eachdraidh | (third lemon cake) voice ✧ open to both courts

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(third lemon cake) voice ✧ open to both courts

( VOICE: OPEN TO BOTH COURTS )

Fellow [ ... ] shardholders. Seven blessings upon you all.

[ sansa is back in caer glaem, but there is no visual recording to accompany this address. (perhaps foolishly) she believes she may be somewhat protected from joffrey's attention. she would avoid an address altogether, but she feels there are those in the opposing court who ought to be quietly warned against the evil presence in their midst. trouble is, she doesn't know their names. and so here is a quiet attempt to draw out some of those people she'd spoken with at the very outset of using these lockets. ]

These lands are impressive. I have spent the larger part of two turns of this moon travelling them. Their roads are hard, perhaps, but I find myself oddly...pleased that I made any progress at all. [ there is a quiet (and honest) reverence in her voice. improvement and daring is not a thing she expects of herself, and so the mere understanding that she can now build a fire or ride a horse for days? it kindles something in her heart. a spark of pride. ] Seelie. Unseelie. Both territories boast beautiful landscapes -- I should like to see them painted, perhaps. Are there any artists in either court? Painters? Sculptors? [ ... ] Have we any musicians? These kingdoms must have their own songs. I would fain learn them.

From what played at the first feast, I imagine fairy music must always be a delight.

[ a protracted conversations, perhaps. but she hopes to catch the ear of wary allies and would-be friends. and as for her public behaviour? ah, well. she will be alayne stone a little longer. she is not ready to reclaim herself in one headlong rush. small steps and little leaps must be made. ]

(ooc: this post comes on the evening of june 27th. if your character is in caer glaem and is more apt to find here somewhere around the castle, go ahead and hit me with an action thread instead. i'm good with it. )

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[Hey, whoa, Sansa. He wasn't trying to cop a feel.]

It's on the ground floor near the back. My name's on the door so you'll know which one is mine. Neat, huh?

[ stiles it's just not proper. bad enough she had to travel across country with a boy!

she's about to ask why, do you keep it neat? when another thought occurs to her. she spins a simple lie: ] I've been gone so long. It's hard to remember the hallways and the directions. Perhaps you could meet me in the bailey instead. We might walk.

[ you know. where there are lots of other people within shouting distance. ]

[If he had an inkling of her thoughts, he'd be both offended because wow, so not a predator, and probably feel guilty for making her feel like she had to take those precautions. As it was, none of that crossed his mind, so he still sounded perky as he answered.]

Yeah, sure. I guess I should get out of here and maybe change clothes. Been a little, ah, distracted with all this stuff. Give me about... mmm, twenty minutes to freshen up and I'll meet you out there?

[ it's not your fault, stiles; blame westeros.

westeros may also be blamed for the ludicrous level of dress in which ~~sansa~~alayne can be found. before shutting her locket, she describes a thick-trunked tree that they might meet under. and it does not take her long to walk through those same halls she'd claimed to have forgotten. indeed, she'll be there before him wearing the dress that sigrid had salvaged and tailored and left in her chambers. it's a fine dress, certainly! but best of all it's clean. how she'd come to miss clean clothes while on the road!

the redhead -- for now she is once again a redhead -- stands beneath the canopy with her hands folded gently against her stomach. and she watches the passing faces with considerable curiousity -- looking to see a face she might recognize as stiles's. ]

[Screw you, Westeros. =(

He makes sure nothing's going to explode while he's gone, then runs upstairs to his room to change, washing up in the basin and actually thankful for once for the fairies setting out clothes for him to wear while he does. He did go and hide behind the screen to change out of his boxers, ignoring the giggles from the pixie that dropped clean ones over the screen on his head, but he was dressed and clean. He wondered if he should leave his staff in his room, but hey, you never know when something's going to happen. So he grabbed it, then felt the heavy weight of the cloak settle around his shoulders from the oh so helpful entourage that liked to linger in his room. Fine, okay, whatever. He'd be Stiles the Red today.

He headed out to where she'd said she'd be, trying not to look like he was actually eager to see her or anything. Jeez. Not like he'd ever actually seen her in person before. Jee-- Red.

His eye caught the shimmer of sunlight on very red hair and he gawped for a moment. Hello, kryptonite. The dress wasn't helping, the dark green just making her seem more... bright. Give him a moment to pull himself together and not trip on anything before coming over, Sansa.]

Al-- ayne? I... hey.

[So good with the words was he. Yes.]

[ if their conversations at a distance have not already betrayed so, it isn't difficult to tell she is a melancholy girl. her expression is given to furtiveness and concern when she think she's alone -- and only upon the sound of that name does she turn her body and press a smile onto her face. in truth, she's terrified to be meeting him. terrified, but curious.

curious, but wary. ]

Stiles. [ her voice trips carefully over his name -- as if she still wishes she had a title she might append to it. but the moment flutters by and she dips into a very well-trained curtsey before standing upright again. straight-backed; rigid. ] You wore the cloak! [ ah! that little smile is at least genuine. ] I was right; it does more credit on you than on its hook.

[ skittish as she is, sansa knows that compliments are an accepted part of conversation. her cheeks don't flush to remark upon his stature or to reference to the previous day's comment vis-a-vis handsome cloak wearers. ]

Huh? Oh, yeah...

[He looks down, smoothing his hand over the shimmering fabric. Okay, the cloak was pretty badass and he did love red, so...

But he moved his hand to gesture at her after, eyes trying to look without, ah, looking too much. No ogling the pretty redhead, Stiles.]

You look... wow. I mean, you look amazing. Beautiful, really. Green... Green's a good color on you.

['Hi, my name is Stiles. I like cheese'. God, he was an idiot.]

[ something cowers deep within her. something raw and stinging which does not like the compliment -- if only because it reminds her of past pains. but she doesn't hold that crime against stiles; how could she? he's merely being polite, she tells herself. he's merely saying what any countless scores of lords would say to her when they met her in the feasting hall. she tries not to take it to heart. and yet...and yet!

the way he stammers! sansa tries to dismiss his words with an elegant flicker of her fingers. ] The dress truly ought to be Lady Margaery's. Have you met her? Green and gold are her house's colours. But I confess -- [ and she drops her voice into a gentle whisper ] -- I'm glad for it. I've never worn green before.

[ this is true: both as sansa and as alayne. ]

Margaery... um, yeah. Yeah, I met her briefly at one of the feasts. She seemed really nice, actually. Is she from the same place you are?

[He moves to come up closer to her, but not too close. Even as obtuse as he could be about things, he could notice a nervousness to her that he wasn't sure what the cause of it was, but he wasn't going to just jump into her bubble and think that was all okay. She was from a different time and place and he was pretty sure people didn't do that.]

Green's really your color. It brings out the blue in your eyes.

[Sorry, Sansa, but Stiles had literally no problem complimenting a pretty girl.]

She is. [ sansa nods, picking her way through a careful story. ] I met her here -- and...despite our differences, she's been very sweet. Very welcoming. As proper a lady as one might ever hope to meet.

[ it seems she's more eager to praise margaery than encourage any such praise for herself -- and yet there's a crinkle of delight when her eyes are mentioned. my mother's eyes she wants to tell him. she wants to take pride in the bits of her that are tully and the bits of her that are stark, but she must lock that pride away.

perhaps the dress had been a mistake; a duller frock would have made her far less interesting, she thinks. ]

There are a few of us Westerosi here. I hope you're so lucky as to have...allies and friends in Caer Glaem.

[Sorry, Sansa. Even without the dress and the eye catching hair, he would have still thought she was pretty. She was, all angles and lines and curves and a softness that he just enjoyed looking at. And that nervousness over all of it that made him feel instinctively protective over her. Hope you enjoy having a new protector, Sansa.]

Wait... yeah, I've met a few of them. Gendry, of course. And, um, Daenerys. No, wait, Queen Daenerys and her dragons, which are totally cool, by the way. And, ah... Margaery and Jon and...

[Was that it? Yeah, that was it for his relations with the Westeros clans.]

[ she does not bat a lash at the mention of the targaryen girl, though sansa would never call her a queen -- or cool, which is a word she just about remembers from some other conversation. ]

In our court, there are plenty others: Ser Loras, Margaery's brother. Lord Renly Baratheon -- Ser Gendry's uncle, if you would believe it. [ ... ] And Lord Eddard Stark, along with two of his children. This...Jon you mention? He is Lord Stark's son. [ she irons out the wistfulness from her voice. ] In the other court...

[ she shakes her head, indicating (perhaps) that the others are barely worth mentioning. ]

Um, Jon? I don't know. He said his name's Jon Snow and he looks like he could actually be dubbed Sir Scowlsalot too. Has a good singing voice, though.

[Don't ask him how he knows that, Sansa. Shh...]

Sounds like you have a lot of people here from home. That must be nice? I mean, that there's people here you know. I've got two people here in this court I know from home and one... in the other. Who should be dead. Really, like, god, I wish he'd just die. Repeatedly. Painfully.

Yes. Jon Snow. He's a Snow like I'm a Stone and--

[ her heart (thudding like wingbeats in her chest) might not survive so much: the heady conversation about her brother or the revelation that jon had been singing. all at once, she wishes she might hear him do so. and she is about to open her mouth and assure stiles that she'd known none of these people before arriving here but...

i wish he'd just die. ] Who? [ her tone grows a little strained. she stands still. ] Who is in the other court?

[ for a half-moment, she's seized by their common burden. ]

Peter. Peter Hale. He's this--

[Drama queen of an ex alpha werewolf with a huge personality problem that wasn't limited to the fact that he was a homicidal dickbag and might have an issue with Stiles having deflowered his daughter that neither of them was aware existed in that capacity beforehand... oops?]

He's a bad person and I keep wishing I'll see his name vanish off the locket list, but no dice so far.

What about you? You said there were people in the other court? I guess they're not good either, huh?

[ some lies are kindly said. but sansa (knowing what kind of danger the lannisters could pose) thinks that it would not be kind to lie to stiles now -- not after he's expressed so much concern for her and her pieces and the suitability of her knight-upon-the-road. and so, though she may not be prepared to go alone with him to his workshop, she's ready to...do something.

although it's treason: ] There is a young king in the Unseelie Court, Stiles. And the tales they tell of him would shock you.

[ her head tilts. she watches him -- closely, but even she isn't certain why. or even what she hopes to read in his face. upon such close inspection, it's a pleasant face. clear and fine-featured. healthy. were he from a land with lords, sansa would be convinced he was of noble blood. ] Like your...Peter Hale -- King Joffrey and his uncle are both bad people. And both amid the Unseelie.

Well, good. Then they can stay there and partake of a giant suckfest. Maybe they'll kill each other and we won't have to worry about it? In a perfect world, right?

[He grinned, bright and quick at the thought of Peter dying -- and staying dead. Goddamn Hales.

But, let's change the subject to something nicer.]

So, are you happy to be back or do you miss being on the road? I know some people prefer to travel, but unless it's in my jeep, I'd really rather be home.

[ yes! something nicer. because in her mind's eye all she can see is joffrey's face turning more and more purple-- ]

Very happy. [ she says in earnest. happy to be with her family. happy to have a bed every night. happy to meet those she's come to know only at a distance. and with this sudden smooth transition into a better topic, she steps onto the gravel path and waits for stiles to join her. a walk through the bailey might not be a modern boy's idea of a thrilling afternoon -- but this feels very bold to a girl like sansa. ] This world is a pretty one...but I prefer my chambers. I've never lived so -- rough. I was scared I'd never get the smell of campfire smoke off my skin.

[ ...and somehow she manages not to ask what a jeep is. ]

Edited 2014-06-28 04:22 (UTC)

[She can ask another time. He doesn't mind talking. He's a rambler and it's kind of nice to have someone that seems to want to listen to him instead of telling him to shut up or just waiting for him to finish.]

Yeah, I'm not really the roughing it sort either. I used to get teased for bringing an air mattress camping. Oh [Realizing she wouldn't really know what that was], it's an inflatable pallet. You blow into it to fill it with air and you can sleep on it or float on the water on it. Made camping a bit easier.

[ she pulls a (small) face at the notion of sleeping on air. but only because it's difficult to imagine. ]

I don't know why you'd be teased for making yourself comfortable -- [ she reasons. and yet there had been some moments when she'd complain about this or that lacking amenity and ser gendry had gotten a look on his face like he might have teased her if he wasn't being so awkwardly gallant about it all. ]

Because boys are supposed to be tough. Part of that whole guy code thing I was talking about before. Guys 'make due' and if you don't then you're a wuss or something bleep-worthy and you get picked on.

[He shrugged.]

It wasn't too bad and I slept better because of it, so their loss for toughing it out, I guess.

[ she eyes him with a certain shrewdness. a gentle lady she may be, but she'd shared company with enough brothers and knights to know that the bravado could, indeed, grow to ridiculous levels. boys (it seems to her) like to boast. but here was stiles, gladly boasting a different strength: a wit and a cleverness that tossed aside pride and enshrined survival. oh, so she did not know that modern camping with modern mattresses is a far cry from travelling in wild lands -- but the core premise is still the same: stiles shunned the expectations of his strange guy code in favour of comfort and a good night's sleep. he'd risk bullying for it.

how brave. sansa has no other word for it; she can only imagine cowering in the shadow of someone else's expectations. not defying them openly. ]

...They sound like fools. And as though they deserved the lumpy ground upon which they slept. [ ... ] Or, perhaps, did not sleep.

[He'd probably laugh if she called him brave, especially over something like that, but Stiles had gotten used to being picked on from a young age, though it never really got past the pointless picking that kids do because kids don't realize that they can be cruel. And he had Scott, which is more than he can say for most kids, so really, what was there that others could throw at him that he couldn't handle?]

Yeah, that pretty much describes every kid ever, especially boys. We're pretty dumb in the first place. But we're big and stupid to make up for girls being smarter and growing up more quickly. Or, maturing, I guess, instead of actually growing up faster.

[He looked over at her with a grin.]

Bet you and Gendry could have used a couple of them while you were on your way back here. Air mattresses, that is. Not stupid boys.

[ she nods. ] Perhaps. Most likely. But I can't imagine our horses carrying mattresses. [ because she doesn't quite bend her mind around the notion of one being inflatable.

stiles's grin is a little contagious. she lets it feed her own small smile. ] But I do wonder which sort of boy Ser Gendry is. Would he, like you, take the offered comfort? Or is he the stupid sort, keen to prove his worth by sleeping on uneven earth?

[ there is no answer, of course. or none that she will give aloud. sansa thinks she knows which would be most accurate -- but for all stiles's talk of girls being smarter, she'll take her time to play the dull-wit. ]

Hah, no, not like... do you know what a balloon is? Wait, like... um... a water skin.

[Hah, he knew she'd know what that was.]

Picture one as big as a mattress, but with nothing in it and rolled up. I mean, we can get them smaller than what that would probably be, but then you unroll it and just inflate it. And there you go. Tiny little thing that you can sleep on later.

[He shrugs at the question, even though he's pretty sure he knows.]

Gendry seems like the kind of guy that's used to going without and I... I think he'd be pretty suspicious of anything that someone offered for comfort's sake,

[Ooh, look, someone was being smart. Stop it, Stiles.]

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