He didn't know where he was, but unlike the countless other places he'd both visited and temporarily lived in, there was nothing here that made him feel the need to hide. Despite the fact that he was clearly out in the open, he felt protected - as if this land belonged to him and him alone. If he wanted to leave, then he could; and if he simply wanted to fade from sight, he could do that as well.
Bran didn't need to turn around in order to judge how close she was, nor did he want to. He didn't want her to see him, and the hand on his shoulder made him flinch even though the music never faltered. Even through the layers of fabric he knew that she was as warm as he was cold, but he liked his numb oblivion. It was familiar, and in that was a weak sort of contentment.
"No." He finally stopped, the chords continuing to echo around them even as his hands drifted down to his lap. "There is nothing wrong with this place. It's mine." As if to prove it, he evaded her touch and slid off the bench, keeping his back to her as he approached one of the hanging bodies. Bran studied it with detached curiosity, and as one second passed to the next, it simply disappeared. It was a quiet sort of event, and instinctively knew that the body was still there. It just wasn't visible anymore.
"If you think it's a bad place, why are you here?" Bran's voice took on an edge of something sharp, not quite anger but approaching it.