Theon wakes up in a warm, sunlit room that smells nothing like Winterfell, or any other place he's been. If before he'd been tugged under dark waters, he's floating atop them now, drifting. A glance down confirms that the spear is gone, and that he's been sewn and bandaged-- but leaves him utterly confounded. The needle in his hand has been secured with sticky paper, and strange heavy and stiff threads abound. Boxes with lights and symbols, strange chirping sounds, and a room that looks nothing like he's ever seen, either.
There are voices outside the doorway, and he fights the urge to close his eyes to get a reprieve from all that is different. He starts to pull at the sticky paper and needle, shifting and then freezing as the chirping gets louder.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-05-09 09:58 pm (UTC)There are voices outside the doorway, and he fights the urge to close his eyes to get a reprieve from all that is different. He starts to pull at the sticky paper and needle, shifting and then freezing as the chirping gets louder.