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( OPEN ) i don't know whether to pity you...
Who: sansa stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unprays) and YOU! also various others, probably.
What: sansa deals with the yet another untimely death of her husband, is a good wolf owner and takes one step further towards a career in gunslinging. or something.
When: early february
Where: olympia, edrathe ruins, wyver & stasis
Warning(s): your standard game of thrones warnings apply...
i. edrathe ruins — the obligatory direwolf prompt
unprays) and YOU! also various others, probably.What: sansa deals with the yet another untimely death of her husband, is a good wolf owner and takes one step further towards a career in gunslinging. or something.
When: early february
Where: olympia, edrathe ruins, wyver & stasis
Warning(s): your standard game of thrones warnings apply...
i. edrathe ruins — the obligatory direwolf prompt
[ it is lucky for her that Lady is small enough for most people to consider her a larger, domestic dog whenever she is out and about in Wyver — yet a wolf is always a wolf, and so she heads for the ruins where Lady can run around freely, hunt for whatever wildlife she comes across.ii. wyver — a girl with a gun
( a. ) it's something she never had a chance to do, back home, watching Lady run around and hunt; perhaps then she'd have been horrified by the small game caught and slaughtered in front of her, but now it seems as natural as anything... as long as Lady doesn't try to bring her the food she's caught.
but should anyone happen to try and approach them when Lady has her catch of the day in front of her, they'll be met with growling and a howl — loud enough for Sansa to hear and look up to see what is going on. ]
Lady, stop that! [ she's fairly sure whoever's coming closer is not a threat...
( b. ) but a wolf requires rest, too. they sit together, Sansa on what was once a pillar, now broken and covered in moss, and Lady next to her, curled around her feet. occasionally, she leans down, runs her hand over Lady's head, whispering, ] ... good girl.
[ if someone, anyone had told Sansa she would ever own what she considers a modern version of a bow and would willingly train herself to use it, she'd likely have laughed at them, told them they have mistaken her for her sister. courtesy had ever been her armor, the training she received from Littlefinger her weapon: she had never owned a real one, not in Westeros.iii. stasis unit — a widow's farewell
here, though, women were armed as often as men, and no one seemed to find it at all strange. different customs, she supposed, and ones she would have to adjust to — not least because she never again wanted to feel as helpless as she had, back home.
( a. ) she chooses Wyver, for she spends less time there, some ways off from the city, a clearing in the jungle where she can carve an x on a tree and walk to the other side, holding the gun as Ocelot had taught her to, taking aim. the sound of the gunshot is followed by the flap of wings, birds scared off from their places on the treetops.
she walks closer to her target, an unhappy frown on her lips when she sees the bullet hit nowhere near the mark. ]
Not good enough, [ she whispers, turning around, ready to try again.
( b. ) it's not a surprise that the frequent sounds of gunshots echoing in the jungle would draw attention, and yet she is so focused that when she hears the rustle of leaves and bushes, she turns around, already on edge, and calls out, ]
Who's there? [ after the recent events, it's probably not that strange for her to be on high alert, still. ]
[ of course she goes to see him. after the body has been hidden, after all the blood has been washed off of her dress and Lady's fur, when enough time has passed — she leaves the surface and goes to the station. her mind won't rest easy until she's sure.iv. wildcard — you know the drill
and so one may catch her there, standing in front of the pod of a man with dark hair and a smile on his lips, a smile that makes her feel as uneasy as ever. it isn't the smile of someone who's lost. and yet... the undeniable truth is here for all to see: he is back in his pod, sleeping... for now. hopefully for ever. ]
Sleep well, Lord Bolton. [ when she speaks, it is with the finality of a promise: should he wake, she will be here. waiting. and this time, she'd make sure he never makes it away from the station. ]
[ individual starters in comments for murder things; if you want something else that isn't included in the open prompts, feel free to write me something or hit me up on plurk @celen and i'll write us something! ]
no subject
They could be lying to us and we'd never know.
[ then, looking back at the pod, ] ... but some do wake. Why does it differ? Why do others wake and stay awake, while others wake for a time and then go back? While some never wake at all.
no subject
I wish I knew. There's at least a few I'd rather not see awake honestly.
[If that sounds terrible, well... it's the truth. She doesn't want to deal with Azula in any way, shape or form after everything that happened. And she might as well add Ozai into that too.]
no subject
[ there's a quiet understanding in her voice — one that is reflected by the look in her eyes as she looks at Ramsay once more, with cold hatred. ]
There will always be monsters, wherever we go. Here, back home... all we can do is hope we only have to deal with those who live on this planet. That those who should never have been saved will continue to sleep.
no subject
[It's an unfortunate truth that's already been proven in the native population. Maybe 'monsters' is a strong word at the moment but there's certainly enough disagreeable people. And Mai has no doubt that among a few of those, there's a few who could be monsters if they wanted.
She catches the coldness in the other woman's gaze in a brief glance over, then huffs a briefly amused breath.]
Who knows, maybe the Natha will have some standards about who they do or don't wake up eventually. I doubt it but we can hope.
no subject
[ she had been an optimist, once: a naive girl who believed in fairy tales, everything nice and good and bright. that girl didn't exist, anymore. ]
no subject
[Mai's never been the optimist. ... Well, no, that's not quite right. She was a pessimist and an optimist all in one, hoping somewhere deep in that apathetic and stern exterior while fully well knowing that wasn't how things worked. It was never how things worked.
She waves a hand lightly there, dismissively towards the pod they're standing in front of.]
You can't dwell on it either though. I mean if in the end you still let them hold some control of how you act and how you think, aren't they still controlling you in some way? Or at least haunting you.
[Then again, she's one to talk. She thinks of the Kemikurage, of Azula. She thinks of Zuko's secrets and her own lies. The hand waving dismissively soon joins her other as she crosses her arms tightly around herself, frowning some.]
Then again, it's not like you get to choose what follows you around.
no subject
[ she frowns too, brows furrowed as she wonders which is worse: surviving something horrible but being haunted by the memories... or being able to forget them entirely, thus risking it happening again. ]
I would rather remember it all, remember everything... remember so I will never make the same mistakes again.
[ slowly, she breathes out. ] I'm sorry, my lady. This is a very grim topic to speak to someone you do not know.
no subject
[That said, Mai huffs a breath at Sansa's apology. She gives the other woman a smirk of a grin.]
I'm the one who can up to you and started talking, remember. I'm Mai.
no subject
So you did, but a conversation requires two people. [ when Mai smiles, Sansa feels her own lips tilting upwards in an answering smile, though more subdued, more quiet. ]
It is good to meet you, Mai. I'm Sansa, of House Stark.