|
Post by The Flint on May 13, 2011 22:31:32 GMT -5
Summer smiled sweetly, "Well of course milord, but then women are capable of so little of the greatness allowed to men."
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on May 13, 2011 22:37:55 GMT -5
Allard replied, "In my house we are told that you must pay for every thing you want, either in blood, work or gold. So if woman fail at greatness it is only because they do not truly hunger for it."
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on May 13, 2011 22:40:50 GMT -5
Summer scowled, "the blood split on the birthing bed pays for the numerous faults of we women," she says.
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on May 13, 2011 22:43:02 GMT -5
"I do not see how the two are connected." Allard replied.
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on May 13, 2011 22:45:36 GMT -5
Summer stomped her foot softly, but insistently, "You asked how women pay ser, and I tell you we pay in blood. The greatness of our children is paid partially in our own coin. "
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on May 13, 2011 22:48:55 GMT -5
"Oh, I see your point." Allard thought, "Perhaps that is why woman never reach greatness, they pass it on to their children. It is an interesting thought."
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on May 13, 2011 23:01:05 GMT -5
Summer shrugged, "It is an interesting thought milord."
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on May 13, 2011 23:03:04 GMT -5
Allard admired her furs, "Perhaps a dance lady Bastard."
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on May 13, 2011 23:04:07 GMT -5
"Lady Bastard does not dance," she insisted, with a frown, "but Summer Snow will show you around the dance floor if you wish milord."
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on May 13, 2011 23:08:58 GMT -5
"Who is she?" He laughed at that, and then offered her his arm.
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on May 13, 2011 23:25:21 GMT -5
Summer took his arm, and then began to lead Allard in a northern foot stomping dance.
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on May 13, 2011 23:30:01 GMT -5
Allard was a graceful, and powerful dancer, and was surprised that the beauty was so clumsy. He tried to look good enough for both of them.
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on May 13, 2011 23:38:42 GMT -5
Summer, who was in top northern form, was irritated at the southrons failure to dance properly.
"milord's skill is unparalleled," she lied.
|
|
|
Post by The Smith on May 13, 2011 23:47:15 GMT -5
Allard nodded easily, "You are very good as well." He said kindly.
Suddenly Lord Piers Bettley was there smiling, "Allard, you must go and greet Ser Erik, he is the regent of the fucking reach, and you are, unfortunately, the heir to Casterly Rock."
Allard looked at Piers, and frowned, "You are not my Father, Piers. Fuck off."
|
|
|
Post by The Flint on May 13, 2011 23:48:40 GMT -5
"Milord Piers, the Master of Stars." Summer said politely with a smile.
|
|