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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. ]

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[ happiest king alive. there is a tightening in her throat, but she says nothing. barely even has the chance to bid him well before the feed disconnects and she's left reeling -- uncertain, and feeling grey.

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.

[Robb knows there are a lot of unspoken words between Sansa and him. And he is not sure if he could ever get them out of his mouth to begin with.

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?

Edited (wait wrong icon) 2016-04-17 13:00 (UTC)

We have little else in the way of diversions. [ sansa admires his boots -- but is also quick to take her brother's arm, and be walked escorted down the hall. ] The network, as they call it, can hold one's attention only for so long before it all begins to sound like gossip.

[Robb is glad to offer her his arm.] Aye, I have heard of this network. A cesspool of gossip and slander if you ask me. [He shakes his head and utters a soft 'tsk, tsk, tsk' afterwards.]

But do you truly mislike gossip, Sansa?

[ her answer is rather coy: ]

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. ]

Edited 2016-04-17 18:15 (UTC)

You have the truth of that, my lady. [Robb nods semi-seriously.] A proper lady should busy herself with needle work all day. [He chuckles at his own jape and flashes his sister a wide grin.]

And how is that needle work coming along?

It goes well -- [ she breathes out her answer. grateful, truly, for a hobby that keeps her centered and calm. but his question reminds her.

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.

If only your septa could see you now. [But that septa is probably dead. Just like everyone at Winterfell and Robb cannot help those bitter thoughts from getting through inside his head.] Champion of needle work.

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.

[ indeed, she'd seen septa mordane's head on a pike -- next to their lord father's. but she says nothing and smiles instead through the pang of sadness. she needn't trouble her champion with silly old wounds. they're here now; they're together. and some day her septa might join them. ]

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. ]

[His thoughts keep lingering there. At all of those people who surrounded him when he grew up. The girls’ septa, ser Rodrik, maester Luwin, their kennel master and his little daughter Jeyne Poole, Old Nan. Would they all be dead? Burned to death or trapped inside that bloody Lannister nest called King’s Landing?

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.

[ an under shirt! to a dance? sansa doesn't hide her disdain. her nose wrinkles and she gives her head a little shake -- and why not? she's less afraid of showing her moods to her brothers. they accept her as she is. ]

A good coat would be better. Kings don't wear under shirts to lovely dances, do they?

[Well, Robb never really got to pick his own clothes. At least, not until he became king and even then his mother meddled with his choice of clothes. He was not one for silks or anything like that but when he was younger he did like it to wear his more formal attire. The one made in the grey and white colors of house Stark.]

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?

[ curious, because she hasn't dared to visit: ] Have they no markets on this poor unfortunate moon? Mayhaps they have tailors and seamstresses there. They must have something.

They have. [Robb pats the sword he is carrying.] I managed to purchase this sword. [He lowers his voice a little to a whisper.] It feels much better to walk around and feel the weight of a sword on my hip.

Haven’t you been there yet, Sansa?

[ she gives her head a quick and certain shake. ]

No -- I don't care for the masks.

I do not like them either. But if we would not wear them we would die. I can imagine that you wish to stay inside.

[He likes that best, to be honest.]

But if you wish to visit the market, we can go together, wearing those uncomfortable masks.

I could go. [ she hesitates, as though this is the moment before a large leap. ] With you, mayhaps. Yes. Much better than going alone.

I will be glad to take you along. [Robb sounds enthusiastic.] And I would not like it if you would go without anyone near. It is not a safe place.

And you know I am not that knowledgeable about silks and fabrics.

How did you ever marry, Robb, without it! Don't tell me you wore armour to your wedding -- [ her teasing has a sad edge to it. perhaps his lady wife chose his clothes for him.

how tragic. ]

Well, I did not wear my best clothes. [There is no place for pretty clothes when being part of a siege.] But I donned my crown and I polished some parts of my armor. [He remembers it has been a rather quick wedding. One that had startled his lady mother and his goodfamily alike.]

I looked quite...kingly. [And still a bit pale as well.] If you get to meet Jeyne she will tell you as well.

[ as politely as she can muster: ] I am sad to have missed it. Truly. In King's Landing, I tried to imagine your lady wife. Was it a very good wedding, Robb?

[ -- she swallows hard, refusing to think of other weddings. ]

She has brown curls and a sweet face. And she is terribly kind. [Their lady mother said she had child birthing hips. Yet the children did not come and at times her could not help fearing that she might be unable to get them at all.] You would love her when you will meet her. [He speaks with a fond tone in his voice.]

It was a small wedding. We did not have a proper feast either.

Edited (html fail) 2016-05-12 16:56 (UTC)

[ sansa rather doubts she would love her brother's lady wife -- not because of any defect of jeyne's, but because of what their marriage caused in the longest run. but for now, she smiles. she nods. ]

Did you dance, at least?

Well, we have...but not at the wedding. [It was a fast and sudden wedding. A rather rash decision borne from a wish to protect Jeyne’s honor.] It went rather quick. We had to leave back for Riverrun after claiming the Crag. We had to inform house Frey... [And that has been harsh and he remembers how Black Walder glared at him, not even to speak of the other men.]

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