(second lemon cake) video ✧ locked to seelie

[steeledskin]

Dear fellows and members of the Seelie court -- [ the voice which addresses the locket is composed and clear and perfectly conscientious. but the girl whose image accompanies the voice looks a little less than all those things. her dark-dyed hair is fastened in an uncommonly simple braid...and if one looks very closely, she can be seen to have a haggard look about her. she's somewhere outside and all her caution is bent at hiding a panic she doesn't want to share with strangers. nor with those few genuinely waiting on her return. ]

I don't want to alarm any of you. Indeed, I speak to the very opposite of that effect. It's -- [ her gaze flickers 'off-screen' for a moment ] -- it's Alayne Stone. Those of you who are acquaintances [ not friends ] ought to know that I've found myself...left behind. I'm sorry. It should not have happened. But I suspect I won't make Caer Glaem again for some time. [ the fault of the matter is a little trickier than that, but she knows better than to play with implications. so after a steadying breath, she presses onwards. ] Or we won’t -- because I'm not alone. [ i have nymeria, she thinks but doesn’t dare to say. just like how sansa wants to speak directly to those who know her for who she really is -- but instead: ] I have a knight with me.

Don't I, Ser Gendry? [ and she twists her locket, letting it capture the surly blacksmith who stands a few paces away from her with an irritated expression. his armour is dented and blooded and the man sags with an obvious exhaustion. ser gendry is a man who looks and feels beaten, but it does not stop him from standing tall. he is a talisman of sorts: a warning, to any sansa fears might prey upon what would otherwise be a journey fraught with vulnerability. ser gendry is here; she is protected, albeit not happily so. he at last looks towards her and her locket and grumbles an unhappy agreement to her statement, which is accompanied by a nod. ]

A lady needn’t despair when she’s so well accompanied. Instead, my thoughts are with the returned; I pray the High Queen’s desired prize was taken without steep costs or losses. [ following this, there is no formal farewell. no official sign-off. her attention lingers, perhaps waiting for one or two responses in particular. ]

( ooc; sansa and gendry are now officially stranded and making their long way back to caer glaem -- and it’ll take them at least two months, though they’ll be reachable by locket at their respective ic inboxes. but for now, responses to this post will receive replies from one or the other or both!)

Comments

[bullhorned]

[When he arrives back. He frowns.]

She's under the protection of Renly Baratheon. Once she's made it back, it will be for him to look after her.

[firith]

I do not care about a man sitting comfortably in a castle while a young girl must be safely escorted through the wilderlands, where orcs and other foul creatures would as soon ruin her as eat her in the doing.

[ Kings of men can be noble, yes, but rarely do they actively wind up swinging a sword unless their line is of Númenórean descent. Somehow, he doubts this Renly is. ]

You are the one I am asking to do this, you are the one I wish to place my faith in. Your experience with actual threats will be greater by the time you return, more so than those playing at soldiers in a bailey.

[bullhorned]

[Strangely, he feels defensive of his uncle. He should be angry at Renly. In many ways he is. But that was for him to be spiteful for. Not some foreign king who didn't know a lick of the Seven Kingdoms. He stewed quietly.]

I've taken oaths, your grace. I've taken oaths to protect maidens. To protect the weak. So aye, I'll protect her. But only for that reason. I don't swear my sword to you or to the Starks. [Or to his uncles either. No, he is keeping his sword to swear to someone else, though he's torn between two queens for now.]

[firith]

I ask no fealty from you. As I said, this is a request.

[ There is one more thing. ]

Do you know of the Khaleesi?

[bullhorned]

What the hell is a Khaleesi? [Dothraki 101 was never covered in the Tobho Mott school for Apprentice Armorers. Go figure.]

[firith]

She is Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons in her own tongue.

[ Because royalty schmoozes and gets along with exchanged favours, where it can. ]

If you see her, kindly remind her of what lies in the library of the castle awaiting her attention.

[bullhorned]

Queen Daenerys. [He corrects automatically because he'd been thinking of her when he was talking of sword swords.]

What's in the library for her? [Besides books, because he assumes books are there already.]

[firith]

[ A nod of assent, though he doesn't bandy titles for no reason in the absence of the one they belong to. ]

She will know when she finds them. [ The dragon eggs are far too well spelled under the protection of Solais to be taken, but perhaps Daenerys can think of something. It's her niche. ] I must go, my horse is saddled. Let us speak later.

[bullhorned]

Good luck finding your son.

[He assumes that's what the elf king is doing. It's what any real, decent father would do.]

[firith]

My thanks, but the damage is done.

[ Off clicks the locket, his anger at Celegorm bridling behind the careful words. ]