[O] FLIGHT,

[WHIPSTER.]

SAY HELLO IN A MILLION DIFFERENT WAYS

Sansa is running, like a million times over, and part of it is the kind of fear that brings out the white of her almond shaped eyes. Struck by bad luck in last nights slumber, it was now just two hours past dawn, and she could hear the snarling just behind her ear. She focuses forward, more so instead of back. It does not look good for her. She is merely two miles from the red canyons sharp, angry cliff sides. There is not much room for mistake now, the red girl is running for her life. It's not the first time. The little red wolf that trails her is growing tired, subconsciously wondering why it embarked on this kind of chance, why it though it could overcome such a mighty beast. The truth is, they are both scared. Was that not the irony of it all?

Her chest was clambering, skin as red hot as it looks, sweat soaking every inch of her and nares flared and pink. There was a soreness in her rear heals, a soreness from running with jagged hoof against rock. Sansa fears what is ahead, she can start to see where the earth splits and knows that she has two options. Her head turns just slight to catch a glimpse of the lithe little wolf. It looks about as worn as her.

The red girl is coming upon the break of earth fast. She swivels to the left, the smallest distance gap between red rock. What she sees coming, the little wolf expects not. And when she is just there, just enough, Sansa leaps high over the fault, for a quick moment, it is the freest she has ever been from emotion; no sadness, no anger, no depression to eat away at her heart. It breaks. Sansa shrieks, knees hitting into the rock first, before her bodice toppled over and slams into the ground with a loud thud. The girls eyes open, but it's so quick she almost missed it. There is remorse that is aiding in choking her as the young canine cannot stop itself from going over the cliff. There is sadness when she hears it come crashing to the ground, it's whine echoing through the canyons wall.

Sansa lifts her cranium, straightening her neck before allowing it to fall back to the ground, cheek rubbing against the desert sands. Physically she is exhausted, her shoulder stings and knees feel broken. They aren't – when the red girl lifts, she's wobbly. But in seconds she has risen. Heart still thrumming, she knows that she will limp for the days to come. Enough so that she cannot leave here immediately, but instead seek water and hope, pray, the lands leader Dracken spares her freedom. Sansa would fight, if she had to, no matter how the pain as it surges inside of her. She would run, if she had to, she's done it all her life and Socrates would spit in the face of the man-God, dare him to touch his daughter. As she starts, Sansa is smiling to herself. “And then so be it,” she says to herself

OPEN / i have too much sansa muse and so this happened cx luv me

[WHIPSTER.]

KK would you wanna reply to this as our new thread?

[KK]

yes!!! i'll reply in a bit <3