sirens

A stranger greets Louis whenever he looks in a mirror—a stranger with sunken eyes, sharp cheekbones and hollow cheeks, whose strands of mousy hair tangle into intricate knots; curl into something akin to a broken halo.Every morning he recites, speaks to no one but himself so he could try and remember that, “This is me. This is how I look like.” The simple act is done so often that it has become more like a ritual than a routine; and even then it’s only part of what he must do the second moonlight dies and day breathes again. (In which Louis suffers from prosopagnosia; he can’t recognize faces, even familiar ones. He can’t remember his own face, let alone Harry’s, but he remembers the way his skin feels under his fingertips, how he trembles under his touch as if Louis is fire, and Harry is nothing but mere paper, disintegrating into ash) Oneshot.

It was just a chance encounter of two strangers who had known each other once, when one of them had been the captive of the golden court, the other imprisoned by his own rage and hatred. Each had something they wanted to gain from the meeting fated by the gods. Sansa and Sandor meet again by chance in rather unusual circumstances. As brief as their encounter is, it has momentous consequences and ignites something that is hard to fight against. Yet Sandor tries... AU after DwD. A response to a fanfic writing challenge.