Quoted By:
>You did not know how far you had swam from where you started but even bedraggled, wounded and alone you felt some distant pang of shame for your nakedness, you might find your clothes where you had left them…. With a great deal of luck, more likely you might have to command the aid of some fisherman or hovel peasant. [Haughty]
Shame was not something you tolerated and despite perhaps the girl in the sea there were rare few times where you did not feel some distant irrational pang of it, even alone and unwatched it caused you some disquiet and you resolved to find some clothes be it what you had left behind or some commanded from some of the smallfolk of the island.
The shore of Dragonstone was more rock than sand and no small amount of that was lethally sharp, you thanked the seven that you had survived their hidden brethren under the sea. Your departure was hardly swift, your right leg could barely hold you and if it was not for Crab’s claw you would be a cripple at march if not in truth and it was not long before you were muttering curses under your breath at every rough crevice and dagger like rock that stabbed, cut and tore at your feet, more than once you had to collect yourself on the long march, fighting back tears and frustration that landfall had yielded you little more comfort.
The sun was dipping late into the day when you came upon the first signs of what you wanted, lazy smoke upon the cliffs and a ramshackle sea shed housing a skiff gone to ruin, nothing of use existed in the shack save rotten timbers and rusted nails, ascending the cliffside was an agony though easy for a well trodden dirt trail and after a long painful drawn out hour that might have taken you a scant few minutes in good health you reached your destination. It was a small hovel guarded by an old man with a rusting hatchet, he regarded you with a caution you misliked, he thought you mad no doubt, maybe even a lunatic brigand of some sort, the thought of being cast as such a low villain soured you.
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