driftfleet | » 2nd lemoncake

Entry tags:

» 2nd lemoncake

Who: Sansa Stark and anyone.
Broadcast: Video. Fleetwide.
Action: Find her on the Blue Fish, if you like.
When: Midday.

[ by all accounts, sansa stark has survived. she now lives on an armoured ship. her brothers are nearby -- alongside one brother's devoted friends, who have all been more kind to her kin than she can put to words. although nothing so much as approaches normal, she's beginning to feel settled. stability creeps in from the corners.

and this allows her to ask a question of her fleetmates: ] Is there any means by which I might find spare cloth and thread? And needles, too, of course. The ships give us so much, but I'm not certain -- [ not certain they can give me these. she does not understand their magic, nor the purchasing power of her device. ]

I like to embroider. I should like to do it again, if I could. [ but without a handmaiden to bid fetch these things, she doesn't know how to begin. perhaps it's as simple as looking in the correct spot -- but she was never raised to procure or purchase anything in her life. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

All right. I'll be over soon, just as soon as I find my wand.

[James likely has it. It only takes Remus a moment or two to locate it-- and then Remus is coming over, blinking as the transporter brings him.]

Sansa?

[ she waits for him -- by the cargo bay, and with her hands folded in front of her. upon his arrival, she curtsies. not too deeply -- yet still in earnest. this is their first meeting eye-to-eye, after all. and the fact that she has not requested that a brother be present alongside them is an unspoken honour. ]

Welcome to the Blue Fish, Remus.

Thank you.

[He offers her half a smile. She still seems so skittish, so fearful, he doesn't want to make a wrong move. Gently he tugs out his wand.]

Ah-- a needle or a bit of show-offy magic first? Your choice.

[ the girlish, resilient part of her is drawn towards the magic. she seems struck with indecision, before: ]

Be spectacular, Remus. Please.

[He huffs a laugh-- not at her, exactly, just amused by the wording. Spectacular, well, he can do that.

The Patronus charm is difficult, but not as difficult as it once was. It's vital to master it when you're a member of the Order of the Phoenix, when communication relies on it; he's gotten quite good at digging into himself for happy memories even when at his most miserable. Today it's something from school-- Sirius, sixth year, slipping him chocolate the day after final exams, the day after one of his transformations. You shouldn't have gone, he'd protested, you're busy enough with school, and Sirius had simply laughed. You're more important than school, and it's stupid, so stupid that something like that had made him light up, but--]

Expecto patronum.

[He murmurs it beside her, his eyes trained on the ground. A flash of silvery light-- and a wolf appears, conjured out of silver mist. It's large, large enough to be mistaken for a direwolf, and silent as it stands diligently before them. Intelligent eyes stare up at them both, waiting patient for whatever comes next.]

My patronus. I suppose you could call it my . . . what form my soul takes. Everyone's is different.

[ it's more than magic; it's beauty, too. like something from a dream-scape. ethereal and silvered and reminiscent of moonlight. or of stars shimmering on early winter frost. his soul is so beautiful it makes her ache.

instinct takes over, and sansa holds out an empty palm. ]

He's -- your soul is very well behaved. [ she whispers.

i wonder what my soul is. ]

[They breathe the same, Remus and his patronus. Chest rising and falling in tandem, though the wolf is entirely silent. It's easy to imagine his nails clicking on the metal floor, though, as he comes forward, pressing up against Sansa. Her hand goes through him, but that's no bother to him, clearly-- his ears flick and tail thumps in clear pleasure.]

I used to hate what he was. But I suppose you can't change your nature.

Why?

[ she sounds stricken -- and raw, because her delight in the patronus has stripped her guard and her emotions are genuine ones. although she can't feel the soul beneath her fingertips, she continues to pet him. ]

It . . . alludes to parts of myself I've struggled with for all my life.

[He says it softly. He knows well the awe a patronus can inspire (though he doesn't quite realize why this one in particular strikes her so deeply). The wolf leans into her touch, pressing against her as her fingers glide through his fur.]

But he's mine, for better or worse.

Wolves are not the friendliest of beasts -- [ she admits, wondering whether his struggle rests with the savagery of an animal so deeply tied to his soul. sansa's 'touch' (for want of a better word) is light, and delicate. her fingers dance through the air, and she quickly learns how to pet the patronus without sinking her fingers into its being. ] But they are fierce. And so noble. They protect what's theirs.

You ought to be proud of him.

I'm trying to learn.

[No, he's not. Not really. But as he can't explain why he hates his form, not without overwhelming her, so he keeps it to himself. She'll learn soon enough, once he announces it to the fleet.]

My mother . . . she always tried to teach me to like myself more. If nothing but for her memory, I try.

I'm sorry. [ sansa breathes an apology. but for what? perhaps because his sentence suggests loss -- and she can sympathize with loss. and it worries her that he says he tries to like himself better. when, in her mind, she sees a young man who is quite likable. ]

It's all right. It's been a few months, I--

[He doesn't want to think of her right now. Sensing his distress, the patronus flickers; Remus' mouth tightens, and he forces his thoughts away.]

Sorry. The charm doesn't stay if you don't keep your mind focused.

-- Is it taxing?

[ she withdraws her hand. she doesn't want to be inconvenient. her entertainment shouldn't cost someone their concentration. ]

A little. It's more-- I have to think of something happy to sustain it, so if my mind wanders, it's difficult to keep it up. But it's not as if I tire out that easily.

[Still, though, he lets the wolf dissipate.]

Right: a bolt into a needle. Or-- well, I don't suppose you have a scrap of anything-- even garbage will do, honestly. Just something you wouldn't mind losing.

Bran has all sorts of little metal bits he works with. [ she scrunches up her nose. she doesn't know how she feels about all that sort of work. ] I could ask for a piece. And while I did, you ought to make yourself comfortable in our kitchen.

Yes ma'am.

[He smiles at her, showing he was just teasing-- but he also goes to the kitchen, sitting amiably. As he waits, he plays with the wand, murmuring to himself. Little wisps of color and sparks emerge as he does. (He's trying to invent a spell, and that's the truth-- but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't working on it now for her benefit).]

[ she finds a humble bolt. and she hopes (chewing at her bottom lip) that bran will not miss it. sansa hesitates for a while beside her brother's workstation before she decides he would likely indulge her this much, and she can explain it better at dinner. so (bolt in hand) she hurries back to where she left ser remus.

her steps are whisper-quiet. silk on steel. when she returns, she can watch him work from the doorway.

she doesn't want to interrupt. ]

[It's supposed to be a clever spell, something to conjure up butterflies of all colors-- he's never been good at things like that, but with more and more people asking to see his magic, it'd be nice to have a showy spell to fall back on. But spell creation is hard, and he's not good at this sort of stuff-- but for her, he'll try.

Try. Not succeed. After a few minutes, a loud bang sounds, and Remus coughs as colored smoke issues out of his wand instead.]

Ahh, shit--

[ -- if his strong language perturbs her, then she doesn't show it. the hound has said worse and she's endured it. lothar brune, too, has a foul mouth on him. sansa pretends like she didn't hear it, and strides back into the room.

if her fingers tremble, it's only because the bang spooked her. but she doesn't want to show it. ] Is something the matter?

I-- sorry, no--

[He sets the wand down, twisting to see her.]

I was trying to invent a spell. It's tricky work, and I'm not so clever with spells like that.

I never realized they could be invented. [ she rolls the metal bolt between two fingers, and the action helps to keep her calm. ]

Oh, yes. Much as science advances and inventions are made, magic marches on. I've not much talent with it, but-- one tries one's best. Here, come sit--

[He scoots the chair over, as if that might encourage her.]

[ someone else, and she might have refused. but not only is remus an ally, but sansa is aboard her own ship. she feels enough at ease to nod -- be eager, almost -- to take a seat. but she sits across from him. ]

What were you trying to make?

A spell to conjure some-- you know-- cute things. There's a fair few children here, and I thought it might be easier if I had something directly on-hand. I can do cutesy things, but it takes a few spells to get it all together-- one for colors, one for shapes, one to animate them, et cetera.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject