07-25-2018, 12:35 PM
Versailles is quickly drawn over by the sound of whetstone striking against blade. It's familiar to her ears albeit faintly. She hasn't used a blade in too long a time, the art having been neglected by her after her mother's death, when the dagger she'd made for her fell with her. The sound is still comforting, however; the sound is enough to bring back warmer memories of her past, not the bitter cold that she's come to associate with it.
Whetstone. Blades. Fireflies. Versailles had slept on the opposite side of the tree but felt her mother's long tail brush against her side in a comforting manner, to remind her that she's there, always there, sharpening her blade.
She approaches just beside Margaery, keeping her head low and her gaze neutral as she lets the rhythmic sound fill her ears. It's not unusual that she doesn't speak, doesn't break the tentative silence - instead, she sits down and gives the glittering fur on her chest a quick lick to steady herself from fraying at the seams. Margaery's presence helps steel her into some semblance of calmness, and she hopes the other would speak for her so that she doesn't have to try and test her voice for stability that she might not even have.
Whetstone. Blades. Fireflies. Versailles had slept on the opposite side of the tree but felt her mother's long tail brush against her side in a comforting manner, to remind her that she's there, always there, sharpening her blade.
She approaches just beside Margaery, keeping her head low and her gaze neutral as she lets the rhythmic sound fill her ears. It's not unusual that she doesn't speak, doesn't break the tentative silence - instead, she sits down and gives the glittering fur on her chest a quick lick to steady herself from fraying at the seams. Margaery's presence helps steel her into some semblance of calmness, and she hopes the other would speak for her so that she doesn't have to try and test her voice for stability that she might not even have.