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rabbit heart by honey_wheeler for lit_chick08
29 May 2012
Sansa has always liked being around women. While Arya weaseled free from every lesson, skiving on needlework and drawing with coals and dancing lessons to pester their brothers and hang about the stables and forge, Sansa had been happy with Jeyne and Septa Mordane, with her mother and all her ladies, she’d loved the hushed voices and soft laughter, the perfumes that made her think of spring and the smooth hands that turned her face to and fro and proclaimed her a beauty already even at seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, each year the same.