01. Oh not this again.

[bullhorned]

Who: Gendry
Broadcast: Nope
Action: SS Golden, Planetside
When: Today and June/July

The Golden

He hadn't been on the Marsiva all that long, but he had been on the vast ship long enough to come to the conclusion he didn't care for it at all. The food was strange and it all reminded him a little too much of the Station, which he'd never really liked all that much in the first place. More than that, he'd noticed how different things were around here. It reminded him of blood granite, though he didn't really mind that part all that much. All that business with Shards had always been an enormous headache equal only to the amount of times he banged his forehead in the tunnels of Troichean Beinn. Still, he hadn't been prepared for being in space. He hadn't figured out how to deal with that, so he'd made the decision not to.

When he arrived on the Golden to fanfare and annoying bits of confetti, the first thing he did was scowl. The second thing he did was find a direction to glare at and then scowl a little bit more. It was not that Gendry was extremely upset, it was just that brooding was something of an art form for him and he was at his best when boiling in sullen silence. All thanks to a bit of a chip in his head, he now knew exactly what he ought to be doing. So after mumbling his greetings to anyone who just so happened to be about to welcome him, he found himself in the engineering room. There were a few tense moments where he tried to grasp exactly what it is he was looking at, why he seemed to know so much about it, and if that was the sort of thing it was worth getting worried about. In the end, he decided that as long as he had valid reasons for hitting, then he might as well get on with it. There was a valve that he could instinctively see needed a great deal of banging, so he did.

Don't Hug Me I'm Scared

By the time the first native had got around to giving him a reassuring hug, Gendry had concluded that he now knew of three worlds he held a deep contempt for, which coincidentally happened to be all of the ones he'd experienced so far. But it was better than the ship, so he simply took extra care to watch that no one got close enough for any unexpected proximity. After spending a few hours wandering about the market area of one of the primary settlements, Gendry had found exactly where he ought to be. He'd found a smithy and after talking up his own experience (he'd apprenticed with dwarves after all!), he'd found himself gainfully employed and under the incredibly misguided idea that he had simply found a new planet to live on, this was how the rest of his life was going to be, and that he'd better just decide to be happy with it because that's simply how it was.

Rather than engineering as he was supposed to be, Gendry spent quite a lot of time making whatever was required of him, though it generally tended to be of the more mundane tool-like variety. When he wasn't working, he was finding places to buy his meals, trekking back to his private treehouse in an attempt to avoid risky hugs, and not actually paying all that much attention to the forests because he'd only just been in a world chock full of magical forests and this one didn't really seem all that exceptional to him.

(ooc: Gendry will just be here and there, trying to start his life entirely over because this is just the sort of thing that tends to happen to him. Find him at a smith, or out shopping, or trying to shoo little native children from trying to hug his leg because why)

Comments

[passingthrough]

[Kitty has been taking stock of the planet and basically acting like the ships don't even exist anymore. Oh, she's all for seeing her crew or others from the fleet. She didn't stop being social, but she'd been on those tin cans long enough and a long stretch is overdue. Her shift to bartend doesn't start for awhile so she's just exploring the various shops and and such now when she comes across the smith shop. She leans against a wood post and watches him smith things. It's a verb now. Roll with it.]

Whatcha making?

[bullhorned]

[The hammer in his hand hit the smoldering red bit of metal with the exact sort of clang that was typical for smith things. He had heard the question and he'd even noticed her, but he wasn't going to answer until he'd hit it at least three more times. This he did extremely methodically until he was satisfied. Then he hit it a fourth time. He lifted the curved metal piece with the pair of tongs in his other hand, inspected it to see how he felt about it, then dumped it into a barrel of water where it hissed and steamed.

Then and only then did he turn to stare up at her, give her a long searching look, and then go to pick up a nearby rag to wipe the sweat off his brow. When he'd done that, had a look back at the barrel, and then finally back to her, he finally spoke up.]

'sa'shovel.

[The words were grumbled reluctantly and with just an edge of surprise as if to wonder if she'd never seen a shovel before, even though she'd have had no opportunity to had seen it when she'd first spoke up.]

[passingthrough]

So, you did hear me. [She tilts her head, giving him a relaxed smirk.] And a shovel. Amazing. We don't have those where I'm from. [Of course they do.] But you should really think about using it to dig. I think it'd be great at that.

[steeledskin]

-- Sansa Stark hadn't meant to laugh. But she was sitting primly on a sloped, thick tree-root. Ankles crossed, and silk skirts arranged tidily over her slippers. She sat alone, gingerly eating some fruit she'd not recognized but which had been promised as sweet and delicate. Its juices stained her fingers, so she kept a handkerchief draped over her lap and made frequent use of its corners to dab her thumb and forefingers. And from this vantage point, between bites, she saw a handsome young man make a brave effort to banish a trio of children who had been following him for the better half of ten minutes. They pulled on his jacket and they grabbed at his hands.

Moons ago, she wouldn't have dared to so much as smile. Moons ago, she wouldn't have even set foot upon a new planet alone. Then again, she wasn't alone -- she had a better understanding of her device, now, and how it could be used to call a brother or a champion immediately to her side. It emboldened her just that little bit.

Enough to laugh at a young man who -- had she thought long enough and hard enough -- looked an eerie amount like a dead lord she'd once fancied.

[bullhorned]

At that moment, he'd proceeded to simply hoist one of the small children up by the back of their shirt to leave them dangling and laughing maniacally at just how much fun was being had. He was quite simply exasperated with all of them, especially since he was constantly being plagued with an onslaught of memories about kicking balls and climbing trees that were very decidedly not things he ever was involved in doing himself. He was giving a very serious amount of thought to simply hurling one of them away, but then there was someone else laughing. He turned and had only half a second to look at her, before one of the kids had jumped up to wrap their hands around him in a hug.

"Enough!" he insisted. Then unable to truly make out who it was who had been laughing, he waved a thick, work worn finger at her. "Bugger off and bother her instead."

One of the children stopped long enough to stare at her and seemed to be giving this some solid consideration.

[steeledskin]

Faced with the prospect of being pulled at and prodded by a small gang of children, Sansa blanched. She wasn't afraid of them; they were, after all, so young. And so earnest-faced. But it might be she feared for her silks, because they had been playing in the dirty 'streets' all day and had palms caked with soil and dust and debris.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," her voice cut a little sharply through the air -- not angry, exactly, but it carried an edge of anxious panic. Sansa scrambled to her feet and balanced (precariously) on the curved tree-root -- as though an extra foot of height might save her from the children. She had three more of these soft-skinned, staining fruits. She gathered them up in her handkerchief and dangled them in the air. "Spare me and I'll give you the rest," she told the children. "One for each of you. I promise."

Sweetrobin could always be bribed with good fruit.

[resnipstance]

Ah-- hey! [Ahsoka just pops up like that one day, sudden and unexpected.]

One of the locals pointed me your way. Said you were good at making stuff, and could use the extra work? You're a part of the fleet too, right?

[bullhorned]

[He was just then finishing and was standing outside of the forge, bare chested and drinking from a canteen of water that wasn't as nearly cold as he might have wanted it to be. He was on the defensive, because even smelling of metal and sweat didn't seem to dissuade people from wanting to come up and pat him on the shoulder and tell him how good of a job he'd been doing.

He regarded Ahsoka with cold suspicion. She had a strange look about her and the hat upon her head looked like the kind of unreasonably flamboyant Essosi fashion that, were his old Qohorik master to have been married, his wife would likely have been wearing a hat as equally absurd as this one.]

No. [This wasn't to say he wouldn't do the work, but rather that he wasn't part of the fleet. As far as he was concerned, this was his life now. He lived here, even if he didn't particularly like it.]

[resnipstance]

[Ahsoka raises an eyebrow at him. Why are boys always like this?]

No... what? No you won't take the job, or... no you're not part of the fleet?

[brainiest]

There was something to be said for the familiarity of being somewhere warm and bright, and Hermione accepts it without hesitation; she had been stifled on the ships, stifled despite loving the Vanquish and enjoying the company there, and freedom was becoming something she imagined was more than a little short-lived. She had to take it where she could get it, and if that meant wandering around darting in and out of hugs and touches with strangers then she'd do it; there are worse things she could've ended up with, after all.

When she catches sight of a smith, an actual smith that looks like he knows what he's doing, she hesitates for a moment, considering, before she moves forward to peer at his work. She'd seen the smiths in the White Citadel, of course, and she'd watched them work to make commissions on her behalf or prepare armour and other such things for their Marchioness, but this was different. This wasn't anyone making anything to show off; it was simple, wonderful craftsmanship and she can only smile, her appreciation obvious.

"You're amazing."

[bullhorned]

It was a very simple shovel he was making, that much was true. But given the resources he had to work with, it was about all that could be expected. He didn't feel particularly upset about this, if only because it was something of a relief to actually be working on something that didn't require the incredible precision and technical skills that had gone into the dwarven clockwork technology he'd been learning. By contrast, this was relaxing.

Having finished with the piece, he turned back around to finally acknowledge the compliment that had come some twenty seconds earlier. He was frowning thoughtfully, if only because she struck him as being fleetingly familiar. No name came to mind though.

"For this?" he asked. "Any country smith could do as much."

[brainiest]

It's hard not to tilt her head and watch him, even if what he was making was simple in comparison to some of the things she'd seen in the past. The sword Leo had made her was beautiful, stunning with the lion hilt and the rubies that laid in wait, not tte type of sword most people would ever think to use in a battle - and her rapier from Alyosha had been a thing of exquisite marksmanship, and she missed both her weapons terribly. She wants to replace them, just in case, but it doesn't feel right and she's still not had much of an opportunity.

"It's been months since I saw a smith do anything," she admits quietly, her smile still in place. "You'll have to forgive me for my enthusiasm."

Which, she thinks, should be a preface to all her conversations with people; 'Hi, I'm Hermione and I apologise in advance for being overly invested in learning whatever it is that you do.' Smiling, and lifting a hand to push hair from her face, she ignores the sting of her scar and the red welts on the back of her left hand - a mark from Aly and her Command Seals, both harking back to stories she'd rather forget.

[partialities]

[ The Atroma loved Westeros.

It was a conclusion drawn by most people, truly. There were so many of them, royalty and nobility and lords and ladies, all present here, scattered between the ships. The largest clan was the Stark one, of course, the northern wolves united at last in a place none of them shall understand. Margaery, however, from her first day and until now, had been on her own.

There are some fools who might think, a rose plucked out of its earth shall soon wilt, but the little queen had grown new roots and her days here have been mostly happy. there was a longing for home, a hunger for success so she may return but in a game such is this, expressing those emotions would have been silly and so instead, smiles.

Here is another, she thought when she saw him for he reminded her of a man she was once wedded to. Not nearly as charming, however, she thought and rose only to kneel upon the ground, opening her arms ]

Who shall be the first to give me an embrace?

[ she takes them all, laughs happily as they run near, bringing them close, inhaling dirt and sand and the salty smell of the sea, registering the happy little memories. They might see her own, might see Highgarden on a long summer day, might see her with her cousins, laughing and splashing water by the Mander. She will lift the smallest one into her arms, brush the hair away from his forehead ]

I have a game in mind - I have a dance and a hug reserved to the one who shall find me the most beautiful sea shell. I shall name him my champion. I wonder who is the fastest of you all.

[ it all it takes to send them flying, running barefoot towards the seaside and she smiles and turns to him ]

And am I your champion from saving you from the threat of affection?

[bullhorned]

[Gendry watched with relief to see them all run off and to be freed of them. Given how close he had been to tossing them away and potentially causing injury, it was well for all that Gendry was relieved of the burden. He huffed out a relieved sigh and watched as they all went running off. It was only then that he turned to see his apparent rescuer.

Oh. He was suddenly struck of uncomfortable memories of his uncle convincing him to dinner, of awkwardly dressing up in silks and velvets, and of attending a meal with what he supposed was meant to be his... aunt? He suddenly grimaced, not at all prepared for how he was prepared to deal with that. After his encounter with Sansa Stark, he was fully prepared to have to deal with her not recognizing him. If he was fortunate, she might not mistake him for Renly as that huge woman from Tarth had.]

I could've done for them. [Grudgingly though:] ... but you've got my thanks. If you can stand to make good on that promise of yours.

[partialities]

[ he does so look like renly but margaery's eyes are keen and she sees the subtle differences even before he begins to speak. The way he carries himself is different, the way he shies from those children - something renly would not have done. they are strikingly similar but not one and the same.

renly has not sired any sons but this, this must be a baratheon, she would wager half her credits on that. Her smile sharpens into a little grin at his words. ]

A dance and a hug are not such a big promise to keep nor a dreadful one.

[ she tilts her head ]

Worry not, you shall not have to dance nor hug.

[ a smile and ]

My name is Margaery.

at the smithy!

[aliased]

[ It seems that the Gods mean to break Gendry's patience a bit further. Because when Arya finds the blacksmith shop, she doesn't recognize the young man who stands nearest to the fires, just as her sister hadn't recognized him. She doesn't run to greet him as Arya might once had. She doesn't know the history that exists between them, the unlikely bond (a friendship, at least on her part).

She simply approaches him carefully, making sure that he isn't handling anything dangerous (she'd learned her lesson with Mikken), tapping him on the back.]

Can you make swords?

[bullhorned]

[When he turned, he didn't see anyone behind him. His expression grew puzzled, at least until he started to look down. Then there she was. He knew her instantly, as she was much like he recalled her in the Drabwurld. She seemed younger and her hair was long as it had been the last time they'd met. It seemed like as not that she'd never even left King's Landing. He grimaced in uncertainty.]

'course I can. You should know that. [Should]

[aliased]

[ Wrinkling her nose at him, she looks at him.] Some blacksmiths can't make swords, some are only good at crafting tools.

smithy c-c-combo!

[summerschild]

[Gendry's got a little shadow at the smithy. Across the shop, a very small boy in modern dress has pulled himself up onto a railing to eat what looks to be a very messy pastry - there's already a dollop of strawberry jam on his nose. A wheeled chair rests in front of his legs, and in it a white fox pup is napping contently.

Bran likes this planet. He likes this planet very much, even if he can't get up to the treehouses alone. There's enough to see and do on the forest floor, and so much of it feels like home. He used to watch the blacksmith at his trade back in Winterfell, marveling at the sound and the sparks, and seeing Gendry work brings a certain comfort.

It isn't until he realizes he's been noticed that he'll speak up at all.]

What are you making?

[bullhorned]

[The little Stark had gained Gendry's attention after a time. Not because he was the first child to come gawking at him, but because most of them did a lot more climbing and running about. This boy immobile in his wheeled chair was something different. He eyed the seat with thoughtful curiosity before he set his hammer aside.]

It's an axe. Plenty of call for axes, what with all these trees about.

[A man could make a living making axes. Which is exactly what he intended to do.]

[summerschild]

[Bran considers this, looks up at the trees, and then looks back at Gendry.]

They're too tall to chop down. And people live in them.

smithy bc where else

[nedstarksbastard]

The first time Jon Snow spies the smith, he stops and blinks for a moment. There's something about him that's strangely familiar--not because he's met him before, he's sure he hasn't, but there's something about him that makes Jon think of--of--

--he's not sure, and he lets it go and walks away.

The second time is much more eventful, because then he walks up to the smith to say: "I need a sword forged. I can pay whatever price you ask."

[bullhorned]

"Got that many acorns, do you?" Gendry glanced from Jon then over to all the trees. He was working here, that much was true. But he hadn't entirely made peace with the local currency. Nevermind that he was frank enough with the women about the state of steel around here. Jon Snow was different, not just because Gendry already knew him, but because he supposed he ought to know better.

He wouldn't say as much though. There was no point harping on about old friendships when they were now done and buried by forgetfulness.

[throwsdown]

It's okay, buddy, Takeshi is 100% immune to all forms of scowling and brooding. He approaches the man, a short little figure navigating around the area, and gives him a proper nod. He's a bit of a pleasant face, looking quite confident and walking like he's totally not only as high as someone's thigh; it's nice to have some new people around, especially with everyone vanishing all over the place or transferring. His luck is terrible with people going away, man.

But chin up.

"Hi! You're Gendry, huh? I'm Takeshi, the captain in the SS Golden. What's your augment?"

[bullhorned]

Gendry felt entirely justified at feeling suddenly very worried at the sight of this small child. He had been looking for a parent to come and fetch the boy, up until there was an introduction. This was decidedly even more worrying. Gendry's expression twisted towards confusion.

"What?"