Ser Gendry Waters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bullhorned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-06-25 07:17 pm
bullhorned) wrote in driftfleet2016-06-25 07:17 pm
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)
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)
no subject
Aye. You're a Stark. Wouldn't be talking of Winterfell if you weren't.
[Though that wasn't why he knew.]
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You don't know. I could be a stableboy.
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Stableboys don't talk like you do. And if their legs didn't work, no one would care to try and fix them.
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[Mainly, he just stubborn and wants to defend the people who have helped him with his legs.]
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[He was after all a bastard. If no one remembered him, then he couldn't really be all that surprised, no matter how much time he might have spent with them.]
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I've never met you.
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I remember you, all the same.
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What do you remember about me?
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You couldn't walk.
[Which is... well, that's it, really. He hadn't spent much time with Bran. He hadn't been in the Drabwurld all that long. Probably got whisked off here instead.]
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I FORGOT THIS THREAD WASN'T PART OF THE MINGLE SORRY
You know what happened to Winterfell. [It's lower, and a bit darker.] Do you know what happened to me?
[Because if he does, then they have a Problem.]
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You don't want to know.
[You dead, kid.]
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[Said with the cool collection of a lord.]
I want you to tell me, so I can be sure you're truthful.
[Actually, he just wants to make sure word of his survival hasn't reached anyone outside of his family.]
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[Gendry's expression remains muted. This was not from a lack of sympathy, but an unwillingness to actually express it.]
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He did.
[A pause to pop the last bit of the pastry in his mouth. He has jam on his fingers now.]
Rickon isn't here. The Fleet must have thought him too small.
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Don't that bother you?
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I've been here for nearly a year, and told that tale many times.
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[Which doesn't surprise him. In the Drabwurld, none of the Starks were particularly keen on returning.]
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[Said with strong, serious conviction. Very adult.]
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I like the beds.
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[But Gendry is not. He was not meant for beds like that! He'd had to make an entirely special order to get a bed his size when he was living among dwarves. He had actually legitimately managed to spoil himself.]
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[Apparently an argument.]
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... yes?
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