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.

[bullhorned]

[There were times when Gendry would dislodge his sense of humor from that little dark corner of his psyche where he could be made to appreciate things like this. This was not one of those times. Instead he simply scowled, since it was a well practiced expression.]

What sort of place doesn't have a shovel. [It was more an accusation than it was a question and it was aimed more at life itself than as much as it was her in particular.]

[passingthrough]

[It seemed in her idle wandering she'd stumbled on someone in a foul mood. Maybe he is having a bad day. She could leave him to it or try brightening it. Or she could just dig a little. Pun intended.]

A no-good, shoveless wasteland where people have only their sarcasm. You don't look local.

[bullhorned]

[Ah, he'd heard of this sarcasm. It was the sort of thing that was in short (har! supply among dwarves.]

I'm newly local.

[As in he'd just got here and well, this is his life now. He's making the best of it.]

[passingthrough]

[She looks curious about that reply.]

Where did you come from?

[bullhorned]

[He gives this due consideration. Does he tell her that he was from King's Landing or from the Riverlands? Does he go into that entire mess that was the Drabwurld and where he was from? No, that was a bit much. None of the natives he'd talked to knew anything about it anyway. So he lowered his voice and raised his eyes dubiously. He pointed up.]

Up there.

[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.

[passingthrough]

[She lowers her voice too since clearly secrets are afoot.] I always thought god would be taller.

[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.

[bullhorned]

I ain't no bloody god. [Though he was still tall, only an inch or two shy of his father who had been a solid six and a half feet tall.] I mean the stars. I was in some iron ship up there.

[passingthrough]

[God should still be taller than her ex-husband, okay? But he's a giant compared to a tiny mentor she once had.]

You're from the fleet. [Half statement, half question.] Spent a little time on the Marsiva before getting shuffled off to another ship?

[bullhorned]

It was called the Golden. [Which was to say that yes, he had been through all that and was rather content to be done with it.] You come down from there too?

[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.

[passingthrough]

[She thinks for a moment. Who does she know on that ship? Right. Mystique—the one who lives in her own skin.] Yeah, I'm on the Windrose. I was pulled in five months ago. You?

[bullhorned]

It was a promise as good as gold. One by one they lost their interest in Gendry and fixed their attention on the treat being offered to them. It allowed Gendry the time to stand himself straight up again, adjust his tunic so it was not half twisted around his body and to straighten his collar. He huffed out an exasperated breath and looked up to address his grudging gratitude, which he had intended to be something along the lines of a knowing nod and possibly some sort of dismissive snort.

Instead he simply gaped. His mouth hung slightly ajar while his mind replayed her words. They had sounded familiar, but not as anything recent enough to identify. But her knew her by her hair, her eyes, and her soft pale skin. It had been his plan to eventually find her, but it hadn't been like this. He was unprepared and so he silently stood there, uselessly waiting for her to notice him. If she was relieved to see him, then that might make things a bit easier.

[bullhorned]

I'm not on the Windrose.

[It may be he was really just that obtuse. But really, he'd only arrived two days ago, which was more or less how long it took him to realize he could simply go planetside and disregard all that business of being in space.]

[passingthrough]

...

[Sighing.] I'm not currently aboard the Windrose. The Golden and the Windrose are both part of a fleet of twenty ships. [If you count the Iskaulit and the Marsiva.] How long ago was it that you arrived in the fleet?

[bullhorned]

[By this point in the conversation, Gendry had decided that they could keep talking, but he wasn't going to very well stand about doing nothing. He fetched the now cooled shovel blade from the water and began to examine it with a critical eye.]

Few days, I think. Might be more. It ain't easy tellin' up there.

[steeledskin]

Like some magnanimous queen (or so she felt!), Sansa lobbed each fruit in turn -- one, two, three -- to the children. The throws were a little unwieldy, as if she wasn't a person often accustomed to throwing anything to anyone. And the sweet youngsters take her promise in good faith. They bite messily into their prizes and retreat into the wider foot-traffic of the forest floor.

And so the pair of them were left 'alone', for want of a better word. Sansa's chin lifted. She looked proud -- or at least like someone trying very hard to appear so. She didn't like the way the stranger stared. It made her skin itch. She smiled for the kids, but now her smile slipped away.

"You're welcome, ser," she exhaled the words. They might have been sarcastic if they hadn't also been a little...jittery. Uncertain. She could have been his champion, chasing away his pests. But she lacked commitment. And she lacked ego. Truth be told, she looked a little silly trying so hard to keep her balance on the rough bark.

[passingthrough]

Sure. [She watches him for a moment before realizing blacksmith doesn't exactly seem like something that would come with an augment. Not that she has an engineering augment to be sure.] This is something you knew how to do back home? [Might make spaceships feel even more surprising to him if that's the case.]

[bullhorned]

She looked like a queen, if only because that was very close to the way he recalled her being. There were subtle differences, though he couldn't identify what most of them were. What stood out distinctly was just the way she looked at him, which seemed to be uneasy. When he considered the way he had left and just how long it had been, then he could only suppose he deserved that.

"I could've done for them," he answered. He looked away while he tried to sort out what he'd intended to say to her before, but none of the business of commerce and rings and rare talents seemed particularly relevant here. So in a tone almost apologetic, he continued: "I didn't know you'd be here."

[bullhorned]

[He nodded curtly. His finger ran along the edge of the shovel and determined it was going to need a bit more of an edge if would dig well.]

All my life. I was trained for armor, not shovels.

[passingthrough]

Did you have a lot of knights running around? [Oh, the conclusions that become normal and not jokey in these places.]