ʟᴀᴅʏ sᴀɴsᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴋ: ᴀʟᴀʏɴᴇ sᴛᴏɴᴇ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
steeledskin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-10-28 07:04 pm
steeledskin) wrote in driftfleet2015-10-28 07:04 pm
» 1st lemoncake
Who: Sansa StarkAlayne 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. ]
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. ]
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Kurt stands tensely still, a few yards away from the girl, his expression softening in concern. With all the years he's been alive, he's experienced pretty much every kind of reaction on the spectrum. And now here he is, time to react to someone who seems to be afraid of him. It's almost like routine with him to keep his distance and try to be patient. He rubs at his arm nervously as he starts to talk to her.
He tries to keep a soft, calming tone when he speaks, but with hints of light-heartedness breaking through.]
My name's Kurt Wagner... I'm another member of- you know. This fleet!
[Then his shoulders lightly shrug as he smirks.]
Just, um, your friendly neighborhood fuzzball!
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[ disbelief still settles in her voice, as though it's a challenge to think he could be anything but the architect of this tragedy -- and all because he looks different. but because of tano before him, and because of bran's acceptance of the fleet, she offers him the narrowest benefit of her meagre doubt. ]
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[He does a bad three-fingered attempt at a Vulcan salute, smiling meekly.]
I come in peace.
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she stands in place, wringing her hands together. ] This place is an inconvenient sort of cage.
[ utter understatement. ]
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He lowers his hand and shuffles a little awkwardly, taking a step back.]
Um... Right. That's one way of putting it! But at least... as far as cages go, it could be a lot smaller?
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[ cages. after all, he's an animal. isn't he? the frightened young woman can't think far beyond her own safety, at the moment. her selfishness, which can border upon cruelty, was forged in sorrow. forged in pain. she can't be kind (she fears) until she understands her own security in these strange lands. ]
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Smaller than an entire spaceship? Yeah! But it sounds like you're thinking even smaller than I'm familiar with...
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[ except she's lying, of course. something about his appearance and colouring makes it easy for her to imagine him in a much much smaller cage -- if only because she realized such a cage would have been precisely his fate should he have found himself in king's landing. oh, what a prize the king would have made of him.
she tries to recover, albeit stiffly: ] You said your name was Wagner?
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Kurt Wagner.
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Sansa - hey. Um... good to meet you. [Not exactly good, but he's trying to be patient with her??] You related to those famous Starks?
[He subtly edges a little closer. Because maybe this topic will help them relate to each other better!]
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all she can do is swallow and nod and say: ] Y-yes. I suppose I am. [ ... ] I'm sorry.
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So he looked baffled and raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.]
Sorry? [He gives a simple shrug, and he decides to clarify:] I have no beef.
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And people tell so many rumours, don't they?
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Yeah! That Stark guy's always all over the tabloids.
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L-lord Eddard? [ simply saying his name pains her. ]
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