The Room Was Too Dark For Her To See Him, But She Could Feel The Stickiness Of The Blood, And A Wetness

“The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. “Little bird,” he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone.”  

(from an award-winning short fan film BIRD SONG by @kateofthecanals)  

dorne & house martell week: day 5 - favorite quote | ellaria sand’s rebuke of revenge

Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maidenhood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end? I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick? 

Madonna: no matters what happens, you are all winners

European countries:

asoiaf characters x greek mythology: foils, parallels, deconstructions and archetypes

please, read take these as associations solely to the specific characters, they do not reflect relations between them - eg, Jon is ofc not Jaime’s father…

also, this scheme delineates associations of many types, which are not divided because often they overlap, between foils, parallels, deconstructions and archetypes, so linking an ASOIAF character to a “negative” mythological figure doesn’t necessarily condemn the first.

Continua a leggere

Under the Skin | Jonathan Glazer | 2014

Dorne and house Martell week > day 5: favorite quote

The prince turned his chair laboriously to face her. Though he was but two-and-fifty, Doran Martell seemed much older. His body was soft and shapeless beneath his linen robes, and his legs were hard to look upon. The gout had swollen and reddened his joints grotesquely; his left knee was an apple, his right a melon, and his toes had turned to dark red grapes, so ripe as though a touch would burst them. Even the weight of a coverlet could make him shudder, though he bore the pain without complaint. “Silence is a prince’s friend,” the captain had heard him tell his daughter once. “Words are like arrows, Arianne. Once loosed, you cannot call them back.” - The Captain of Guards I, AFFC