open | text + action

[steeledskin]

Who: Sansa Stark + YOU
Broadcast: Text, fleetwide.
Action: Blue Fish
When: This morning.

Jon Snow and Bran Stark have left the Fleet. Condolences to those who may have befriended them while they were here; Gods-willing, we shall see them again.

[ sansa's message is short -- abrupt, and almost stripped of its emotion. she avoids broadcasting anything but simple text because she does not trust herself to maintain her mask, so to speak. as it is, she's cried too much. losing bran and jon feels like opening old wounds packed with grief. it makes her feel like a little girl again: weak, and mewling.

but she does add: ] I dread leaving, as they have left. Do others in the Fleet want to stay?

[ later, she can be found sitting on the floor of her personnel office. she has taken the furs from her bunk and has spread them across the ground, and she's allowed jon's direwolf pups free rein of the cozy and comfortable area. sansa's eyes are red-rimmed, and they betray every lie she tells when she insists she's as well as can be expected. but at least her spirits lift, a little, when she's playing tug-of-war with the pups.

they bring her a bittersweet joy. ]

Comments

[steeledskin]

I would appreciate a story, just now, I think.

[castintoflames]

Then I shall provide. Eru Illúvatar, The One, The All High, The Father of All, Alone, first brought forth the Ainur. Through the Ainur, Arda, my world, took shape. The Ainur raised their voices in harmony and that was what leant them creative power. Only Eru can create independently, you see, for he is the only one who possesses the Flame of life.

The race of Men and Elves were given shape by Eru and thus we are called his children. The Dwarves were created by one of the Ainur - Lord Aulë - through the blessing of Eru. Then there are the Ents - tree shepherds or herders - who were created by Eru through the request of another Ainur, the Lady Yavanna. Lastly, the darker creatures of Arda too had a creator and he is not one I wish to speak of in your company, my lady.

(Maedhros feels himself grow cold even thinking of Morgoth.)

Those who belong to the Ainur are: King Manwë, Lord Ulmo, Lord Aulë, Lord Oromë, Lord Námo, Lord Irmo, Lord Tulkas, Queen Varda, Lady Yavanna, Lady Nienna, Lady Estë, Lady Vairë, Lady Vána, Lady Nessa, Lord Melkor and the Maiar, who are those who serve the Ainur.

King Manwë betrothed Queen Varda and together they rule over Arda and the heavens. The King controls the winds and all that takes flight and the Queen sees to the stars.

Lord Ulmo has dominion over the Seas and Lord Aulë sees to work of the Forge. Lord Oromë is the Lord of the Hunt and Lord Námo oversees the Souls of the Deceased in his Halls. Lord Irmo sees to Dreams and Desires and Lord Tulkas is the Lord of War and Battle.

Then there are the ladies - besides the Queen - and they have tied themselves romantically or otherwise to the aforementioned lords. Lady Yavanna sees to All that Grows on Arda. Lady Nienna sees to Mourning and the Feelings of Grief. Lady Estë is responsible for Healing and Lady Vairë is the Weaver; she sees to recording all the many histories of Arda within her tapestries. Then there is the Lady Vána, who nurtures all that is Youthful, and the Lady Nessa, who is renowned for her Swift Feet.

[steeledskin]

[ she is a patient and engaged listener. so much so, indeed, that she makes a careful exception for him: sansa toggles the video feed on her communication device, allowing it to record her sharp (if quiet) attention.

sansa doesn't interrupt -- but she soaks in every word. it's been a long time since she's heard roots of stories so vast and sprawling as this one.

gently, when it seems he's said his piece, she replies not by text but with a carefully worded and spoken statement: ] They sound a little like the Seven, only more numerous. And better named. Their names are beautiful, my lord.

[castintoflames]

(The story has been simplified by him. The history of Aman and Arda is far more vast once one adds in Elves, Dwarves and Men. Maedhros knows naught of Hobbits, however, or else he would add their stories to the tapestry.)

I walked amongst them once. They were glorious to behold.

Tell me of your Seven?

[steeledskin]

They are not my gods -- [ not any more ] -- but they were my Lady Mother's. Seven, worshiped by the Faith in the southern kingdoms. They are the new gods, but they are only seven different faces of one god. The Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Smith, the Crone, and the Stranger.

[castintoflames]

Why do you not believe in them? (He isn't accusatory; merely curious.) I can see the similarity between your Seven and the Valar. The Father would be Eru or Manwë; the Mother would be Varda or Yavanna if one considers the land a mother; the Warrior would be Tulkas; the Maiden would be Vána; the Smith would be Aulë; the Crone... I cannot say. I am equally perplexed as to the Stranger.

[steeledskin]

[ because the seven have proven themselves fickle, and without mercy. but sansa holds her tongue. instead, she tells an answer that's prettier. politer. ]

My family [ apart from her lady mother ] are a northern family. And in the north, the old gods are worshiped. They are nameless and they are countless, and they persisted long before the conquerors came across the Narrow Sea and cut down their holy trees.

[castintoflames]

(Slowly, he nods, perplexed by the idea of...multiple religions. The Elves have always been certain and solid in such matters.)

I suppose there is power in decimating another's beliefs. It seems foul to me to do so, but Men have done fouler before.

[steeledskin]

[ dully: ] And do fouler again.

[castintoflames]

Not without justice being done, I pray.

[steeledskin]

There is no such thing as justice. Not in Westeros. Not any longer. I pray your kingdoms are different, my lord.

[castintoflames]

Ah, child, justice exists in all places. There is simply no one to uphold it in your Westeros and that is sad indeed. You deserve better.

[steeledskin]

[ i don't.

she swallows her feelings. once again, she aims to be polite: ] My name is Sansa Stark. What's yours?

[castintoflames]

Well met, Lady Sansa. I am Maedhros or Maitimo if you prefer. (There is also Nelyafinwë and Russandol, but he doesn't wish to confuse her.)

[steeledskin]

[ kind of him to offer, but: ] Which do you prefer? Maedhros or Maitimo?

[ -- both are foreign to her, but she recreates their sounds with passing grace. she's gotten good at echoing the words of others, even when she doesn't quite understand them. she has a careful, curious ear. ]

[castintoflames]

I do not have a preference; whichever is easier for you to recall shall serve. (He smiles at her skill. Quenya and Sindarin are not easy languages.) I have been given many names, but such is not uncommon for Elven-kind.

(Particularly those that have done as much as him.)

[steeledskin]

Maedhros sounds strong. [ like a king of old. one of the earlier dragon lords. she associates those eliding, sliding vowels with ancient royalty and stories of old. of aegon, of jaehaerys, of daeron. ]

[castintoflames]

It means pale glitter. (Referring to the flash or glitter of metal.) Each Elf is given a father name and a mother name. My father name is Nelyafinwë, which refers to me as "Finwë the Third". Finwë is my grandfather, you see. My mother name is Maitimo, which means "well-shaped one". My mother is a sculptor.

(He smiles faintly, the expression sad.) My epessë - or nickname - is Russandol or "Copper-top". The color of my hair is rare for Elves.

Therefore Maedhros is simply a combination of Maitimo and Russandol. We enjoy crafting fitting names overmuch, I think.

[steeledskin]

[ her smile is weak -- unhappy, but not a whole lie. ]

Mine is rare for northerners, too. [ and if they share nothing else, they at least share the colour -- evident since she's toggled the video function a few messages past. ] Though I have thankfully never been called anything like copper-top.

[ it's clear she views it as a little too familiar. a little too unbecoming. ]

[castintoflames]

Your hair is enchanting. (He is fond of the color since he equates it with his mother and younger twin brothers.) Does the nickname displease you?

(His lips quirk, amused.) It was given to me by loving brothers and cousins. I cherish it even if it might sound childish.

[steeledskin]

It would displease me, I think, were it given to me. [ but it wasn't. it was given to him. and he cherishes it, and so sansa respects it as best she can. ] Although it's prettier in its native tongue than in translation.

[castintoflames]

You will find that is usually the case with Elven tongues. We can make atrocities sound like songs. (His brother Maglor has a gift for that with his creations.)

[steeledskin]

I only speak the common tongue -- [ she confesses. ] And enough High Valyrian to please my tutors and do well in my lessons.

[castintoflames]

Does High Valyrian differ much from the common tongue? I am most comfortable with Quenya, though I have learned some Sindarin as well as the languages of Men.

[steeledskin]

It differs enough. I don't think it's taught in Westeros outside of the Great Houses or the Citadel. [ ... ] I once heard that they still speak it in the streets across the Narrow Sea, but I've never been there.