[she hopes he doesn't leave correspondingly huge holes in woolen clothes, which she thinks is probably very rude to say about someone's god. a god probably doesn't eat anything. she presses her thumb against the dull point of the needle spike. the moth ring from her parents, left behind in her escape. cersei probably threw it into blackwater bay. and another girl, who was always chasing cats.]
We had cats.
[perhaps a little rueful. her brows knit together and she turns inward, a little, towards paul.]
What makes him a god?
[so far he sounds more like a magical creature, perhaps a talking one. she had never thought about what the gods were like before. they were...symbols, maybe. she can't imagine them walking, talking. the stories about the new gods were always parables, stilted and odd. she had always preferred the stories with real characters. it's hard for her to imagine what the mother and the maiden even looked like, outside of the pictures in the sept.]
no subject
We had cats.
[perhaps a little rueful. her brows knit together and she turns inward, a little, towards paul.]
What makes him a god?
[so far he sounds more like a magical creature, perhaps a talking one. she had never thought about what the gods were like before. they were...symbols, maybe. she can't imagine them walking, talking. the stories about the new gods were always parables, stilted and odd. she had always preferred the stories with real characters. it's hard for her to imagine what the mother and the maiden even looked like, outside of the pictures in the sept.]