⟪ melony had been starved for touch, but melisandre had lived her days and nights in asshai, where such things were treated with difference. she feels mortal when she wraps an arm around him, humanised in a way she could not be in life. there is nothing for a moment but god's grace and gene's scent and the beating of their hearts. she always smells of the smoke of her fire, she is still as feverish to the touch as she's ever been. ⟫
They will do for your memory what you did for them in life.
⟪ she sounds so convinced of it, too, but this is what brotherhood is, isn't it? she reckons on a battlefield, one is unlikely to find friends –– but it is hard to picture him not surrounded by some warmth like that. melisandre had to be indifferent to company (and failed). hard enough to know him dead, he doesn't need to have known the depths of loneliness, too. ⟫
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They will do for your memory what you did for them in life.
⟪ she sounds so convinced of it, too, but this is what brotherhood is, isn't it? she reckons on a battlefield, one is unlikely to find friends –– but it is hard to picture him not surrounded by some warmth like that. melisandre had to be indifferent to company (and failed). hard enough to know him dead, he doesn't need to have known the depths of loneliness, too. ⟫