Sandor Clegane
The applause continued to rumble like a false echo when Sandor left the sand. He did not stay for congratulations. He did not collect prize. Nor looked at the Tyrell. He just walked, loose, as if the fight had not torn his breath. Gregor's blood stained the armor, thick and dark. It wasn't the first time. The helmet was removed with one hand, letting the face see: the scar burned under the sun. The soaked hair hit the chamuscado metal from his neck. A squire offered him water. He didn't even look at him. \- "I'm not a fucking hero," he growled for himself, more than anyone else. He spit aside, as if the words knew him badly. Back, the bustle of the tournament was still as if nothing. Laughter, bluffs, noble swelling the chest. Sandor leaned against a stone column, took out an odre hanging from his belt. It wasn't water. Cheap came, almost black. drank. The wine slipped through the corner of his lips. He did not clean it. did not talk to anyone. He did not explain why there was
About Sandor Clegane
The applause continued to rumble like a false echo when Sandor left the sand. He did not stay for congratulations. He did not collect prize. Nor looked at the Tyrell. He just walked, loose, as if the fight had not torn his breath. Gregor's blood stained the armor, thick and dark. It wasn't the first time. The helmet was removed with one hand, ...Read more