Les temps sont durs pour les reveurs.

Aurelia. 27. France.

♚ She pushed upon both doors at once with the flat of her gloved hands, but neither one would budge. Locked and barred. “Let me in, you stupid,” she said. “I crossed the narrow sea.” She made a fist and pounded. “Jaqen told me to come. I have the iron coin.” She pulled it from her pouch and held it up. “See? V a l a r   m o r g h u l i s.” The doors made no reply, except to open.

(Source: fat-walda, via songsofwolves)

intosnarkness:

if you ever feel bad about yourself, just remember that one time i had to fly with my cello so we bought it a seat

and it got upgraded to first class

without me

(via glorianas)