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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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.]
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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.
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You're right. It's not magic - not really. Just a trick.
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[ because for all her doubt and skepticism, she recognizes how rude it is to tell a boy his 'magic' can be seen through. ]
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Have you got a very large family?
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I'm an only child. So was she.
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[ and how very lonely. ]
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[Strange? Not so much. Lonely, though ... ]
Do you?
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I do. [ i did, once. ]
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[ it still feels like a trespass to use her proper name, but she must be strong for bran's sake. ]
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[ she doesn't trust it. ]
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[Teamwork, yo. It gets things done.]