[Things are still dark, but during the day, at least, it's better. Lucy has generally been at work almost this entire time; doling out assistance, helping, healing people, giving lights away, but she takes a moment after a few nonstop days to put on a real dress instead of her scrubs, to pin her hair up, and to make a bundle of food.
And she begins the process of tracking Jon down.
This is not as difficult as she expected. She finds him just outside the clinic, around midday.]
My lord Snow.
[She wrinkles her nose just a little, but she's laughing.]
I had thought you would be more of a challenge to find.
[Between the patrols he had established for himself, and the few hours (non-consecutively) that he had taken to sleep, he had set himself up outside the clinic. Both Jon and Ghost would look after her, careful to ensure that the influx of crime didn't touch her.
So far, the criminals had not wandered too closely, but it required a great deal of fighting and attention on his part. The days at least provided reprieve, as most didn't bother looting or attacking during the day.
Seated by the doors, Ghost was on his feet before Jon spied Lucy, going to greet her as warmly as he did with anyone Jon considered a friend. Whether in scrubs or skirts, she was beautiful. The wrinkle in her nose brought a smile to his face. The small detail as endearing as she was.]
I might be at night, but for now I am just preparing. [Sharpening his sword, putting together some rations for himself so he didn't have to stop.] You were looking for me?
[ Something for Jon to appreciate -- old style communication. The message arrives via mockingbird. Sealed closed by a wax mockingbird sigil, the letter is hand-written in careful cursive. ]
Lord Snow -
I write to you on behalf of a project I am working on within my city. Construction has already begun on rebuilding a much larger library, but I wish for this to be more than simply a bigger structure. I hope to inspire education and the spread of knowledge to the natives of Maurtia Falls as well as provide an invaluable resource to new arrivals here. But more than that, I wish to use it to pay homage to the natives who lost their lives within Maurtia Falls due to imPort related tragedies. Their names will be honored within the library itself and donations will be set up to be made to the families.
For this project to succeed, I need your help. If you are able to donate anything at all to the cause, it would be most appreciated -- whether that is books, money, or simply your time. I do hope you can spare enough time to at least aid in this since I know you are quite busy. With Ambassador Pevensie.
I thank you for your time, and I do hope to hear back from you soon.
[He knows it is meant to bate him. The mention of Lucy and the implication therein. He doesn't doubt that Baelish is aware of what is happening. The man had eyes everywhere, Westeros and he would wager here as well. Neither he nor Lucy were discreet during the swearing in, when they were all affected by whatever it was that happened.
Still, he doesn't intend to let his thoughts or feelings over Baelish's words show. Instead, he returns a message by the traditional means.]
Lord Baelish,
You can be assured of my assistance in this endeavor, both by donation and time. At the most convenient date, I will travel to Maurtia Falls to assist however you may need.
[She's been so busy lately that she's almost disappeared, been impossible to keep up with; she's felt guilty about it, too, but fretful at the same time. Lucy is not very good at romantic relationships for this reason: she tends to get overinvolved in everything else.
So when she finds him at his farm, just outside his barn, she's wearing a dress that is more of this time than of hers, dropping only to her calves, making a nice show of her delicate little boots and her ankles, her hair done up in an intricate way.]
Ah, hullo, Jon.
[Hullo. How informal. She's tilting her body in his direction; she's sort of overtaken by the desire to kiss him.
It's a cold enough day that there's a flush to her skin.]
[He had been so caught up in the arrivals of his siblings and the over crowding of the farmhouse that he hadn't much mind for anything else. There was no space left, leaving Jon in the position of sharing a room with his (once older, now younger) brother.
The hallucinations had left him disoriented and mired in his guilt that he hadn't thought to seek Lucy out. A part of him being nothing more than a craven, not wishing her to see those that he had lost and still bore as a weight upon his shoulders.
It was only when he heard her voice that he felt sudden relief. He needed her more than he realized. That gentleness, that sweetness she offered him. It was a balm against his wounded soul.
As he turned to greet her, his eyes caught the sight of her ankles and the shorter length of her skirt. He could feel himself blush, overcome with that same rush of desire he had felt during the swearing in ceremony.]
You look beautiful.
[A simple fact, missing poetry and elaboration, but no less true. He isn't sure how to approach her or what to say. Instead of worrying about it overlong, he lets instinct take control.
He goes to her side and brushes his palm against his cheek tenderly, gazing down at her in awe and open admiration.]
[He frowned at the message. While part of him had wanted to tell Robb at least enough to keep him from trusting Theon, he had reached the same conclusion he had with Sansa. There were some things that were better left unsaid. It would only hurt Robb and they had all suffered enough.]
I didn't intend to, but we are not the only ones to know what happened.
to celebrate and experience the exciting creative collaboration between House of De Marq and Daenerys Stormborn, featuring a sample collection for Spring 2017.
April 14, at the Venice Theater House, Heropa Doors open: 7: 00 PM Show begins: 7: 30 PM
Afterparty and a silent auction featuring exclusive De Marq luxury jewelry will immediately follow.
The House of De Marq and Daenerys are proud to affiliate with Through The Glass, a nonprofit organisation that provides low-income women with professional attire and other career advancement services. All proceeds will be given to this fabulous endeavour, and donations are welcome.
[ He had approached her, freely, with both news and advice. He'd offered, even, to attend, and visibly take her side in their strange tangle of Westerosi politicking, where even small actions can trigger a ripple effect.
Let alone big ones. Kidnapping a Lannister knight among them. ]
Do you know what difference lies between a lion with all his limbs, and one with only three of his paws?
[He had wondered what happened to Jamie Lannister. While he hadn't seen the Kingslayer since their last confrontation, he had heard of some of his activities. This included a friendship between Baelish and Jamie, which was no great surprise.
He watches her through the screen carefully, considering his answer.]
He's off balance, but I wouldn't discount the danger. Injured animals fight their fiercest.
[The papers he was reviewing were forgotten as the sunlight spilled across his desk. His cheeks warmed as he looked up at Lucy's smile, the papers falling from his hands back onto his desk.
He's out of his seat and at her side, collecting the basket wordlessly.]
[In Lucy's desk, among her papers, is a letter; it's sealed but on the outside it's addressed to Jon Snow in Lucy's spidery handwriting.]
My dearest love,
If you are reading this, it is because you have gone through my desk, and so either I am gone, or I am so injured that you must do my work for me. If it is the latter, I ask you stop reading now.
If I am gone, then I must tell you it was not willingly done. You met me when I was so sad, so destroyed, and I do not think you know how you uplifted me. You think yourself so stern and so unhappy, but you were always most gentle with me, and I thank you for it, without reservation. You have been, in your time here, my great joy, my great happiness, and in that I have always been so grateful.
I know your manner is towards sadness, and towards grief. I should ask you not to refuse those emotions, for they are most important in their own way. But I do ask that you should think wisely on them, and only have great notion of them until they suit you no longer. Because, my dearest heart, you will love again. Your heart will heal.
But know this: I love you here, and I will love you in Narnia. I love you most ardently. In me, you have found a true love, and so you must console yourself there. My king, my lord, and my husband in all but name.
And until then I will carry you with me, and you will carry my heart in yours, for you stole it most readily.
( gwen is, at best, awkward with other people's feelings, and doesn't live in de chima, so - she hadn't responded to jon's announcement about lucy, who she'd met only briefly, and liked well enough. also, she's conscious of perhaps not advertising her affection too blatantly after that conversation with her boss--
a few days later, a wooden gift-box containing a bottle of brandy and a poem neatly handwritten: )
The Uses Of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.
[For once, one of Han's random calls comes in at a fairly early time, which is to say this one comes in at about nine in the evening, after Han's finished dropping off his last passenger at their hotel.]
Feel like a drink? [On one hand, he's sort of relieved. On the other hand? This probably sucks for Jon right now.] On me this time, and don't tell anyone.
[He took the news better than he thought he would. He had almost let out a sigh of relief when his name wasn't announced. Seeking power was strange to him, it was better to go back to doing what he thought was right without the weight of authority and command placed on his shoulders.
Jon- [The voice at the other end of the line sounds quite upset - Bela was starting to think she should have texted instead.]
- The shop. It was vandalized overnight. Glass everywhere. Stock, cabinets and shelves broken. There's graffiti on the wall and on the front sign. I don't- I can't believe anyone would do this.
[His immediate thought was that Bela was put in danger, his job or position at the shop disappeared almost immediately. Her safety taking priority.]
What happened? Are you all right?
[It wasn't the first time that there had been violence and rioting in the streets, sometimes extending to the shops and homes of imPorts and natives. However, there had been no word that there was a danger of that.
[ Bela had seen his reaction to the network video. So of course she was going to let him know that she was back. Just not right away because Bela was still processing everything that had happened. Easier said than done. ]
...I'm here, Jon. About three days later, but that's up to the nanites I suppose. [ A pause. ] Hello.
[He had heard that the dead came back to life, but hadn't seen it happen. The way that Bela had been killed and strung up, it was enough to make him forget. Seeing her again, it made his heart stop in his chest as the sight of her hit him at full force.]
[ Jon, not Snow. He may very well never call him Snow again. It isn’t an intentional choice, not a decision he’s thought through, but something that’s become ingrained within him over the last few months in Westeros. Never call him Snow, or he’ll hurt you. Jon isn’t Ramsay, but he dares not associate the two. He would rather die at Jon’s hand than return to suffer further torture at the end of Ramsay’s flaying knife.
He doesn’t show his face, nor does he type. Audio was never his first choice, but now it is, and the voice that comes through is hoarse and broken, as though it hasn’t been used for a long time. ]
Winterfell is full of ghosts. Jon—The old gods know my name. They whispered it to me. The heart tree did. They made me remember. He tried to make me forget, but he never could.
[ He knows he must sound frantic, desperate and pitiful, but surely Jon will understand. In the back of his mind, he recalls a more understanding Jon in this place, one who seemed willing, somehow, to forgive. There's no sane explanation for what Theon experienced, but surely he’ll understand in some regard what this babbling means. ]
[Just the use of his name alone tells Jon that Theon returned home. The usual sneer and derision is missing, now there is only a hint of broken confidence and underlying fear at the world around him. He had seen the aftermath of Ramsay's games, where enough time had passed that Theon had managed to at least return to some version of himself. But he hadn't seen what Sansa had. Not until now.
He might not see Theon's face or the visible signs of injury, but he could hear it in his voice and know that whatever was behind the screen was horrific and brutal. He sounded like a madman and his words were nonsensical. They spoke louder than bruises and scars could.]
The heart tree? [Gods, but he sounded insane.] You went back to Westeros?
So should I have my hair back for this? Or is this your dramatic way of saying I need a hair cut?
[Okay maybe it was a lame joke, but, they were about to work with swords. Which was not in Daisy's skill set. At all. She wasn't sure what or what wasn't appropriate to wear, so she just went with her normal work out clothes.]
Hair can get caught, it's not good to have it loose during a fight. [Even though he had his down a number of times without trouble. It was only recently that he learned and adapted.] You should have something more covering you. You have too much skin showing, it leaves you vulnerable.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
song_of_ice) wrote2016-12-06 07:55 am
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And she begins the process of tracking Jon down.
This is not as difficult as she expected. She finds him just outside the clinic, around midday.]
My lord Snow.
[She wrinkles her nose just a little, but she's laughing.]
I had thought you would be more of a challenge to find.
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So far, the criminals had not wandered too closely, but it required a great deal of fighting and attention on his part. The days at least provided reprieve, as most didn't bother looting or attacking during the day.
Seated by the doors, Ghost was on his feet before Jon spied Lucy, going to greet her as warmly as he did with anyone Jon considered a friend. Whether in scrubs or skirts, she was beautiful. The wrinkle in her nose brought a smile to his face. The small detail as endearing as she was.]
I might be at night, but for now I am just preparing. [Sharpening his sword, putting together some rations for himself so he didn't have to stop.] You were looking for me?
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Letter!
Lord Snow -
I write to you on behalf of a project I am working on within my city. Construction has already begun on rebuilding a much larger library, but I wish for this to be more than simply a bigger structure. I hope to inspire education and the spread of knowledge to the natives of Maurtia Falls as well as provide an invaluable resource to new arrivals here. But more than that, I wish to use it to pay homage to the natives who lost their lives within Maurtia Falls due to imPort related tragedies. Their names will be honored within the library itself and donations will be set up to be made to the families.
For this project to succeed, I need your help. If you are able to donate anything at all to the cause, it would be most appreciated -- whether that is books, money, or simply your time. I do hope you can spare enough time to at least aid in this since I know you are quite busy. With Ambassador Pevensie.
I thank you for your time, and I do hope to hear back from you soon.
Sincerely,
Ambassador Petyr Baelish
Letter response
Still, he doesn't intend to let his thoughts or feelings over Baelish's words show. Instead, he returns a message by the traditional means.]
Lord Baelish,
You can be assured of my assistance in this endeavor, both by donation and time. At the most convenient date, I will travel to Maurtia Falls to assist however you may need.
Jon Snow
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audio;
Ah-
Jon?
audio;
...Lucy?
Is something wrong?
audio;
audio;
Re: audio;
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/sneaking threads while on hiatus
So when she finds him at his farm, just outside his barn, she's wearing a dress that is more of this time than of hers, dropping only to her calves, making a nice show of her delicate little boots and her ankles, her hair done up in an intricate way.]
Ah, hullo, Jon.
[Hullo. How informal. She's tilting her body in his direction; she's sort of overtaken by the desire to kiss him.
It's a cold enough day that there's a flush to her skin.]
/screams!
The hallucinations had left him disoriented and mired in his guilt that he hadn't thought to seek Lucy out. A part of him being nothing more than a craven, not wishing her to see those that he had lost and still bore as a weight upon his shoulders.
It was only when he heard her voice that he felt sudden relief. He needed her more than he realized. That gentleness, that sweetness she offered him. It was a balm against his wounded soul.
As he turned to greet her, his eyes caught the sight of her ankles and the shorter length of her skirt. He could feel himself blush, overcome with that same rush of desire he had felt during the swearing in ceremony.]
You look beautiful.
[A simple fact, missing poetry and elaboration, but no less true. He isn't sure how to approach her or what to say. Instead of worrying about it overlong, he lets instinct take control.
He goes to her side and brushes his palm against his cheek tenderly, gazing down at her in awe and open admiration.]
I missed you.
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this is sent after robb arrives
If I can stop you telling him, I'll give you anything I possibly can.
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I didn't intend to, but we are not the only ones to know what happened.
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e-vite.
STORMBORN X MARQ
to celebrate and experience the exciting creative collaboration between House of De Marq and Daenerys Stormborn,
featuring a sample collection for Spring 2017.
April 14, at the Venice Theater House, Heropa
Doors open: 7: 00 PM
Show begins: 7: 30 PM
Afterparty and a silent auction featuring exclusive De Marq luxury jewelry will immediately follow.
The House of De Marq and Daenerys are proud to affiliate with Through The Glass, a nonprofit organisation that provides
low-income women with professional attire and other career advancement services. All proceeds will be given to this
fabulous endeavour, and donations are welcome.
Please RSVP before April 10. Plus ones welcome.
text;
voicemail. backdated to earlier april. or timey wimey as needed.
[ He had approached her, freely, with both news and advice. He'd offered, even, to attend, and visibly take her side in their strange tangle of Westerosi politicking, where even small actions can trigger a ripple effect.
Let alone big ones. Kidnapping a Lannister knight among them. ]
Do you know what difference lies between a lion with all his limbs, and one with only three of his paws?
voice;
[He had wondered what happened to Jamie Lannister. While he hadn't seen the Kingslayer since their last confrontation, he had heard of some of his activities. This included a friendship between Baelish and Jamie, which was no great surprise.
He watches her through the screen carefully, considering his answer.]
He's off balance, but I wouldn't discount the danger. Injured animals fight their fiercest.
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My lord king.
[She turns her head just a little, and looks at him.]
Where I am from, the man carries the basket.
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He's out of his seat and at her side, collecting the basket wordlessly.]
My lady.
[She is given a tender kiss in greeting.]
Where am I carrying the basket?
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My dearest love,
If you are reading this, it is because you have gone through my desk, and so either I am gone, or I am so injured that you must do my work for me. If it is the latter, I ask you stop reading now.
If I am gone, then I must tell you it was not willingly done. You met me when I was so sad, so destroyed, and I do not think you know how you uplifted me. You think yourself so stern and so unhappy, but you were always most gentle with me, and I thank you for it, without reservation. You have been, in your time here, my great joy, my great happiness, and in that I have always been so grateful.
I know your manner is towards sadness, and towards grief. I should ask you not to refuse those emotions, for they are most important in their own way. But I do ask that you should think wisely on them, and only have great notion of them until they suit you no longer. Because, my dearest heart, you will love again. Your heart will heal.
But know this: I love you here, and I will love you in Narnia. I love you most ardently. In me, you have found a true love, and so you must console yourself there. My king, my lord, and my husband in all but name.
And until then I will carry you with me, and you will carry my heart in yours, for you stole it most readily.
Ever yours, in great love,
Lucy Pevensie
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a few days later, a wooden gift-box containing a bottle of brandy and a poem neatly handwritten: )
The Uses Of Sorrow
MARY OLIVER
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
( beneath it: )
Absolutely do not drink it on your own, sad-sack.
xx G.
( she is, in her way, thoughtful. )
text;
text;
text;
text;
text;
text → action;
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Text
Text
[There wasn't any need to be formal.]
What is it, Senator?
Text
Text
Text
Re: Text
Text
Text
Text
Text
[voice, after the election results]
Feel like a drink? [On one hand, he's sort of relieved. On the other hand? This probably sucks for Jon right now.] On me this time, and don't tell anyone.
[voice]
He seems a bit more easy and calm than before.]
I would. Same place?
[voice]
[voice]
[voice] > [action?]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
[action]
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text; forward dated to a couple of days before he tells robb
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It takes a few minutes for him to respond.]
What changed your mind?
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Invitation
text
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voice (backdated to 26th)
- The shop. It was vandalized overnight. Glass everywhere. Stock, cabinets and shelves broken. There's graffiti on the wall and on the front sign. I don't- I can't believe anyone would do this.
[There's a deep sigh.]
Just thought you should know.
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What happened? Are you all right?
[It wasn't the first time that there had been violence and rioting in the streets, sometimes extending to the shops and homes of imPorts and natives. However, there had been no word that there was a danger of that.
This was random, it seemed.]
Do you need me to come to Maurtia Falls?
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Voice; Oct 17th
...I'm here, Jon. About three days later, but that's up to the nanites I suppose. [ A pause. ] Hello.
Voice
Gods, Bela. Are you all right?
Where are you?
Voice
Voice
Voice
Voice
Voice
Voice
action forever
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voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
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voice;
[ Jon, not Snow. He may very well never call him Snow again. It isn’t an intentional choice, not a decision he’s thought through, but something that’s become ingrained within him over the last few months in Westeros. Never call him Snow, or he’ll hurt you. Jon isn’t Ramsay, but he dares not associate the two. He would rather die at Jon’s hand than return to suffer further torture at the end of Ramsay’s flaying knife.
He doesn’t show his face, nor does he type. Audio was never his first choice, but now it is, and the voice that comes through is hoarse and broken, as though it hasn’t been used for a long time. ]
Winterfell is full of ghosts. Jon—The old gods know my name. They whispered it to me. The heart tree did. They made me remember. He tried to make me forget, but he never could.
[ He knows he must sound frantic, desperate and pitiful, but surely Jon will understand. In the back of his mind, he recalls a more understanding Jon in this place, one who seemed willing, somehow, to forgive. There's no sane explanation for what Theon experienced, but surely he’ll understand in some regard what this babbling means. ]
voice;
He might not see Theon's face or the visible signs of injury, but he could hear it in his voice and know that whatever was behind the screen was horrific and brutal. He sounded like a madman and his words were nonsensical. They spoke louder than bruises and scars could.]
The heart tree? [Gods, but he sounded insane.] You went back to Westeros?
[He doesn't need to ask what Theon remembers.]
You won't forget. You're Theon Greyjoy.
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
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[Okay maybe it was a lame joke, but, they were about to work with swords. Which was not in Daisy's skill set. At all. She wasn't sure what or what wasn't appropriate to wear, so she just went with her normal work out clothes.]
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[He tossed a wooden sword at her.]
We never start with blades.
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Ugh, I'm sorry this is late. My laptop has been crashing nonstop
It's okay! <3 I hope its working okay now.
It got worse and then better, thankfully
Okay good! <3
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