[ she has grown since he'd seen her last, she is dirty and her hair is cut like a boy's and yet, her father knows her, he knows her. he says her name and she feels like she cannot breathe. she'd forgotten what his voice sounded like, almost what her name sounded like. ]
But you... [ she doesn't come when he beckons, not at first. she is cautious and suspicious. this has to be a trick, of what sort, she is not sure. she remembers stories that old nan used to tell bran to scare him. they never scared her. (yes, they did). but he is not a ghost. he is real. and if crying makes her a baby, then she is just a wee babe as she runs to his arms, tears burning her eyes.
she's angry at him for dying, angry at those who killed him, but more than that, she feels a warm wash of something akin to relief upon seeing him as she buries her face in his chest.]
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But you... [ she doesn't come when he beckons, not at first. she is cautious and suspicious. this has to be a trick, of what sort, she is not sure. she remembers stories that old nan used to tell bran to scare him. they never scared her. (yes, they did). but he is not a ghost. he is real. and if crying makes her a baby, then she is just a wee babe as she runs to his arms, tears burning her eyes.
she's angry at him for dying, angry at those who killed him, but more than that, she feels a warm wash of something akin to relief upon seeing him as she buries her face in his chest.]
I saw you die.