driftfleet | [closed]

Entry tags:

[closed]

Who: Robb & Hermione
Broadcast: nope
Action: In a bar at one of the indoor areas
When: A day after Robb has fought with Theon (a bit backdated)

Actually, Robbs plan was to stay inside the Blue Fish for the rest of the day. But sometimes even his plans do not work out. Not that he is ashamed of his swollen cheek or the rash in his neck he is scratching at, but, well...he rather would have kept such things safe between the four iron walls of his chambers.

He is sitting in a small bar with the sword he just purchased in front of him. It isn't much of a weapon. Very light and it probably would not last long in a battle but at least it is a sword. And it is already his second glass of soda pop but it still amazes him when it prickles on his tongue when he takes a sip. Despite the fact he has found a sword and is drinking something quite amazing the look on his face is a serious one. The look in his eyes is a little distant and it seems he is slowly sinking away in his own thoughts.

It worries him that he has not been able to speak to his brother yet and the constant clashes they have about everything do not make it any better. He absolutely does not notice that the lady Granger has approached him and is talking to him. Robb seems to be very busy with staring at a non-existent point on the table.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If she's being honest, Hermione can admit that she's getting a little tired of the moon and all of the things that come hand in hand with it. The poison is more of a pain than it had been at the beginning and now that she has most of the supplies she had thought she had needed for Remus and her plans to attempt to make potions she found her patience wearing thin. It was frustrating, she thinks, to walking out and see people play fighting or stepping around with more and more elaborate masks, even if she wanted to enjoy herself. It just made her want to get out as quickly as she could.

Still, there was still reason to explore and she did her best to wander around and take it in and gather all the things she could. At least now she had enough Wolfsbane to last her for quite a few months and, hopefully, she'll be able to get some more if they stop at another port - and she didn't even need to spend all that many credits (even though it seemed like the drama of the last few weeks was more than enough to leave her not having to worry too much about money for now. Thank you, Charles Xavier, she supposed.)

When she spots Robb in a bar, though, she frowns - mostly because he doesn't look happy. Uncomfortable at the idea of him sitting alone and not having any kind of comfort, Hermione is quick to make her way through and step around people, reaching out a hand to rest it on Robb's shoulder when calling his name doesn't seem to get the attention she wanted.

"Robb? Is everything alright?"

There are times when he thinks of home. Not the way his home is now, with his family scattered all over Westeros and with Winterfell burned to the ground. But before that. When his lord father still lived and everything was peaceful. He should have known that such things do not hold for long. And while the lady Granger approaches him he imagines how it was to play lord of Winterfell with Jon, how they had been running between the fallen leaves or pushed one another into the hot springs in the Godswood. He clenches his hands to fists a little, realizing how much he wants this back and realizing even more that he will never be able to get that back.

The thoughts disappear the second she places a hand on his shoulder. He sits up straight and blinks before turning halfway to look at her.

“Ah, I did not see you coming, my lady.” He did not see or hear much, to be honest. “Worry not, I got caught up in thoughts.” Robb pauses just a couple of seconds before he turns fully to her, looking far more present than he did just yet.

“Do you wish to join me? I am drinking glasses of soda. It is a drink that prickles inside your mouth.”

There's more concern that shows on her face when he turns to her - because she knows people like Robb, and she knew Robb. Robb Stark that had hid his pain from her, that had suffered a curse that she herself shared and mentioned no word of it so she wouldn't worry, that wanted to do his work and his duty without complaint. She knows him and she knows this man, too, and her heart hurts a little with worry as her eyes flicker over his face. She'll get to the bottom of it eventually, but for now she can play pretend and sit with a friend.

"I've had it before, when I was a little girl in my world. It's amazing, isn't it?" And it's been years since she had any hint of it. Careful, she slips to sit down beside him, catching the bartender's eye and getting her own drink, all with a smile and a gentle expression. They are strangers still, those of them visiting this planet from the fleet, and she sees no reason why she ought to make anyone nervous or uneasy.

"Are you sure everything is going okay?" There's a pause, a moment where she wonders if she even should be pushing, if their friendship had gotten to the point where she was allowed, but her determination was evenly matched by her stubbornness. "You don't have to tell me if there is, my lord, but if you wanted to I wouldn't mind listening. That's what friends are for."

And she means that, too. Robb - this Robb - is her friend, a dear friend. She's going to stand by his side even if he never tells her what thoughts he's been traipsing through.

Robb has never really talked about his feelings or mentioned how he truly felt. At times he told his lady mother but most of the time he rather keeps everything inside of him. What would his men think when they’d saw him weep like a little boy? What would his men think if they’d see him doubt or waver? They would lose faith and his army would crumble apart. And it is not his wish to burden others with the things that bother him.

“It is, lady Granger.” His smile brightens a little. “I believe there are different sorts of these drinks. This one here vaguely reminds me of lemons. Very sweet ones.”

When she slides into the chair across of him he shifts as well and removes the sword from the table. It would be terribly rude to leave weapons on the table when sharing it with a lady. A sorcerer-lady but still a lady.
Robb figures that he is easy to read when she asks him about his wellbeing again. It probably is that nasty rash in his neck and the bruise on his cheek. For a short moment he considers her words, thinking about what he should tell her.

“At times things are not going the way they should go. But I believe everyone has such moments, not?” He pauses and glances at his glass. “And I do not wish to trouble you with what troubles me.” The smile comes a bit slower than he wants it to. “This place is already quite troublesome, don’t you think?”

Hermione isn't particularly offended by the sword - she's used to having her own, after all, and she feels that familiar pang of longing as she thinks about what's been stolen from her - but she understands Robb's politeness. There are some things that never change, and the nature you grow up with is one of the foundations of what makes you who you are. It's because of this that she doesn't say a word, just smiling as he takes the sword down to one side and lets him have his polite nature.

"Oh!" She brightens, leaning forward to look at the drink. It's clear, and with the bubbles - she beams, settling back in her chair and tilting her head to look at Robb. "I think that must be some kind of lemonade. They mix a sort of lemon juice with a bit of soda water, or something like it, and it makes a lemon drink that's fizzy. That's how they were made in my world."

She's careful when he continues, her eyes dancing over his features and she frowns. She's not sure what she should say now, because she doesn't want to push and be rude, or act as if she's some kind of fountain of knowledge - she's not, she's more confused half the time than she likes to let on - but she wants to do something. It doesn't feel right, not trying her best to help somehow.

"That's true. Sometimes things can feel almost impossible, but that's what you have friends for." Hermione's smile is soft and fond, and she reaches out to let her hand rest on his for a moment. "The moon is awful, and, yes, troublesome, but that's alright. Sharing what bothers you isn't a bad thing, and I don't mind listening if you want to get it off your chest. I promise."

“That might be the same as it is here.” Robb is quite sure that they don’t have something like this in Westeros. Okay, mayhaps in King’s Landing but it could very well be that it would cost quite some coin to actually get it. “So the soda water is the reason why they call it soda? And I do not entirely know if they have this in Westeros.”

Then there is a sudden silence and he gazes a little at her, a small smile around his lips. He does not want to bother her with all his troubles. Talking would not solve anything and Bran still would be a warg.

“It is not common for me to speak of my worries to others.” Others that aren’t his mother or his wife. And even his wife did not know much about the worries of her husband. “Even those close to me... A king should be able to solve his own problems, don’t you think?” He laughs a little and straightens his back. Robb does contemplate her words and he does think about it. Would it be liberating to talk? Talking does not solve much. It never has solved much for him.

But this is not Westeros and he is not inside Riverrun.

“It is my brother. Bran.” Robb figures he does not want to tell lady Granger of the constant guilt he feels. That he cannot look at his sister properly without reminding himself of how much he has failed her. And after speaking those words he falls silent again, the look on his face becoming more distant.

"I'm not sure if they'd figured out the science of it in worlds a little less advanced than this one," Hermione admits, quiet and sure. "The wizards in my world didn't really have much in the way of a fizzy drinks, but maybe that's because they didn't really like it all that much. I know that too much of it can be bad for your teeth, though, because of how much sugar is in it, so be careful, alright?" Her parents were dentists and Hermione had been lectured on taking care of her teeth from a very early age - there was no escaping it.

At least that was a fond memory, rather than the haunting knowledge that she would never see them again.

"I'm not used to it either. It's hard, at first, to be able to talk to people about what's bothering you. It was never really something that I was good at, but sometimes it's nice to be able to unload on someone, or maybe find some advice." She shakes her head, reaching out to touch her hand over his. "I was a Marchioness, second only to the Queen herself, and I asked for advice when I needed it. I think a good king should know when to talk to others about how he feels and when to seek help and support, not to keep it all up inside so he goes mental."

Hermione isn't a marchioness anymore, and Robb might not be a king here, but she understands personal rules and ideologies. Leaning forward, she watches him carefully.

"Is Bran okay?" The question comes out quickly, her eyes searching and careful. "I mean - is he hurt? I could try and help him, if you wanted me to - I'm not a doctor but I know some magic that might do him some good..."

Robb shrugs and leans back. “Heh, I am no maester.” And science never has been a strong point for him. He had not much interests in books and every lesson Maester Luwin gave him involved a lot of yawns and sighs. A young lord should be outside practicing his sword skills instead of sitting inside a stuffy library. “My teeth?” At that remark Robb runs the tip of his tongue over his front teeth, trying to determine if they are damaged or not. “You mean that they will rot from it?” Rotting teeth could be troublesome. That hurt.

He stops poking at his teeth when she starts to talk again and cocks his head a little.

“At times I speak to my lady mother.” The tone of his voice is soft when he says that. He realizes he is way in over his head. That it is all too big for him to get a hold on. It is hard to focus on all the things at the same time, yet, he cannot give up either. Robb always has to try and if he fails he has to pretend he hasn’t. “That is not how it works. My men do not have the time to settle down and listen to my troubles or see me weep.” Some sort of bitter chuckle escapes his mouth and he shakes his head again. “There are more important things like that... and I will not go mad.” Robb is no mad man. He under a lot of pressure, that is true. “It is easier for women to speak their hearts and men expect women to cry.”

Is Bran okay? Robb contemplates that question for a moment. Being a warg is not okay. But he does not want to speak about that to the lady Granger. It is nothing to be proud of.

“Bran is in good health.” After a deep sigh he shifts in his chair and shakes his head again. It is not wise to talk of this and he forces himself to straighten his shoulders a little while a small but tired smile appears around his lips. “Let us enjoy these drinks instead, lady Granger. It would be folly if Id waste your time with tales of brotherly spats and disagreements.” Still, he has no idea how to solve this or how to make up for the fact he never marched to Winterfell.

“Tell me how your day has been, my lady.”

His voice sounds warm and light, but his eyes lack any form of joy.

"Only if you drink lots of it and nothing else," Hermione is quick to reassure him, leaning forward with earnest eyes. "There's a lot of sugar in it, and some other things that are dangerous in excess, so as long as it's not the only thing you're drinking you should be alright. I don't think it'll be anything we have to worry about, seeing as we'll be back in space fairly soon, but it's good to keep in mind for the future, isn't it?"

Hermione thinks so, at least, but that might just be the awkward memory of her parents hanging around her shoulders.

"It is not easier at all, I promise you that. Just because men think women are going to cry, or expect it, doesn't mean it's something we're comfortable doing. There's a lot of prejudice about women, you know, and, really, we're just as tough and as strong as men are. The problem is that men are raised to think there's something wrong with their emotions, and showing how they feel, so they think being upset or showing they're sad is a problem, somehow. I don't think that's true at all. I think there's something very brave about anyone, man or woman, feeling comfortable enough to share all their feelings with someone."

... But she realises she might have gotten a little carried away, her cheeks going pink before she shifts forward, focussing on Robb again and waving her hand to try and distract him from the rant she couldn't quite control.

"I'm glad Bran is feeling okay, but is there something else?" Hermione hesitates, but soon her hand is resting on Robb's arm and she looks up at him, careful and sure. "You don't have to talk about it if you really don't want to, but I don't mind listening. It won't be a waste of my time if it means you will feel better, alright? I don't mind, honestly, I don't, and it wouldn't bother me at all."

Her hand moves, then, and drops to touch her drink before she pauses, considering.

"It's been fine, I suppose. I'm not sure what to make of this planet anymore, but I'll be sad when we're gone, especially if we don't find a way to help them."

“You speak of it as if it were poison.” Robb laughs a little while he says that. “But then I wonder, what is more dangerous. A lot of red? Or a lot of these?” But he notices the earnest look in her eyes and he does not wish to turn her words in too much of a jape. In some strange sort of melancholic way the lady Granger reminds him of his lady wife. The longer he looks at her, the more she looks like Jeyne. He wonders if it is just space playing games with his mind.

Robb curls his fingers around the glass he is holding while she speaks to him about women. He comes from a traditional household. Where each gender had their roles. Of course, there were exceptions. Like the ladies from Bear Island, for instance. And mayhaps his lady mother was an exception as well. But, for instance, Jeyne would be unfit for battle. She would not know how to lift a sword or handle a bow. But she does know how to handle being a wife and matters underneath the sheets. In fact, when it is about that last part, Jeyne is very good.

“I do not think my men would want to look upon their king weeping like a child.” And Robb does cry. But mostly alone and far away from anyone who could hear him. He realizes very well that he is not very good with his own emotions. That he does not know how to handle them properly. Anger is always too much anger. And sadness is always too much sadness. But he has never seen his lord father cry. And he has never seen Theon cry. Or ser Rodrik. To Robb crying is not an option. “I do not wish to insult women. But when a woman weeps it is to be expected. When a man weeps it is not. It is not considered something brave.”

When her cheeks redden Robb makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, letting her know he does not really mind. Even though he is rather keen on clinging to the things he knows of, he also realizes that the people here think such things are old fashioned and ridiculous. Robb moves to sit a little straighter in his chair when she touches his arm and he finds himself noticing that the words are right there, at the tip of his tongue.

“We have not seen each other for a long time. I have thought him dead, beheaded by Theon Greyjoy.” Robb frowns as he tells her that, knowing very well that there is so much more. That there is a fair amount of guilt that come with it. That he should have come for him the moment her received his letter. “But he is not dead. And when I speak to him we always come to clashes.” The words come out difficult at first and the frown deepens with every word. But eventually he manages to get over that. “I do not recognize him anymore. He has changed and I have and we have grown apart.”

And I did not come for him. Or for Rickon. What a brother am I.

After a soft sigh he shakes his head. “These people did it to themselves. It is not easy to undo such destruction when most of the damage is already done.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[closed]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject