driftfleet | » 1st lemoncake

Who: ~~Sansa Stark~~Alayne Stone and YOU!
Broadcast: Video (fleetwide)
Action: Marsiva (bathroom + hallways + kitchen)
When: Early morning.

[ she stares at her refection -- standing in the communal bathroom on the marsiva. another morning, which had followed hard upon another night. at least she could only assume they were mornings and nights by the waning of the lights, and the jarring onset of such cryptic dreams. these nightly journeys into strange places and stranger memories exhaust her, and with girlish vanity she touches the dark circles under her eyes -- so starkly visible in such a perfectly reflective surface, far better than even the best polished metals in king's landing. my name is alayne stone, she mouths to herself -- more bewildered now by the obvious dark dye in her hair than she'd ever been before. sansa is gone; sansa is dead. but already her roots are beginning to show copper--!

she gathers her hair into a simple plait and fastidiously straightens the dress she'd worn to the tournament feast in the vale, and the same dress she'd worn when she'd woken up elsewhere on the marsiva. it would need a washing, soon. but she had no handmaid to prevail upon. so, looking almost as dreary as she felt, she walked solemnly and slowly back to her assigned room: nothing to keep her company except a fur-lined cloak and a mockingbird pin.

she had avoided the bizarre little message-givers for so long. but having slyly watched someone else use theirs on the previous evening, she dares to address whoever else might be listening: ]

Please. I want to go home. I'm not supposed to be here.

[ it doesn't occur to her that no one else should be, either.

but once she's been thoroughly schooled on that front, she can be found drowning her private sorrows in the kitchen, her gaze stuck on the warmed milk filling her mug. she can't decide whether she's relieved or angry she can't return to where she's meant to be. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He nods, unruffled by the abruptness.]

I do right now. We've all been brought back to the Marsiva for the moment, but I usually work as the cook on the First Breath.

[And he shrugs, because it really doesn't matter much to him where he works, as long as he can make himself useful.]

People need to eat.

[ having not yet stepped foot on any ship but the marsiva, she isn't prepared to understand her own place within the fleet's society. all she knows for certain is that, back home, her conversations with cooks had been curt and serviceable. even alayne stone, the bastard daughter of lord baelish, had to maintain appropriate distance between herself and the servants.

coolly: ] And who commands the First Breath?

Imperator Furiosa is our captain.

[He crosses to the refrigerator and opens the door, studying the contents inside.]

What about you?

[ furiousa -- it means something to her, or stirs some slow memory from the dreams she's been experiencing...but sansa dismisses that thought.

instead: ] Does the name Huntress mean anything to you? [ she hasn't stepped foot on that ship, but she's apparently bound for it. ]

Edited 2015-10-29 17:19 (UTC)

[Souji looks back over his shoulder at her, shaking his head.]

No, I'm sorry. Just that it's the name of another ship here.

[And it takes him a few seconds, but the thought does finally come to the surface.]

Oh. Did you just get here?

[ colour hits her cheeks. goodness, does she look as though she belongs? sansa worries her bottom lip for as long as it takes to remind herself how she ought to maintain good poise even through this trying time.

slowly, she nods. ] Only days ago.

Are you doing all right?

[Nobody belongs here; that's the problem. They've all been ripped from where they're supposed to be, put on display for amusement.]

It's kind of a shock, at first.

[ not at all -- not at all. but sansa swallows her honesty because she knows better than to unload her miseries onto others. in a strained tone, she lies: ] I'm well. As well as can be expected, at least.

[Her answer, Souji thinks, sounds very much like the sort of thing he himself would say. His parents raised him to be selfless, helpful, never a burden for anyone else. He recognizes the less-than-truth in her tone. Slowly, he closes the refrigerator door.]

Is there anything I can do to help?

[There's probably not much he cando - but he has to ask all the same, needs to make the offer.]

-- You don't know the way out of this [ fortress? palace? dungeon? ] fleet, do you?

[ because that would help. ]

[Souji gives her a rueful smile as he shakes his head.]

I'm sorry. I don't think there is a way. I don't think any of us would still be here if we had the choice to leave.

It seems so very hard to believe, doesn't it? [ prisons? certainly. but even prisons had people who came and went. ]

[He shrugs.]

I don't know. I guess I'm not a good judge of that - I've seen a lot of things that are probably pretty hard to believe.

You have? [ quiet curiousity. she feeds into it, for fear if she didn't she might have had to talk about herself. ] Things such as what?

[Like an entire world filled with fog inside a television set. Like power, given the form of gods, summoned from deep inside himself. Like a city stationed between Heaven and Hell, populated with demons, divine beings, and every shade of soul in between.

But who would believe something like that.]

... Magic.

[He turns to her with a silly sleight of hand trick he'd shown Nanako once, positions his hands so it appears he's pulling off the top part of his own thumb. Then he gives her a goofy smile and shrugs.]

[ magic. like whispers from across the sea, or well-beyond the wall. like prayers answered, or swords set on fire by exotic enchantment. sansa's breath tightens (and she is well-primed to shake her head) but...

but then the young man plays his trick. and sansa, remembering it from a childhood long-ago when brothers would try to frighten their sister with similar antics, can't help but crack an instinctive smile.

it doesn't last long, but for one brief moment the unsmiling lady had appeared delighted. ] That isn't magic! Not at all. It's chicanery.

[Souji smiles in return, holding up both hands with all fingers extended.]

You're right. It's not magic - not really. Just a trick.

But a good one, all the same.

[ because for all her doubt and skepticism, she recognizes how rude it is to tell a boy his 'magic' can be seen through. ]