Religion no longer rested easy on Jon. The Old Gods were Lord Stark's gods, and so he had always honored them, even taking his vows before a Heart Tree. But since his resurrection, it was hard to ignore how so much of this sounded the same to things he had heard before. There were different approaches to worshiping (not everyone burned their sacrifices as the Lord of Light's followers did), but there was the warning about how you treat people, the blessings of the gods, etc.
He had gathered with the rest around the podium, curious to see if anything different would be said, but as it was much the same, he had begun to drift out. A crowd had gathered, making his retreat a little more difficult. Accidentally, he stepped on someone's foot, tripping and colliding into their shoulder. He was quick to catch them, keeping himself steady and helping the other person.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think so many would want to listen to this."
The Coming Storm (Forgetting is So Long)
His memories were kept close to the chest, shared only in certain circumstances and with those he trusted. The winds were fierce around him and the rain pelted against his face for a time, only to suddenly let up and disappear. It was in those moments of calm that things suddenly appeared to him. A simple blink and he was returned to Castle Black or Winterfell, moments of his life that had been personal were now displayed before the crowd.
His breath felt ragged in his chest as he stared ahead of him at the scene. "This isn't real. This can't be real."
[ooc: Specify if you want a Winterfell, Castle Black, or Army of the Dead memory.]
Fire and Blood (Wyver)
Everything still needed to be finalized, but Jon had already began to move his things from Olympia to Wyver. Going from the cool temperatures to the heat was a shock to his system. The cloak and heavy tunic he usually wore would have to be cast aside, leaving him feeling naked and vulnerable. But it wasn't only this that made him apprehensive and uncertain, though the decision to be with Dany was the right one.
It was the need for employment. He didn't want to transfer from the guards to the Wyver equivalent, but there was little else he was good at, save for swinging his sword. There weren't many options for a man that had lived his life as a soldier and settling would be a difficult thing. He never felt comfortable relying on others, but it was something he would have to do, at least until he finally made up his mind.
In wandering the city, he found himself suddenly at the fighting pits. It was hardly a place that he would want to go by his own freewill, let alone consider. Fighting for sport rather than honor didn't fall into his code of honor, from the looks of things, it was more for show than anything else. No different than the tourneys or melees he had seen growing up.
Despite himself, he watched from the sidelines, drawn in by the crowd's response and the skill of those fighting.
"These are volunteers? Men who choose to do this rather than slaves?"
Jon Snow | Game of Thrones
Religion no longer rested easy on Jon. The Old Gods were Lord Stark's gods, and so he had always honored them, even taking his vows before a Heart Tree. But since his resurrection, it was hard to ignore how so much of this sounded the same to things he had heard before. There were different approaches to worshiping (not everyone burned their sacrifices as the Lord of Light's followers did), but there was the warning about how you treat people, the blessings of the gods, etc.
He had gathered with the rest around the podium, curious to see if anything different would be said, but as it was much the same, he had begun to drift out. A crowd had gathered, making his retreat a little more difficult. Accidentally, he stepped on someone's foot, tripping and colliding into their shoulder. He was quick to catch them, keeping himself steady and helping the other person.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think so many would want to listen to this."
The Coming Storm (Forgetting is So Long)
His memories were kept close to the chest, shared only in certain circumstances and with those he trusted. The winds were fierce around him and the rain pelted against his face for a time, only to suddenly let up and disappear. It was in those moments of calm that things suddenly appeared to him. A simple blink and he was returned to Castle Black or Winterfell, moments of his life that had been personal were now displayed before the crowd.
His breath felt ragged in his chest as he stared ahead of him at the scene. "This isn't real. This can't be real."
[ooc: Specify if you want a Winterfell, Castle Black, or Army of the Dead memory.]
Fire and Blood (Wyver)
Everything still needed to be finalized, but Jon had already began to move his things from Olympia to Wyver. Going from the cool temperatures to the heat was a shock to his system. The cloak and heavy tunic he usually wore would have to be cast aside, leaving him feeling naked and vulnerable. But it wasn't only this that made him apprehensive and uncertain, though the decision to be with Dany was the right one.
It was the need for employment. He didn't want to transfer from the guards to the Wyver equivalent, but there was little else he was good at, save for swinging his sword. There weren't many options for a man that had lived his life as a soldier and settling would be a difficult thing. He never felt comfortable relying on others, but it was something he would have to do, at least until he finally made up his mind.
In wandering the city, he found himself suddenly at the fighting pits. It was hardly a place that he would want to go by his own freewill, let alone consider. Fighting for sport rather than honor didn't fall into his code of honor, from the looks of things, it was more for show than anything else. No different than the tourneys or melees he had seen growing up.
Despite himself, he watched from the sidelines, drawn in by the crowd's response and the skill of those fighting.
"These are volunteers? Men who choose to do this rather than slaves?"