[He makes a good call, Sansa hardly carries herself or speaks like a young woman of her age in his world, let alone dressed like it. Sansa has yet to try on the pants that found their way into her wardrobe. She prefers her longer skirts and dresses by far. The lighter colors though, those are nice. Not the pinks and blues of her youth but plums and emeralds. Colors better for colder climes.
Carefully, she takes a seat next to him, sitting with her legs bent out to the side under her skirt. She’s not used to this. Lounging on the ground is not in her wheelhouse and so she keeps her back straight and rigid.]
Hello, Arthur. I’m Sansa Stark. [And he was easily the most handsome man she’d ever met, his features reminding her of one of the dragon queen’s Dothraki.
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Carefully, she takes a seat next to him, sitting with her legs bent out to the side under her skirt. She’s not used to this. Lounging on the ground is not in her wheelhouse and so she keeps her back straight and rigid.]
Hello, Arthur. I’m Sansa Stark. [And he was easily the most handsome man she’d ever met, his features reminding her of one of the dragon queen’s Dothraki.