daughter of the rain and snow

It was quiet out on the boardwalk. Sansa liked that about it, just as she liked the chill that had begun to permeate the air — nothing even close to winter yet, but a sign that it would, in fact, be on its way. Around here, it stood to reason, the four seasons they experienced coming and changing almost like clockwork, but in the heat of summer, especially when it lingered, it was easy for someone like her to wonder if maybe it would stay that way. Winters back in Westeros, especially in the North, could last for years and years; summers were much the same. She knew it wasn't like that here, had been told as much many times, but it was a difficult thing to take to heart. Either way, this change of seasons was a welcome one. She was, no matter how well she had pretended to be on several occasions, a girl from the North at heart. In the cold and damp was where she was most at home. It was in her blood.

That, and she liked the parts of the city that weren't the city, where the buildings gave way to more open space. Living out in, and then near, the countryside accomplished that as well, but there was something calming about being near the water, all the more so now that summer had ended and there were far fewer people out. It meant she could take a seat on one of the benches facing the shore in peace, Lady curled up by her feet, watching the rhythmic rolling of the waves for she wasn't sure how long, imagining as she did what might be on the other side of it, or that home might not be so far away after all. She could rarely convince herself, but it was a nice idea.

There were few enough people around that, at the sound of footsteps nearby, she looked up, then smiled, small and polite but distinctly warm. "Dr. Fell," she said. "I wasn't expecting to see you out here."

When Arya disappeared, Sansa didn't let herself cry.

That was, in part, because it took her the better part of a day to figure out. Waking up to find her sister and Nymeria gone was nothing that seemed too strange, and though she intended to have a talk with her later about leaving a note before she went running off somewhere, Sansa didn't think much of it. Arya had always been wild, not the sort to stay cooped up indoors, and it seemed reasonable enough to assume that she was off somewhere making the most of what freedom she had left before school started again in a few weeks. Only as the day wore on, morning turning into afternoon, did it start to become worrisome. This was a long time to go without so much as a word. When she finally decided to get out her phone and call Arya, on the off chance that she might get a response, it was the automated voice on the other end of the line saying that the number had been disconnected that clued her in to what was really going on here. Things like that, she knew — she'd learned — didn't just happen on their own, and with her own phone line functional, Sansa was sure that she hadn't accidentally let something lapse.

Which meant, really, that there was only one explanation. Arya was gone, like plenty of others she'd known during the two years she'd been in Darrow, and Sansa was alone in the world once more, the thought a terrifying one. Losing her family once had been hard enough. Getting her sister back only to lose her again, that was a new kind of hurt, perhaps worse for the fact that she thought she ought to have been prepared for it. If she hadn't been so blindsided, maybe it would have been easier.

There was no sense in dealing with what ifs now, though. All she had was the situation in front of her, and that required her to, at least for a little while, push down her own reaction to this. She knew exactly who she had to go to, of course, and exactly what that meant for her, and if she felt guilty about it, that was something she could let herself deal with later, too. Sansa hadn't been born full of guile and the propensity to manipulate, but she had learned from the best, and she knew when she had to seize an opportunity. For a few weeks now, she'd had a strange feeling about Dr. Fell, a lingering uneasiness that she hadn't been able to shake. Keeping a careful distance, it was never going to be anything more or less than that. The only way to find out more was to get closer, and the best way to do that was to let her guard down, to appear vulnerable.

Ever polite, she'd called ahead to make sure that he wasn't with anyone, not wanting to interrupt a session. She had said no more than that, though, only that she needed to see him, and by the time she arrived at Dr. Fell's door, Sansa could start to let go, everything she'd repressed for the past few hours finally making its way to the surface. Pale and shaken, she knocked on the door, then stepped back, lower lip quivering as she waited for him to answer.

Leave phone messages for Sansa Stark here, though be warned that they may not be returned.