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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[ his preoccupation is so gallant. so...unlike so very many others. lord renly and ser loras are kind and they are stalwart, but their vows are offered was easily as their names. they swear prettily and they swear comfortably. but stiles...

he seems to be little more than a font of untethered thoughts. sansa wonders if that somehow makes him more honest. in any case, she seeks to reassure him without giving away too much of herself: ] I'm well cared for, here. I promise. Since so many Westerosi rode out to meet Ser Gendry -- [ she'll blame their presence on him! ] It seems I have gained a few more possible escorts. Honestly, I have my shields. You needn't worry [ except she likes his worrying... ] so much. You needn't worry so much.

[ but a little is okay. ]

[He caught that and it made him smile, ducking his head down a bit as he nodded. Sure, right, sure. No worrying. That would be easy.

Not.]

Well, Gendry seems... okay. I bet he'd keep a good eye on you. He did okay bringing you back, after all. That guy I told you about? Jon? He seems okay too. Bet he'd do the whole noble knight thing and make sure you were okay. I have a friend, Allison. You should meet her. She's completely kick-ass and maybe, I mean, I don't know if you're up for it, but maybe she could teach you some archery? She's pretty good at it.

Archery?

[ oh! pardon how her nose crinkles. her disdain for the thought is so strong that it even knocks away any desire she had to thread her conversation back around her half-brother: alayne, at least, has reason to know jon's name. and she'd nearly said (with a spark of pride) that lord snow was a commander of a whole cavalcade of men who might as well be knights. better than knights, really. but then.

well.

archery. ]

It would not be seemly.

Seemly? Oh, right. The whole lady thing. Look, uh, Alayne? I know that you're used to a... certain lifestyle, but we're kind of in a completely different world, here, in case you missed that with the fairies and the magic and everything.

You really need... you need something. Something to make sure you can take care of yourself in case someone else can't get to you. It's not unseemly to be able to protect yourself. And I know plenty of women who can kick my ass from here back to my world again and that's not a bad thing.

[ a tiny trickle of pride tries to goad her into saying but i have got something! she has her wits. her wide blue eyes. she has the rules to the game of thrones, which are hardly rules at all but more like broad brushstrokes filling in the gaps between half-wits and master players. she has secrets and she has lies. but she cannot share any of them with him.

so she instead watches him with widened eyes and plays her part: ] And if I find myself incapable?

Then... kick them in the nuts, scream, and run. Always go for the nuts, even here with the weird non-humans.

[That was some solid advice, Sansa. Take it.]

[ solid advice mayhaps, but...! ]

-- Kick them in the nuts?

[ elucidate it for her, stiles. he really should have known better. ]

Oh. Um... the... wedding tackle? Frank and beans? Twig and berries? Uh... the...

[He looked down at his lap, a hand moving to cover himself surreptitiously.]

The cheap shot.

[ she is attentive. though every new metaphor makes her more and more lost. either she hails from a land where no one has the patience for euphemism or (more likely) she's been more sheltered than even she realizes. indeed, it's not until he...

gods. ]

[ brows arch. wide eyes widen some more. her face (for a flash) is a perfect picture of shock. shock so very fresh and unexpected that she hasn't even yet managed to circle 'round to disgust. she flounders there, staring at him -- his face -- for a moment longer before her mouth falls slack. ]

I could never -- [ she starts. stops. considers what he's told her: he'd meant it like a talisman. a shield. a piece of counsel. he'd not been trying to humiliate her. and yet the flush creeps up her neck and had her cheeks not already been so reddened from the sun, her blush would be evident.

she drops her attention down to her wringing hands. ]

I don't mean it like a thing to do for fun, but if you're in a situation where you're... where you need to get away... do it. Make sure you give it all you got and cripple the bastard until someone can get to you. If that doesn't work for whatever reason, go for the eyes. Your safety sort of supersedes your need to be a lady, okay? No one, and I mean no one would fault you for that.

And if they do, you just let me know and I'll do a little bleeping with my staff.

[He really meant it for the best, not trying to humiliate or embarrass her. Maybe he should talk to Allison or some other girl about starting self defense classes here. He understood they were necessary back home and that should be the same here.]

I'd always had a sworn shield -- [ her tone is plaintive. almost naive. shocked straight into a childish desire to explain why she's never had to protect herself before now: ] Knights. Soldiers. Sworn to my father. I was well guarded. I was safe.

[ i wasn't safe at all. her jaw remembers the ache. her ribs remember the pain. the backs of her legs remember what it felt like to be smacked (repeatedly) with the flat of a sword. a sword belonging to a sword shield. joffrey's, of course. not hers. never hers. ]

And I'll be safe, won't I? Within these walls? [ her gentle reassurances that he should not worry about her have been broken apart on the rocky shores of his speech. no fault of stiles's, really, but his words have scared her. they've dredged up past vulnerabilities. ones she'd thought herself far from now that she had starks around her. ]

Oh, crap. Jesus, Alayne, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out.

[He moves to grab for her shoulder, then stops. Right. No grabbing medieval girls. They took it wrong. Okay. Hand down and just... talk.]

Look, I'm just, I'm used to worse case scenarios, okay? I'm a worrier. I think of the worst that can happen and try to prevent it. That doesn't mean that anything actually will. I just... it's a good idea for a girl to be able to take care of herself. By whatever means. Just in case. I don't know if we'll have any more invasions or anything, but I think you should be okay here.

['For the most part'. He didn't want to keep talking because he felt like he was digging a hole.]

[ the road had been hardest for this very reason: for the better part of the first month, ser gendry (when he did talk) had developed such a habit of talking about the worst of cases. she'd had nightmares for the first few weeks. new nightmares -- nothing like the slew she already possessed.

her eyes flutter shut a moment. she does little more than breath for a handful of heartbeats. she forces herself to relax. ] I carried a brittle stick, at first. On the road. [ she says in a voice barely above a whisper. she's still blushing -- and she can't meet his eyes -- but she still wants to prove herself capable of something. ]

It was my hope. My protection. My sword. I was told...I thought that if trouble befell us, I could at least dig deep with splintering wood. Ser Gendry was unimpressed. [ or at least...his pride had been wounded by sansa's desire to arm herself. ] Eventually, he let me carry his knife. Every night I prayed I'd never have to use it. But just holding it made me feel...better.

[ she reaches up. curls a stray wave of red hair behind her ear. ] I'm not ready for a bow, Stiles. I may never be. But you're not wrong -- people need to have something.

[Okay. Okay, she hadn't totally decided to hate him and call him a lame ass dick for putting bad thoughts in her head. It was so hard trying to relate to her, though. The girls he knew... well, they were fierce. Dominant. Even the more timid ones had bite to them. Sansa was like... she just brought out that need to make sure that she didn't have to deal with it.]

Do you still have it? His knife? Because if not... maybe we could work on getting you something you would be comfortable with. If you don't want a bow, and that's totally fine, maybe we can find something else. Something you'd be okay with learning to use for if you needed it.

[ a small shake of her head; she'd returned the knight his knife. because it's his, and she'd promised to do so. but (of course) she does have something.

her look is baleful as she turns her torso by degrees -- almost-nearly-but-not-quite facing stiles. ] There is one thing. I wanted to show you earlier, but...[ she bites her bottom lip. perhaps she can lie and tell him the boon was her own. ]

Will you keep one secret for me? [ small steps. little leaps. she can test trusting him with one thing, and wait a turn or two of the moon to see if the trust is worthwhile before she tells him anything else. ]

Edited 2014-07-01 03:44 (UTC)

What? Yeah, sure. I mean, of course. I'm not exactly going to go blabbing to the entire castle, am I?

[No, Sansa, he wouldn't Stiles was usually pretty good at keeping secrets. He was a vault. Give it to him.]

[ she holds up a delicate hand. delicate except for the shortened nails -- one or two of them split in a manner betraying her recent across-land journey. she hates these little marks of hard living. they embarrass her. but her hand is needed for this magic, if magic is what it even is.

fortunately she'd had time to practice since on the day of boons the fairy had come to her and told her she'd been granted a small skill at her father's behest. all she has to do is speak the words -- two fairy words -- and a knife of ice springs to her palm. she does this now, whispering them softly and with an uncertain lilt because she's only ever performed this parlour trick in front of certain allies.

a chill comes over her. crystals seem to gather from the air and melt and reform like ice in her palm. her hand is held out, knuckles up to the sky, and suddenly she's clutching the little delicate weapon. ] A boon. [ she explains, happy not to say more than she needs to on the matter. ] But it isn't like your...talents, Stiles. I can only do the one thing.

[ but she's charmed by that one thing: not because of how it's a weapon. but because it's ice. she likes the cold sting in her palm. ]

[He's curious, of course he is, and he's watching her move her hand like she's going to show him something. There's a little muttering of words he doesn't quite catch, but then -- BAM. Ice knife.]

Okay... that is pretty damn cool. Um, cool cool, not like, cold cool. Though, if that's what it looks like, I bet it's cold cool too. Is that ice? Can I touch it?

[Yes, Sansa, you had marveled the master. All in all, that was a pretty kick ass trick.]

[ her fingers tightened and she felt the immediate effects of body heat on an icicle. it grows slick; it starts to melt just at its very edges. had sansa any notion of violence or combat, she'd have already realized this is the sort of weapon to be used in the very -- ahem -- heat of the moment. but as it is she merely liked to conjure it to feel the chill against her skin.

she turns her wrist and presents the little dagger like a curio. and with a small nod, she grants him permission to touch. ] So I am not wholly helpless. Perhaps. [ she continues, her voice still soft. ] Our hosts remain generous. But I hope I never have to use it.

[The tip looked sharp and yes, he tested it by poking at it. Okay. Sharp. Good. If she'd need to, she could jab it at someone and do a good bit of damage. Excellent.]

They're not so bad. But... I don't know. Maybe you need something... more. To keep from having to use this in the first place -- not that it's not a great thing. Just, you seem more the type to need like, a shield or force-field or something. To make sure no one gets close enough to hurt you. That would be pretty handy.

...Is something like that truly possible?

[ it's criminal how very sparked her curiosity now becomes. brows up and eyes wide and fingers tightening around the dagger so that cold water drips off her knuckles. magic that might repel strangers and enemies and keep her space as her own?

it sounds like paradise. ]

I... have no idea. I mean, you could ask them. If they can give you magical ice daggers from nowhere and make it so I can do magic, then I'm pretty sure some kind of spell or ring of protection or something isn't exactly out of their ability.

[ her lips part. she very nearly tells him she'd not been the one to think of the dagger -- that her mind is too soft and stupid to form those important thoughts. but he doesn't seem to like her humility that much, so she sits back.

the dagger still drips. she's never learned, yet, if there's a way to make it disappear again. but as it melts she thinks about how useful it would have been on the road. a source of water. and so that soft and stupid mind proves itself capable of adapting to critical thought. ]

It would be a fair idea. And a request no one could chide me for making. [ ... ] Yes?

This is where I tell you to kick them in the nuts again if they do something stupid like that. Anyone giving you flack for trying to protect yourself... well, you're probably better off not talking to them.

[He leans back against the bench, propping the staff up against it.]

There's weird stuff happening here, Alayne. You can't be expected to just... roll with it. I mean, I'm used to weird stuff and I'm not rolling with it that well. But if you can find something that you want, that you can use, you should try for it.

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