||: ɢɪғ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀʟʟ; —ʟɪᴛ/ᴅᴇs —"ʟɪᴋᴇ" ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ɢɪғ —ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ ɪs sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ʀᴛ?

Flicks a dead fly off of the table.

As the cold night draped over the shoulders of the Hound, he found himself staring into the small flames /missing/ the companionship of the small Stark girl. “Seven fuckin’ hells.”

The scarred male squinted out into the gray haze of the woods. Rain had been falling for the past few hours. “I hate the fucking rain.” He grumbled.

“Fuck off, ya’ bald cunt.”

Sandor slowly turned his head to see the other standing beside him. A man he had never seen before. Odd. Nevertheless, his attention returned back to the soaked Earth. “All ya’ smell is fucking piss and shit out here.”

Clegane turned his head to look at the other. His words were spoken with a slight snarl. “How would ya’ like it if I shook you? Hmm, Priest?”

If the man wanted a snapping dog, all he had to do was pull its tail. Teasing was all the same. “Why don’t I ease you of your troubles, Priest?” The Hound neared the slightly smaller man with a rough hand silently nearing a dagger on his side.

“All the same to me.” Sandor said as his eyes caught the sight of where an annoying ‘drop, drop, drop’ was sounding. It was a leaf the held more water that it could hold. With an irritated groan, the Hound ripped the leaf from its branch.

Sandor’s eyes shifted downwards to the motion of the male’s hand. It was a casual movement, but it spoke wonders to him. “Are you threatening me, Priest?” The scarred man questioned, ignoring the fact he had brought up the Lord he admired.

The Hound’s chin tilted upwards, as if to give him more height (not that he needed it). But Thoros was one to be weary of, due to his unknown powers and skill. So, Sandor did not show any weakness. None of which the Priest could use against him. “Not by the likes of you.”

The male scoffed and folded his arms. There was nothing worse than a smile on a woman. It always meant something deeper than what the surface provided. “You fucking wolves can never shut up about the fucking snow.”

“Are you always this fucking annoying?” The scarred man then spat on the wet ground beside him. His gaze was kept away from her, focused on a puddle that was dotted with raindrops.

The scarred man had grown tired of the amused smirk the Priest frequently bore. It almost became just as unbearable as the male’s face. “Women wail not because they are scared, but because of these fuckers ugly mugs.”

||: I’m planning on being more active here, so if anyone wishes to write, let me know!

[ ɢɪғ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ғᴏʀ @kisscdbyfire ]

[ ɢɪғ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ғᴏʀ . ]

[ ɢɪғ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ғᴏʀ @SwordOfAKiller ]