open | october event log

[unprays]

Who: sansa stark (unprays) & open!
What: october plot — stage 2 hits Hard
When: early october until mid-october
Where: vaguely waves hand around?
Warning(s): your usual "this is game of thrones we're talking about" warnings go here


I — PARANOIA — the sanctuary

[ she is a familiar sight in the Sanctuary, for those who have spent more of their time there, either as patients or helping those suffering from the sickness, but as the days pass, Sansa turns more restless, glancing around her like looking for something, startled looks directed at the windows or doorways that seem empty.

it is nearing nightfall when she finally speaks, catching the wrist of the person who is passing by her, her grip desperately tight, her eyes bright as she looks at whoever she's managed to stop. ]

Please, you have to help me. [ her voice is frightened, pleading. ] I have to leave, it's not safe here. I can't... I can't stay! [ good luck trying to convince her it's just in her head... especially when it isn't, at least not entirely. ]

II — MEMORY LAPSES — the stark house

[ once back in the house, her mind calmed down, she feels silly — of course it was safe in the Sanctuary, as safe as she is here, in their house... at least there, she was surrounded with more people. and though her head feels dizzy, she lets in whoever comes by the Stark household, whether looking for her brothers or visiting her, insisting they stay for a while, giving them some tea and cookies with a slight smile and a wry don't worry, eating them won't make you sick.

but for those who stay any longer, the visit may take a turn to the worse, or at least more worrying, as Sansa falls silent for a moment — and when addressed, will look at her visitor with a confused, wary gaze. ]

... Forgive me, but what are you doing here? [ all the warmth that may have been in her voice previously is gone, gone with any memories she has of knowing whoever is there with her. ]

III — HALLUCINATIONS & ENERGY — the marketplace

Father? [ surely, the sight of a young woman speaking to her father might not be such a surprising sight, in the marketplace, but when the woman in question seems to be speaking to empty air, answering someone who no one else can see... maybe that is slightly more concerning. especially as she starts to move, leaving the old lady she had been enthusiastically haggling with over some very fine-looking apples yelling after her to come back for her purchase — Sansa doesn't care, though, walking swiftly like chasing someone, refusing to stop or slow down before she's turned to an alleyway that seems to be a dead-end.

there, she slows down, head turning swiftly as she tries to see where her father has gone, moving to touch her hand to the bricks that are cold and unyielding beneath her fingertips. ]

Father, where did you go? Why did you leave me behind? [ her voice, starting strong, quietens into barely a whisper as she starts gasping for breath, sudden exhaustion catching up to her. ]

IV — COMMISERATION — the sanctuary

[ back at the Sanctuary, it's fair to say Sansa looks miserable, sitting on her bed with her hands on her lap, red hair falling like a curtain that hides her face from anyone that might be looking at her. the sickness she could handle,the pains and the cough and the dizziness, but the whispers she keeps hearing? the way she will see someone from home walk past and never quite knows if they're real or not? the way she knows she can look at someone and not remember them at all?

Gods, it is a pain worse than she imagined, and she could imagine much.

when she hears the bed next to her creak to signify someone sitting down on it, she lifts her gaze, a softer look in her eyes even though her mouth cannot quite remember how to smile. ]

Is it happening for you, too? [ the hallucinations, your memory failing you, the paranoia... take your pick. ]

V — WILDCARD — choose your own adventure

[ if nothing here catches your fancy, hit me up over on plurk at celen and we can plot something, or just leave me a blank comment and i'll write up a customized starter for us! c: ]

Comments

[inaurare]

Miss Sansa. It's a pleasure.

[he wishes the circumstances were better, but he won't comment on them. The garden is quiet, well- and gently-lit, and there is the soft burbling of a water feature from somewhere. Careful as he leads her through, matching his own pace with Sansa's. Slow past a bench, waiting for a cue but not bringing her to sit unless she says so]

Or would you prefer Miss Stark?

[unprays]

Back home, it would have been "Lady Stark".

[ but the tone she says it with is not to correct him — rather, it is quiet, wistful. the loss of Winterfell is a heavy burden on her still. ]

... but here, it doesn't really matter. So simply Sansa will do. [ they walk slowly, and as they are almost past the bench she seems to truly see it, reconsidering as her steps halt. ] Would you like to sit?

[ she knows the weight she has placed on his arm, how it is not only for the sake of politeness, but for her waning strength, and she will not be a burden to him. ]

[inaurare]

Just Miss Sansa, then.

[he won't drop manners completely - it's strange enough not to call a Lady by her title - but something in her tone suggests that it makes her sad. So he won't push the matter.]

Of course.

[he's relieved at that - she's hardly heavy, but the longer they walk the more he worries that her strength will give out on her, so he's more than happy to help her sit before he does so himself]

Let me know if you feel you are taking a chill. Is there more you might like to tell me about home? Or I could tell you something of mine, if you like?

[unprays]

[ it is strange for her, too — but it is what she should get used to. her home is gone, and no matter being born into the nobility, there... here, they are all the same. insisting her status back home makes her special would be nothing but bad for her, for their family. ]

Would you tell me of yours? I've heard so little, of other places.

[inaurare]

Certainly. Though truth be told I don't know of many places... my country's name was Ivore, and I've never left it.

[or he had never left it, perhaps he should say?]

It was a small country... temperate? I heard that other countries have harsher winters and summers, but ours were rarely freezing or stifling. I served in a house there for much of my life; helping tend the house and the gardens. I used to be scolded terribly as a child for climbing the trees and the trellises, but I loved working in the gardens in particular as I got older, tending the flowers.

[a little shake of his head]

This is trifling...

[unprays]

Not at all. [ she presses her palm on his wrist, smiles a little. it is just what she wanted to hear... something to take her mind off of everything else. ]

That sounds lovely. When I was younger, I used to dream of the south, the beautiful flowers that grew there, the warmer climate, the soft silks that they wore in court... in the north, it was cold, even in the summer. We always wore furs and heavy dresses... as a child, I dreamt of something different.

[ her smile dims a touch. ] I've never been happier than when I saw snow again after years in the south. [ then, after a pause, ] Do any flowers grow here that are like the ones you remember, from your home?

[inaurare]

I think that is normal, to yearn for the things we don't know. I would still dearly love to see a snow covered landscape - even frost was rare as I grew up and if there was any snow it was only ever the barest dusting. [he smiles, but there is just a glimmer of sadness in his eyes-] As a child I used to dream of travelling and adventures and all the things one hears about in stories; but later I realised I was quite happy enough where I was.

[The risk of losing home was too great but, well. That's done, now.

A light shake of his head]

I wager I know what grows in my country quite well, though, so I would know if I found anything like that, but I haven't just yet. I can't say I've explored enough to be able to tell, though. And the plants and flowers that grow here are quite fascinating themselves!