driftfleet | 01. Oh not this again.

Entry tags:

01. Oh not this again.

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)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

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.

The whole business of Command Seals, Alyosha, and matters of that nature had all been things Gendry had very skillfully avoided by his general disinterest in things. He didn't bear many marks from his time in the Drabwurld, save for how the years had aged him. What he did have were two iron bracers upon each of his wrists. They were plain things, but the magic etched in them was in the fairy language that he had never learned to read (just as well, given he could barely read at all). They were rather prominent whenever he crossed his arms in front of him.

"You've been up there, then." He glanced sharply upward. "All that business with stars and ships."

Given how quickly he'd made his way to the planet, he'd come to think of all that as being a very other kind of thing for which he had no interest. The idea of space was something he had absolutely no comprehension of and that very notion unnerved him.

"I've been up there for a few months now. I'm on the Vanquish, but I don't suppose it matters what ship we're on since we're all stuck there together, unless you want to find me again for some reason." She can't imagine why a stranger might want to find her again - she doesn't even know if this person is from another world or is a native of this planet, not really. Hermione would even consider moving away and letting him go back to his work - but she can't.

Her eyes land on the bracers and she frowns, something about them tugging at her. They're magical, she's sure of that, but she's not sure what to do or say about them without drawing too much attention to herself; she doesn't want to make things more awkward and more out of place than they already are. So, instead -

"I don't suppose you could make a sword, could you? I can pay for it, and I know it's not too difficult - not, um, not to offend you or anything. You look like you could handle it."

Could he make a sword? Gendry practically blanched at the question. Had she asked him the same thing two years ago, he might have hesitated on the matter and confessed he'd only begun to work on his own. But now he'd made many swords, inlaid with the finest of craftsmanship and forged with ancient magics. He could manage the former still, though he'd seemed to have lost his ability to imbue magic into steel as he once had.

Not that magic was the problem. "No," he answered. "At least, not nothing worth paying for. This iron will do for shovels and the like, but ain't no use making a sword of it. Not if you mean to use it, anyway."

She honestly doesn't mean to offend, and she relaxes a little when she shakes her head and focuses on his reply. She doesn't know how people are trained when it comes to being a blacksmith, if you have to start with something simple like shovels and pots before you move onto things like swords, but she had needed to ask. It was frustrating, to be without her weaponry, and she's sure that it shows on her face as she tries to shrug off her irritation and offer Gendry a smile instead.

"Thank you anyway. I don't really need it, it's just nice to have one on my hip. The Atroma took the ones I got in the other world away from me, so I miss them a little." Shaking her head, Hermione hesitates before she steps forward, her hand pausing - she's not sure if he can lift his hand to shake or if he might be too busy, despite her disturbing him. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Gendry." He did not offer his hand, though he had given her his attention momentarily to offer a tilt from his head. It was as much acknowledgement as he was likely to bestow while he was working. Besides that, his hands were dirty from work. She spoke too much like a woman of position and education to want to shake the hands of a laborer.

"They did the same for me. I'd made an axe for myself, forged of Valyrian steel." He grunted bitterly. "Though few's like to believe that."

It was a lost art that just happened to be handed to him by a fairy queen. Nothing like that had been forged in hundreds of years before that.

Hermione would likely be offended by the comparison if she knew, but as she doesn't all she does is nod her head in return, offering Gendry a small smile. The name feels familiar but she's not sure why, and all she can do is push it to one side and focus on the man in front of her. Honestly, she'd probably heard the name somewhere before; with all the people she had met and all the names she had heard whispered or been told about it's incredibly likely.

"It's nice to meet you, Gendry. I've heard of Valyrian steel - I've never seen any myself, but a few of my friends talked about it before. I'm sorry they took it away from you." Robb had told her about it, when they had sat together with their pack and made sure all the wolves were alright. She hesitates before she offers him a smile.

"I believe you. I've heard stranger stories."

People who said things like I believe you were always unsettling because it was never clear to Gendry whether it was from a place of earnestness, naivety, or outright mockery. He decided not to put it to the test.

"You know the Starks." There was no point in making that into a question. There were others that weren't Starks, but he didn't know much about most of them. If anyone was likely going to be talking about Valyrian steel, then it was likely to be them. As he recalled, their father had a sword of that material. "There's no war here. Ain't much use for a weapon like that here."

At least Hermione is genuine, and she hopes that comes across; to her it's just natural to support people and tell them the truth, to offer them words and honest gestures, and sometimes that might end up blowing up in her face. At least in most cases it can't go too wrong, and that's the image she gets from standing here and talking to Gendry, earnest and honest in her own nature.

"I knew most of them in the Drabwurld, where I was before here," she admits quietly. "Robb and Sansa, definitely, but I knew their father for a little while as well. I never had a chance to get to know any others if they were around, since I was a little bit busy with my own job and everything that meant." Shaking her head, she crosses her arms, trying not to look too much like she's grimacing. "There's always a need for weapons... At least, most of the time there is. I learned that the hard way."

Edited 2016-06-30 17:15 (UTC)

Whatever else Hermione might have been saying, it was lost on him. His eyes began to widen the very moment she spoke Drabwurld, such that he ended up interrupting her just about when she was starting to talk about weapons.

"You've been the Drabwurld?"

There's a moment where Hermione pauses, her eyes widening, and she almost lurches forward to try and grab at Gendry - before she remembers that not many people are okay with sudden bouts of affection and - well. She literally forces herself to calm down, her expression softening into a smile that's a little less manic before she nods her head.

"I was there for three years before I was brought here. You - you were there too?"

Gendry felt a sense of relief. He'd not been in the fleet long, but he'd started to wonder if he'd somehow just gone mad and imagined everything he'd experienced. Even talking about it out loud to Bran had sounded utterly insane. Yet here was someone else who'd been there. He could hardly believe it.

"Two years. One at Caer Glaem and Cothromach, another at Troichean Beinn." The names rolled off the tongue, familiar locations that he could see vividly in his mind. "You weren't no Unseelie, were you?"

The rush of relief she feels is probably equal to his - she's so excited that there's someone else who knew the world, the people there, the things that she had left behind, and it doesn't even matter that she didn't know him before. She wants to know him now, to share her memories and the things she had learned, the absence of it all here - because she had missed the Drabwurld so much and now there's someone who can understand her and that nostalgic pain.

"The Cothromach - with Lady Sansa? Or was that before Loras took ownership?" Hermione is still particularly uncomfortable with that trade-off, with what happened to Robb. But the rest - "Troichean Beinn, that's incredible! I wasn't a Unseelie, no, I was Seelie, um-" Now it gets awkward. "Marchioness of the White Citadel in Caer Glaem."

This he found confusing. He remembered Loras clearly, but he couldn't fathom why he would take over the Cothromach. Not least when Sansa still had brothers around. But he'd also been so long with the dwarves, he'd barely kept track of all that had gone on. He didn't really know what a Marcho-whatever was either. The White Citadel was still in its early conception when he'd left Caer Glaem and the Cothromach and nobody had gone out of their way to invite him to work on it.

"Important job, that?" He asked only because he didn't know if she wanted to be called m'lady or not. "But last I recall, it was Lady Sansa who ruled there. Never heard anything otherwise. Did something happen to her?"

That was what worried him. It had never been his duty to protect her, but he'd done it for an entire year such that it felt almost second nature now.

"Only important when we made it important. I never really liked all the titles - I just wanted to help people." Which is her way of doing her very best to avoid being called 'my lady' for as long as she can manage. It never sat comfortably on her shoulders, especially since she was never really meant to be a leader of anything at all. It was meant to be June's job, but it was passed onto her when June left and she had stepped up to the mantle with as much vigour as she could manage... Which, knowing her, might well be a little more than most.

Gendry's questions come, though, and Hermione hesitates before she shakes her head. She doesn't want this to end up hurting him, but it's not as though she can lie; she could, literally speaking, but she had never been particularly good at it, too shrill and nervous when lying was the only option.

"She went home, and there was some problems with Robb being there, since it was Seelie aligned and he was Unseelie. He ended up losing his shard and coming to stay with me, and I helped him find a place in Treun. After that there was... A power struggle? I'm not entirely sure what happened, it was never really my area, but I think Ser Loras ended up being the leader in place of Sansa."

She went home. Not to Winterfell, though. She went back to being Alayne Stone, an exile and accused murderer, hiding in a place far from home. He'd spoken long enough to know what that meant for Sansa Stark. Yet somehow that brought her here instead, only with no memory of the Drabwurld. She would never know all the things he'd done for her or how when it came time to offer an oath, he only hurt her instead. He swallowed and nodded.

"I ought to have been there. I left not long after the city was attacked. I could've stayed there, been a Shield of Cothromach. But I chose this instead." He lifted the hammer he had set aside, feeling the weight of its burden. "I left for some underground city. A half dozen times, I thought of just letting them take my shard and be done with it." He snorted and shook his head. "You know, Master Bordan had me working on this gate. The Doorway to Beyond. I was making a bleeding way home, but didn't ever think a second of actually wanting to walk through it."

Stupidity. It's all he could think to describe of his actions and the year he spent away from the people he'd called his friends. And all it had bought him was this place, friendless and unable to use any of the skills he had spent so long learning. He'd gone from forging elaborate weapons of war to making shovels.

"I wanted to be there too - I wanted to be there for her. I don't know if she really considered me a friend or if we were just allies or... Trying to be, but she deserved better. I think she deserved far more than she was ever able to get, and - her family is here, on the fleet. Maybe that's making her happier, too." Hermione shifts, awkwardly, before her eyes dance over to Gendy and she hesitates, feeling a sudden rush of empathy before she tilts her head up, steeling herself to what other truth she can give him.

"There was a way to go home. Not long before I ended up coming here the shards were drawn back together and the dwarves attacked with mechanical monsters. A group called the Red Hand stole all the shards the Unseelie and the Seelie were keeping and performed a ritual to rejoin them, and they created a huge mountain. When it was all done we were all able to visit our homes and... And we could stay there, too, if we wanted. I didn't want to go home - it wasn't home anymore."

Hermione's hands drop away and she shakes her head, feeling lost and uncertain.

"And now I'm here, and - and nothing really feels as important anymore."

He knew what mechanical monsters she spoke of. He felt a flicker of shame to think that those beasts he'd had a hand in creating might have harmed those he called friends. Another mistake, he realized. But the rest he had a hard time grasping. He remembered only vaguely that the shards were all a part of some other whole, but he never really understood what that meant. If it left the both of them here, he supposed it must've not been a whole lot.

"Might be it was all some big jape. A game played by those fairy lords. Why else cast us off here? What use was any of it?"

"We managed to stop the Void coming." Hermione believes that is what they were meant to do - she never believed in the Seelie ideals of letting the void come and destroy everything so things could be reborn. She couldn't handle the idea of losing everything she'd worked for and losing all the people she loved with all her heart; she couldn't bear the Unseelie ideals of letting the world survive but come to an end, a rotting one, where everything would just die. She believed in finding another way, and she was determined.

"But - I don't think Solais or Morla sent us here. If they did we'd still have our shards, and - well, I don't have mine."

"Nor me," he said morosely. He was in some sense relieved to be free of the responsibility, but it was strange to feel lesser than he once had. "But you were right in the middle of all of it, weren't you? Why?"

After he nearly got himself murdered by Reynard, he'd done very little to involve himself in the conflict between the courts. He'd secured himself away in Troichean Beinn to avoid being caught in the crossfire of all that. It was hard to imagine why she would want to be wrapped up in all of that.

"Because there were people I cared about that I had to protect." The answer comes easily to her, at least, and Hermione shakes her head, trying to think. It's not as easy as just knowing, not really, and she has to pause for a moment to consider, her expression tightening as she tries to explain properly. It's hard, especially since the responsibility and the power she had been given had exhausted her, but she knows she would never have given it up, not really.

"I was able to do some good in the world. I could help people, and I could give them tasks and offer them rewards that were useful to them - and I could be there, too, when the worst came about and there was a battle or a war. That's what made it worthwhile."

Brave. He supposed she would have to be, in the end. Those were all very noble reasons for which Gendry could certainly understand, though he'd never been nearly willing enough to stick out his neck for it. Not when a fair number of his friends were either on the other side or were sensible enough to keep their heads low.

"Hm. Still here, though. Was it worth it?"

"It was. I'd do it all again, too." She thinks so. Hermione knows might make a few changes - she might do things a little differently - but whatever the pain and the suffering was... She would keep fighting and she would live through it all again. She had been in a war before she had been brought by Solais and she lived through another one, and - she's glad that this place isn't making her suffer through another one.

Hesitating, she turns her head back to Gendry before she swallows.

"Are you - are you okay with the fact that Sansa doesn't remember?"

That was a tricky question for which he had no answer. There were things he wished she did remember, but others it was easier she didn't. Had Sansa arrived here knowing everything, he wasn't sure he could even face her. At least like this, he could keep some distance. Gendry's eyes traveled to glare off at some hanging leaf before he answered.

"It makes no matter," he said. "Someone else decided whether she'd know. They chose this."

That was how things were. Gendry was not opposed to defying the established order, but it took quite a bit to sweep him up into it. In this instance, he didn't see the point.

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