eachdraidh | (second lemon cake) video ✧ locked to seelie

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!)

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[ it's days before she dares to try again. her and gendry are taking refuge in a stand of trees while rain falls doggedly down from a grey sky. the hood is up on her cloak and she is dictating to the little locket on her lap -- not trusting herself to try and catch arya's attention with her own wavering voice. ]

I should never have lost my temper. Please, forgive me. I swear the journey is all the harder knowing you must hate me.

Our bird still needs a name. I'm not there to see to him; perhaps you might help me?

[ this is a peace offering -- days late and given out of a selfish desire to not cry every time she tries to fall asleep. ]

[ and it's probably an hour after that arya responds, still mad and frustrated. but she's also not in her room and hasn't dared go back for days. she's dirty and hungry and tired but most of all cranky.]

I'm not falling for that. I'm not going to your room so Ser Loras can lock me in it.

[ and so begins a protected conversation -- held over hours (days, perhaps!) -- where sansa answers when she can and when she feels safe to do so. ]

I give my word he won't. I haven't asked him to. I swear -- by all the gods, Arya.

I don't believe you. And I don't hate you. [ she just really, really doesn't like you. right now.]

I'm not lying. I would lie to all the rest of them. But not to you.

[ not about this. her stomach has been in knots for days over the prospect that arya might fear capture from a kingsguard, even if ser loras was ostensibly an ally. ]

[ arya didn't mind ser loras, actually. she just didn't want to be locked in a room, as threatened.]

Well, I'm not going back to my room or yours. Ask Lady Margaery to take care of the bird. [ arya may have put a ton of feed in its bowl before fleeing their rooms.]

Edited 2014-05-25 23:28 (UTC)

[ she had asked margaery, of course. but that wasn't the point. margaery wasn't family... ]

Then help me with the name, if nothing else.

Is it a boy or girl?

A boy. In birds, the boys are always prettier than the girls.

Artos. After Artos the Implacable.

Artos. [ locket picks up the repetition because she repeats the name aloud, letting it dictate to the little mechanism. ] That's good. A worthy name.

[ once, she would have laughed at such a namesake. now it made her heart ache for even the crypts below their castle. ]

You remember?

[ some days she swear she remembers every inch of the castle -- even the crypts, though she'd had little cause to go there once she outgrew the younger children's games. ]

I liked stories; his was a good one.

(second lemon cake) video ✧ locked to seelie

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