✧ Interaction ╱ Lillith Waynwood - Blog Posts

the offer of tea should not have come as a surprise to dacey. for as long as she had known lillith, she had known her to brew her tinctures. and yet, something in it caught dacey off guard, anyway. she couldn't quite put her finger on the reason for it, why the offer, given so simply, set her ill at ease, but she tried not to dwell on it.

instead, she gave a small nod of her head, glancing towards lillith, then the fire, and then back again. "that sounds lovely," she said, and she meant it. tea did sound lovely. she was being ridiculous, as usual. "i've never been one for the strong stuff. tea will be enough, thank you."

her gaze returned to the hearth, watching the flames flicker. she was always one more comfortable in the quiet, something lillith knew well, but there were times when it felt awkward to dacey, as though she should be offering words, but she just couldn't reach them. it took an enormous amount of effort to bring herself to speak, though when she did manage it, there was relief in hearing her own voice sound even and steady.

"i imagine it tastes of the woods, your blend. birch and honey." there was a thoughtfulness to her voice, inviting lillith to fill the spaces between it. "of ironoaks?" she looked to her then for confirmation. "it would be nice to share something from your home."

even when dacey had briefly found herself in the vale in the past, she had never seen ironoaks, though its name alone conjured a picture - tall trees, straight and strong, standing guard upon the mountain. would the vision in her mind compare to the real thing? or was she entirely wrong? "i hope when i visit, i don't bring enough of the snow to be cruel. just enough to make everything quiet for a little while."

lillith gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, the corners of her mouth twitching in something like amusement—small, fleeting, but there all the same.

“if you did, i suppose it would serve the vale right,” she mused, mismatched eyes flickering toward the hearth as if measuring its warmth. “perhaps then they’d stop pretending the mountain winds are anything but frigid.”

she was silent for a moment, letting the fire crackle between them, the weight of dacey’s words settling in the space they occupied. the north is as much a part of me as the marrow in my bones. a sentiment she understood, though her own bonds had been forged differently. she had never felt trapped in ironoaks, precisely, but there was an expectation to remain, to endure. it was not always an unwelcome thing. but there was something about the way dacey spoke that made her wonder if the cold in her bones was comforting, or suffocating.

without much preamble, she said, “i could make you some tea.”

it was not quite a question, nor was it particularly warm, but there was a quiet sincerity in the offer. lillith was not one to fuss, not one to coddle, but she knew the value of small comforts. and, if nothing else, she had a fair hand at brewing something strong enough to warm through the bones.

“i brought a blend with me from ironoaks,” she continued, shifting slightly as if already preparing to follow through. “black tea, with birch and a bit of honey. it’s good for the cold. unless you’d rather something stronger?” a wry note entered her voice, though her expression remained unreadable.

dacey did not answer the question immediately. it wasn't that she bristled at the question, did not take offence to the fact it had been asked. no, when the quiet stretched between them, it was because she was considering the answer she would give. the north had always been her home, a place she was sure she would never leave, she still felt that way. when she closed her eyes, she could not picture herself anywhere but winterfell, but she knew that would not always be so. once the matter of his own marriage was settled, owen would likely want to see her wed, too, and there was no telling where her groom to be would be from, and where that would see her living. the matter of leaving the north or not was not in her own hands.

"i don't know," she admitted at last, her voice quiet enough that it didn't carry beyond lillith. "the north is as much a part of me as the marrow in my bones. i shouldn't like to leave it, but none of us know what the future will bring."

and yet. her lips pressed together with the thoughts she would not speak aloud. for a long time, she had thought of winterfell as her sanctuary. as a sickly young girl, it was a place where the ills of the world could not touch her, and she had carried that thought process into her adulthood. now, though, she could not help but wonder if it was less a sanctuary, and more a cage she had constructed around herself. she took a breath to dispel the thought. there was little to be gained from dwelling upon it.

"ironoaks," she spoke softly, latching on to the offered distraction. there was something in the offer that tempted her, to her own surprise. she had always been more comfortable in what was familiar, but even in winterfell's halls, little felt familiar now. there was too much being whispered in the shadows, and the sinking anticipation of impending disaster she could not shake. the idea of an escape, however brief, was not unwelcome. "i would like to visit." she confirmed. "though we should both pray that i don't bring the cold with me when i do."

lillith stood beside dacey, her hands clasped loosely before her to keep them from fidgeting. the warmth of the hearth barely reached her, and she shifted slightly closer, her dark skirts brushing against the stone floor. the heat was a welcome reprieve from the biting chill of the north, though her mismatched eyes flickered toward dacey, noting the way her friend still seemed cold despite the fire’s proximity.

“the north doesn’t make it easy for visitors, does it?” she murmured, her voice light with an undertone of amusement. “i thought the cold might have mellowed since the last time i came here, but it appears as unyielding as ever. you must tell me, dacey—if you had the choice, would you ever leave it? or has it bound you too tightly, like frost creeping into stone?”

she glanced toward the bustling hall beyond, voices and laughter spilling into the quieter space they occupied. the firelight painted the edges of dacey’s gown in golden hues, and lillith’s gaze lingered there a moment before returning to her friend’s face. “you should come to the vale. ironoaks would welcome you, and it would do you good to escape this chaos, even for a little while. there are no hot springs to warm the walls, true, but the hearths burn just as brightly—and," as the thought formed a drunken clatter arose from a particularly rowdy group in the corner of the hall. "the company might be more agreeable.”

a faint smile tugged at her lips, softening her typically reserved expression. “though perhaps you’ll tell me you’re just as stubborn as your winters and wouldn’t leave even if the chance arose.”

she did not step forward to embrace lillith, nor did she offer a barrage of greetings and questions. it was not the way of dacey stark, even with those she was closest to, and yet, there was a warmth in her expression that was nothing to do with the hearth they stood at. lillith understood that, and for that, dacey was endlessly grateful.

it was why the tense set of her shoulders relaxed, even as her gaze dipped to the floor. "if only it were not so loud," she said, with a self-deprecating chuckle. winterfell was bursting at the seams with life, but their time here together in their younger years had been spent in quieter halls. dacey far preferred the latter.

she glanced behind her, further down the hall, where voices and laughter mingled with music. "sometimes i think i wasn't made for this," she confessed. it wasn't just sometimes - it was always, forever trying to fit a role she wore uneasily. there was no bitterness in her tone, nor any trace of self-pity, just a weariness she could not deny.

her lips curved into the smallest of smiles, and she nodded her head, a quick, nervous gesture. it was not to do with lillith - her patience, the way she allowed space to exist without demanding it be filled, were often what dacey needed. she trusted her, but she did not trust the ears around them. and so, she saved what it was she held close to her chest, to reveal another time.

she nodded her sympathies. the north was a harsh place, demanding much of those who travelled it. "the weather has been unkind of late. it makes the roads a little more difficult to traverse." she lifted her gaze from the floor, green eyes raising to meet lillith's mismatched ones. "and how fares the vale? ironoaks?" it had been a long time since dacey had visited the mountains of the moon - not once during queen ravella's reign.

"you'd think i'd be used to the cold by now, but it still catches me sometimes," she laughed again, the sound a little lighter now. "the trick isn't to stand by the hearth, but the walls. the hot springs under winterfell provide heat to them, and the stone spreads it." she looked back towards the fire then, watching the flame twist and dance. "but i suppose it is only human to seek out the fire instead."

lillith stood beside the princess, the warmth from the hearth pulling at the edges of her gown, but it did little to thaw the chill that clung to dacey’s frame. it was always the same—no matter how close she stood to the fire, her hands remained cold. lillith could see it, could sense the quiet unease in her friend, and a small part of her wished she could somehow fix it. but she knew better than to offer empty words of comfort.

“i’m glad to see you too,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above the crackling of the fire. she took a small step closer, her presence a quiet reassurance, though she gave dacey space to remain within herself. lillith didn’t need to speak often, not with dacey; they had always shared an unspoken understanding.

when her friend shifted slightly, as if to gather herself, lillith’s gaze softened. she could feel the heaviness in her friend’s silence, the weight that hung just beneath the surface, something too deep to put into words right now. lillith wasn’t one to push, but the concern was there, palpable in the stillness between them.

the other's words, displacing her question for another moment, elicited a nod of understanding, and an offering of a faint smile that was both comforting and respectful of the boundary the other had set. there was no need to press. “of course,” she said quietly. “i’ll wait for the time when you’re ready.” she was always happy to bear the burden, even if unspoken.

her fingers brushed the edge of her gown, the fabric soft beneath her touch. “the journey here... it was long.” she admitted, never quite mincing her words, but her tone was not in any way harsh, simply, it was.

lillith had grown used to the chill, even in the colder months of ironoaks, where the wind could howl across the moors. still, it was a different kind of cold here—more biting, more oppressive. she could feel it in her bones, no matter how close she got to the fire, and she knew dacey felt it too, despite growing within this place. "the chill makes one want to simply leap into the hearth, huh?"

no matter how close she stood to the hearth, dacey's hands were always cold. she had long since learned it was a pointless endeavour to try and breathe some warmth into her bones, and yet, here she stood anyway, in her gown of midnight blue. winterfell was alive tonight, bursting at the seams with visitors, and yet, she stood a little apart from it all, more content alone by the fire than at the centre of it. she had always been that way, never truly at ease in the company of the many, only ever blooming in a more private setting.

it was not sight nor sound that first alerted her to the arrival of a familiar face - it was the scent of something floral and earthy and sweet that brushed her senses and tugged at a familiarity that had her turning, recognising it in an instant, and when her gaze met lillith's, dacey felt a piece of herself thaw more efficiently than the hearth could ever achieve. "lillith," she said, a smile crossing her face as she welcomed the other's presence.

"has it only been a few moons? it feels longer." dacey was not a woman who found it easy to make friends, nor even to engage in conversation. the more reserved of the starks, and the easiest to overlook. but lillith perhaps was the oldest of the few she did count as a friend, someone she had known and trusted for many a year, well past the point of shyness. "i'm glad you came. it is always good to see you here."

have things been well? they had certainly been worse, but dacey could not shake the feeling within her, the weight she felt hanging around her shoulders. it was as though the north was on the precipice of something awful, and she was bearing the weight of that as though it were her own fault. and then there was the matter of her sister, the things she had learned she had done. if any could understand that though, perhaps lillith could.

"that's a conversation for another time," she spoke softly, knowing lillith would understand that she had something to say, but there were too many ears around to say it. "tell me of you, though. how was the journey from ironoaks?"

setting: the winter ball, lillith attends as some other ladies of the vale do, but her reason for the journey is to see an old friend ; @daceystvrk

the great hall of winterfell shimmered with icy splendor, lit by countless candles and adorned with evergreen garlands laced in silver ribbons. snowflakes dusted the stone floor, tracked in by the nobles who had braved the northern winds to attend the winter ball. lillith waynwood stood at the edge of the gathering, her fingers lightly brushing the fabric of her dark green gown, which she had trimmed with myrish lace. she watched the dancers twirl, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her mismatched eyes betrayed a touch of unease. crowds had never been her forte. the northerners had a way of making their cold halls feel alive, though she still felt like a misplaced piece in the tapestry of it all.

a sudden warmth bloomed in her chest as her gaze found dacey stark. standing near the hearth, her cheeks pink with the fire’s glow, dacey had grown into her strength. lillith felt a familiar pull, a warmth that erased the time between they last saw one another. the princess looked well—stronger, brighter, a far cry from the sickly girl lillith had spent so many hours trying to tend to with herbal teas and whispered stories in their younger years.

the lady of ironoaks approached with quiet steps, her presence announced not by sound but by the faint scent of lavender and sage. when the other turned and their eyes met, lillith couldn’t keep the small smile from curling her lips.

“your grace.” she murmured the formality with a small bow of her head, mainly because it was not just the two of them, and because this was dacey’s own home. “i almost didn’t recognize you, even with only a few moons since we last saw one another” she said softly, her voice like the wind through leaves. “you look vibrant. have things been well since your return?”