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Who: Brianna Randall (

givingback) & OPEN
What: Heading back to where everyone's hanging out in stasis.
When: September 12th.
Where: The Station
Warning(s): death of a parent conversations likely.

[ It's not even mid-month yet, and already, Bree's had a more exhausting September than she's ever had in her life. Her mother? Possessed - literally. That would be enough, but the ghosts, the wailing, the missing of the dead was all too much. Enough to push Bree into finally getting back to the station, back to where everyone is still in stasis.

It's not hard to find the room once there, and as she stares at all the pods she wonders how they choose who gets to wake and who doesn't. A daughter needs her father with her, right? Or maybe it's enough that she has her mother. Maybe it's enough that she has a father she doesn't even know well yet. Walking among the pods, she finds Frank easily enough. His glasses are on his face and she closes her eyes for a second against a laugh that's half amusement half...something else. ]

Can't forget your reading glasses.

[ She murmurs that softly, touching the pod feather lightly before looking up at his sleeping (?) face. ]

You have no idea how much I miss you. Sometimes, back home, it still felt like a dream. I keep walking back through that day because it seems so impossible. You were alive in the morning when I came downstairs. You were alive when I went to the library. You were alive when I was at the movie. And then you weren't. You were just gone. You were gone in between me buying popcorn and watching Tunga Khan executing all the missionaries. It isn't fair.

[ Taking a deep breath and wiping away a tear, she slides down and sits on the floor right by his pod. And she talks to him. About everything. He probably can't hear her, but she tells him she knows about Jamie, about the stones and all the rest of it, talking to him for hours before finally sounding like she's wrapping up. ]

I wish they would wake you up. I'm here, and we could have more time together. All you have to do is wake up, dad.

[ She's not even aware that anyone else has entered the room with her, sitting with her knees curled up to her chest. ]

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[It's been a long time since Robb has been alone as he's been here. He's grown up surrounded by family and the other people in Winterfell. Even at war there had been people everywhere, soldiers, advisors, his mother... and later Talisa. Loneliness drives him back to the station, seeking out his family.

The moment he comes across a young woman speaking to one of the sleeping people he knows he should make himself known or leave... but he doesn't. Robb watches and listens as she talks. It's a little comforting to know that he's not alone in wishing his family were here.]

Maybe he will, in time. [Robb don't just comment without introducing yourself first that's rude.]

[Claire doesn't visit Frank, ever.

There are plenty of ghosts around these days, and she hopes he never wakes up. It was less cruel, before Brianna herself came out of stasis, but she can't imagine a life with Frank in it now. She's not the woman he married before the war, and even more so now she's not even the woman who had him live a lie for two decades. No part of her wishes Bree to carry the grief that she does, but she can't imagine her seeing how ugly her mother and father could be would help matters.

So, while she passes by Frank's pod each and every time, she does still spend some of her time in stasis, visiting others. Jon. Sansa. Jenny. She's even found Joe Abernathy here, her dear friend.

She doesn't expect to hear her daughter's voice drifting down the rows as she walks. For a long moment, Claire considers turning around and leaving. This feels like an intrusion of privacy despite it not being a private place at all. She doesn't need to see her or make out the words to know who it is she's talking to or what she's saying.

Her poor girl.

She can't leave her daughter again. Not even if she might want to be left alone in her grief for a while. So, Claire moves to the proper row, though she hesitates near the end so as not to startle her too badly.]

Bree?

[ Her breath catches in her chest a flood of adrenaline making her heart thud at a sudden voice. But she clears her throat and turns to look up at him, suddenly aware of the fact that she was crying, hoping her eyes aren't red-rimmed. What a great first impression. ]

I don't know if it really would be better or worse.

[ A pause. ]

Do I know you?

[ It's only because Claire's voice cuts through the silence that Bree doesn't jump, but her heart does give a lurch of surprise. How long has she been listening? Bree tries to tell herself that it doesn't matter, none of this was a secret, she just needed to tell her father. Turning over her shoulder, she sees her mom and then turns back, pulling her knees against her chest and wrapping her arms around them. ]

I didn't know you were coming here today.

[ Fergus comes up here to see Marsali. While he's happy with what he has, Jamie and Claire and Bree, it issad that he scarcely got to enjoy his marriage before all of this. But at least he knows she's safe.

He doesn't actually get as far as Marsali, though. Fergus hears Bree, a familiar voice by now, so he follows the sound to find her sitting on the floor. A slight smile comes to his face, in an attempt to be comforting but understanding. ]

It seems that this is the place to be right now.

Neither did I.

[It's the truth. She doesn't often plan on when she comes to stasis--it's more of a certain mood that has to strike her. As she quietly walks over to where Bree sits, she glances at Frank's sleeping face before looking away as she sits down beside her daughter. Their daughter, really.]

What do you think he'd think of all this?

I don't think so. I've only been awake a few days. [He gives her a sympathetic smile, showing no sign that he's judging anyone for tears or emotion. He knows it's how he feels about his own father's absence.

He comes closer, nodding at the girl.] I'm Robb. My father's not awake here either.

[That time again, isn't it? Plenty of refugees are sticklers about holding regular vigil. Richie's upped his visits from every two weeks to once or even twice a week. The cuts were still fresh from losing the humble horde he'd made pals with since waking, and at times it seems he's got more stops on this tour than Cher makes in all fifty states. He'll do his monster first (that's what the nickel-plated flask is for) and then his hometown pals for sweet solace after. Following that he's got to follow more turns than Theseus in his labyrinth to hit up all the sleeping bodies he'd met in Olympia.

One such turn takes him down the wrong path, and course correcting sends him further off. He's cussing himself, it's been a while since he'd lost his bearings up here but the rows stretch into infinity and the new stops enroute confound his sense of direction.

The confession drifts up from seeming silence, the exact words jumbled by faint echoes. A familiar voice he has trouble placing until he's wandered into her hall. Copper-haired Bree, spilling her guts out to an older man lying prone as the rest of them. "All you have to do is wake up, dad."

Oh hell, he's got the world's worst timing. Richie freezes up for a moment. Then he looks to his flask, lips pursed. He waggles the it in the air.]

Looks like you need this more than I do today.

[He tosses her the flask with a light hand.]

Edited (What are words) 2018-09-14 21:55 (UTC)

[ As far as brothers go, Bree really enjoys Fergus. And in a moment when she thought she'd be embarrassed to be caught, she finds herself not minding that it's him.

Still, she does try to compose herself a little bit. ]

Is this the first time you've been?

[ Asked as she brushes away errant tears. ]

[ Instead of jumping, Bree closes her eyes for a second, trying to keep her heart from slamming out of its chest as she clears her throat and then manages to catch the flask with both of her hands, like a football. ]

You have really great timing.

[ She doesn't even pause to see what it might be, just opens the flask and takes a long pull from it. It seems fitting; she'd happened upon him once, and now in a totally different setting, here he is. ]

Come here often?

[ Bree sort of chokes that out, around the burn in her chest. ]

[ Bree laughs, though it's more like an exhale of breath as she falls into her impression of Frank. ]

'Well, it's certainly not my wheelhouse, but this technology is both basic and so far beyond our own that it's incredible, truly.'

[ That's what she thinks he'd say aboard the station, anyway, and Bree hugs her knees a little tighter. ]

When your parents died, did it feel...fast? Like one minute the world was exactly the way it was supposed to be and then everything was different and going faster than you knew how to keep up with?

[ Oh. She knows that name. ]

Stark? I...my mother knows a lot of people from your world. I think we live in your old home.

[ She's not sure if it was ever his or if his father built it, Claire never went into that much detail. Just that it was the Stark home. ]

Did your father die, too?

[ Bree doesn't mean for it to sound callous; she assumes if he was listening that he put together hers is. ]

[The feeling of being known isn't all that unsettling. In Westeros he'd been known, as the eldest son of Eddard Stark he was to be- had been Lord of Winterfell after him. He was king, too.

Somehow it feels a little different here.

He shrugs, shaking it off.] Aye. He was. I was just on my way to pay him my respects when I found you. [He can't help the wry smile. If she's here, surely she'll understand what it is to want to visit those who are no longer with you.] This is your fath-

[Bree can't possibly miss the way Robb's eyes grow wide when he turns to look at the man behind the glass.]

[Claire breathes out a laugh despite herself. If anyone knew Frank best, it was Bree. He was relaxed around her. Proud. Happy. Somehow, it never really mattered to him who her biological father was. As far as he was concerned he was her father, and he raised her well. Claire would never, ever deny that.]

You are alarmingly good at that.

[And right. It would be a lot for Frank, but ultimately his fascination would win over his apprehension. She's about to say as much when Bree asks about her own parents. It's not a sore spot these days, with so much time passed. Sometimes she finds herself longing for them, or marveling at the fact that she's lived to ages they were never able to. She takes a moment to consider, pulling up her knees and resting her chin on them.]

Truthfully, I don't remember much anymore. I was so young. I remember flashes of moments. The police coming to the house. Uncle Lamb telling me what happened. The funeral. Pulling up in front of a boarding school. [A thing Bree would know never happened, because Claire refused to go. And, Uncle Lamb, not wanting to argue with a child, decided to simply take her on his adventures.]

I don't remember the in-betweens or much of my life when they were alive. I was lucky in that way, I guess. I miss... feelings I had with my parents more than... how they looked, or sounded, or their mannerisms.

[It wasn't often Sanzo had found himself wandering the stasis chambers. He had preferred to not hold on to the past, to not grow overly attached to the thought of all those had been lost. But occasionally, despite his own better judgment, where he was.

He was minding his own business, casually roaming the halls of the stasis chambers with no destination in particular (~~liar~~) when he had heard the faint voice of a young girl.

Curiosity is a nasty beast to conquer. His dower expression keeping fairly unchanged as he walked upon the sight of a girl in the midst of grieving.]

He's here. It means the possibility most certainly is there.

[It was perhaps a bit invasive to speak up and get involved in someone else's private business. But this was perhaps a time, for the first time in a while, that he felt his previous life as a monk would have come in handy.

He never could handle the sight of kids grieving for their fathers.]

It seems, at least, Dharma had managed to fight hard in making sure his life had been spared from your world's destruction. Which means he has the possibility of being recovered.

Better than the other option of him not making it at all. There are still so many who have yet to find any of their loved ones.

You have hope.

[It's just scotch sloshing around in there. Richie's had about two and a half shots for himself and there's seven more left. He's happy to share, particularly when she doesn't look like she's kidding about his timing.]

A little too often, speaking frankly. Lots of folks went back to sleep this past month.

[He takes the address as an invitation to move forward, hands tucked into the pockets of his trench as his eyes skate over the man in the pod. Stiff lipped, lines cut severly into his cheeks and silvered ends to his brown hair. Thick rimmed glasses that make him pat his own nose in reminiscence. Not too unlike the specs of his past. That's sixties chic there, impeccably dressed from head to toe.]

It was recent, wasn't it? His passing.

Edited 2018-09-18 04:32 (UTC)

Since we left the last time, yes. I wanted to visit my wife. Perhaps I can introduce you to her once you are feeling better.

[ He smiles, ready to crouch down to see how he can comfort her, but he's curious to see the father she's crying in front of. He glances at the pod and his actions seem to freeze. Fergus isn't normally so outwardly shaken but he seems to have taken a fright at this sleeping form. ]

[ Bree does understand, and now she supposes her mother's going to have to adopt another person from Westeros or something. Which means someone's probably going to move in, as if they have the space. Robb is cute, at least.

She looks up at Frank the same time Robb does, then frowns a little. ]

What?

That makes sense.

[ At least Bree got twenty years. She has good memories, more than some people get, but there should have been so many more. ]

I asked Roger who would walk me down the aisle if I ever got married. Who'd be there to give me away? He said I was too modern to really need all of that anyway. Which, points to him, but it's not really about that.

[ She'd told her mother it was fine, she'd go on and it's true. Bree would have lived her life just fine even with a small ache that would never go away. Though it doesn't matter now, seeing as how they're all here and home has, apparently, been obliterated. ]

I miss the smell of daddy's pipe. I miss feeling safe because you were both there.

[ Bree looks up from where she's sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. Maybe he's right; her mother was here for over a year before Bree woke up, and she wasn't even damaged or hurt or otherwise dead as far as she knows. ]

I do hope. I'm having hard time understanding how it could or ever would work. How someone who was dead for months is even here to begin with. A part of me doesn't think it's actually possible. That it ever will be.

I don't know anyone well enough yet to realize if I met them when I first came out of stasis and now they're asleep again.

[ She doesn't know if she should feel bad about that or not. She goes with not; it isn't as if she's been awake long. At his question, Bree nods, letting out a breath, passing back the flask. ]

A few months ago. And then, right after, my mother was gone. The time traveler I told you about before. You were a kid again, I'm not sure if you remember. And by the way, it happened to me, too. One minute I was twenty, the next I was five.

I'd like to meet her, this woman who captured my brother's attention.

[ She manages to say that with a fond smile before catching his gaze and looking at Frank, then back at Fergus. She frowns now, sitting up a little straighter. ]

What? What's wrong?

Well that's the difference between us, you see. I'm coming up on a year awake. ["Give it time" is the implication given, a bleak outlook if there ever were any. But why sugar coat the facts? Just look at these halls. Some people stayed in the waking world and others fell asleep. Sometimes they'd get right back up again and other times they wouldn't. C'est la vie, mes amis.

He takes the flask back and has a commiserative swig himself as she gives the details.]

So you were alone? [The worry reads clear in his knotted brow, though he still chuckles when she brings up their inauspicious meeting.] I do, I remember that part because it's crazy. Fits you right in with the medieval knights and the talking raccoons.

Five, though, hot damn. Bet you were a hellion. How many grown folks got an ulcer when you tottered past their kneecaps like that? [He shakes his head.] The kids don't wake up at all, I think this is the first any refugee had to babysit their own kind since the apocalypse.

[It's one of the things Claire mourned that she'd miss--her daughter's wedding. Not so much an issue now. But she understands her meaning, and leans over to wrap her arms around her daughter, pulling her against her side so she can press a kiss to her temple.]

What can I do, Bree?

[A closer look reveals that no, he's not seeing things.] This man is the spitting image of my mother's brother, Edmure Tully. [Except that Edmure only has a son.

He turns to Bree, sharly-] Where are you from?

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yes hi

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perfect good, yes

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here i am

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Room for one more?

so glad you're here <3

always, for you!

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Oh no. Dead parents. His one weakness.

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how did i find THE one

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