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

[dorzalta]

[ That, she thinks, is how more of them should feel. Not beasts, but creatures with a brilliance to them. ]

So long as the people here keep faith, I can't imagine more good not coming from it.

[ A pause. No one's every quite looked so thrilled over something like this. Gaze flicking over Sansa's expression, she's soon stepping closer, offering the fabrics. ]

Hopefully that's not too long from now.

[ She no longer has Missandei near to exchange thoughts on anything and everything... and while Jon and Vlad were there, it wasn't nearly the same. Maybe that's what she misses? Another piece of home in the form of a close friend? ]

Regardless, it's a similar color to what those in Qarth wore. That was the first city I'd visited after leaving the Dothraki.

[unprays]

It won't be, I promise.

[ where Dany is lacking the familiar company of Missandei, Sansa feels the lack of familiarity in the fact that she now lives with a happy, married couple — and as much as she loves Claire and Jamie, as much as they treat her as close to as their own daughter as they can, it isn't what she is used to.

sometimes, she thinks perhaps she would be better off in Wyver, a companion to Dany like she never got to be to Margaery, closer to Loras to watch over him... closer to Jon, who had never wanted to leave her in Olympia alone. ]

It's lovely, [ she says, and means both the colour and the gesture of Dany getting it for her. ] You've been to many cities, Your Grace. It must have been interesting, seeing so many places.

[dorzalta]

[ That makes her smile. While the fabric's exchanged, she lightly squeezes Sansa's hand. ]

It's a little more crowded than when you came last, but my home is open to you. Whenever you need it.

[ For whatever the reason, whenever the reason. Whether it's Ramsay, or the need to merely move. She doesn't care, is what she means. ]

I didn't appreciate all of them as a girl. The Free Cities are more like flashes of memory and color... but the slaver cities. If you could look beyond the divide between the Masters and the smallfolk, there was so much to be seen. The people are kind and welcoming.

We were meant to travel to Winterfell before-- [ Before the Storm came. ] --before all this. What was it like there?

[unprays]

[ there's something immensely grateful in the smile she gives Dany in return, the way she squeezes her hand back — the open offer means a lot to her. ]

I'm sure there was, [ she says, though pausing to add, ] though I am not sure I could have looked past it. Once, I wouldn't have even seen it... but if the news we got were true, it seems you didn't look past it, either.

[ they'd heard the stories, the way Daenerys had taken over one city after another, the way she commanded the Unsullied not because she'd bought them, but because she'd freed them.

it was stories like those that had first made her think that maybe the dragon queen was a different kind from the kings and queens she'd known before. not even Margaery, kind as she'd been, so caring for the common folk, had done something so concrete simply to better the conditions of those below her standing. ]

Winterfell was... it was beautiful. Even after the Boltons, it was home. The castle was big, some might have called it cold, but it was never that to me. Winter had come, and the Godswood was covered in snow.

[dorzalta]

[ It's that smallest of exchanges--a smile, the squeeze of a hand--and she feels a little less cast adrift in these lands. Still not fully home (would she ever feel home anywhere?), but one step closer, maybe. ]

Mn, I couldn't. [ No mention of Qarth and locking away a traitor. ] The Great Masters crucified 163 slave-children on the road to Meereen in a bid to scare me away. People capable of that are not fit to lead, let alone have access to any idea of power.

[ The crucifixions were brutal and pointless punishment for all those she'd seen. The children, though... A larger slap in the face, knowing she could not have children. Of knowing that the people called her mhysa. ]

You grew up with snow most of your life? I'd only seen snow twice in my life, and once was an illusion.

[ The first and real time--the only time--brought with it loss. That peacefulness to her fades upon mention of the Boltons and the memory of Viserion, replaced by a look far more serious. ]

We'd briefly discussed lord Bolton. I don't want talk of him to ruin this day, but you're my strength and knowledge when it comes to him, my lady. I know only stories of what he's capable of. [ Her Warden, she'd have made Sansa, were she and Jon to ever marry. Warden in his absence. ] Jon grows far too emotional to approach any of this in a controlled way.

[unprays]

I'm glad you showed them the truth.

[ and put the masters to their place, she means — there's something wolfish in her brief smile, a flash that's gone as soon as it appeared. she may not believe murder and assassination to be the best way to get people to work together... but those who deserve death, the horrible monsters who will only hurt others as long as they live?

let them be ripped apart.

something of that remains in her eyes when the topic changes, the look of steel that only those who have been through war truly know. and perhaps her war was never a real war, fought with blades and armor, but it was a war nonetheless. ]

Jon blames himself. [ she knows that as truly as she knows herself. ] He thought he could save Rickon, and he remembers our brother every time he thinks of Ramsay. [ which is why he can't think of it all in a controlled manner. ]

... I will tell you whatever you need to know, Your Grace. I know Ramsay better than anyone else here. Even Theon.