get your mingle on

[curiositykilledthecats]

Who: SS Huntress and visitors
Broadcast: N
Action: Ship mingle!
When: Time is an illusion

[So, we've been returned to our ships, and they're all different now! Having lower ceilings must suck for those of you who are actually not tiny.]

Comments

[steeledskin]

Even knights require squires and grooms and -- and all sorts. [ ... ] Who stokes the fires? Who lights the candles?

[sinuosity]

That is true. We take turns. What is in Nanda Parbat belongs to all of us, it would be shameful not to assist in maintaining it.

I am my father's heir and thus spared certain duties, but that does not mean I cannot perform them if needed.

[steeledskin]

Before coming here, I was cup-bearer to a great lord. [ her false-father, though she's not prepared to name him as such. ] But even then I had handmaids of my own.

[ alayne had been a bastard daughter, but nobly so. ]

[sinuosity]

Then in this, we differ.

[ Although — ]

If you worry you will not be well-looked after, I'm afraid I cannot assuage your fears. You will see and judge for yourself.

[steeledskin]

[ she'd best curtail this discussion, she decides, before she digs herself a deeper hole of shame. all she can feel is shame when this strong creature questions her.

hesitant: ] Does this have a name? [ she gestures to the pastry between them. ]

[sinuosity]

It is called baklava. From Turkey, a country near where I grew up. I have often visited, but rarely stayed long enough to indulge.

[steeledskin]

Baklava.

[ as with all other foreign words, she tests it out on her tongue. she tastes it like she tastes the food itself -- seeking out its familiar corners, and its unfamiliar snags. sansa finds herself deeply impressed with how the layers flake away. it must be a terribly delicate sort of thing to make: a luxury, she decides. ]

It's sweet. [ ... ] I like it. Thank you for sharing.

[sinuosity]

You are welcome.

​[ She polishes her plate, and then stands, intending to wash it. ]

[steeledskin]

[ muscle memory insists she push her plate away from her, as though to wait for some member of the household to collect it and wash it for her. but then she watches nyssa and -- shamed by their earlier conversation -- she tries to follow suit. it must be noted that sansa doesn't take her plate to the counter out of any conviction that it's the right thing to do (given the choice and given an absence of nyssa's company, she would have happily given the chore to someone else). instead, she feels a squirming anxiety at the thought of disappointing nyssa.

she waits patiently for the sink. she'll wash it because she believes it's what nyssa wants her to do. ]

[sinuosity]

​[ Unaware of Sansa's thought process, Nyssa gives her a brisk nod and an almost-pleased smile at this development, and waits for her to be done before she speaks. ]

I would have the pleasure of your company again. ​[ it's one of those requests that really aren't — Nyssa nearly always expects her way with everything. ] What time tomorrow? Would you like to see my ship?

[steeledskin]

[ the water is soothing on her hands -- even as the strange soap is not. not at all. in the wake of this chore, she feels the skin between her fingers go dry. she focuses on that minor sting when nyssa as good as takes command of sansa's social calendar. and, deep down, sansa doesn't mind one bit: it's easier, having someone else set the bar for what's expected of her.

she nods. ] The same time, if it pleases you. I'll not be late. I promise.

[sinuosity]

[ A pause; Nyssa furrows her brows, then, ]

There is no penalty; there may be unforeseen circumstances that delay one or both of us. I am not familiar with what is expected on this Fleet.

[steeledskin]

I confess -- I've not been here long enough to grow familiar with it, either.

[sinuosity]

Then we will make our plans and hope nothing goes awry.

​[ She inclines her head in a nod. ]

Fare well, Sansa Stark.

[steeledskin]

Seven keep you, Nyssa. [ she bobs into a graceful little curtsy. ] And Seven keep your House, as well.