.

And, as if to offer an invitation, he breaks his stare only to produce his pipe, a piece of fine wood and gold inlay, the only thing of value on him aside from his sword.]

Can't blame you for that. [He crushes the ashes remaining with his thumb, lighting what little is left with only a wisp of smoke.] Found anything good yet?

[Still grinning, he could almost be chatting with a friend, relaxed, but for the flash of teeth he gives as he bites down on the metal in his mouth audibly as it shifts.]

Not in this fucking part of town. [His tone is dismissive, clearly he doesn't think of himself as someone who'd live in an area like this.

Then the pipe catches his eye, and Takasugi will see clearly Ramsay weighing up whether it's worth it. True he has a sword, but Ramsay's confident in himself.

For the moment he makes no move.] That's a nice pipe.

Heh- [There's something to be said about how Takasugi's eyes don't dart from the thief to survey the state of his abode; he's not amused by the disrepair of the locale, he's laughing at the man before him.

Forced to scrape the bottom, no matter where he's come from.

Though, he does seem as if he's making the most of it.]

Mmn. Ever smoked one like it? [Takasugi sees the hunger in the man's eyes, and he wets his appetite further, exhaling a slow breath of smoke and parting his lips.

As if he's pondering offering it for a taste.]

[Kale's found she rather likes the Wyver culture. It reminds her a little of home, in a good way. She surprised people with her skill and strength in the fighting ring the first time she fought, and since then, she's been told she is welcome back whenever she likes. A few of the fighters insisted that she come to the festivities and share a drink with them, and she's always been a people pleaser.

Everyone seems to be having fun, and she listens attentively when some of the fighters talk about their wins, about hunts they've been on, about ferocious beasts they've encountered. They respect the balance of nature, hunting as a part of it rather than trying to dominate it. She's enjoying simply sitting with them and listening when she notices something off in the corner. There is a very drunk young woman, which isn't remarkable in and of itself. What catches her attention is the way the young man with her is moving in, letting his hands roam more than is appropriate. He's clearly not anywhere near as intoxicated, and it doesn't sit well with Kale at all. She politely excuses herself and walks toward the two with a full glass of water in hand, addressing the young woman as if she knows her.]

Oh there you are. You forgot your water.

[She's hoping that a timely interruption is all it takes to de-escalate the situation, because she really doesn't do so well with verbal confrontations. She doesn't want to leave the young drunk woman alone with this man, though.]

[It has been a slow adjustment thus far, but Ned has been doing his best to remain as adaptable as possible. Having two of his children here with him, as well as having others from his world - even if they may not be the ones he'd have chosen, had he been given that power - has been helpful in terms of getting himself as settled as can be. There are so many others here from worlds and lands he's never heard of, that he can't even begin to fathom - and having those from home, able to explain things in language he can understand, has been more vital than he cares to admit.

He is on a daily excursion about Wyver, which he's been doing since he arrived in order to get as well acquainted with the area as possible. He'll eventually spread out into other territories, he thinks, but for now, it seems best to start small and work his way out.

He hasn't recognized any of the passersby thus far, but today seems to have different plans when he catches sight of a face that feels as though it's been singed into his memory. He's older than Ned remembers, but there's no mistaking the look: it's Ramsay Snow, Roose's bastard. He observes a scene play out in which the dog at Ramsay's heels snaps at a child who is too innocent and naive to believe in the creature's more feral side, and Ned's blood runs cold. He approaches in time to overhear Ramsay's comment to another pedestrian.]

It seems patience is a virtue your dog has yet to learn, though all know that the dog's behavior is a reflection of the owner.

She could have taken the brat's arm-

[Ramsay is dismissive, condescending even, towards the voice of censure coming from the old nobody. He's about to walk away when he realises he knows that voice. Turning, he sees that his fears are confirmed. It's fucking Lord Eddard Stark.

Fuck the gods. Fuck all of them then flay them with rusty knives.]

Stark- [The surprise is real, even if it isn't surprise at seeing the man at all. He'd seen the man's arrival on the network, avoided him as he's avoided Sansa and Snow (less Sansa, though getting to her with that fucking white wolf has been hard).] My lord Stark, I should say-

[It's not being caught that has him so off-balance. It's the censure from a man he sees as his peer. They're both wardens now, aren't they? Equals. How dare this man think he can lecture him like his father would presume to.]

[There's no mistake of the terror and surprise in Ramsay's eyes, though Ned has yet to parse why those feelings might be in the boy's reaction. Though Ned's never been particularly fond of the Boltons, given their barbaric practices of flaying and the tumultuous history shared between their Houses, they've been Stark bannermen for over a thousand years. Why would there be such trepidation in young Ramsay's eyes at the sight of Ned?

Ned looks from the dog to the Ramsay, eyes slightly squinted in concentration and interest.]

I daresay such formalities are not needed here, given that we are well outside the boundaries of Westeros. Though your use of titles is appreciated all the same, Ramsay.

Edited 2017-12-17 02:40 (UTC)

Lord Ramsay. [His correction comes maybe a hair too quickly.] My father made me his heir shortly before his untimely death.

[He realises that Stark hasn't immediately dismissed him or threatened him- as he might have if Snow had tried to turn his father against him. Hm.] I hold hope that he'll one day awaken here, as you have. [As the surprise fades his confidence returns. He holds out his hand, Lord to Lord.]

It's good to know you're here with us. This place could use more good Northmen and women.

[That comes as a surprise, the news of Lord Bolton's death, but Ned bows his head in quiet sobriety all the same. With a rush of air from his lungs, he shakes his head. Ned had never been particularly fond of the Boltons or their more barbaric ways of life, but Ramsay needn't know those things.] Your father's passing is a shock, and a sad one, at that. Old Gods be good, it'll happen as you wish.

[Ned gives Ramsay's hand a glance before reaching with his own, grasping near the elbow. Ramsay's compliment isn't one Ned expected, but he nods once to show his appreciation all the same.] It seems we Northerners are few and far between here, good or otherwise.

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[OPEN] I know it sounds sordid but you'll be rewarded

A in olympia

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wyver: a.

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WARNINGS FOR VIOLENT THOUGHTS /o/

no worries literally ever Takasugi is just as bad

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Wyver festivities

a., wyver

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