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[bethmoras]

[ Judging by the room's feminine decor, Nuada is not in his own suite. Blues and golds and pinks, close to the brilliance of an Irish sunset, line the walls and brighten the area around him. He is settled on the floor, legs stretched out in front, and back pressed against the side of a canopied bed. Pale fingers idly turn a shard over and over, as if the repetitive motion is capable of summoning its bearer back. ]

It is with much regret that I inform those who knew the princess, [ Nuada's voice is quiet, and as bleak as the black outfits he prefers. ] that my sister is no longer ... she is gone. My condolences to any who considered Nuala a friend.

[ He bows his head and switches off the feed. ]

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[bethmoras]

[ Baelor is not too dissimilar, though Balor is - or has been until recently - the horned king of their people from time before time. Nuada does not know how old his father was, only that he figured in all of their legends, back to the very dawn of the world itself. Age tends to lose all real meaning at that point.

But the tree. Symbol of royalty. Symbol of strength, of shelter, of growth and all good things. Perhaps someday he will learn her people have druidic tendencies - it's one he would approve of. For now, though, he seeks to turn the tone of her voice.

Such a small thing is displeasing, though the sidhe refuses to examine why. ]

Lord Nuada, if you insist on formalities. My father was king, I do not yet claim that title for myself.

What would you have me call you?

[steeledskin]

Lady Sansa will suffice. [ it is always terribly awkward to be asked -- and she always prays she does not answer in the wrong. perhaps true formality would require that she be lady stark or lady keeper stark. but too many others have watered down her name for her. she compromises.

she learns. ]

[bethmoras]

Lady Sansa, then.

[ He watches her through the little view screen, wondering what she is like in person. It is difficult for him to find enough cues to figure her out. These devices, while intriguing, do not lend themselves well to taking the measure of others. ]

Perhaps, one day, you and I shall converse face to face.

[steeledskin]

I would like that. Very much.

[ gentle honesty. on occasion, it serves her well. ]

[bethmoras]

Until then, I will recall your kind words.

[ It's a tricky thing, honesty. Often as beautiful as a rose, but just as likely to draw blood. ]

Good day, my Lady.