OPEN | since he has been here

[unprays]

Who: sansa stark (unprays) & various, perhaps also you??
What: bonfires, secret houses and politics, as well as some unpleasant but necessary conversations.
When: may, with some very backdated threads to april
Where: mostly in olympia, with one prompt in wyver
Warning(s): your standard game of thrones warnings apply. also james blunt lyrics.



i. bonfire heart

[ beach has never been much her thing — water reminds her of the horizon in King's Landing, of cold stone and lapping waves and ships that she could have been on leaving her, one by one. it reminds her of the unsteady boat she'd taken when fleeing, of the near-frozen river back North and the sounds of hounds, running, barking.

and yet there she is, on one of the nights, standing close to the waterline, her hair looking akin to a torch whenever the flames of the bonfire happened to cast their light on her. in her hands, she holds one of the potions: the one with the ability to breathe underwater.

(she's not sure she believes it'll work, but why not? she's seen stranger things.)

when she hears someone approaching, she says quietly, conversationally, ]

Perhaps with this, I could actually try to swim. That way, should I fail, I'd not drown. [ only the slightest hint of wryness in her tone betrays that she might not be entirely serious about this. ]

ii. look who's alone now

[ when you travel far enough from central Olympia, far enough that you think you're heading towards wilderness and nothing else, there's a small house. small, unassuming, with no particular signs outside of it having been lived in.

and yet, should you approach, you'll hear the unfriendly sound of a beast growling low: a warning. perhaps the sound comes from inside the house, or perhaps you'll see a hulking mass come from behind the house, or between the trees — Lady has grown in her time here, after running in the woods and hunting and living.

but if you're not scared away by the wolf, or if your scent is known to her as someone who is friendly and the growling ceases, you'll hear a voice from inside the house, the sound of the door creaking open, a flash of icy eyes and copper hair. ] Jon? Claire?

[ because so far, she's not really spoken to anyone else about even having a house outside the one everyone knows to be the Stark House in Olympia. ]

iii. singing "here we go again"

[ when she'd heard of the diplomatic council, there was no doubt in her mind she'd want to be involved. politics was what she knew, it was where she could do something.

but doing something and doing something differently, doing something better... that is harder. that is what matters.

and so she takes to traveling: there are people in Wyver she isn't opposed to visiting, anyway, and making the trip there and back is worth it, in her mind. mostly because it means that whenever she finds someone she recognizes to be a refugee, even if she's never spoken to them before, she'll approach them with a politely warm smile. ] Excuse me, I have a question of your home [ said with a particular emphasis that marks her a refugee, too, yet arouses no suspicion, should a native be listening in ] if you have a few moments.

[ after, when she isn't talking to anyone, she can be seen writing neat letters on paper: making notes on the differences of government, ruling, the way different lands had been set up. how they worked, if they worked. if there had been war, how it had been fought.

the first step towards a solution is knowledge. ]

iv. wildcard me

[ nothing here strike your fancy? wildcard me! or hit me up on plurk or by pm and we can plot something out! specific starters in comments for things already planned out c: ]

Comments

CLARKE ❄ the hellaest backdated thread ever

[unprays]

[ by now, she knows what is happening, has experienced this multiple times to recognize the jarring feeling of not belonging, the haziness giving way to something strange and familiar at once. strange, because her surroundings are none she's ever seen before... and familiar, because amid those she can see, she already recognizes two.

perhaps her focus should be on Clarke, the real Clarke who looks different-yet-not from the one in the memory, but for the moment, her eyes are fixed on the man near her: dark, curly hair, eyes that are warm and cold at once. she hadn't realized how much she missed him, one of the first friends she'd ever made here.

when she finally looks at Clarke, it's both with a question in her eyes, as well as terrible sympathy — this must be far, far worse for her. ]

[romancekiller]

[clarke has been through this a few times herself to notice when the visions of her memory start to play out right in front of her but it always seem to catch her off guard especially this one in particular. she remembers it so vividly as if it happened just moments earlier between giving bellamy that advice to believing she was about to die like her mother had envisioned. technically the latter was something she had been wrong about but it was a lot to take in just seeing the scene play out knowing that bellamy wasn't really here] It always seem so real, doesn't it?

KAGARI ❄ just as hella backdated as the one above

[unprays]

[ it takes a lot to make her feel sick, truly sick, like her stomach is trying to turn itself inside out, like her throat is burning and her breaths seem too deep and too shallow at once, but this?

she thought she knew loneliness, betrayal, the pain of constantly being afraid, desperately holding on to whatever scraps of armor she could build around herself with carefully chosen words and courtesies and blinking back her tears, every day.

but this?

she wants to scream. she wants to cry. she wants to set Ramsay's dogs to everyone who ever thought doing this to children was alright.

instead, she reaches for the hand of the person she can more feel than see standing by her side. he may not want contact, now, she knows enough of that. and yet, she needs to touch him, to make sure he's real. that he's there. that this isn't happening to him, not anymore. ]

return of the revenge of the backdating

[hedonistic]

[He doesn't react, at first, when she touches him. It's like he's not even here--like his soul has left, gone back seventeen years and trapped itself in this moment. It takes him a full minute to even register her presence, and then he suddenly rips his arm away from her grip like it's on fire.

The thing is, she's not the first one to see this. But she's the first he's felt a kinship to in the way that he does. It's different with Sansa than it was with Valjean, because Kagari has no desire to hurt her, not even to protect himself. And if this ugliness, this misery isn't a weapon -- isn't something to throw in someone's face in order to make a point -- what is it other than pathetic?

He never wanted Sansa to look at him with pity.]

Don't.

[There's the start of a growl, there. A miserable sort of anger that's not directed at Sansa so much as everything, and maybe himself. He's avoided talking about it with her for precisely this reason.]

Don't you fucking dare cry.

i

[fiendennor]

[Flying sets her mind at ease. She's taken to doing it by night, so that she doesn't need to worry about being smashed out of the sky by a thrown brick (or at least, not as much), which means it's beautiful to watch the lights of Olympia drop beneath her as she rises on her broom. The wind up here is stiff, and it feels nice on her face.

The bonfire on the beach catches Diana's attention, and she flies in its direction. The light looks beautiful dancing off the waves, she thinks.

Then she realizes that there is a figure standing near it, by the water. As she draws even closer, she realizes--

--she knows this person.

Her feet touch the ground, crunching on sand, as she hears Sansa talk. Diana raises a blonde eyebrow, looking at the potion and out at the water.] You're not exactly dressed for a swim in the ocean, Sansa.

[unprays]

[ it's a surprise, turning and seeing Diana, when she's so sure that she hasn't seen he friend for the entirety of the evening, her light her making it easy to spot her even in a crowd — but it's a lovely surprise.

she glances down, as if only just noticing the fact she's wearing a long dress. ]

It seems you're right. [ then, quieter, though still with enough lightness that the memory's just that, a memory, ] But I've waded through a near-frozen stream in full northern dress, perhaps swimming in this would still be more comfortable.

iii.

[flashystyle]

[It's amusing, to see how many different ways the refugees seek each other out. They really should have another code phrase for it. Have you been up north lately, or the moon shined bright last night, didn't it?

... Actually, that might be more ridiculous and less conspicious. Dorian returns her warm smile with his own, turning to face her with his hands clasped in front of him.]

Luckily I have plenty to spare, if you can handle a lengthy answer. Ask away, my lady.

[unprays]

[ it was easy to recognize him: she remembers him from the network, from... knowing Rosalind, she thinks.

but his answer is exactly what she would hope for, and so her smile turns pleased, just for a moment, before it shifts into a look of focus. ]

Thank you, ser. I was wondering... would you tell me of your home? What it was like, how it was governed. Whether it was... peaceful.

ii

[nineteenfortyfive]

Easy, it's me.

[Lady and Claire have not always been the best of friends, mostly due to Claire taking some time to get over the feeling like she might be eaten, but over the months they've come to an understanding. Mostly because Claire's found direwolves to be good garbage disposals, taking care of extra animal parts that end up in the kitchen. Nothing goes to waste. Now, with Ghost off with Jon, Lady gets all the innards of poultry and rabbits and whatever else is on the menu. So, once she registers that it's the woman that often has some sort of offering, the growling ceases.

Thank god.

And then, when Claire sees Sansa at the door, the words are repeated.]

It's me. This is it, then?

[unprays]

[ when Lady realizes it's someone who has been dubbed, if not family, at least safe, she trudges forward from where she'd been partly hidden by the house's shadow, sitting back on her hindlegs near Claire, head tilting in what might be a greeting.

an actual greeting, however, comes when Sansa pushes the door fully open and smiles in relief, nodding immediately to the question. ]

Yes... what do you think? It — it's not much, but... [ but it would do. if she needed to hide from Ramsay, or Claire and Jamie... or Theon. ]

iii

[arcreact]

[ One eyebrow goes up when she addresses him, acknowledgement of what's implied but not said. The word home gives him a twinge that he stubbornly ignores. ]

I can probably squeeze you into my busy schedule.

[ Jokes. Probably. ]

What, gathering info for a novel? Stage play? Burn book?

[unprays]

Yes, you seem very busy, ser.

[ clearly. as he's doing... what exactly? she glances around them surreptitiously, almost to check that he's not joking, that there's not something she's missed that he was in the middle of.

at the questions, she arches an eyebrow. ]

Perhaps if you answer my questions, I'll tell you.

iii

[jesus_is_gundam]

[At first, Setsuna doesn't answer Sansa when she asks her question. Not out of rudeness, mind you, but because his mouth is full. She happened to catch him in the North End, on a lunch break at the moment. Stewed meat and vegetables stuffed inside of a bun... not that Setsuna knows exactly what kind of meat it is (it could be stewed igmok or niknik for all he knows) or vegetables for that matter, but it smells good, tastes okay, was ready in a matter of minutes, and he can eat it with one hand; what more does a guy need than that?

He gives her a sidelong glance as he finishes chewing his food, then turns his attention forward as he prepares to take another bite. But he does answer her first.]

What of it?

[He doesn't invite her to sit, but there's plenty of room on the bench next to him if she wants to join him.]

[unprays]

[ he's not telling her to get lost, and some of the entitlement remains in the form of her taking matters into her own hands and deciding to sit down, crossing her legs as she fixes him with a look. his response may not have sounded the most encouraging, but then, she's no longer someone easily discouraged. not when she's set her mind on something. ]

I want to know what it was like. Whether it was peaceful or not, what kind of a government system you had. If it worked, if it didn't.

i

[winecasks]

[ Grantaire has had few opportunities to visit Olympia, and thus no opportunities to visit Flona Cove. This is his first. Most would think it a shame not to see it in the daylight, but Grantaire’s mornings don’t ordinarily begin until late afternoon, and the flames reflecting off of the water reminds him of the lights on the Seine.

He winds his way down to the shore, smiling when the familiar voice reaches his ears. He meant only to stroll, but conversation is far more welcome than lonely silence. ]

There are other ways to drown. I’ve often been told that I will someday drown myself in wine. I never took it to be so grim of a thought. After all, I would rather drown in wine than in something more turbulent.

[ He smiles his sad smile as he speaks with his odd, half-serious morose sense of humor, eyeing the potion her hand. He’s been struggling with his skepticism as of late. He doesn’t want to believe half of what he sees, but he has no other choice. Slowly, he’s having to come around to accepting the concept of magic. ]

You might wish to forego the water altogether. The shore is fair enough for the time being, if you lack the evidence that the bottle you’re holding does what someone has claimed it does.

[unprays]

[ there's something very particular to the way he speaks — it's grim in the most lightest of ways, like the world (any world) is just a very bad joke. he wears self-deprecation like a particularly fitting cloak, and Sansa smiles at him, because he's absolutely unlike anyone else she's ever known and she likes that.

he's not exactly the kind of friend she'd ever expected to make, but she likes that, too. ]

Would it matter, drowning in wine or in water? Both will fill your lungs and suffocate you all the same.

[ besides, wine tastes worse, but she knows they don't share this particular opinion. ]

I've seen no one try it... and you're right. I'd rather leave the experiment to someone else. Drowning because you believed in magic is a stupid way to die.

iii.

[desistor]

[In this, they couldn't be more different. It's not that he isn't keeping an eye on how things are panning out, lately. In the wake of the messy few months they've had and the pomp and circumstance of civic posturing that came after. But as careful as he's been to be informed, he's not personally planning to touch the politics of either city with a ten foot pole.

All beside the point, at least for now. Running into Sansa during the rare occasion he's in Wyver is a surprise—but not a bad one. He'd been meaning to check in on her, all messy months considered.

He'll to stoop down to direwolf-level to say hello again to Lady, if she's come along. Braced the Transistor on the ground same as always. Even if she hasn't, he answers easily, at the request of his time.]

Yeah, go ahead. Shoot.

[Boxer's always been a pretty private person. Not big on spilling his guts on certain levels. But he'll do what he can, at least, when it's relevant. (Even back in Cloudbank, where civic engagement was such a big part of the city, a staple of daily life...participation wasn't exactly ever his forte. For better or for worse. Still, just means he's got a different perspective, maybe.)]

[unprays]

[ there's a different warmth in her eyes than the one that appears there when she talks to the refugees she barely recognizes, a warmth that's real and there and friendly, a greeting without saying as much, a how are you doing, I hope you're well.

Lady, meanwhile, lets out something of a bark, her tongue lolling out as she regards Boxer with bright eyes. clearly she's happy to see him, too. ]

Thank you, [ Sansa says before any questions, because she can appreciate his willingness to talk — the fact that he's barely spoken of himself the previous times they've met hasn't gone unnoticed. ]

I was wondering... if you'd tell me of your home. What it was like, whether it was... peaceful.

ii

[ghettobatman]

[ lady may or may not recognize his scent --- he's met sansa a few times, and he's friendly. but he isn't bothered by the wolf, no, even if the growling persists -- he can tell sansa's inside, and so he takes another step forward. ]

It's Matt. [ a beat. ] Is that your voice I hear, Sansa?

[ it's good for him to check up on her. it's been a while, he wants to make sure she's all right. ]

[unprays]

[ she breathes in, sharply, then releases the breath in a huff — yes, she recognizes him. it's alright. ]

Yes, it is. [ she pushes open the door, greets him with a smile before remembering he can't see it. still... he might hear it in her voice, she figures as she continues, ]

Sorry. Lady is a little... overprotective. Do you want to come in? If you've walked all the way here, you must be tired.

i

[impavid]

Sheppard is from California originally, so the first sign of beach celebration and he's there.

The fact that he is from (fairly) modern California also means he clashes with Sansa about as much as it's possible to. He has sunglasses on, his shirt is unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up and he's wearing shorts with big pockets in which he's loosely carrying a few things.

He squints at her, pushes his sunglasses up with one finger and sips the drink that appears to be some local concoction of fruit and alcohol. He knows the potion she means, but he's wary of potions in general. Alcohol is clearly much safer.

"I mean, sure!" he says finally. "It'd probably help you breathe if it works. Breathing under water won't help you swim, though. See, even if you can breathe the water that doesn't mean you can fight the tide. I don't know how aggressive it is here, but if you get swept out too far and you're too tired to swim back then being being able to breathe in the water won't help you then."

After a moment, it dawns on him that this is probably not reassuring. So he adds, more brightly:

"Swimming lessons would help, though."

Genius. Nailed it.

[unprays]

She turns to the unfamiliar man, assessing him with a level gaze, taking in his clothes (modern, she hears Kagari's voice say in her head) and the sunglasses that cover his eyes. She wonders why — the bonfire can't be that bright that he'd need to protect his eyes, unless they're very sensitive.

The mystery of the sunglasses is less pressing than his words, though, and she listens to him in complete silence, the only sign that she's not ignoring him the way her eyebrow arches up higher and higher, the more he speaks.

"Thank you for your wise words, ser." There's the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, though, taking the worst bite out of her response.

"So it is best to avoid the water, lest I be stuck breathing underwater indefinitely."

i.

[beatupgrass]

Swimming's overrated. [Rocket scoffs as he approaches. Even if there's silver and jewels and other delightful shiny things down there, you won't get him in it. It was bad enough trying to fish. He is the worst at being a raccoon.]

You just get soaked for no reason.

[unprays]

[ it's hardly a surprising response from him, given how most things seem to make him scoff — and yet that's exactly what makes Sansa smile before biting on her lower lip to stop it from widening too much. ]

Then it's a good thing I don't know how to swim, isn't it?

i

[seeingscarlet]

[Sokovia was landlocked, and Wanda's circumstances never allowed for luxuries like pools. She remembers some of the basics of swimming, but she hasn't actually tried in years. Maybe she can remember well enough to succeed...but maybe not.

The potions are an appealing crutch.]

I wonder how it feels...it must be strange.

[And probably cold.]

[unprays]

Breathing underwater, or swimming?

[ it's a fair question, and she seems to ask it in earnest, despite the small, somewhat self-deprecating smile on her lips. for her, both are equally strange, after all. ]

Either way, I'd agree.

STEVE ❄ the kids aren't alright

[unprays]

[ perhaps she should have expected this, after she made the trip to Steve's house for the exact purpose of making sure he's well and alright and dealing with everything, or at least trying to. perhaps she should have expected this, given that she still lives with Claire, and she knows that Claire is friends with both Steve and Peggy.

and yet, when she opens the door to Steve Rogers standing on the other side, she still blinks in surprise... before inviting him in. ]

If you're here to see Claire, she should be back in a while. [ she says over her shoulder, leading him to the living room. the house seems a lot more empty these days, with just her and Claire and Jamie here.

(and yes, she thinks he's here to see Claire instead of her — after all, she has no reason to think he knows of Ramsay, or Theon, or any of it, and there's been no disasters in the city for a while, so no reason for him to be here checking up on her.) ]

DAENERYS ❄ politics is so a part of girl-time

[unprays]

[ perhaps it is silly, how exited she is about the fact that Daenerys is visiting Olympia — she'd enjoyed spending time with her in Wyver, not only because of their pasts or their shared homeland, but also because they were close in age, and she hadn't had a friend like that since Margaery.

so when Dany makes it to their house, she makes sure they have something to drink and eat, that the house is clean and good enough to receive the queen. she leads her inside with a smile and an it's good to see you, her hands clasping Dany's when she arrives. Lady watches them attentively from where she's flopped over on the living room carpet. ]

I hope your trip here wasn't too tiring, Your Grace.

[dorzalta]

[ It's an exciting thing, to be greeted so warmly by someone who owes her nothing. Someone who shares the same world as she, who knows of things only a Westerosi would. More than that, though, is to receive such a welcoming and feel as if she has a friend. And isn't that strange? She can't claim to have many friends from home. Missandei filled the role well, but she sleeps, now.

Her smile is bright as Sansa greets her, and she squeezes the other girl's hands in return. Half tempted to pull Sansa into a hug, she resists only by a thread, realizing that perhaps that is too informal yet. So she instead returns the hellos, proffering one to Lady as well. ]

Not at all. We traveled the same roads, but it felt different--I suppose because of the council. [ She has a satchel on her person, but does not go to open it straight away. ] You're well?

[ More specifically: no one's bothered her? ]

i.

[persistor]

[ The water holds a tangential attachment for her, at best — she's fond of it because people ( one particular person ) in her life are fond of it. She's also here, coincidentally, because he'd like to be as well; it's an easy enough thing to indulge someone on, after all, when the waterfront is beautiful, the weather's been kind.

The company's been good. Unexpected, but good.

Red's pulled out her phone by the time she's approached Sansa, for the ease of conversation. Raises a single eyebrow at how macabre all of that sounds, but she's not really one to comment on that, either. Instead, her gaze rests on the potion in Sansa's hand, before turning to her phone.

A few moments later— ] It works as advertised, if you're wondering.

Not much of a swimmer?

[unprays]

[ by now, the sight of Red brings an automatic smile to her lips — in a place like this where people she knows can fall asleep at any time, without any guarantee that they'll ever wake up again, seeing people you count as friends (or something of the sort, in any case) is always a relief.

she does notice the raised eyebrow, and perhaps speaking of drowning would sound macabre to some, but she's grown surrounded by talk of far worse things. perhaps black humor is the least worrying of the changes in personality she underwent in Westeros. ]

It does? That's good to know, especially as I've never learned to swim. [ so yes, not much of a swimmer. ] There was never any need for that, back home.

II.

[song_of_ice]

It's me.

[He calls out to her as soon as the door is opened, not wanting to surprise her. Ghost was already padding inside, heading to his growling sister as he sniffed at her and then found a place on the floor to sit.]

Lady must have forgotten my smell.

[unprays]

[ she's smiling the moment his voice sounds out, throwing the door open and sparing a smile at Ghost before heading over to Jon, to greet him with a hug. ]

Lady is just overprotective. I think she growled at Claire, before, too. Only briefly, but still.

[ she pulls back from the hug, regarding Jon with a look that says I missed you clearer than any words. ] I wasn't sure you'd come.

i.

[tailorable]

[ on this rare, beach-side occasion, eggsy has ditched the full suit in favour of dark shorts and a light button-up. 'course even in the firelight, he recognises sansa's hair. at her comment, he slots his hands into his pockets and makes a noncommittal noise. he doesn't trust potions, though he recognises their very real powers. ]

Ain't that easy to drown, anyway. [ says the former marine... capable of holding his breath longer than most of his fellow secret agents. tipping his head — ] Your body's instincts are pretty good, when it comes to the water.

[ it's panic that gets people, really. ]

[unprays]

Really?

[ she's never really thought of that. the most she knows is the tradition over at the Iron Islands, the story of the drowned god, the crowning ritual that makes no sense to her. quietly, she mouths the words what is dead may never die, almost unaware of it, before focusing on him again. ]

But won't you inhale water at some point, eventually?

iii

[antleredcrown]

[Ah, home. A touchy subject for them all, really. Or at least, anyone taken in as a refugee here.

Not that Renly can complain, not truly. It's given him Loras back, and despite Renly's original misgivings, they are a little more free, here. Even if the thought terrifies Renly, he's warming up to it, slowly but surely.

He smiles at the sight of Sansa and touches her arm lightly in greeting] Lady Stark, so good to see you. If you'd like, we can talk at my abode? Ser Tyrell has taught me how to make something not entirely unlike tea.

[unprays]

As it is to see you, my lord.

[ she graces him with one of her bright, real smiles — Renly is easy to like, even when she's not spent much time with him, and she would be predisposed to like him no matter what, just for the smile that Loras wears every time he speaks of him. anyone that makes a friend of hers that happy has her approval. ]

Has he? [ her smile turns a touch warmer, with a teasing edge. ] In that case, I would be delighted. But do not worry, my lord, regardless of how the tea turns out... I will speak nothing but the best of your tea-making prowess, should Ser Loras ask about it.