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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I promise, all the decent horses are trained to do nothing of the sort. [ a beat. ] They're well-broken.

I don't want a broken horse. I just don't want them to turn me into paste.

[ her eyes narrow for a moment. ] A horse obeys when he's broken-in. He's no danger to you, then. But -- when he's still wild?

[ a shrug. ]

Oh. Broken in, not like, broken. Right. Horse lingo. Got it.

[No, he didn't, but he'd watched enough westerns that he got the gist of it.]

I think I need an, ah, alternate mode of transportation. Horses just sort of scare the crap out of me.

Some day -- [ when we know each other better ] -- we could ride. My own horse is very sweet and well-behaved. He may convince you otherwise. Even Ser Gendry had little trouble with im after his own mount was lost.

[ and the pair of them had been forced to ride together. awkward. but at least if she took stiles a-riding she might borrow one of her father's horses instead. ]

M--aybe. Or, hey, maybe I can like, magic up a flying carpet? Huh? That'd be cool. You ride along on a horse and I take a nap on my rug. That could happen.

[ no. no it couldn't happen. because rugs don't fly. except that all bets were off when fairies are involved.

and perhaps she's a little sad to have her (admittedly very buried and oblique) request for companionship mildly rebuffed, but sansa gainfully responds with curiosity instead of despair: ] Is your...magic already so skilled? To create a thing like that?

Oh god, no. I'm still the master of the bubbles.

[He pointed the head of his staff at an angle from the bench in front of them, mumbled something, and bubbles shot out into the air.]

I mean, I can do more than that now, but that's still my, uh... it's good to show off what I mean.

[ she leans forward, chin lifting and head tilting as she observes the staff. it is not (perhaps) the most shocking of magicks, and yet she treats it as seriously as she might treat a fire-breathing dragon or some sort of transmutation. her blue eyes widen and her fingers knot gently in the excess fabric of her skirts. sansa has long been good at playing to a person's ego, but this awe is raw and artless. it is not faked. ]

I thought your staff was only a staff! [ she says in a hushed tone, as if the staff might somehow hear her. ]

[There's a tiny bit of gloating there, the bubbles finishing off, the ones sprayed out floating around, translucent orbs bobbing in the breeze.]

Nope. It's, uh, I guess it's my wand type thing. I channel through it. Only thing I can do without it so car is potion stuff, but all my actual magic magic has to be done while holding it. I don't know if that's just how they designed it when they gave it to me or if I'm too low a level to learn otherwise. There's witches here that can do magic with wands and without them, but they do it better with the wands since it's like, channeling.

[ she cannot help herself! she has to ask: ] Can you make it snow--?

[ jack frost could. elsa claims to. and she loves it, really. the magical snow of others. oh, how fine stiles would be if he could make snow! ]

I've actually been working on that. I can make ice, but I haven't quite gotten the snow one down yet. It comes out as either, ah, slush or chunks of ice. But I'm still tweaking it and I'll get it soon.

[He could admit his failings. Better than lying about it and having her ask for a show and, oops, hi there.]

[ she wants to confide! she wants to show him how she can produce a crude ice-dagger in her palm with the perfect pronunciation of a few words. but then he might ask her why. and how. and she would have to dance around the subject of her true father. so instead she presses her two palms together and watches the last few bubbles float away. free. ]

Of course, snow must be tricky to learn. Something so beautiful should not be easy.

It's the elemental part of it. Elements are raw and chaotic and harder to control, which I totally get. Fire's kind of a beast, so it makes sense the others are slippery as well. But hey, as soon as I figure it out and make sure I have it down pat, you'll be the first person I tell.

They say the far North of my lands see snowfall even in the depths of summer; I would love to see a summer snow. [ a mild smile. ] So yes, please tell me when it's possible. How fine it would be to see some small dream realized here.

Consider it on my to-do list.

[If he could do something simple, or maybe not so simple, to make her feel a little less out of place here, how could he not. And no, it wasn't just because she was a gorgeous redhead. It was because she was fragile looking and spooked easily and no one should be that afraid of their own shadow or the words that might come out of their mouth.

This coming from the guy who told off authority figures on a daily basis.]

-- What else populates your list, Stiles?

A few things. Learn more magic. Learn how to ride a broom. Get back at Peter. Ruin Peter's life. Don't die. It's a pretty extensive list.

Are items four and five not...the very same things? Unless you speak of different Petyrs.

[ because that, at least, is how she thinks of that name. petyr. ]

Depends. I mean, I could kill him, but he has a way of coming back from the dead and I'd rather not deal with that here. But I really, really hate him, so ruining his life is worth two spots on my list.

[ perhaps she betrays a flutter of something in response to how casually stiles declares his vengeance. not quite fear, but certainly a lukewarm awareness that there is bitterness to be drawn from the vein in this matter. sansa dips her chin and nods in a solemn fashion. ]

Whatever it is you must do, Stiles -- please be careful in it.

[There's certainly something there between him and Peter that is always going to be a raw wound with Stiles. He could, in his mind, place all the blame for everything solidly back on Peter's shoulders. Everything. All his fault. There was an angle to look at that made that an actual true statement, so Stiles felt vindicated in his plans of vengeance.]

Don't worry about me. I've got my trusty staff here. I should be able to handle him.

[Could he? He'd never actually used magic against a werewolf other than mountain ash. Would this work? He damnwell hoped so.]

[ softly -- gently -- and with some measure of concern: ] I do not suspect this Petyr is afraid of bubbles or slush. And so I entreat you once again to be careful.

[ her meaning ought to be plain: her mind -- quicker than she gives it credit for -- has already realized that stiles must press himself for more and darker magic yet should he want to wield it against an enemy. and that inspires some fear in her gut. ]

No, he wouldn't be afraid of bubbles and slush, but I'm pretty sure he's still afraid of fire.

[And he could do that. Not with proper control, yet, but he could.

He looked over and gave her a smile.]

Don't worry about it, Alayne. I've dealt with him before. I can do it again.

...Does he especially fear fire?

[ his attempts to ease her worry do little -- and though she sits straight-backed and stoic, there are small growing patterns to her emotions. she displays them in little flickers, too fast for her to control at first. but soon masked again. ]

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