ʟᴀᴅʏ sᴀɴsᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴋ: ᴀʟᴀʏɴᴇ sᴛᴏɴᴇ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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driftfleet2016-04-13 03:52 pm
steeledskin) wrote in driftfleet2016-04-13 03:52 pm
Entry tags:
» 4th lemoncake
Who: sansa stark and you!!
Broadcast: video -- fleetwide
Action: blue fish and iskaulit
When: today
Fellow travelers, [ how else is she meant to greet them?
today, the network flickers to life and its image frames sansa's face with an almost rehearsed precision. by now, the last licks of dye have left her hair. she is fully auburn once again -- and the rich copper strands, a colour inherited from her mother, are carefully braided and arranged in a style that would have taken time even with a helping hand. how long did it take her alone, one wonders? and she's wearing silk, to boot. ]
Begging your pardons -- but has anyone ever found lemons at any of our stops? Any of the way-stations? [ all this polish for such a childish, innocent question. ] At first, I was grateful enough for the false lemon flavours the Atroma give us -- but just once, I'd like to taste the real thing again.
[ she seems about to end the feed, but: ] Or if anyone has any lemons in their pantry, I would pay for a few. I have some credits put by -- [ sheepish, because it isn't her place to be discussing coin. ] Or mayhaps I could barter with some embroidery. My stitches are very neat. I promise.
[ otherwise, member of the blue fish could find her in her quarters while working quietly. at a later hour, she finally does something bold and takes a shuttle (all alone!) to the iskaulit, where she searches out the gardens. she wants to see green again. she wants to dream of summer. sansa crouches to touch a leaf -- heedless of the way her silk trails on the garden's ground floor. ]
Broadcast: video -- fleetwide
Action: blue fish and iskaulit
When: today
Fellow travelers, [ how else is she meant to greet them?
today, the network flickers to life and its image frames sansa's face with an almost rehearsed precision. by now, the last licks of dye have left her hair. she is fully auburn once again -- and the rich copper strands, a colour inherited from her mother, are carefully braided and arranged in a style that would have taken time even with a helping hand. how long did it take her alone, one wonders? and she's wearing silk, to boot. ]
Begging your pardons -- but has anyone ever found lemons at any of our stops? Any of the way-stations? [ all this polish for such a childish, innocent question. ] At first, I was grateful enough for the false lemon flavours the Atroma give us -- but just once, I'd like to taste the real thing again.
[ she seems about to end the feed, but: ] Or if anyone has any lemons in their pantry, I would pay for a few. I have some credits put by -- [ sheepish, because it isn't her place to be discussing coin. ] Or mayhaps I could barter with some embroidery. My stitches are very neat. I promise.
[ otherwise, member of the blue fish could find her in her quarters while working quietly. at a later hour, she finally does something bold and takes a shuttle (all alone!) to the iskaulit, where she searches out the gardens. she wants to see green again. she wants to dream of summer. sansa crouches to touch a leaf -- heedless of the way her silk trails on the garden's ground floor. ]
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[Robb cannot even bake an egg. But he is sure they can solve this mystery together.]
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for that matter, is it even appropriate that she should try her hand at cooking beyond the casual lesson beverley gave them. ]
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Indeed, I have a crown but I also have a pair of hands. And thank the gods I have not lost them during the war.
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[ at first blush, her tone is almost a censure. hushed and worried. except there is a wicked gleam in the back of her eye -- one that hints at a more cutting reason to discuss the dead king at all. sansa had lived many of these moments in king's landing -- saying one thing, but meaning another in her heart. most often, she used this way of speaking to hide her heartfelt praise for her dear brother and his crusade. ]
I doubt he knew what flour looks like before it was baked into his pigeon pies.
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Joffrey. Sweet sister, are you comparing me to that craven? What have I done to deserve that? [The tone of his voice is light as he says that and he keeps on chuckling.
He has done enough to deserve that, though.]
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[ not a hard competition to win, to be honest. ]
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Somewhere in the back of his head some cruel voice tells him that he has no right to be any sort of champion. A real champion would protect his family no matter what. Still, at this point he does not allow himself to think like that. It is far too much fun to jape and laugh with his sister.]
Would you allow your champion to help then? Even though I cannot guarantee if I am just as much of a champion in the kitchen as I am on the battlefield.
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I will allow it, your grace. [ it's said lightly, now. not with gravitas or discipline. ]
voice -> action
[After that he disconnects, changes into simpler clothes meant for simpler things and heads out to to find Sansa.]
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but she knows he's on his way so she sets aside her embroidery and her needles so she can meet him in the hallway outside her bedroom door. she is a stiff statue, hands folded against her stomach. ]
You understand, [ she hails him when she sees him -- and tries to recapture some of the fun of their earlier conversation. ] Our quest may end in disaster.
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She is already waiting for him when he arrives and her remark makes him laugh.]
I have no worries, my lady. I am wearing my lucky boots. [To emphasize exactly how lucky those boots are he raises one of his legs to show her.]
Off to the kitchen, I take?
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But do you truly mislike gossip, Sansa?
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I am meant to censure it aloud, your grace. For it isn't kind or gracious for a lady to entertain herself with eavesdropped conversations.
[ -- but outside of what's said aloud, she clearly laps up every stray reaction and conversation. be careful, fleet. sansa is prone to reading the unfiltered conversations of others. ]
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And how is that needle work coming along?
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as they turn a hallway corner, she taps out an insistent tattoo upon his elbow. ] I heard there's to be a celebration down on the moon. A-are you going? I should embroider any tunics or shirts or jackets you want to wear. They give us such dull clothing.
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Ah... [Robb nods.] ...I have heard of it. Isn’t it odd? To have a feast at a place that is...poisoned? I like it not. [Not the feast, Robb does not mind feasts at all...]
What would you put on them? [It would be quite nice to have some direwolves sewed upon his clothes.] I was thinking...well, a direwolf. At the least.
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In silver and blue, [ she breathes the words. ] I have thread for it. And a little trail of beautiful snowflakes along the cuffs. [ she nods, feeling enthused. ]
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Sadness crosses his face before he focuses on the words coming from his sister’s mouth.]
Ah! I would like that. [Robb nods firmly.] What clothes should I give you? I do not have anything formal. Mayhaps one of my under shirts. It is dark and has long sleeves. I could wear my breeches with that. And my boots.
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A good coat would be better. Kings don't wear under shirts to lovely dances, do they?
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If you know where I am able to get such a coat I will wear it. Otherwise I will attend the feast in my under shirt. [Oh, and by the way.] If you would put your needlework on it, it will look less like an undershirt, not?
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Haven’t you been there yet, Sansa?
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