nysalogs | open | when the white winds blow

Who: Sansa Stark (

unprays) & OPEN
What: after falling asleep for three days, Sansa wakes with new memories and Tries To Adjust
When: backdated; between August 26 and September 1
Where: Thesa Station, various places in Olympia
Warning(s): your standard this is game of thrones warnings

i. — thesa station

[ she doesn't remember falling asleep. she doesn't remember sleeping — what she remembers is living. she remembers Winterfell, she remembers the Wall, she remembers Lyanna Mormont's cool gaze, Ser Davos with his gruff tone, Lady Brienne's steady presence. she remembers the snow falling on her cheeks, she remembers the loud declarations that crowned her brother king.

anyone who is in the hall may see her standing there, in front of an empty pod. gently, she places her hand on the glass. ] You gave me answers that I thought I wanted, and now that I have them, I would forget them. You gave me back my home, and you took it from me.

[ even with the heavy furs on her shoulders, Sansa feels far colder than she ever did in Winterfell. ]

ii. — silk wyrms & shades darker

[ she explains her absence with a sudden illness, privately glad that she only works part-time, thus not missing more than one shift.

( a. ) she starts her day in the Silk Wyrms, sitting behind the counter, adding embroidery to some shirts, rising to greet anyone who enters with a sweet, polite greeting.

( b. ) after her working hours are over, she steels herself and enters the Red Light District — Lady Koralle had tasked her with mending the clothes that required it, and she would do it. after all, it was because of her that she had been given the place in Silk Wyrms. she looks painfully out of place, but at least she does not need to be there long: only to pick up the clothes and then leave.

as she does, though, anyone who so much as looks at her will be fixed with a cool gaze and the words, ] It isn't very polite to stare.

iii. — closed to the stark (& greyjoy & half-targaryen) house

[ as soon as she is out of the pod, out of the virtual reality she uses to see whether she could find her brothers there, she leaves the station and hurries to their house. she knows it has been days, and even though she has spoken with Jon after waking up, it is not the same as seeing him, seeing all of them. it seems like a distant dream, now, Robb being alive and well again... and Theon, Gods, Theon. she had thought she knew what she owed him, but she had been wrong, so wrong.

as soon as she has the door open, she calls out, ]

Jon? Robb? Theon? Is anyone home? [ home. it pains her to speak the word, it pains her to think of having Winterfell and losing it again... but this is what they have. this is home, for better or for worse... with all of them there. together. ]

iv. — wildcard

[ none of these prompts suit you? want something else? feel free to just wildcard me, or hit me up with a PM or over on plurk @ celen for plotting or for requesting a starter, i'm more than happy to write one for you!

also, with this canon update, i want to remind everyone sansa has an opt-out post here, if you want to opt out of any of the subjects that come up in her canon! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Politeness was not my intention.

[ Asha is staring — not at Sansa's Tully looks in particular — just at Sansa. Arms folded, leaning against the wall. Her axe hangs off her belt, the only visible weapon, and her sea-leathers have been exchanged for something more fitting of the district. A sigil only to show she works with Lady Koralle. ]

[ She too is waiting for a delivery. But first — curiosity. ]

Will you be here often?

No, I suppose it was not.

[ she takes in the woman's appearance — the axe, her clothes, her face. wondering why it is that she seems familiar. ]

As often as I am required to be. [ her response is diplomatic, yet her tone betrays just how little she likes being here, and how she wishes she does not have to make these trips often. ]

As am I.

[ But she takes greater pleasure and is much more comfortable in places like these. At home, her name would have been enough to remain unmolested. Here, her fierce exterior keeps others away, if not the sight of the axe. ]

These streets have all manner of scoundrel.

[ She tilts her chin up, smirking. ]

All streets do, [ she responds, matter-of-fact. ] A road back where I come from was said to have been safe for a girl to travel in her nameday suit, but times have changed. No road is safe to travel unless you're prepared for the scoundrels.

[ much harder to be caught unawares, then... though the other does have a point. more scoundrels here, she'd imagine. ] ... especially not a road that leads to a brothel.

[ Well-mannered, a septa from the greenlands might have been proud of that. But Pyke had no maesters, no septas, no teacher but the salt and sting of the sea, or the harsh strains of the Damphair's words ringing through the corridors. ]

[ it leads to the question, ]

So why are you here?

Lady Koralle has asked for me. I mend clothes for her upon request.

[ another response that she delivers both politely yet with an edge, a quiet justification for her being here, carrying a distaste for any other reason she might possibly have to set foot in this place. ]

Oh?

[ She keeps track of those who've become employees — good habit, especially when they're also here because of the Storm. ]

I am as well. [ a beat and a shrug, ] Asha.

You do something else but mend clothes, though, I would think, [ she says with a meaningful glance at the axe on Asha's belt. ]

Well met, Asha. I am Sansa. Sansa Stark. [ because even here... her family name means too much to her to leave it out. ]

[ She's about to say, but recognition sparks at the name. Asha looks more of a Northerner than Sansa (but it's her eyes that say she isn't, the Iron Islands have much darker). ]

Well-met indeed. A Stark of Winterfell?

Yes. A Stark of Winterfell.

[ her response is slow, wondering — she looks at Asha more carefully, now, searching her features, looking at the axe again. ]

How do you know of Winterfell?

I am a Greyjoy of Pyke.

[ She has not forgotten the sight of the stag and direwolf banners on the shores of the Iron Islands. She was old enough to remember, old enough to know what it meant when her father said Rodrik and Maron would not return from the war. ]

[ And she hasn't forgotten the sight of their ships sailing away, either, and what they took with them. ]

A Greyjoy?

[ she draws in a breath, her mind immediately flashing to the stories she had been told, the time she had asked her mother why Theon was there with them, and not home with his own father and mother. ]

... Robb said Theon's sister was here, too. That... that must be you. [ she pauses. ] I owe your brother my life.

A curious thing to owe him.

[ She frowns. Asha's still leaning against the wall, pensiveness colours her features. The words sound true — why would a Stark lie about it? ]

My brother is not known in your family for his courage.

No. He is not.

[ but from the softness in her eyes, it's clear that she considers him brave regardless.

but then her look changes as something occurs to her — her eyes growing sharper, her mouth pressing into a thin line as she looks at Asha, takes half a step closer. ]

I know you have little reason to think well of my family, but please, for Theon, you must help me. Help him. [ she pauses, the tone of her voice sounding chilly, likely quite different to any account of Sansa Stark that Asha may have heard of, before. ]

Ramsay is alive and awake, here. If you know of what he did... I won't let that happen again. I won't.

[ She stiffens. ]

I have no quarrel with you or your family.

[ I wanted the Northmen as friends, once. They would not have had her or the ironborn, but a silver tongue may do what a sharp knife could not. The promise of no more reaving their shores might have gone well. ]

[ She'd bow to no king, and truly she wouldn't be much bothered if the Starks were all dead, but that doesn't mean she should take any pleasure in their suffering. ]

He is?

[ Surprise, then her expression turns hard. ]

I know what he did.

[ don't you? she thinks but keeps it to herself — it is not for her to question Asha, nor does she want him to consider old grievances too much now. but she is not naive enough anymore to think she tells the honest truth.

we are all liars here.

but then Asha answers her, and Sansa breathes out. ]

So my lord husband's reputation has reached you, too. [ her words are colder than ice, and the proper way of speaking about Ramsay sounds nothing but a mockery on her lips... just as she intends it to be. ]

He will try to get to Theon, I know it. He will see it as a game, as a personal affront that this place has undone what he did to him. But we can't... we can't let him. No one can protect me from him... but together, we can still protect Theon.

[ Ramsay's marriage had been arranged with Arya, not Lady Sansa, but Asha cares little for the politics of the mainland. It only matters who sits at Winterfell, for the North is whom they tangle with most. ]

[ She could lie, but lying serves no purpose beyond mockery. She frowns. Sansa speaks as a sister would, not wholly as one indebted to Theon — but Asha does not pretend she understands that either. Ironborn do not need shields, they need knives. ]

Theon and I have made a promise, his reward will be a dagger in his heart.

[ Her eyes flick over Sansa. If she is the cold winter blast, Asha is the brisk and sharp sea wind. ]

Unless you desire it to be slow.

[ One woman to another, knowing the cruel and unspoken things men do their bodies. She's not one to draw it out — there are those who take too much pleasure in pain. A swift end is not deserved. But it's what iron she deals in, and what she'll do. ]

open | when the white winds blow

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