(fourth lemon cake) voice ✧ open to both courts

[steeledskin]

Fellow Shardholders. [ of either court! ]

I would speak to a man of law -- should any find himself amid our numbers. [ such a profession is unknown to her, but stiles has explained some occupations and tenets of his world and this one in particular piques her interest. sansa stark could make use of such a man who might be bound by her confidentiality. of course, she does not quite understand the ins and outs of the arrangement.

but that's why she asks today: to learn; to plan; to piece together little patches of her defence. ] Anyone who would call themselves lawyer. I would speak with you. That is the word for it, yes? [ lawyer. ] My apologies if I've gotten it wrong; I'm only a simple girl and I am unwise in these matters. I want to learn about the things that are mysteries to me.

[ like whether a lawyer's strange binding powers of argumentation would even apply in these lands. once her conversations are finished, she snaps the locket shut and can be found in the library -- where she organizes books she doesn't care to read, because the practise soothes her and distracts her mind from its darker thoughts. or else come the evening she sits in her chambers, and allies of hers are welcome to stop and knock. ]

Comments

[bullhorned]

Forgiving... ain't quite how I'd say it.

[He did not really imagine himself as all that forgiving a person, really.]

[steeledskin]

No? [ she thought back to the conversation she'd had with her lord father -- evaluating and passing verdict on gendry's character. upon his self-esteem. ] How would you say it, ser?

[bullhorned]

Just that... it's your business, what you say and do. That's all. It ain't no one else's concern.

[It's his own narrow perspective on things, reflected from his own desire to do as he liked without the judgement of others. It was born from a desire to be his own man.]

[steeledskin]

[ her laughter is tin. it is hollow and unyielding. ]

No, ser. I mean to ask -- how would you say you are, if not forgiving? For it sounds forgiving to me.

[ and she anticipates that he will paint himself as a realist. ]

[bullhorned]

Oh. [He frowns and, as ever, screws up his face as he thinks about that. He did not generally describe himself except in terms of skill or physical attributes. It took him time to navigate around working out what he was.]

Stubborn, I think. I see things... the way they are. Maybe a bit of how they ought to be, as well. But that's the way a smith is supposed to look at things.

[steeledskin]

It must be frustrating -- [ she starts, but does not continue. ]

[bullhorned]

Frustrating? Why?

[steeledskin]

To always see how things ought to be -- flickering in your mind's eye. Not yet made. Not yet perfect. [ the potentiality of every object and concept. the eventual blade in every lump of steel. the inevitable curve of metal.

perhaps this is why he scowls so: ever disappointed in how the very lines of the world around him do not match what his mind wants to make.

sansa finds this sad. ]

[bullhorned]

Mayhaps. People and kingdoms aren't like steel, though. I can't do much to shape them. I'm not the sort meant for that kind of thing. So there's no use being frustrated over things I can't change.

[It's a lie, though. He does get frustrated, because he wants things to change. He's worked hard at it. But he's only one man with barely an ounce of any real power. He is supposed to be content with what he has.]

[steeledskin]

We are more like steel than you might imagine. You're right to stick to what you know, I think.

[ she isn't calling him stupid -- once, she might have. but today it's merely an acknowledgement of what is his element and what he likes best. ]

[bullhorned]

[Like steel, she says. He doesn't feel much like it...]

People? Or just the two of us?

[steeledskin]

Me. You. All sorts of people. But perhaps not everyone.

[ she breathes out; it's audible. ] I think about it. Sometimes. Life is the hammer and we are the material and what it does to us...we are most of us changed by life's incessant blows.

[bullhorned]

[He'd not quite thought of the world in those terms. But it does make a certain amount of sense. He imagines so many moments of his life as being heavy blows that changed him.]

Does it make us stronger or does it break us?

[steeledskin]

It depends a great deal upon the person's metal. Doesn't it?

[bullhorned]

So some might be gold, soft and easily changed. Or brittle like iron, that breaks before it bends. Or strong as steel, solid and unyielding.

[steeledskin]

I know what I am, ser. What are you?

[bullhorned]

A bit of all of it, I think.

[An alloy. Nothing more than a mix of steel and cheap copper. Fitting for a bastard.]

[steeledskin]

[ her mouth opens, though unseen. she is about to tell him some pretty compliment about how fair and (once again) forgiving he is to take such a rounded view of his making. but something distracts her.

calmly: ] Iron is brittle?

[bullhorned]

Aye. Iron alone is decent for some things, but not for weapons. When it gets harder, it becomes more brittle. So we use steel instead. It's part iron, but the rest makes it stronger, as does the process of making it. It's likely even Valyrian steel has a bit of iron in it.

[steeledskin]

I always thought iron was very strong. Very...powerful. Or so I was told.

[bullhorned]

It's still strong enough. It just don't mean much if armor's involved.

[steeledskin]

One wonders why the Ironborn take such pride in it, if that's true.

[bullhorned]

Might be they can't afford no better. [He admittedly knows very little of Ironborn. they seemed even further away from King's Landing than the Free Cities did.]

[steeledskin]

I'm not certain the Ironborn afford anything. The-- my father's ward always spoke of paying an Iron Price.

[ ward is not the right word. but she didn't care to say his name. ]

[bullhorned]

Ain't that just a fancy way of saying stealing?