[Tending to the glass gardens aboard the ship afforded Margaery a welcome pastime. There were tulip bulbs to be planted along with the carrots and potatoes that helped to keep all the passengers sustained. One of the scientists aboard called it a "thriving ecosphere borne of hydroponics." As usual, Margaery offered a smile and a nod. Such matters were beyond her comprehension and, passionate as the botanist was, most of his words were wind to her.
Sometimes you're more heart than head, dear.
So said her grandmother whenever they took tea with the other ladies. Not entirely true. Margaery's heart guided her head, helped her navigate dangerous maneuvers on these tempestuous seas. Not a good head for numbers or scientific fact but it served her well during the soirees sometimes held on board.
A pity she couldn't be more bold. Sansa's wandered off again, laughing with some young man near starboard. It made her heart ache but Margaery does her best to brush it off, wandering to the gardens with the hope that her flowerbeds will serve as apt distraction. Though her heart leads her head, her head can do nothing to soothe her heart.
Soft grass greets her bare feet as she sheds her shoes. The dirt feels good between her toes and she basks in the false sunshine borne of the lamp above. She walks slow, taking in the greenery until the sound of a sob pierces the silence. Her steps speed up as she heads toward the source of the noise, coming upon a boy beneath a blanket.]
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Sometimes you're more heart than head, dear.
So said her grandmother whenever they took tea with the other ladies. Not entirely true. Margaery's heart guided her head, helped her navigate dangerous maneuvers on these tempestuous seas. Not a good head for numbers or scientific fact but it served her well during the soirees sometimes held on board.
A pity she couldn't be more bold. Sansa's wandered off again, laughing with some young man near starboard. It made her heart ache but Margaery does her best to brush it off, wandering to the gardens with the hope that her flowerbeds will serve as apt distraction. Though her heart leads her head, her head can do nothing to soothe her heart.
Soft grass greets her bare feet as she sheds her shoes. The dirt feels good between her toes and she basks in the false sunshine borne of the lamp above. She walks slow, taking in the greenery until the sound of a sob pierces the silence. Her steps speed up as she heads toward the source of the noise, coming upon a boy beneath a blanket.]
Is something the matter, child? Are you lost?