...And also these.

[thespaceopera]

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - Q Nami Natasha Romanoff Nelkeila Tarid Nux Nyssa al Ghul Octavia Blake One Peggy Carter Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève

R - U R. Daneel Olivaw Rapunzel Remy LeBeau Riku Robin Redbreast Rogue Santanico Pandemonium Shawn Hunter Stefan (Alesci) Salvatore Steve "Orion" Rogers Steven Quartz Universe Souji Seta Stiles Stilinski Syeira Tadashi Hamada Tekhetsio

V - Z Vash the Stampede Vima Sunrider Vision (The) Wanda Maximoff Wrath Yamanaka Ino

Comments

[touchofrogue]

No, they're more than that. I would know. [No weasiling out of this one, kiddo. After all:] They're mine, after all.

[steeledskin]

Yours? [ like a little songbird, peeping and chirping her thoughts in some sort of an echo of someone else's. she treads nearer the table at the room's center, because that's where she believes the voice originates. ] Your very own?

[ how lovely it must be to own books -- even miserable ones. although she's always had access to fine libraries, they'd always belonged to her father. or the king. or sweetrobin. ]

[touchofrogue]

[An interesting thing to pick up upon, Rogue thinks. The sound of almost-excitement at the thought of owning books, when really... yes, those were quite miserable to the touch.]

Well, it is my room. [As Sansa approaches, she might see that the fire in the centre of the room is actually rather... cohesive for a flame.] Speakin' of, you're welcome ta grab something ta eat or drink if ya want.

[steeledskin]

[ sorcery -- ancient magic, the sorts old nan would describe but in which sansa could never believe. had someone told her such a story, she would turn her nose up at it...even now. but it's hard to fault what the eyes see. and before she remembers to stop herself, she bows her upper body only enough to peer at the person in the flames.

the person offering her bread and salt. food, and drink. sansa swallows dryly. ] Who are you, my lady?

[ because it seems awfully prudent to call a woman made of fire 'my lady'! ]

[touchofrogue]

The name's Rogue. [Very polite and 'my lady,' too. Rogue's always had a soft spot for carry-overs of that particular courtesy, and enhanced familiarity hasn't dulled it.] An' you?

[steeledskin]

Lady Rogue -- [ an odd sort of name, but so were many others in westeros. it isn't her place to begrudge anyone's name, when her own has become so muddied over time. except even in this strange dream-like space, she knows better than to trade upon her honest name. ] Alayne. Alayne Stone.

[ she hesitates. stone, in her lands, is a dead giveaway for illegitimacy. only the natural sons and natural daughters of nobility are given names like stone and snow and hill and flowers. but to fill the following silence, she executes a perfect little curtsy. courtesy is a lady's armour, and she must be well-girded to survive an encounter with a fire-woman. ] It would be an honour to share food and drink with you, my lady.

[touchofrogue]

[...heh, 'Lady Rogue' is a phrase she hasn't heard in a while. Shaking her head a little, but not wanting to tell someone who so obviously depends on such politeness to knock it off, she just gives a wry little smile.]

Unfortunately, I can't really go 'round touchin' things right now, so you'll have ta help yourself. [A nod toward the Hospitality Cupboard.] Drinks are on the top, food's on the bottom.

[steeledskin]

[ -- at least this isn't outside the realm of her skill, nor her inclination. alayne, as petyr's bastard daughter, has spent many a political meeting playing cupbearer to her 'father' and his contacts. pouring wine and passing trays to servants whose duties encompasses the actual work: the transporting, the cleaning, the preparing of meals. ]

I don't suppose you have... [ she trails off, bending at her knees so she can open the cupboard and inspect its pantry. her spirits lift when she sees that telltale shade of yellow. ] ...Lemon cakes.

[ but they're wrapped in some manner of bizarre see-through material. too crinkly and loud to be silk. she picks up a small individual-sized cake and frowns at its armour. ]

[touchofrogue]

Found somethin' ya like?

[steeledskin]

They're my favourite, [ she half-announces, and half-admits. one part coy and another part childish, as though the very enjoyment of her favourite delicacy is worth outgrowing. she's a woman grown, now. and winter's coming.

but (at the very least) she finds the odd packaging not too much of a deterrent. although the crinkling is loud, and more than a little off-putting, she manages to free the cake from its prison.

she doesn't hesitate on the first bite. ]

[touchofrogue]

[When she does, her other four senses will temporarily fade. The sensation of having something in her mouth will be increased, and quite pleasurable, as the taste itself is heightened.]

I'm glad we had them, then.

[steeledskin]

[ it's delicious. better, somehow, than even the cakes enjoyed in king's landing. everything tastes more fresh -- and well blended, and for once in her life sansa thought long and hard about the cook that must have laboured over this delight. how skilled they must be! and how dedicated.

silence, then, except for the quiet sound of her jaw as it moved. it takes her a long while before she can properly address the flaming woman once again. ]

I wish you could have some. [ it sounds sweet, perhaps, when she says it. gentle and friendly. but in truth, her paranoia craves a shared experience. bread and salt, taken together. ]

[touchofrogue]

Kinda out of my purview right now.

[A bit of a shrug, because yes, fire people can apparently shrug.]

But you feel free ta take what ya like.

[steeledskin]

O-oh. I -- [ her cheeks seem to puff out with the sudden anticipated joy found in good hospitality. but sansa shakes her head. ] I wouldn't want to empty your stores, my lady, and deprive your next guest of their bread and salt.

[touchofrogue]

I'm pretty sure they'll be plenty left.

[Shrug.]

Besides, I just get one visitor at a time.

[steeledskin]

Do you? [ to be able to dictate her visitors so! to plan for one and one and one in succession -- sansa breaks off another bite of lemon cake and chews it thoughtfully before asking: ] Beg pardon, but are you the lady of this keep?

[ she must be. and an important one at that, if she can organize her visits so. ]

[touchofrogue]

[...lady of the keep?

The fire paused, considering just how much brain break the girl in front of her could handle.]

Somethin' like that. This is my space, anyway. Reckon you could say I keep it.

[steeledskin]

It's a lovely space. [ compliments are like armour. she lines them up like bricks. or plates of steel. ] And your hospitality is sweet and welcoming, my lady.

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue couldn't help but give a quiet laugh.]

Ah - thank ya. I'm glad you're doin' alright with all this.

[steeledskin]

[ in truth, she isn't. but sansa pretends well, and her watered-down smile doesn't flicker. ]

Are...are you alright? [ the lady is on fire, after all. ]

[touchofrogue]

Me? [What... why... oh, probably the burning thing.] Oh, sure. I'm fine. I don't feel anythin'.

[steeledskin]

[ she doubts such a claim -- and that doubt settles along her bottom lip. almost a pout. she imagines that the lady is, in truth, experiencing great pain -- but merely lies well about its existence. ]

Have you been burning very long? [ she wonders why she isn't all burned up. ]

[touchofrogue]

[A quiet laugh.] My whole life, sometimes it seems like.

[Rogue spreads her hands, then, and expands slightly, growing just a fraction of an inch taller.] But here, I'm not burnin'. Here, I am fire.

[And it wasn't painful, exactly, and it wasn't joyful, exactly, but it was passion and ferocity and life. It was the core of who she was - she burned, but as she was fire, she was not consumed. She simply was.]

[steeledskin]

[ wide eyed, and wondering: ] Is it sorcery?

[touchofrogue]

I don't know. I wouldn't rule it out. [A shrug.] It's somethin' I don't fully understand. I ain't always like this, an' you won't wake up here when ya do. So don't fret on that account.