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[kingofbadlifechoices]

Who: Robb & you!
Broadcast: Voice
Action: Mostly at the Blue Fish
When: Today

Network – Voice
[When Robb speaks his voice sounds like that of a sick old man above his eighties. In his life he hasn’t been sick often but when it strikes it mostly manages to floor him at least for a couple of days.]

If there is anyone still in possession of anything that used to belong to my sister Arya, I would like to ask you if you can bring them to me. I stay at the Blue Fish. My name is Robb Stark, I am in charge of security. I am also her oldest brother.

You have my thanks.


[To those who come by to hand over Arya’s stuff or want to run into him – The Blue Fish]
[Robb is waiting for you at the docking station, dressed in the uniform belonging to his job as head of security. The only abnormal thing about him is that he looks pale and has a running nose.

You will be thanked for your donation and if you’re lucky he’ll sneeze in your face as well.]


[To those who want to come visit to fret over Robb and/or is a resident on the Blue Fish]
[Most of the day Robb will be found in his bed with the lights off and his head tucked away underneath the blankets. He has messaged his captain about his sickness and prefers to sleep it off.

So come fuss. He’ll probably be grouchy about it.]


[Action – closed to Bran]
[After Robb has taken a shower and changed into different clothes he actually feels a bit better. At least, good enough to pay his younger brother a visit. Just to check if he is still here, on this bloody ship.

Robb knocks twice.]

Bran? [And another knock.] It is me, Robb. [Robb is sure that Bran probably knows that it is him but just in case.] I need to speak to you. [Or well, just see him. Just knowing that he is allright.] It is about Arya...ah...

[The rest of the words disappear into a loud sneeze.]

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[steeledskin]

[ -- sansa has taken to sitting in a chair at the foot of robb's bed. she isn't there all day, all hours...but she makes a point of spending a good chunk of the evening with him as he rests. she sits, and she sews, and if she thinks he's finally found some sleep? she sings. soft, half-finished phrases of childhood favourites.

and when the news came of arya's disappearance, she added weeping into the rotation. so, tonight, as her brother fights his fever, she sits with red-rimmed eyes and abandons a bit of embroidery she finds herself incapable of giving any attention. ]

It can't be true, can it? [ she mulls, darkly, over her thoughts. ] Theon said the Boltons have Arya. It can't be true.

[ she can't have gone back to that dim fate. ]

[kingofbadlifechoices]

[Robb knows of Sansa's presence. He hears the songs, the soft sounds of thread being pulled through fabric. At times he speaks but mostly he just sleeps.

Arya was gone. And at times he dreams of her. Some are good, some are bad and some do not make any sense at all.]

I hope not... [He peers at his sister when she speaks.] ...Theon is full of it...he talks out of his arse... Arya is somewhere safe... [The idea of her being at the Dreadfort fills him with...well...dread.] ...She is safe...I promise you.

[Finally he stirs a little underneath the blankets so he can sit up and spout more promises he cannot keep at all.]

[steeledskin]

[ -- she pulls another long strand of thread through her work. sewing is like breathing, now. it is second nature: a thing for her fingers to do when she sits, anxious about everything. ]

He was quite serious when he said it. [ ... ] Not mocking, or playing at all.

[ not smirking as he usually does when he's being, well, theon. ]

[kingofbadlifechoices]

[Robb is pretty sure that Theon had been grinning and laughing when he foreshadowed about Arya’s fate.]

He is full of it, Sansa. [He looks at his oldest sister sitting there, sewing peacefully.] Arya will be fine...she will be. Bolton will not get his hands on her. I will not... [A long shuddering breath escapes his mouth.] ...allow it.

Do not believe what Theon says... He is a craven...he refuses to kill bloody Bolton...for me. I asked him. [And what follows is a string of colorful curses not meant for a young noblewoman’s ears.]

[steeledskin]

[ and yet, she endures his cusses with her own brand of stoicism. she's heard them all before: from the hound, from her husband, from the men in the eyrie. some, too, from randa royce's lips. ]

Maybe he fears him. [ she cannot help but feel a drop of sympathy for the man who once asked whether thinking about bad people meant they would turn up in the fleet. ]

[kingofbadlifechoices]

[Robb is not even sure what to believe anymore. He hears many stories from many people because none of them bothered to knock on his door to tell him.

It made him feel awful, yet at this point the fever makes him feel more awful.]

Theon is a craven. Of course he fears. He fears everyone. [The glare he sends to his sister isn’t meant for her at all.] Where is Bran? Is Bran still here?

[He probably is, but he probably will not come anymore.]

[steeledskin]

[ the glare mightn't be meant for her, but she feels it keenly. especially as it pairs with robb's derison of fear, of cowardice, and of a sin she knows she herself possesses. who else fears everyone? sansa does.

she bites down on a sad sigh, instead hoping to please him in her answer: ] Elsewhere aboard the ship. I promise. He's still here. You needn't worry for him, too.

[kingofbadlifechoices]

[The glare disappears as soon as it appeared.]

I do not understand... [Robb breathes heavily for a moment.] ...why no one tells me... You all know... [For a clear moment he realizes that he should shut his mouth about that.]

Bran hates me. [He pouts a little before he tries to relax.]

[steeledskin]

Hates you? [ she queries. and sits up a little straighter. ] How could he?

[kingofbadlifechoices]

[Robb huffs heavily and hides a little underneath the blankets.]

I have been an awful brother... I forget that... [Talking makes him ridiculously tired.] Do not blame him...okay?