[The disembodied screaming isn't any real detriment to Ramsay. If anything, it's mildly irksome. Like the high-pitched buzzing of an insect he can't quit manage to swat. He'd entered this establishment under the assumption that he would find some salvageable resources. And yes, perhaps even sustenance.
Even as a bastard, going without food isn't exactly something he's accustomed to. And quite frankly, he doesn't plan on getting used to it. Whatever forces "summoned" them here, certainly didn't do so with the goal of starving them. Or, as Ramsay would assume, certainly not the fine citizens who proved their worth.
Anyway, point being, Ramsay is in the building and he has "managed" a makeshift shank of his own. A partly serrated piece of sharpened scrap metal. It's a rather sickly excuse for a knife but Ramsay would feel naked without some form of blade. Hardly living up to his House's sigil.
He peruses the various rooms, continuing to ignore the shrieking and crying. Gods help any of these children should they actually cross paths with him. Yes, you show those ghosts who's boss, Ramsay. Eventually, he arrives at the threshold of the kitchen doorway. Slowly but surely, like the killer of a bad horror movie making his grandiose entrance, he taps open the door with his makeshift blade.
Almost immediately, he's accosted with the sound of a woman snipping at him. He actually takes pause, giving Jane a once over and actually canting his head a bit. Strange garb, for a woman but--not entirely far-fetched given the surrounding circumstances.
Regardless, he flashes her his sincerest of smiles and glances over at the grotesquely shaped shank in his hand.]
My apologies! I had no intention of frightening you.
[He gingerly tucks said "blade" in his belt. How generous.]
no subject
Even as a bastard, going without food isn't exactly something he's accustomed to. And quite frankly, he doesn't plan on getting used to it. Whatever forces "summoned" them here, certainly didn't do so with the goal of starving them. Or, as Ramsay would assume, certainly not the fine citizens who proved their worth.
Anyway, point being, Ramsay is in the building and he has "managed" a makeshift shank of his own. A partly serrated piece of sharpened scrap metal. It's a rather sickly excuse for a knife but Ramsay would feel naked without some form of blade. Hardly living up to his House's sigil.
He peruses the various rooms, continuing to ignore the shrieking and crying. Gods help any of these children should they actually cross paths with him. Yes, you show those ghosts who's boss, Ramsay. Eventually, he arrives at the threshold of the kitchen doorway. Slowly but surely, like the killer of a bad horror movie making his grandiose entrance, he taps open the door with his makeshift blade.
Almost immediately, he's accosted with the sound of a woman snipping at him. He actually takes pause, giving Jane a once over and actually canting his head a bit. Strange garb, for a woman but--not entirely far-fetched given the surrounding circumstances.
Regardless, he flashes her his sincerest of smiles and glances over at the grotesquely shaped shank in his hand.]
My apologies! I had no intention of frightening you.
[He gingerly tucks said "blade" in his belt. How generous.]