SEMI-CLOSED. i'm a slow learner.

[unprays]

Who: sansa stark (unprays) & various
What: sansa does rounds after the whole kidnapping thing, and also deals with her father going back to stasis.
When: late march, possibly also early april
Where: both olympia and wyver
Warning(s): your standard game of thrones warnings apply, along with all the warnings you could think for the previous event.

( starters in the comments! if you want one, hit me up on plurk @ celen or send me a PM and we can plot something! or just wildcard me, that works too ♥ )

Comments

CLAIRE.

[unprays]

[ today the knock on Claire's door comes a little bit later than usual — Sansa has made it into a routine for them, spending some hours of the day with Claire without fail, each day after she had returned to the house to recuperate. ]

Claire? May I come in? [ she doesn't really expect anything but an affirmative, and so Sansa enters the room even before Claire can confirm it: normally, she would wait, out of the politeness that has been instilled in her since childhood, but today, after the visit to Thesa, she doesn't really feel like being alone in the house, what with Jon in Wyver and all. ]

Father's gone. [ it's said matter-of-factly, and yet the sadness still bleeds through her tone, is betrayed by her red-rimmed eyes. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Sansa's a polite girl, so while she's right in knowing the answer wouldn't be no, Claire is surprised when she invites herself in. On Jamie's orders, she's taking it easy--he suffered no less than her, but he's been insistent and she's not about to stress him by arguing over something she'd tell anyone else to do. So, Claire's reclining against the pillows of her bed when Sansa steps in, mouth open to ask what's wrong when the words hit her ears: Father's gone.

Her heart sinks.]

What? [She sits up. The worst of the physical damage has been healed away, though it didn't quite restore any missing nails. She'll be wearing gloves for her own vanity for some time.] Are you certain? Have you visited the station?

[Already, she wants to say it could be temporary. Three days and he might return. But every time someone has come back in that short of a time, they've been from some further point. How does that work for a dead man?]

[unprays]

[ there's a chair next to her bed, a chair that Sansa sits on with a heavy sigh and a nod. ]

Yes. I went there to see... he's back there, sleeping. Just like Robb.

[ and just like Robb, she doubts he will wake up again. the Natha seemed only to be able to give them back for a short while — just long enough for the pain of losing them to be just as bad as it was, back home. just long enough for her to start hoping they might stay. but again, it is just her and Jon left. just like it was, in Winterfell. ]

STEVE.

[unprays]

[ she remembers seeing his name listed alongside Claire and Jamie, and though her dread and concern may have been greater for them at the time, she doesn't forget. (the north never forgets — it is in her blood.) and so when the word goes around of those that had been taken having been returned to their homes, she makes her way to where he lives, too. knocks on the door after only some hesitation. ]

Ser Rogers? [ she calls out, just in case. she knows she would be hesitant to open doors, any doors, after a kidnapping. ]

It's Sansa, Sansa Stark. May I come in?

[america]

[ It takes a short moment before the door opens and Steve, dressed pretty casually (long-sleeved shirt, jeans, bare feet), appears. He looks tired but in much better shape than just 48 hours ago. It's all the more reason for him to be left on his own while Peggy is out (something about visiting the Station), which isn't a bad thing, exactly. She'd been by his side ever since he'd been transferred to the Sanctuary, still asleep, and she'd been with him right up until this morning.

He offers her a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck, a little sheepish. ] Sansa. Sorry, I'm not looking my best. [ He moves out of the way, a clear invitation to come inside. ] But of course you're welcome to come in.

[unprays]

No, don't apologize. I should be the one to say sorry for showing up unannounced.

[ the concern radiates off of her, even as she steps inside the house. she can't hear anyone else — it's good, she thinks, that she's only disturbing him and not the entire household with her visit. ]

I... I saw your name, listed among those who were taken. I wanted to see if you were... alright. [ the half-grimace that twists her mouth betrays just how inadequate she thinks that word is, for how could anyone be alright after something like that? ]

ROCKET.

[unprays]

[ he had been among those she had sent a flurry of increasingly frantic messages to, until she had ended the flood with one, simple request: please respond when you can. and then she waited. to Renly, she had spoken of praying, but prayers had never done her or anyone she loved any good before — she wasn't a fool who believed in the might of Gods, anymore.

when he finally responds, she doesn't hesitate to tell him she's coming to visit, and ask him of where to come; the instructions aren't that hard to follow. it seems many of those she wants to see are in Wyver, so that is where she heads... only, when she gets to where he's told her to come, she encounters a problem.

puzzled, she stands there, looking... up. and up, and up, to where she should go. ]

Rocket? [ she may seem to be speaking to thin air, there, but luckily the device will send the message to him. ] I'm not Daenerys, I have no dragons to carry me up there, and I can't fly. [ so how?? is she supposed to get up there?

... and in fact, how did he get there, in the first place? ]

[beatupgrass]

[The response, over the device, is hesitant.]

Shit. I don't think I've ever figured out where the actual door is. Hang on.

[There's silence on the other end, and then Sansa is left standing at the base of the canyon, staring up at the many, many grand, ivy-covered manors, equally difficult to get into.

When it seems like it's dragged on too long, a rope ladder drops from the balcony right in front of her, and Rocket calls down.] Okay, screw it. We'll find the stupid door later. Just hike up your skirts, princess.

[Yes, there's clearly nothing wrong with asking a lady of means to basically gird her loins and climb a rope ladder. It is a very necessary skill, and he will happily introduce her to Gamora so she can add to her list of skills.]

[unprays]

[ there's a pause on her end, too, and then quiet, muffled laughter — of course. she probably should have expected it.

the silence lasts and lasts, and she starts to wonder whether maybe he's gotten lost while trying to find said door, when the ladder drops down and dangles in front of her.

this, she thinks wryly, she probably should have expected, too. ]

... how long is the climb? [ it's a legit question, but she's eyeing the ladder with a similar way as to one might eye a wild horse, or perhaps a live snake. she's climbed a rope ladder exactly once, and it was from a boat to a ship... and it was difficult. granted, she isn't the same girl she was then, and Ocelot's training has given her more strength that she had... but she's not quite sure it's enough.

and so she procrastinates. ]

LORAS.

[unprays]

Your king let me in, [ is the first thing she says when she sees him, entering the room where Loras is quietly, regarding him with a small, sad smile. she walks closer, stops only right in front of him, looks at him for a long moment.

then, she envelops him in a hug. ] I'm so glad you're safe, Loras.

[ and yet, her voice shakes; she spoke to Renly of Gods, of praying, and yet all she feels now is anger. she had already convinced herself in Westeros that there were no Gods, or if there were, they cared nothing for them, or they wouldn't have let everyone die. and this only proves it, for how could any Gods have allowed this to happen, for Loras to be taken into captivity yet again? ]

[triplerose]

[ He's looking at his device, replying to something when Sansa comes in. He looks up at her, and there's a smile, and he doesn't look too terrible. He still looks better than he had when he first arrived here, but he looks tired.

He rises to greet her and then lets out a sound of surprise at the hug, but he ends up laughing, hugging her in turn. ]

You do me a kindness, my lady. Renly let me know you had me in your thoughts. Thank you.

[unprays]

[ it is a huge wave of relief — this hasn't made him regress too much, hasn't done away with all the work that he's put into being better, here. she still doesn't know all the details of what happened to him, back home, but she knows enough. could see enough in the look in his eyes.

when he laughs, she lets out a breath of laughter, too. ]

I am not being very lady-like right now, am I? Arya would be proud. [ she pulls back, still smiling. ] I wish I could have been of more comfort to him. I'm sure you must know how worried he was. So were we all.

ROSALIND.

[unprays]

[ dread has been her constant companion after the kidnapped had been rescued — every time she makes a visit she's afraid. afraid of what she'll see, haunted by Theon's face, the Theon she had met in Winterfell, not the one that was awake here (though at times, she thought he seemed even more lost than the one she'd known did). that perhaps she'll have to look at someone she cares about and see them broken to pieces.

Rosalind's home is not far away, and even if it was, it wouldn't matter: she's important enough that Sansa would travel farther than this to see her, if she needed to.

when she's there, rather than knock, she sends Rosalind a message. ]

Rosalind? I'm outside your house, I'm sorry for not telling you I was coming to visit. May I come in? [ this, instead of knocking, so that if Ros needs some time to look put together, she has that. ]

[originallutece]

[She's grateful Sansa sends her a message for precisely that reason. She replies back with a quick text-- I'll be there in a moment-- and takes the time to pin her hair up and find something appropriate to wear. She hates being seen in pajamas, but there's little she can wear right now.

She settles for a loose shirt, something she'd picked up in Wyver, and a skirt. The shirt leaves bandages from her chest and shoulder peeking out, and there's no hiding the bruises around her neck, never mind the burns and cuts, but . . . she's standing. She's stable. There's no missing limbs. It could be far worse.

Darwin is at her ankles, though he worms his way forward to nudge affectionately at Sansa once Rosalind opens the door.]

Hello.

[She steps aside, welcoming her in.]

I'm all right, before you ask. Nothing that shan't heal in time.

[She's a hideous scar on her left forearm, though, and a smaller one at the base of her throat.]

Though I'm flattered you're fond enough of me that you came to visit.

[unprays]

[ she'd be glad in knowing her intuition was correct — and yet, she can feel no happiness when Rosalind opens the door and Sansa can see the state she's in, the bandages and the bruises. she can try to mask her surprise, she's become rather good at that, but she can't help the way her eyes linger just a touch too long, the way her mouth draws into a tight line before she forces herself to smile at Ros. ]

I know enough of wounds, [ she answers quietly, ] enough to know that the ones that heal the slowest are the invisible ones.

[ having had something like that happen to you is far worse than the physical wounds or pain that was inflicted. at least in her mind. she leans down to pat Darwin's head, looking up at Rosalind's words, blinking as though surprised. ]

Of course I do! I'm very fond of you. If I'd had an older sister, I would wish her to have been like you. [ for someone who is capable of such deception and coldness, Sansa can be surprisingly earnest when she puts on no airs, and this is one such moment: she means it all, thinks that she'd have loved to have an older sister, someone to look up to, someone as smart and beautiful and strong as Rosalind. and if she had, perhaps she'd have grown up smarter, too. ]

DAENERYS.

[unprays]

[ after Ned is back on Thesa, back asleep like he'd never been alive after his death, Jon tells her to come to Wyver, too, instead of staying in their house alone. she agrees, not least because it means she can see everyone who she cares about that has chosen to stay in Wyver — not least because it means she can be there for Jon and Daenerys, too. she knows Jon only ever means well, but she worries regardless: for him, because she knows how hard it is for him to watch those he loves suffer, unable to do anything about it... and for Daenerys, because she knows both captivity and torture, and knows that their queen's life has not been kind to her, before she sailed to Westeros.

there may not be much she can do, to help, but she will do what she can.

that morning, she finds Daenerys with the small dragons — it is both strange and beautiful, how at ease with them she is. ]

What is wrong with them? [ she asks, coming closer. ]

[dorzalta]

[ She'd heard of Eddard's fate. Hard not to when Jon was with her and is affected by these events. Whilst there's no love lost between the patriarch of the Stark family and herself, there is a thread of regret upon hearing of his return to stasis. It's an entirely selfish thing, primarily because he'd spoke of her family. Told her of her niece and nephew. Did he have more stories to tell? Were any of them true?

No knowing that now, with the man slumbering. Jon had also made mention of Sansa's journey down to Wyver. She'd intended on sharing a word with the redhead, but refrained. A simple text was far more impersonal when offering one's condolences. ]

Not much of an appetite, [ she murmurs, looking up to watch Sansa's approach. There's a hatchling in her lap, fussing over the food in her palm. Nosing the raw meat, but giving it no further attention. ] I hadn't expected you to arrive so soon, my lady. I hope it was an uneventful journey?

ENJOLRAS.

[unprays]

[ she doesn't expect to run into him. frankly, when she thinks back on the conversation they had, and the one she had with Grantaire, it probably shouldn't be a surprise; and yet, she furrows her brows when it's a head of golden hair, not black, that greets her when she arrives at the house. ]

I'm here for Grantaire, [ she says, perhaps uselessly, because why else would she be there? ] I heard he was part of the rescuing efforts, I wanted to see if he was alright.

[ the look Sansa directs at Enjolras is one that says she's half-expecting him to shut the door in her face. ]

[idealisme]

[The surprise is mutual, and it takes a moment for Enjolras to place the woman he finds at his door.]

He's not here. [Old habits die hard. Enjolras is in the middle of something and wants to get back to it.]

PROMPTO.

[unprays]

[ his name hadn't been among those taken — a small comfort, when so many others both of them knew had been. but she is in Wyver, after such a long while between this and her last visit, and she's tired: tired of seeing friend after friend after friend, all left with scars, either mental or physical or, in the most unluckiest of cases, both. she is tired of the anger and pain and sorrow, the sympathy and the smiles that make her lips hurt, of staying strong (because if she doesn't, who will?).

the thought of talking to someone who understands is appealing... and Prompto has always understood, whether it was their guilt over how selfish it was, to wish for their loved ones to wake up, or their anger at the unfairness of terrible people being allowed to walk here, alive and awake.

so she sends him a message, a quick is it okay if I come to visit?, and waits until he sends an affirmative answer before she heads to where he must stay with his betrothed. another message to him, this time in voice, when she's closer: ]

Should I come inside, or will you meet me outside? [ she will not want to intrude, after all. ]

[punshots]

[ She is absolutely right in thinking he will understand, for these last days have been very much the same for him. He hadn't been taken, and even though he'd been injured during the rescue mission he was so, so much better off than so many others. He had no room to feel sorry for himself, to let his smile weaken when there were other around him who suffered more. Dear friends who had lost so much, who were still losing hope. He has to stay strong for them.

But he is likewise tired, down to his very bones, so a visit from Sansa is a welcome reprieve, and he responds immediately, insisting she is welcome to visit anytime.

(That part he's not saying just for her benefit. It's true.)

When he receives her second message, he sends back one of his own before heading downstairs to wait for her in the living room, his left arm still resting in a sling and his shoulder swathed with bandages. It's worse that it looks, honestly. ]

Come right on inside! I'll have some hot cocoa waiting for you.

[ It's one of Alisaie's favorites, so while she's been bedridden he's become rather practiced at making it. ]

KAGARI.

[unprays]

[ the stasis unit is quieter, now. the worst rush of people coming in to see those who had not survived through the torture, to see those who might wake up, has passed, dwindled down to the usual coming and going of people, still there to see their loved ones.

this time, Sansa is not there to see Robb, hopeful after all these months that one day she might find his pod empty again. this time, she stands in front of a pod where an older man sleeps, his face peaceful, the heavy fur cloak lining his figure. she wonders if he is warm, like this. three days have gone by, and what little hope she had that it might be the same thing that had happened to her and Jon had died, snuffed out like a candle. ]

Sleep well, Father.

[ she presses her palm briefly against the cold glass, breathes out. when she looks up, it's to meet a pair of curious eyes — yet, she can manage nothing but a small, shaky smile at Kagari, no explanations. but perhaps none are needed. he should have heard her words, after all. ]

[hedonistic]

[Kagari tries to follow a small set of rules for himself when he comes up to the stasis unit to see his friends. Keep walking until you get where you're going, and don't make eye contact with anyone. It works more or less well enough to prevent the majority of awkward situations, but sometimes someone you know just so happens to have a pod of a loved one nearby the pods of yours, and there's no escaping the veritable radiation of depression from this mausoleum of the not-actually-dead.

The fact that it's her father is a bit insult to injury, but it's too late to flee by the time she meets his eyes. Note to self, don't ever go in the stasis unit if you see her coming in, and wait outside if you spot her on the way. Kagari's not so lost to bitterness and resentment that he'd poison others' private moments with their parents, and he doesn't trust himself not to let any festering jealousy show on his face.]

Hey, Sansa-chan.

[If she cares to look past her father's pod toward the one Kagari is standing in front of, she'll notice a petite brunette woman laying inside. She looks nothing like him, though, so it's unlikely they're related.]

Been a hell of a month, huh.

[ayes]

[At the tail end of March, it's still a little cool out, but it's warming up. Today's an unseasonably warm day, actually, which makes it rather odd that You is walking down the street in a hoodie with the hood pulled up over her head.

She hasn't left the house much in the past few weeks, but she does need food. So she's out to just get what she needs and come back. Simple. Don't have to talk to many people.

So when she rounds the corner and almost comes face-to-face with someone she knows, it's a little startling.] Oh, uh--

--hey, Sansa.

[She says, in a flat, very un-You-like tone, pulling her hood further around her face.

Which, if Sansa is observant, she'll see is very badly bruised... or at least, is healing from bad bruises.]

[unprays]

[ she knows that voice. never has she heard it spoken in such a tone, but she knows it — knows her. You.

it doesn't take her even a second to piece together why she looks like she does, why she sounds like she does. it's the flat tone of someone disillusioned — someone who has seen the world for what it is, not what she wants it to be.

she feels a swell of pity as she steps closer. ]

You... [ she reaches out, slowly, making sure that when she touches You's hand it's lightly, reassuringly. ] I'm so sorry. I know how that feels like... and I never wished you would, too.