001 greendream | video & action

[greensights]

Who: Jojen Reed & you
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: 7/3

[ The feed starts when deep green eyes open, they don't open to feel relieved or rested - they open with the same dark circles under them that Jojen Reed has had for far too long. The boy may have been asleep but he did not rest. In all honesty, he can't remember closing his eyes. It doesn't make him nervous, or at least it doesn't seem to, however. He's used to being so worn thin that blinking turns to rest. What the thirteen year old isn't used to is awakening in a room so odd looking, and on a bed he'd consider far more comfortable than any he's been on in a while.

The chill that reaches down and wraps around his bones is not one he is unused to either, but the coldness of the floor on his bare feet etches a languid frown in his features when they find the floor. He doesn't move for a long moment, simply observing his surroundings. ]

Meera? Bran?

[ His voice is quiet and cautious, almost like he doesn't actually want anyone to hear him. He isn't to die, not yet. Instead of pulling himself off the bunk, the boy glances down to the floor, observing its craftsmanship oddly but curious. Fear tinges somewhere deep under his skin, but he pushes it back, and instead reaches for his shoes - discarded by someone other than him - next to his bed. If he is going to be caught off-guard, he will not be doing it barefoot with the possibility of having to leave his shoes behind and trudge through snow again.

He just wants to go home. ]

Hello?

[ He isn't used to feeling like such a fish out of water, not when it comes to knowledge of the situation he's in. For someone who often looks aloof in even the most distressing situations, he looks young and confused. ]

Comments

[steeledskin]

King Robb is here, yes, [ her correction is soft -- but sad. despite robb's death, she clings to this pursuit of his. ] And he and I and Bran are aboard the vessel they call the Blue Fish. Jon is on another. And then there is Arya, as well.

[greensights]

[ In Jojen's mind the dead are gone, at least the ones that are not wights or white walkers. It was not his intention to be disrespectful and he feels his trepidation at this place rise. He wants to go back to sleep and dream, though he just started feeling a slight bit better. ]

Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. [ Kings have killed for much less, but Robb wasn't Jojen's pursuit, and while he'd died a King in his mind, politics could make it dangerous to be in the opinion to think such. He had stilled in his thought, and has to blink a couple times reminding himself he is in the company of the loveliest Stark. ] It is good to hear the King in the North has his health, and most of his family, too. The youngest wolf isn't with you? Rickon?

[steeledskin]

No. [ -- and all that is gentle seems to slip away in her voice. her tone isn't ragged, but it is hollow. they have fallen so short of a full family; the littlest and most vulnerable of all is yet lost to them. ] But he may yet come. For some time, I didn't think Arya ever would.

And then she did. [ ... ] Mayhaps your sister will come, too.

[greensights]

[ Jojen nods slowly at the information, not that he particularly likes it. She looks so unhappy, and it does nothing to assuage him of his unhappiness either. It makes him wonder what Bran has said to her. ] What has the Little Lord told you of me? [ He could use his power, he could become sick again, but he's not sure it's a risk he should take while away from his little Prince. ]

[steeledskin]

That you traveled together. Further north, despite the danger. And that House Reed was there when so many others were found lacking. I thought my younger brothers were murdered, my lord. House Stark owes you a great debt of gratitude.

[greensights]

[ They're pretty words, that he feels she thinks he was fishing for, but his head cants a bit, in curiosity. ] Your words are kind, my lady; House Reed will remain loyal until it is no more. It is nothing a Stark would not do in return.

[ The look he offers her is somehow kind despite not changing much from the one he was wearing previously. ] My sister is much like the Lady Arya, she lives through will alone. We often don't keep enough faith in the survival of the ones we love. We would get more sleep if we did.

[steeledskin]

[ gods, but how prettily he speaks. it has been too long since she had heard such loyalty in anyone's voice -- let alone when they speak of starks. it does a great deal to calm her, although that calm does not seep into her posture. she stays stiff. ]

Has Bran told you stories of our Arya, then? [ and yet she stays curious. ]

[greensights]

[ She is like the people of the South in the way that pretty words strike her fancy, Jojen has not been one to be materialistic, in words or in items, but he's unaware of the affect that his loyalty has, simply showing it because he is a Reed and that is what he does. It's what they've done for hundreds, no, at least a thousand years now. Deep green eyes watch her for a moment and he considers her question, honestly. His answer is quiet with thought: ] Mayhaps; I do not recall.

[ He adds more, feeling her curiosity and appreciating it for what it is - an interest in knowledge. ] I have heard stories of your family told to me my entire life. [ Through dreams and actual mouths. ]

[steeledskin]

You have? [ the thought almost makes her squirm with discomfort. there is little sansa likes less, these days, than being known in any capacity. but curiosity overcomes her: ] Which stories?

[greensights]

The ones of your lor father; yours and mine were close. I've heard about your aunt, too. The ones about the lady and her wolf.

[ He pauses, a slight frown ghosting over his lips. ] You lost her; I'm sorry. I hear losing an animal companion can sometimes feel like losing a part of yourself.

[steeledskin]

[ for a moment, she is so frozen that one might think the feed has glitched -- but after a full two heartbeats, sansa's straight-lined mouth bows into a ghost of a frown. ]

She's been gone for so long. [ ... ] But thank you for your sympathies, my lord. Not many days go by where I do not miss her.

[greensights]

[ It takes a lot to faze Jojen, so when the feed seems to freeze, all that he really does is tilt his head a bit. Would he hang up in that situation? Would it be rude? ]

She played a large part in your life, I have no doubt that's normal.

[ No point in making her relive painful memories. ]

There are stories of my family too. [ Rude stories spread by the Freys. ] I don't believe every story, only what I truly see. The Princess Wolf [ He most definitely means of the North. ] does have the sounding of a great tale, though.

[steeledskin]

Mayhaps. It might make for a good story. [ but that's all it could be. ] Me, I am no princess.

[ robb might be a king. her other brothers, princes. but sansa is a creature tarnished. no wolf. no name. no home. ]

[greensights]

You will have to forgive me for disagreeing, but in my eyes you are. [ He offers her something akin to a smile - it's a watered down thing, the corners of his lips quirk upwards and somehow the expression finds his eyes. ] I won't call you by it if you don't want me to.

[ She's different to Bran, but he finds her important as well, in this instance of time where they get to meet. ] Do you think wolves let other creatures tell them what they are and aren't? A wolf born, knows it's a wolf. [ A rose by any other name, yada yada. ]

[steeledskin]

And what if a wolf is born stupid, my lord? [ there is a paradoxical edge of defiance in her -- wherein she resists his praises, his sweetness, and his support. but only in small and paltry ways. ] What if it realizes only too late that it is, indeed, a wolf?

[ long after its pack is gone. ]

[greensights]

[ Certainly a Stark, fiery and defiant as hell. ] Then I would assume that wolf becomes very good at adapting and being resourceful until the time is right.

[ For the wolf's pack is not gone, just far. And here? Closer than it has been in a long time. ] But in the end, what stares back in the reflection of even the dirtiest water would still be a wolf. Unless you know something I don't. [ Which... considering, it's a pretty hard feat. ]

[steeledskin]

[ she is a stone. a bird. a playing piece, morphing into a player. but she hasn't felt much like a wolf in some time. even here, with her kin around her, she feels like the oddity. more of an outsider even than jon, despite the love she feels for them and that they feel in turn.

there remains a chasm -- one of her own creation. ] I know that in Westeros, there is no Sansa Stark.

[ -- in a sense. ]

[greensights]

Nor is there a living Jon Stark, and Bran is dead, as is Rickon, my lady.

[ In a sense. ]

[steeledskin]

[ and yet they are themselves. but sansa swallows -- and chokes a little -- on alayne stone. she is so out of place, here. both girls are, and she cannot decide which she should be in any given moment. so, instead, she ends up inhabiting an empty space between the two. ]

My lord, you are too young to profess such wit. [ wit. she explains away his careful, thoughtful reasoning as mere banter. undermines it; undercuts it; yet, understands it all the same. ]

[greensights]

Am I? Is there an amount of wit I should be professing at thirteen? [ He pauses a moment, trying to recall if he is actually thirteen or if his name day has passed in the time that he's been helping Bran, it pulls a more solemn expression from him, the expression that had almost faded with his conversing with Sansa.

He'd like to think he would pay attention, or at least somehow know. He knows he has no reason to know though. His next words are added on quieter, just loud enough to be heard, barely. ] Or perhaps fourteen. [ He knows they're of similar age. His father seemed pleased by the idea and reminded him more than once.

When he speaks up again, it's louder, putting to bed whatever sad thoughts he was having. ]

Would the Lady Stark prefer if I professed less wit?

[ If she were to behave like that, then he would not hesitate to do the same. ]

[steeledskin]

[ -- for just a moment, her eyes narrow. it's a style of banter she hasn't heard in some time. gentle, teasing, and courtly. who knew such wit existed in the north! deep down, she feels burned and chagrined. time and time again, the north proves itself to be better in truth than she'd ever seen it in her mind. ]

No. [ her own manners slide loosely between courteous and abrupt. ] No, I don't much mind it. Only it caught me by surprise.

[greensights]

[ Jojen's lips press together in thought and before long he finds himself frowning, not at her, but in thought. ]

Do you still want to meet me after I'm off this ship? [ Read: Have I offended your delicate sensibilities?

He pauses, knowing she's too polite to answer that. ] Don't worry, I won't be offended if you don't. I'm not much company to keep, often I think your brother wants to hit me.

[steeledskin]

[ too polite, indeed. she seems to squirm in silence for a moment before: ] Why shouldn't I like to meet you, my lord?

[ a hundred little reasons: fear, caution, distance, discipline, and having been burned by 'fealty' before. but even if she harbours a great deal of doubt, she cannot abide by saying anything other than what's courteous. she is a stark -- it is expected of her to be welcoming to a reed. ]

But mayhaps Bran ought to make the proper introductions.

[ there. a compromise. ]

[greensights]

I didn't wish to offend you. But I also imagine after being in the South, strangers are an experience you've grown to dislike.

[ He's heard and dreamed his fair share of horror stories of the South. The people of Greywater prefer being hermits, it's far easier, so he can easily understand her caution. Hiding behind her younger, crippled brother is silly, but if it's a comfort to her, he doesn't take it from her. ]

I admit after leaving Greywater I grew tired of unfamiliar faces.

[ It's an acceptable compromise. ]

If it pleases you; he's one of my closest friends.

[steeledskin]

And your status as his friend therefore greatly recommends you towards being met, my lord. [ a little bauble of trust. ] I should count myself fortunate indeed that I should ever get to meet good friends of his.