Snow isn't something she ever dealt with much at home. Environmentally unstable, something to be avoided and worked around.
River has been knee deep in it for most of the day, trudging outside the walls of Winterfell. She had trudged through it and more to get here, taken from her home and dropped on some nonsense continent on an even more nonsense planet. Except not dropped in the right spot at the right time or with the right tools. Just the instruction that if she helped someone become a king she'd get to go back.
This was supposed to be it. Finally getting here, seeing the King in the North (and why wasn't being that much of a King enough for her to get home??), only to be told to wait outside the gates because she'd mentioned Melisandre's name just like she'd been told to by the idiots that sent her on her way.
She's wearing what feels heavy enough to be a hundred layers, but she's still too cold-numb to focus on anything beyond trying to rub the feeling back into her fingers. It makes it hard to get a good sense of what's on the other side of the gate -- it feels like family and deep, deep roots of trees she doesn't know the name of; like hundreds of men who have forgotten how to shiver; like stone-heavy inevitability.
It isn't until there's a small commotion with the guards at the gate that she picks up on the fire and knows, this is who they meant.
"Are you who I need to talk to?" River tries her best to sound diplomatic, but she isn't sure anything she says will ever be trusted when she has a strange accent that doesn't even seem to be foreign so much as, well... Alien. On top of the fact that she knows, somewhere in the back of her mind behind the cold, that she probably ought to address him by title or respectfully or something, but -- "Because I'd like to be inside now."
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River has been knee deep in it for most of the day, trudging outside the walls of Winterfell. She had trudged through it and more to get here, taken from her home and dropped on some nonsense continent on an even more nonsense planet. Except not dropped in the right spot at the right time or with the right tools. Just the instruction that if she helped someone become a king she'd get to go back.
This was supposed to be it. Finally getting here, seeing the King in the North (and why wasn't being that much of a King enough for her to get home??), only to be told to wait outside the gates because she'd mentioned Melisandre's name just like she'd been told to by the idiots that sent her on her way.
She's wearing what feels heavy enough to be a hundred layers, but she's still too cold-numb to focus on anything beyond trying to rub the feeling back into her fingers. It makes it hard to get a good sense of what's on the other side of the gate -- it feels like family and deep, deep roots of trees she doesn't know the name of; like hundreds of men who have forgotten how to shiver; like stone-heavy inevitability.
It isn't until there's a small commotion with the guards at the gate that she picks up on the fire and knows, this is who they meant.
"Are you who I need to talk to?" River tries her best to sound diplomatic, but she isn't sure anything she says will ever be trusted when she has a strange accent that doesn't even seem to be foreign so much as, well... Alien. On top of the fact that she knows, somewhere in the back of her mind behind the cold, that she probably ought to address him by title or respectfully or something, but -- "Because I'd like to be inside now."