» 2nd lemoncake

[steeledskin]

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. ]

Comments

[steeledskin]

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. ]

[theshabbiestofmen]

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.

[steeledskin]

-- Is it taxing?

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

[theshabbiestofmen]

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.

[steeledskin]

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.

[theshabbiestofmen]

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).]

[steeledskin]

[ 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. ]

[theshabbiestofmen]

[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--

[steeledskin]

[ -- 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?

[theshabbiestofmen]

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.

[steeledskin]

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

[theshabbiestofmen]

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.]

[steeledskin]

[ 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?

[theshabbiestofmen]

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.

[steeledskin]

[ cute things. her attention narrows. she just about barely understands the sentiment -- something adorable. and endearing. ]

Little baby birds, mayhaps. [ she suggests. ] Fluttering with all colours.

[theshabbiestofmen]

[He huffs a laugh, pleased at the idea.]

Perfect. That'd be perfect, thank you-- any other ideas?

[steeledskin]

[ -- sansa smiles. egged on. ]

Beautiful dancing figures -- a little magical lady with a magical lord, dancing as elegantly as leaves when they fall.

[theshabbiestofmen]

That I can do right now.

[He gestures with his wand. Colored smoke pours out-- blue, for now, and with another murmured spell they change figures. A lady and a lord, both more silhouettes than detailed figures, who bow to one another. With another flick of his wand they begin moving, gliding together, hands clasped.]

What are your favorite colors?

[steeledskin]

Pink. [ but then, after a moment's consideration: ] And blue, when it's paired with silver. Those are the Stark colours.

[theshabbiestofmen]

[The lady becomes pink; the man blue, streaked with silver. It's not the prettiest of coloring jobs, but on the other hand, the dancers are becoming more graceful as Remus murmurs under his breath. The man spins the lady, her skirts twirling around her, and Remus smiles, terribly pleased with himself.]

[steeledskin]

[ a less guarded girl might have tucked her hands beneath her chin. or might have scooted forward, eager to watch. but sansa is more careful than all that. her body stays stiff, and her fingers stay still. instead, it's her eyes that betray her fascination. they widen -- and they gleam, almost to the point of tears. the dancers are sweet-striped, and beautiful like well-dyed silk.

and the dance! the motions are utterly perfect. sansa can almost hear the music playing.

softly: ] I love dancing. But I've never danced like this.

[ so near and intimate and gentle. westerosi dances are larger affairs, with partners passed and distance kept. palm-to-palm, and little else. ]

[theshabbiestofmen]

[He thinks she's bored at first, her body held so stiffly-- but then she speaks, and he glances up for a few seconds, and understand. His smile grows, and he keeps the figures moving, gliding around one another.]

Nor I. I'm not particularly graceful, god knows. But I wish I could be, at times.

[steeledskin]

No? [ somehow, she'd read grace into him. perhaps it had been the wolf -- a graceful animal to her mind, and she'd projected that virtue onto him. ] Don't you have feasts at Hogwarts? Great dancing balls -- with music and song?

[ how sad that he doesn't dance. and then sansa felt a twitch of self-reproach that she should ever fret over remus's dancing. ]

[theshabbiestofmen]

We've feasts. There's-- not at school, and it's not a ball, but my friends have dragged me to try dancing now and again. I, ah, I'm not very good.

[How do you explain muggle clubs to a girl from medieval times? How do you explain the sheer awkwardness of watching your two far more graceful, far cooler best friends glide around as though they were born to it while you sit and get tipsy? Well, you don't, frankly.]

What about you? I can't imagine you'd be anything but brilliant at dancing.

[steeledskin]

I love it. [ pink cheeks and bright eyes. talking like this, she can almost forget the disastrous dances of late. of harry the heir, and of joffrey back in king's landing. ] I've always loved it. Whenever we had mummers visit Winterfell, I'd...

[ her nose crinkles. she's embarrassed. ] I'd beg my Lord Father not to let them leave. I wanted them to always play their music so I could dance forever.