driftfleet | 001 || video + action

Entry tags:

001 || video + action

Who: Jon Snow and you!
Broadcast: Fleet-wide video, whoops.
Action: Marsiva
When: Present.

[video/action]

[He doesn't feel the fourth knife go in, the cold and the dark already rushing in to claim him. He's not expecting to open his eyes again--he's not really expecting much of anything at all--which makes it a shock when he does. Enough of one, in fact, that the very first thing he does is fall off his cot.

That'll make a great impression on any viewers watching. But right now, Jon Snow doesn't care about that, doesn't know about that, he's looking down at himself in shock--he was stabbed, he remembers that, he remembers the dagger in his belly and in his back and the cold, it had been so cold, but now he's here and it's as though they never were.

He's breathing again. That's--That's also unexpected. Calm down, Snow. You're lucky enough to breathe again.]

Ghost? [It takes him a moment to remember that, right--he left Ghost behind. It feels as if a part of him's been cut off from him, leaving the rest of him adrift and confused. He breathes in, out. All right, he's breathing. He'll deal with the rest of the panic and the rage later, and that growing feeling of being watched, for now he staggers to his feet, clearly still a little dazed, and looks around.] Where am I?

[This is more of a muttered question to himself, rather than one posed to the network, because then he stands up, clearly resolved to do some exploring.]

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[She watches him, realizing he probably doesn't know he's being recorded, but as there's not much to pass the time, she responds to his question.]

The Marsiva. It's a ship.

[Holy shit--okay, you know what, he can roll with this, he's. He's rolled with worse, and why not, he's just woken up on what's apparently a ship and there is a woman talking to him through--whatever this is.

It's all fine.]

It's not like any ship I've ever seen, then. [His tone is carefully guarded, though, and he's tensed up to answer.] I've no memory of boarding it, nor of even asking for a ship. And certainly not one like the Marsiva.

We don't choose this. It chooses us. They got me about a week ago. Everyone you talk to is going to be someone who was abducted. The people behind it don't show themselves.

[Well, that's encouraging.]

Say that I believe you. [Which he doesn't, not yet, not until he has more information at hand. And that's obvious enough from the cautious, guarded way he holds himself, not quite trusting, not yet.] What would they stand to gain from abducting us? Why won't they show themselves? [Cowards.]

[She hadn't believed anyone for awhile the first time she arrived in a place like this. It's a lot easier the second time around at least in some ways. She'd be more confused by instant trust unless it wasn't his first experience.]

From what I've heard we're now on a reality show. [And since that was only barely a thing on her world before civilization kind of collapsed...] So, everything we're doing is being recorded and shown to people for entertainment. Which is not exactly fun to think about.

I'm hoping the fact they won't come out to play means they'd be vulnerable to attack if they did. [Which is at least a little promising.]

[He raises an eyebrow. A--reality show. He has very little clue what that is, but he can get the gist of it from what she's telling him. He does not like it one bit.]

I must admit, I don't see the entertainment in it either. [Can't you guys have jousts and melees and hella expensive tournaments like normal people, gosh. He allows a wry smile.] I'm not particularly entertaining.

[A huff.] With what, if they do? Is there an armory on this ship that I haven't seen yet? [Because he doesn't have Longclaw with him and he's kind of peeved about that too.]

Well, you did fall out of your cot. That was probably goof for a few laughs somewhere. [She smiles a bit, but doesn't laugh herself.

Then he gets a shrug.] It's best to be your own weapon anyway. [Of course the guy who taught her to fight had built in adamantium claws so easy for him to say.] After that, your surroundings can be pretty effective if you think fast. [Almost like she's talking to one of her former students.] And we have a lot of time to ourselves here, so we can always make some too.

Jon!

[The shout coming from the communicator is urgent and excited, loud enough to make the tiny speakers go static for a moment. It's been more than a year since Bran's heard that voice, and he's suddenly desperate to get to the Marsiva by any means possible - an unfortunate impossibility.

Finally, one by one, after so many months alone, Atroma is making his wish come true.]

Jon, can you hear me? Jon!

[How many more lost souls could the fleet hold? A question for another time and perhaps for someone who could answer her better than this one. All the same she can't help but laugh a bit at how graceful he is - or lack there of. Dany might not be wearing her well made gown, trading it for the standard issue clothes they are given upon arrival to the ship they are spirited away to, but the white-blonde hair and violet eyes were unmistakable to anyone familiar with Westerosi history.]

I don't believe any of us are ghosts.

[She misunderstands, unfortunately, not knowing what he's calling for.]

I expect someone has answered your questions by now? Or perhaps you have more?

[ Theon watches Jon for a moment. He looks older and Theon remembers, and there's shock on his face that he can't recall seeing before. It almost, almost makes him reconsider his response: ]

You're just as stupid as ever, Snow.

[ But you know, he doesn't feel too bad about it. ]

[His graceful exit from his cot makes Ciri laugh a little, but then to see him so out of sorts makes her reel in her amusement.]

You're no ghost. [Is that what he meant? Who knows.] Are you all right? That was an impressive tumble.

[After a talk with Kitty, Jon's a bit less fumbly with his communicator, but--he knows that voice. He knows that face, and for a moment he's stunned, before he fumbles again.]

Bran? Yes, I can hear you, how--how are you here? [How are you not dead--]

[ Somewhere behind Jon, a girl in her mid-teens with red hair and bright green eyes smiles. ] Don't worry, I did the exact same thing when I woke up here.

Welcome to the Marsiva.

I wasn't speaking to you, my lady. [Yeah, that's a Targaryen. Jon's heard enough stories about them that he's more than a little wary of speaking to this one, but at the same time there's a little awe there as well. All he knows about them, after all, are stories.] It was a slip of the tongue, that's all.

Someone's answered most of them, but aye, I've a few more to ask.

[Oh.

It's Theon.]

And you're just as much of an ass as ever, Greyjoy.

[Real mature, you two.]

[Bran grins, his enthusiasm bright and genuine. He hasn't picked up on anything wrong in Jon's tone - for a moment, he forgets that his family thinks him dead.]

The Atroma. They brought me here, and Robb and Sansa as well. Everyone says it isn't magic, but I'm not sure that I believe them.

Edited (AND THEN I MESSED UP THE HTML) 2016-02-10 04:38 (UTC)

I'm well aware of that now, it was just--a slip of the tongue. [It's not even a lie, it's just--not the whole truth. He's still wary of most people he's talking to, but at least he's talking to them.] Aye, I'm fine, save my pride.

[Why'd people have to see that, jeez, now he'll never get any street cred.]

Everyone is a little rattled, finding themselves here. Or there, I should say, on the Marsiva.

[She was more upset and frustrated than startled, but it's all in the general category. Talking to people has helped.]

What's your name?

[He's managed to calm down a little more since waking up, so the girl doesn't quite shock him as much as she would've had she talked to him earlier. He turns.]

That's a small comfort. [His tone is dry as dust, and he's still a little wary, as if he isn't willing to trust someone right off the bat, but he does give a small, wry smile.] It doesn't seem a very welcoming place to me.

It was emptier when I woke up. But if more of us keep showing up, then I'm sure we can make it very welcoming.

I know I'll be trying my best!

Then I stand corrected.

[Which is true, but:] Aye, but I'd feel better with a sword in hand. [And maybe it's how she's talking to him, like she's talking to someone much younger than her, but his words come out a little sullen. Just a little, though, because then he's right back to sounding much more mature than someone of his age ought to be:] Do you know anyone who can make some, then? Is there a forge on this ship?

[Which sounds preposterous now that it's out of his mouth, but hey, Jon's pretty sure he's supposed to be dead. He's just rolling with the punches now.]

[The names hit him a knife to the gut--and Jon should know, he's been stabbed there very recently. He sits down on his cot once more, clearly shaken up by this--Robb's here. Bran's here. Sansa's here. His family is here, and not for the first time, he wonders if this isn't some kind of--of afterlife. But if so, where's their father?]

Bran, I--

[Bran died before Robb did, didn't he?]

There's. There's something you should know, about what happened in Westeros after you-- [died, Robb's dead, and the last thing I remember I'd just been stabbed--]

We have to talk.

[She was largely socialized with adults, doing adult things at un-adult ages until she was finally training the next generation who were only a few years younger. She gets a little out of hand sometimes.]

An actual forge? [You probably think it's a sailing ship too, don't you? That's unfortunate.] I'm going to go with no, but maybe something can be improvised just to get to the right heat. [She can science.] More about safety after that. [Or just someone with an appropriate power.] I wouldn't mind rebuilding my claws.

[Jon's got a reputation for knowing nothing, but the thing is, he's a quick learner, and an observant person as well.]

Where are you, then, if not on the Marsiva?

[A moment's pause, before:] Jon Snow, my lady. [Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, though he's not too sure if it applies now that he's dead. He's pretty sure he's dead, anyway.] Yours?

[No, not now, Bran wants to say. Not when we've just been reunited. This should be a happy moment, not one clouded by the grief and regret of more bad news. Jon is safe and alive at the Wall, and all Bran wants to do is listen to his stories and feel the broad-shouldered safety of his presence.

But they are all men here, and he has a duty.]

What must you tell me?

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