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Open + some closed
Who: Theon Greyjoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reek) & OPEN
What: Catchall
When: Wyver stuff
Where: A r o u n d
Warning(s): Theon is his own warning
I. Evacuation
[ If you’re unfortunate enough to find yourself stuck with Theon, especially on the later leg of the journey, you may realize just how little Wyver climate is agreeing with him. He’s a man of the Iron Islands—or a man of the North, depending on who you ask. Either way, he grew up in a much chillier environment than this. The further they trek, the more he finds himself, for the first time in this life, actually regretting wearing black. He already looks a mess, his hair and collar damp with sweat and his face red. He’s angrily pushing his sweat-streaked hair out of his eyes every few minutes. ]
It feels as though all seven hells have opened at once.
[ He practically snarls his words, looking irritated with their surroundings. Olympia was manageable. Here, he feels as though he may die. Yes, yes he is overreacting. ]
Who would ever desire to live in a place such as this? Not even the Dornishmen would bother. You cannot even find the sea from here.
[ Theon—Theon, just….just…you need a nap. ]
II. Hunting
[ Theon, as outspoken as he is, doesn’t dare to complain about earning his keep. He’s a good hunter, good with a bow and arrow. He thinks about Asha and about Sansa, and he tells himself to go though the motions, to help and to earn his keep until the cure to their illness can be found.
He hasn’t hunted in an environment like this, and he finds it difficult to maneuver. Perhaps it’s just the heat, or the unfamiliarity of it all, but he mislikes it, and it’s too easy for him to lose himself to his thoughts and his worries amidst the sounds of birds and insects. Believing he spies an animal, he pulls back his bowstring, fires, and he misses whatever target he was after, nearly hitting another instead.
Want to be nearly murdered by the Greyjoy kid? Now’s your opportunity to be tragically grazed! ]
III. Wildcard
[ Anyway, anyhow, anywhere you choose. You can adapt one of the above if you prefer too, especially the hunting one. I'm incredibly easy. Find me on plurk if you need me!![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
muttonchops ]
reek) & OPEN What: Catchall
When: Wyver stuff
Where: A r o u n d
Warning(s): Theon is his own warning
I. Evacuation
[ If you’re unfortunate enough to find yourself stuck with Theon, especially on the later leg of the journey, you may realize just how little Wyver climate is agreeing with him. He’s a man of the Iron Islands—or a man of the North, depending on who you ask. Either way, he grew up in a much chillier environment than this. The further they trek, the more he finds himself, for the first time in this life, actually regretting wearing black. He already looks a mess, his hair and collar damp with sweat and his face red. He’s angrily pushing his sweat-streaked hair out of his eyes every few minutes. ]
It feels as though all seven hells have opened at once.
[ He practically snarls his words, looking irritated with their surroundings. Olympia was manageable. Here, he feels as though he may die. Yes, yes he is overreacting. ]
Who would ever desire to live in a place such as this? Not even the Dornishmen would bother. You cannot even find the sea from here.
[ Theon—Theon, just….just…you need a nap. ]
II. Hunting
[ Theon, as outspoken as he is, doesn’t dare to complain about earning his keep. He’s a good hunter, good with a bow and arrow. He thinks about Asha and about Sansa, and he tells himself to go though the motions, to help and to earn his keep until the cure to their illness can be found.
He hasn’t hunted in an environment like this, and he finds it difficult to maneuver. Perhaps it’s just the heat, or the unfamiliarity of it all, but he mislikes it, and it’s too easy for him to lose himself to his thoughts and his worries amidst the sounds of birds and insects. Believing he spies an animal, he pulls back his bowstring, fires, and he misses whatever target he was after, nearly hitting another instead.
Want to be nearly murdered by the Greyjoy kid? Now’s your opportunity to be tragically grazed! ]
III. Wildcard
[ Anyway, anyhow, anywhere you choose. You can adapt one of the above if you prefer too, especially the hunting one. I'm incredibly easy. Find me on plurk if you need me!
Claire Fraser
His heart is in the right place; truly, it is. There are few people in his life who he holds closer than the Starks and his own sister, but he’s gone about it in the worst way. Which is why, when he spies Claire on this particular visit, he speaks to her angrily and through clenched teeth—not for the first time. ]
Do you realize that Sansa didn’t even know who I was? She’s known me for her entirely life and she could not even recall my name. There are so many of you in this place who claim your medicine better than that of Westeros. Why have you continued to do nothing?
[ Ah, that misguided anger… ]
no subject
He knows just how to be the right level of aggravating. That, and she's tired. Too tired for this.
Sighing before she even turns around, she then slowly turns to face Theon, a basket of linen at her hip.]
If you'd like to take your sister and Sansa out of the Sanctuary, be my guest. [He won't. He might be angry and stubborn and scared, but he surely knows better.] We're keeping them as comfortable as we can while a cure is being worked on. You, having a tantrum like a little boy, is not helping them.
no subject
He bares his teeth in what might be perceived as a smile, if it weren’t paired with such a vicious tone. He’s done his share, relentlessly helping to hunt down those responsible, even going as far to forego sleep when necessary. All the same, it never feels like he’s doing quite enough. ]
Comfort doesn’t appear to be helping them much either, does it?
no subject
But he has to know, in some corner of his heart. That's what has him like this.]
Comfort is all we can do at this point. Keeping the fevers down, keeping them hydrated, fed. Keeping them calm. [Easier said than done, really, but she's yet to give up.] No one here is sitting on their hands.
[Speaking of hands--she sees two good ones on him, and neither are doing anything useful.]
Come. You're going to help me wash these.
no subject
[ Theon shares her fear. In Winterfell, he had seen otherwise healthy men wither away from illnesses on occasion. Luwin was a good maester, but he didn’t have a cure-all for every ailment. Theon allows no one get too close to him, but he holds a select few people at arm’s length; the closest he’ll allow anyone to truly see him. The Stark children and his sister are those people, and he can’t bear the thought of losing them.
He glares at her, malice in his eyes to match that in his voice. Still, give him credit, he doesn't straight up tell her "no". ]
And why should I?
no subject
[There's too much to do. Claire steps forward to hand off the basket, hoping he'll take it rather than let it fall to the floor.]
no subject
You know me better than most by now, at the very least.
[ It’s true, he isn’t likely to stop. ]
Fine. I’ll help you.
no subject
My thanks.
[Not too far away is a large metal basin on a table filled with soapy water, set up by her earlier. This isn't her first load of washing today. Sure, there's probably someone with magic who could clean all of this with a snap of their fingers, but she knows even she needs a break from the patients now and then. This is it.]
You can put that down here. Do I need to ask if you know how to wash?
no subject
[ He snaps at her, glaring daggers. Although it was typically women’s work in Winterfell, he mislikes being doubted. Men of his world still needed to know more than they let on, in the event that they were stranded in the wilderness. He doesn’t stop glaring as he hauls the basket over and angrily pushes up his sleeves.
Still, despite his own logic, he pauses. He can’t help but think how his own father would mock him terribly for this. And if Robb can be here after death, what is stopping Balon from awakening from stasis? ]
You’ve no one else to help you with this?
no subject
What else would you be doing right now, Theon? Nothing that will help your family. Storming around this place and harassing whoever you come across isn't making them better.
[She pulls one of the cloths from the basket to dunk it into the water.]
This is being useful.
Loras Tyrell
He inclines his head, silent for a moment, a vague and potentially even thoughtful (it’s honestly difficult to tell) smirk on his face. ]
What is a “hashtag”? Do you know?
no subject
Loras doesn't just barely glance at Theon when they come upon one another. He fixes the other man with a cool look. He remembers quite well their last exchange, and still the exchange before that, and he has to say that coversationns with Theon are usually awful ones. ]
I - beg your pardon? [ That's an unexpected sort of greeting. ] Should I know?
no subject
I’ve heard it used on a handful of occasions. I thought it might be a weapon of sorts, and as the Reach looks so highly upon knighthood—
[ He gestures vaguely, smile still intact. It isn’t a cruel or cutting smirk as it was during their previous meeting, it’s just amused, and it means nothing. He wears smirks like he wears clothing, changing them to suit his moods or to mask whatever he may not wish to show to the world. ]
I thought you may know something of it, though I suppose it wouldn't be a weapon in the context it's been used.
no subject
probably it's just naivety, but ... Really? A weapon? ]No. No - It's not a weapon. [ Not one that Loras has ever heard of, anyway, and he's had his fair share of fights with knights from across Westeros. It could be a weapon from another world, maybe? ]
How is it usually used?
no subject
[ The corner of his mouth twitches, his smirk threatening to widen. Interactions with him may not be terribly pleasant, but at least he’s yet to bring up drowning or become angry. ]
Hashtag fuck Robert Baratheon, for example.
[ Theon...please. ]
no subject
You know how to use it but you don't know what it is or what it means.
[ Not that it's uncommon. People frequenlty use things they have no clue about. ]
no subject
It isn’t difficult.
[ Again, he spares Loras the briefest of glances. Don’t mess with him, buddy. ]
Do you intend to critique me for it?
no subject
Loras takes a seat near Theon. Not quite beside him, because, frankly, he's not sure he likes Theon. But this is more amicable than not sitting nearby. He doesn't ever really look at the other man, though. That's less a dislike issue and more Loras' own social awkwardness. ]
I can't quite make sense of all these new ways of speaking. It's all very confusing.
no subject
He hesitates, not wishing to reveal much to Loras, a man he hardly knows—but a man who hardly knows him, to be fair. Loras seems unaware of Theon’s turncloak status, and it’s somewhat refreshing. ]
I suppose they can’t quite make sense of us either, some of them.
[ He smirks, more out of amusement for once than anything else. ]
The maesters here are all unaware what maesters are. It can be quite humorous to confuse them.
no subject
[ Loras shrugs. He doesn't care about it, not really. He never paid much attention to maesters ever. Why should that change now? As long as they do their duty.
He puts his hands on his knees, looking around them. Looking for some continuation of conversation. ]
Do you know that instead of saying, for example, pretty odd, they'll simply say, p odd? Lazy, really.
Jean Grey
Still, the company isn’t unwelcome. He genuinely misses Robb’s constant companionship on expeditions such as this, and it isn’t quite as fun when you have no one to show off for—but then again, he doesn’t feel like showing off in this weather. He trails behind her, the humidity weighing heavily on both him and his mood. ]
It’s gotten warmer.
[ It really hasn’t. He’s overreacting. ]
How can it still be getting warmer?
late af but i have to have this
And it was all for the 'greater good of them all'.
She just didn't think he would complain so. Her hair is up in a messy bun of her own making and sleeves of her tunic rolled up. It was hotter than she was used to but there was always some warmth inside her ever since the fight with Apocalypse. It wasn't anything she couldn't handle.
Rolling her eyes as she keeps walking, ]
Your body temperature is rising due to physical activity. Gives the impression it's getting hotter but it's actually not.
I
With his hair up, the white streak growing out at his temple is more obvious; certainly than before.]
Some people favor the heat.
[Said with the tone that yes, some people also like to eat dog, but Fitz isn't doing that, either.]
no subject
His mood lightens (though not significantly) when he realizes that it’s not Jon at all, but a stranger, and one who seems to be suffering just as terribly as he is.
Misery does love company. ]
I can’t imagine why.
[ Gods, he wants to die. ]
At least you can turn an ugly woman ‘round to avoid looking at her face. You can do nothing to avoid this.
no subject
No luck with the pretty ones, then?
[No shame. Fitz says it casually.]
I expect they think the same of you.
sorry for the wait! october was wild. but i want you to know i laughed when i got this tag. a+
He shoots Fitz what might be a cold look, if he didn’t look like a half drowned cat, and smirks. ]
I expect you know nothing of me.
[ It’s alright. It’s no more than he knows about himself. ]
If you wish to feel better about yourself, baseless assumptions are not the way to go about it.
II
That dismissal comes back to bite her ten minutes later when an arrow nearly pierces her shoulder. Letting out a small whine that rasps into an even less friendly sound, she turns on him with ears slanted forward and teeth bared, but quickly shifts again to make sure she does not invite more. In a transformation quick enough that a blink could miss much of it, she trades gray fur for pale skin and stands fully dressed, or as fully as is her norm.
Lightning crackles from one hand, a warning bolt aimed to miss. Barely.]
Turn your bow away.
sorry for the ridiculously long wait! the end of october was wild
Make yourself known next time!
[ He snaps at her, angry, bitter, and most of all, completely shaken. He has too much innocent blood on his hands, and he doesn’t wish to add more, even by mistake. ]