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

[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.

[greensights]

[ A slow nod. ]

And I should count myself fortunate should I have the chance to be met by you, Lady Sansa. Mayhaps one day my sister should have the same chance.

[steeledskin]

[ -- meera. she knows the name, if not the person. ]

From what Bran has said, I fear she would be happier meeting Arya.

[greensights]

I think she would rather the chance to meet both of you.

[ He imagines she does, Bran's doting crush on the Reed sister makes Jojen wonder how many people he's spoken to about Meera. ]

[steeledskin]

You speak so well of her. [ -- a small smile. ] I will pray, then, that we should have the opportunity to meet. Me and her.

[ -- except that sansa's doesn't pray much at all, any longer. it simply seems like the right thing to say. ]