For herself, Taria had decided to simply follow Theon's lead and eat fish as well. "I'll have the same," she called out, though she only looked away from her father for a moment. [i]Her[/i] father. Even in her mind, it sounded strange, yet the more she repeated it therein, the more she was starting to like it. And it made some sense, as well. While there had been the occasional twinge of bitterness toward Theon Greyjoy as she had grown up, Taria had never felt any dislike or hate toward the man. It just hadn't made sense to her then, nor did it now. Just like most men of the world, sowing seeds and producing bastards was part and parcel of living in the world. There were so many Snows, Pykes, Hills, Stones, Flowers, Sands. If there was anyone she may have felt resentment toward, it was her mother. [i]She[/i] had been there and had chosen not to worry about her child. Taria had memories of the way her mother had been with her, and they weren't very pleasant nor oft remember. Her father, on the other hand, was a blank slate. Whatever she knew of him was simply hearsay, told by the people of Winterfell and then her aunt Asha. The latter she trusted much more than the former, but even then, she knew it was for her to make her own mind.

So far, she was enjoying this surprise meeting. Even as she ate and listened, there was a lingering smile on her lips, eyes bright as she listened to her father. At one point she did laugh and speak up. "Well, I don't want to call you arsehole since I've never actually seen you [i]be[/i] one." That being said, the thought of calling him father was so tempting, but for now, she restrained herself. For now, it was nice enough to eat and drink with the old man, listening to his voice. The way he talked, the interest he was showing, it was all very different from what she was used to from a parent. Perhaps she was simply feeling all this because she only just met him. 

However, something told her that was probably not it. Theon had kept from relating the grimmer parts of his past, which Taria was very grateful for. She had already heard of those days of his from the mouths of others. It had been bad enough as a story told by drunken men drinking ale with wenches on their laps. Those were all told in jest and a way of mockery, but even as a child, Taria had suspected they were more serious and darker than the men had made them out to be. From what Aunt Asha had told her during her years at Pyke, when he had been found, Theon Greyjoy had been less than a shadow of the man he once was due to the vile, brutal and inhumane things that had been done to him.

After all that, what sort of person would she be if she still felt resentment against him for not being there for her when she was growing up?

She finished her food before him, drinking up her second mug of ale. Drink didn't get to her too quickly; it took her at least four or five mugs to feel a little inebriated, which she was obviously not planning for the day. "I'd like to see the wall one day," she admitted, looking at the liquid in her mug, contemplating a moment before looking at her father. "The thought of it, [i]you[/i], that's what got me travelling in the first place." She was sure the cold wouldn't bother her anymore, and now that she was much older than her thirteen-year-old self, it wasn't like brigands or highway robbers or any other sort of louts would scare her. She knew enough to defend herself.

It was slightly annoying for her when the large group wandered in, though nothing but mild interest showed on Taria's face. She didn't mind crowds, or noisy ones either, even if she was a loner; she was quite used to them from her upbringing. The annoyance was simply because she had been enjoying conversing with her father, and now that had been interrupted. She did, however, take better notice of the newcomers when her father greeted the one in black and red. Black Visenya? She had heard the name, though like most people who's names were widespread, she had never actually met the woman before. She was a sight, that was for sure, but Taria was more than a little biased toward her aunt; in her opinion, Asha was the kind of woman she wanted to be, save the part where she led people. Taria knew she didn't have what it took to keep people in line, nor was she a follower, hence the wanderer's life.

"Ah, yes... of course," she replied in response to Black Visenya's joke about her father. It was a little interesting, seeing the interaction between the two. Were they comrades of past? She would have to learn more... eventually. She didn't wish to exhaust her father of all stories in a single afternoon. One thing she did know was that her father had been a superb archer. [i]It would be nice to compare,[/i] she thought to herself as the two continued to talk. [i]Perhaps a contest in archery?[/i] That is, if her father even competed in such events. [i]Does he still use a bow?[/i] Small questions that she wished answers for, but she would be patient.

The embrace took the Snow bastard by surprise, but she reciprocated in kind, though a little awkwardly. She wasn't used to affection, at least not the platonic sort. It wasn't so bad, however, and as father and daughter pulled apart, there was a smile on her lips. She watched as he started off, and an unusual feeling came over her. Her fist clenched as she cast a glance toward the newcomers. No, she didn't find them quite as interesting...

"Fa-Father!" Taria was hot in the face after she spoke the word aloud. She left the food tent, hurrying to catch up with the older Ironborn. "If it's not much trouble, I want to come along." She wanted to meet the higher folk he mentioned, but most of her simply wanted to spend more time with a parent who actually seemed to care. Who knew when this chance would come to her again? It was too precious to let go of so quickly!

[@MrDidact]