( OPEN ) i don't know whether to pity you...

[unprays]

Who: sansa stark (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.

( 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.

ii. wyver — a girl with a gun

[ 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.

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. ]

iii. stasis unit — a widow's farewell

[ 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.

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. ]

iv. wildcard — you know the drill

[ 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! ]

Comments

[personalwar]

[ With names like "Seventy-six" and "Ocelot" being thrown around, "Sansa" really isn't that strange at all. Not a common name as far as he knows, but also not a number or an animal. He nods, to both her question and her introduction. ]

I know him. [ It probably isn't a surprise at all that the two of them have crossed paths, given that they're both older and essentially career military. (With some shadier actives on the side...) ]

What do you think's holding you back? [ He's equipped to give her some tips, but diagnosing the problem is the first step. Good aim isn't something that always comes naturally, but it's usually some hesitation on the shooter's part that holds them back from improving. ]

[unprays]

( sorry for the crazy delay in responding, i had to call a hiatus in late february due to health and work reasons, and i'm only just coming back from it! if this is too old to continue, i totally understand, and if you'd rather handwave the rest, let me know if you want to hash out what goes on by pm-ing me or contacting me on plurk @ ~celen! thanks for understanding ♡ )

[ indeed, she hardly looks surprised at that — there's something similar in this man as there is in Ocelot, something in the way he stands, something in the line of his shoulders. perhaps it is that similarity that makes her answer with surprising honesty, to consider his question truly. ]

... this, this isn't something we did, back in Westeros. Women, that is. War wasn't our business. My sister was better at it all than some of my brothers, and she is better than most men now, but I — I'm not like her. [ the weight of the gun in her hand is strange, and stranger still is the thought of fighting, shooting. she trusts herself to navigate courts, politics, words and manipulation. not weapons. ]

[personalwar]

( no worries! i don't mind continuing, but lmk if you end up needing to drop this and want to handwave. )

[ The explanation that Sansa gives is unexpected, at least for someone like 76. He's well aware of how women have been marginalized, and how they still are to this day, but what Sansa is talking about is foreign to him. He's worked with women in the field, and then held command over them. He's put weapons into their hands and sent them into battle. The idea that a woman would be less capable of firing a gun than a man is completely outside of the realm of reason, for him.

Still, it's something that's a very real barrier for Sansa. She has no experience with this, and more than that, she never thought that she would. 76 is quiet for a few seconds, considering. ]

You're not used to it. Some of that just comes with practice, but... it goes deeper than that. You never thought you'd have to kill anything with your own hands.

[ Whether it was another person, an animal, or a monster, taking life isn't something that comes all that naturally to most people. It's a learned thing. ]

[unprays]

[ she nods when he starts to speak, with what is a very correct assumption — indeed, she is not used to it, to the heavy weight of the weapon in her hands, to even holding it up and taking aim. her world was different, had always been different.

and yet, when he speaks of killing, of the thought of killing someone — she looks at him, startled, before a laugh escapes her lips.

yes, she never grew up thinking she'd one day be forced to kill someone... that she'd ever even want to kill someone. and then along came Joffrey, and her father was dead and she was standing next to him on that bridge and for a moment, she very nearly did it. were it not for the Hound, she would have, she is sure of it.

she had been forever changed, then. ]

Growing up, I never thought there would be need to. [ a carefully formulated response — she doesn't lie, and yet it's hardly the truth, either. the reason she's doing this isn't because Ocelot thinks she should; it's because she wants to be better able to kill the ones she needs to kill. ]

[personalwar]

[ There's something jaded in that laugh, and something measured in Sansa's response. She speaks of growing up, but to him she still looks like a child. All the same, the implication is clear enough to him. Something has changed since she was young, and now she feels the need to learn how to use a gun.

It happens to too many of them. ]

Guess most of us probably didn't think so.

[ It's not like he'd had intentions of joining the military initially, but so much had changed in his world so quickly, and he'd ultimately been duty-bound. Of course, things had taken a turn from there, and his life had gone places he never could have predicted.

He gestures to the tree she'd been shooting at when he first came across her and nods. ]

Well, don't let me stop you. Try again.

[unprays]

Most of us shouldn't have to think so.

[ she's firm in this belief, still — that what became of her home, the wars and betrayals and deaths and lies, that shouldn't be what life is like. it should be better. they could do better.

but she couldn't go back, either. ]

Alright. [ a breath, a nod. she focuses as she lifts the weapon again, takes aim. she imagines Joffrey, Ramsay, Lord Frey, everyone who ever hurt her or her family. her hand doesn't shake as she pulls the trigger.

and maybe it's not a perfect shot, not even close, but it's better. ]

[personalwar]

[ Some claim that it's human nature to always engage in war, but at one point 76 had believed that it was human nature to strive for peace. Now he thinks it's more accurate to say that they're bound to shift back and forth between the two.

Still, there's nothing wrong in hoping that they can do better. It might be considered naive, but he'd been the same way once, and he can't fault anyone who's still young for feeling such a way.

All the same, Sansa readies another shot and takes it. 76 approaches the tree again once she's done to inspect the bullet hole, and nods slowly. ]

Good. Now empty the clip.

[ He steps back over to her side, keeping a careful eye on her as he waits for her to take aim. ]