nysalogs | (no subject)

Who: Loras Tyrell (

triplerose) & open (with closed starters in comments).
What: Some here and there in the midst of the chaos (aka October Catch All)
When: October.
Where: Around Olympia and Wyver.
Warning(s): TBD.

(i. The Sanctuary. Ish.)

[ Loras has never seen or known anything like this. No great plagues have struck Westeros, not in his time, and it's terrifying. To say the least. Though Loras will never openly admit that. He's lucky, he knows. The sickness has spread to neither him nor his sister, he has the ability to help, to atone for any wrongdoings he may have committed in the past.

His feet, more often than not, carry him to the sanctuary. Loras never goes inside. He'd not know the first thing about helping, though he thinks they might not care. He could be put to task to anything. This was never his strong suit, it was his sister's, a habit Loras himself had never quite picked up on. So he loiters rather than make himself useful - but at least well out of the way of anything who might hurry in or out.]

(ii. The Marketplace.)

[ The market is never dull. In an effort to not stay at home all day, Loras comes here first. It's interesting, and he's making acquaintances. People who he recognizes and can say hello to and inquire about their day. It's actually quite soothing. It's helping him settle in.

Today, he's on a mission. He's looking for a stall or a cart that sells flowers. Roses, preferably, red ones. Something like roses would do just as well. Loras is picky, though, and they have to be perfect. Perfect for his unwell friend, and for another friend's unwell sister - something to brighten grim days. ]

(iii. Train Station.)

[ Loras doesn't have silver to spend on a train ride to Flona Cove. A fact, of course, that fills him with a pang of sadness. A pang replaced by jealousy as he sees people embark and disembark the train, smiling and easy. He'd quite liked it there, with the beaches and the careless attitude that everyone so easily adopted. Absently, he thinks he'll need to find a way to earn coin, so he can go back there again.

It's not a complete loss, though. Standing against some railings in view of the station, Loras likes to watch the train. He's fascinated by it, the thrill of seeing it and the puff of smoke still as novel as the first time. Though he's not sure he can stand around for another hour, just to see it arrive and take off. ]

(iv. Wild Card.)

Choose your own adventure!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The dog startles Loras for a moment. When he comes to the decision that she seems harmless, he bends over a little, to give her a sort of pat on the head. He waits until he straightens up to look at the owner.

Loras' own recollection is much the same - a name, the fact that islanders let children drown, and he knows the Starks. ]

I - No. [ He should. He knows he should. He will. ] Not yet. I would feel I was imposing on her family or her closer friends.

If you were a friend to her at all, it would please her to see you.

[ He wouldn’t be so certain, if he hadn’t already seen so many unfamiliar faces filtering in and out. He can’t name half of them, but he isn’t surprised. People like Sansa. It’s difficult not to like the Stark children, even when actively trying to despise them. Theon would know; he spent spent his first year in Winterfell trying desperately to hate Robb and his bastard brother. In the end, he wound up with only with a mild dislike of Jon.

Loras doesn’t seem like the malicious sort, and he thinks Sansa would like to see a familiar face from home; one that isn't Robb's or Jon's or his own. He watches as Nagga settles down beside Loras, wagging her tail as though she's accomplished something splendid. Theon doesn’t seem to take offense at her tiny betrayal. She’s a disloyal hound and this is not new behavior. Instead, he eyes the Sanctuary building over his shoulder and directs his anger there. ]

These maesters will say nothing.

[ It might be a half snarl, but he lacks the energy to make it certain. ]

I do not believe they know anything at all. They’re useless, the lot of them. I've seen no improvement. If anything, they've all gotten worse.

Maybe tomorrow. She needs her rest.

[ But Theon's words make him frown. What use is a group of maesters if they're unable to perform their necessary obligations? It makes him feel almost more useless in this whole ordeal. ]

Sansa is strong willed. I believe her health will improve.

That isn’t the point.

[ His teeth clench, and he might even be angry with Loras if he weren’t already so angry with these strange maesters. He knows how strong-willed Sansa is, but a strong will isn’t always enough. His father’s strong will wasn’t enough to save him, nor was Robb’s, nor all of the strong-willed Northmen who died in Winterfell. ]

I’ve been told how much better the medicine of other worlds is meant to be, how much more efficient it is than that of Westeros. I’ve seen none of it.

[ He hisses through clenched teeth, briefly wishing that Luwin were here. The patient old maester had done nothing more than try to help. Theon had brushed him off, refused his advice, but Luwin would know what to do, he thinks. ]

Why will you not see her today when you’re already here?

[ His frustration is with the situation in general, but it's difficult not to direct it toward this poor southerner. Sorry, Loras. ]

[ And Loras is fully aware that he's becoming the center of Theon's annoyance. He's also aware that he's undeserving of it. His jaw clenches a little and he straightens up, standing a bit taller than before. He's certainly not going to let some islander get the better of him. ]

What I choose to do and what I choose not to do seems hardly your concern. [ A petulant response, but the truth all the same. Loras doesn't need someone else pointing out his poor resolution, thank you kindly. ]

[ Theon is not a tall man. He’s the shortest man in his family, downright shrimpy compared to his uncle Victarion, and it would appear that Loras has quite a bit of height on him as well. He probably should have learned long ago when to back down, but he’s too stubborn, too proud, and especially too foolish.

At least they’re equally as petulant. ]

You’ve made it my concern.

[ He smiles, but it isn’t a kind smile. It’s the tight, teeth-gritting smile of a man on edge, a man who could very well snap at any moment. ]

You've yet to step through that door at all, haven't you? Are you too frightened?

[ Breaking out the mockery a bit soon there, aren’t you Theon? ]

[ The height is about all Loras as. His usual bravado is still wavering, and here he has neither name nor status to hide behind. He eyes the smile warily. There are two choices here, Loras figures: find his own biting remark or be honest. In a twist peculiar even to him, he chooses the honest route. ]

Yes. [ It's not as easy to say as it seems. Loras feels his jaw clench for a moment, his gaze moving from Theon to the Sanctuary. ] It's very frightening.

[ And this will be the second time he's unable to help Sansa Stark. Not that anyone expects him to save her, no this time, but he doesn't want to face the failure all the same. ]

[ Theon’s gaze doesn’t soften. In fact, the corner of his mouth only twitches into a sneer, but he thinks he understands the hesitation. It’s an uneasy environment to be in, packed full of the sick and the worried and concerned and panicked. It’s stifling and difficult to see loved ones in such a state, but it’s necessary. ]

You will not catch it, if that is what you fear.

[ He sounds impatient, with that same frustrated tone. He has no desire to fight this man, but he does want to lash out at someone. He’s just trying not to. He's a lovely person, really! ]

And if what they say is true.

That is not what I fear. [ Getting ill, the possibility of dying, there's no fear in that anymore. He doesn't have his sister's disposition. He can't watch people suffering and put on a good bedside manner to help them.

The topic changes, though. At least enough. Loras looks back to Theon, this time with an eyebrow cocked ever slightly. ]

What is it that they say?

[ Theon hasn’t bothered to try putting on a good bedside manner, not when he’s visiting so few people. He tries to be kind for Sansa, but is mistrust and his sharp tongue still slips in every so often. He fears the threat of losing her, but he won't put on airs when he steps through the Sanctuary doors.

He shrugs, his gaze still cold. ]

It cannot catch through the air, though I've no idea how they can be so certain. More have fallen ill, after all.

[ Huh. Loras doesn't really know a lot about illness or plagues or ... Well. Any of it. He's never needed to, and he doesn't pay any attention to what's happening now, either.

But he does know enough to know that's possibly peculiar. ]

How do they say others catch it? [ That doesn't make Loras want to step inside the sanctuary any more. ]

[ Theon thinks he’d very much like to shake some sense into Loras right now—or punch some sense into him, to remind him that Sansa is still so young and was perfectly healthy just days ago. This isn’t right. She shouldn’t be wasting away from some disease that absolutely no one seems to know the cure not. ]

I do not know that much.

[ Still cold in tone, still cold in gaze, struggling to hold his anger back. ]

But you cannot catch it, and there's little reason for you not to see her.