Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
A thought enters his mind.
(“Has she ever seen herself before?” And his heart jags painfully, unexpectedly.)
They’re only one another’s mirror, in this moment, and Crevan is glad his lapse in a cutting response garnered a proud, victorious sort of smile to rouse along the crease of her blush, pink lips. Whatever thought aroused such a response, he can’t deny that he doesn’t like the outcome.
Makes it kind of hard to be off-putting, especially when the gold-splashed mare takes his final demand and turns it into a statement of her own. “Boy are you sharp, Lace.” He plays along, raising the stakes of her triumphant smile with an amused one of his own. “And that’s what you do, then? Parade about the Riverlands, finding assholes in peril first and then withholding aid just when they need it most?”
Here his swaying ceases, and that rugged, adventurous chin of his father’s tilts upward to give Crevan a resilient sort of stance. “What a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” He mutters, only to break the look a second later with a jerky step ahead and a barking sort of laugh. “I’ll admit, if that’s the truth, you’ll be the most interesting lady I’ve come across in a while.”
“Crevan,” He follows immediately after, his tone rich with a satisfaction he’s not felt in a while, “You can call me Crevan.”
@[Solace]