"--The door!"
Elia is screaming. She can hear them, they're nearly here, and she's never been so afraid for anything in her life as she is now. Clegane will hurt her, she knows, but she does not even want to think of what may happen to her children. He is a mountain, yes, but moreso, he is a monster
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Shit.
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Any bit of calm she'd gathered up disappears. All the panic she'd managed to repress comes in to replace it. She stands, though it's horribly unsteady, and doesn't scream, but it's a near thing. She runs as best she can, which isn't very good because her mind keeps wandering back to a man bigger than this one pounding at the door and her little girl asking her what was happening and-
And Elia falls, and cries out, and scrambles. "Please- I don't- Please."
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He half starts toward her, decides that wouldn't help, and facepalms. "...I'm not my fucking brother." Audibly. Aarrgh.
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Elia puts her arms up in front of her face and lets out something approaching a whine of panic. In 'fgsdgdsfgPANIC', this translates to 'but you're still really scary and angry please at least duck to my eye level augh help'.
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..."...Elia?" Disbelieving, a little; after all, the last person he thought was Elia wasn't, despite how much she acted like her at times.
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She begins the shaky progress of, well, scrambling towards her brother because oh god oh gods brother, please say it's him. It can only be a good thing.
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When she thinks she can talk without making a tit of herself, they're already inside. "Oberyn." Looong sigh. Saying it without exclamation points of italics, good job, girl. "Where are- Oberyn, where are my-?" She can't quite bring herself to say it, where are my children, but she realizes that even though a bit of her mind already knows, she has to ask.
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This may be news to everyone, but here is one of Gregor's most ferocious sworn ennemies. Even if they never met.
Pandora will never forgive the man who broke Sandor. Brotherly treason hits home hard, for her.
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Elia needs time to think. After sundown, when the grass is cool and the world is more at calm, she wanders out onto the lawn. Having grown up in the arid heat of Dorne, she is more accustomed to moving by night, when it's less, well, aridly hot, even if she's no longer in desert climates, and has not been in some time.
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She will be ahead, a female figure in dark garments with a colorful shawl on her shoulder, merely taking a walk. "Good evening," she offers, in her soothing, rich, low voice that carries millenia of pain and months of renewed hope.
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"And you." She says, with the dignity of the princess she is.
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Pascal Rougon (yes, Angelique's unwitting uncle) is a trained doctor, gentle and somewhat misanthropic, but deep down, quite gentle and kind. He's also as sane as you will get, on this typist's roster.
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Elia isn't in need of medical assistance, no, thankfully not yet. She is a little woozy, however, and panicked, taking deep breaths to calm herself as she can.
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The breathing, however, gets his attention and he wanders over, hands in his pockets. He is tall, somewhat lanky, and dressed in a white shirt with rolles sleeves, pants and suspenders. His book is under his arm - he is the living picture of harmlessness.
"Madame? Are you alright?"
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Ahem.
To Elia, Pascall is the perfect picture of a stableboy. But why would a stableboy be 1) that clean, and 2) holding a book. Elia is confused, but then again, that would just be par the course, wouldn't it.
"I-I'm..." and then, reigning her voice in because she refuses to speak when she isn't in control of her own voice, "Well enough, perhaps."
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He kneels by the young woman, and says, "Miss, it's alright. There's no-one that will hurt you, here."
Assuming, perhaps that this is a bit before she's taken in, because we haven't had chivalrous Robin in a while.
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"I sincerely d-doubt that, ser." Because Elia is a realist, when it comes right down to it, "But I a-appreviate the sentiment."
I'm game. Heee, playing off a Robin will be so surreal XD
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I think our characterizations are different, though, and at least his PB isn't Kyle Schmidt?
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Exactly! Surreal in a good way, of course. LIKE A LIFE SEXPERIENCE.
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