driftfleet | 003 winter wonderland

Entry tags:

003 winter wonderland

Who: Sansa Stark
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: down on the planet
When: 20 December - end of the month

> > > carol singing

( Sansa enjoys the systems that are cold and this one is no exception. This planet is full of ice and snow and the people are warm and kind the way she remembers the North being when she was a child. They do love music, impossibly so, and so she decides to sing a few of the songs she knows down in a cafe when some others are singing their own. It's nice to learn new things to sing and she has one of the new songs on the tip of her tongue as she goes to get a cup of warm tea, needing to stave off the chill. When she sees someone she recognizes from the Fleet, she steps back a bit and allows them to step to the counter first. )

Oh, did you want anything? Far be it from me to be in your way - how rude of me.

> > > stitching time

( Lord Akeldama's waistcoat was coming along nicely and rather than sew up in the Fleet, Sansa has chosen to do it down in a cozy corner near a fire in a bookstore down on the planet. She has a little basket of sewing things she's bought from her small supply of credits and she's hoping a few others will take her up on the offer to make things for them. She sends a message out to the Fleet indicating the same, that anyone can come and put in a commission. She sews fast and accurate; Sansa doesn't think it will take her long to turn out a few pieces and earn a bit of money. For now, though, it's Lord Akeldama's waistcoat and she's just pricked her finger. She makes a soft sound and brings the wounded finger to her lips to suck it. )

Ouch! You'd think I would be better at this.

> > > wildcard

( Have another idea? Leave me a start below! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I feel like he'd say something similar, only with quite a bit more mumbling. My brother does not like attention in the slightest. He would rather do his work quietly.

( Sansa, on the other hand, has never had a problem with positive attention; it's just that she seems to draw negative attention more often than not. )

I will admit, I have a taste for finery. I grew up in the North where we are fairly modest and all I wanted was to go South and be a princess and go to court.

I can probably understand his motivations. And I can start mumbling if you'd like.

[There's almost a tease in that last, which is a feat in and of itself.]

I understand a little of the appeal. I used to go dancing in my younger days. [Bucky, you're not that old.] And if you'll forgive my own forwardness, you certainly are pretty enough to be a princess.

I almost was a princess, once, but I'm glad that I'm not. I suppose I am, technically - my brother is the king.

( Sansa doesn't think of herself as anything but Lady of Winterfell now, a title that's cold and unassailable and protects her from having to be married off or play politics on an uneven field. The title is security that her identity no longer gives her. )

It's being pretty that got me into trouble in the first place. I think, if I had it to do over, I would rather be plain and sensible than pretty and full of dreams.

Then for your sake I'm glad you're not.

[He'll not pry but Bucky certainly won't stop her if she desires to talk. As much as his natural inclination is to keep himself apart from everyone, it's proving to be more difficult than he thought.]

Do you fault yourself now for mistakes made in your past?

I fault myself for every single one of them. The things I did...I know I was just a child and didn't know better but even still. I caused irreparable damage to my family. I was a hand in my own destruction.

( Rebuilding Winterfell and rebuilding her family has been the hardest thing Sansa has ever done. Still - all of it, brick by brick, is on her shoulders and she has to take that responsibility. )

It's impossible not to carry it with me. Sometimes I forget about it here, so far removed from home and with no one to tie me back to it but my husband but when I remember, I feel that much more guilty.

I know a little of how you feel.

[It's definitely much too forward but he puts a hand on her elbow and indicates a more quiet corner of the establishment. The way their conversation might be headed, privacy seems more prudent. And it creates more room for other patrons near the counter.]

It's not easy to carry a weight with you. But it can make you stronger.

Where I'm from, we have words that are strongly associated with our houses. House Stark's words have always been Winter is Coming but now we say something different.

( Sansa pauses for a moment, sipping at her tea. )

We say The North Remembers. I think if you remember and you carry it with you, it guards you against being hurt again.

I like that sentiment. Memory can't guard against all hurts, but it can perhaps soften their pain.

[That memories cause a pain all their own, he deems it unnecessary to say. From the way she talks, Bucky thinks Sansa may already know as much.]

I hope not all of your memories of home are such armor though. Are there such that bring you joy?

My family, of course. I have none of them here. My husband is here but he is, of course, from a different house and one that actually did mine a fair amount of harm. I have none of my brothers or my sister here with me.

( Sansa wishes she did have them - if they were here, they’d be safe. )

Did you find out if anyone from your home was here or are you alone in the Fleet?

If you've always been surrounded by family, I guess it's hard to be without them.

[He wouldn't know, and the question makes him frown a little in thought.]

I don't know if I'm alone or not. There are people who know me, but I don't know them.

Do you seem to be from different versions of the world? My husband and I am. There are things that don’t match up.

( Sansa has had to learn to accommodate those differences and gaps in experience. )

I don't know.

[Another shrug, and a somewhat apologetic smile.]

My memory... isn't intact. The people who say they know me... I'm not sure if I'm supposed to know them or not.

( That's a hard thing, not being able to trust your own mind, and Sansa reaches out to touch his hand lightly in comfort. It seems like all she can do, at this point, but she wants to offer it. )

I'm sorry. Perhaps you just need time to remember everything? Sometimes when...terrible things happen, I forget the details or get them wrong.

[The touch surprises him, because Bucky's kept himself apart from people. He's dangerous he knows. He's a threat. But her fingertips are gentle and Bucky doesn't brush her hand away.]

You're right, of course. I know my name again. I didn't always.

[It's not quite a secret, but he does keep his memory issues very close — or as close as he can, with people he doesn't know, knowing him.]

A name is an important thing to keep, your name, when others try to make you be someone else. I spent some time as another person. It was...difficult to remember who I was beneath it.

( The lie of Alayne was one she'd perfected over time, with Baelish's help, but Sansa is glad for the fact that she's Sansa Stark again and needs not hide who she is from anyone. )

You speak as if you know pieces of my life already.

[It's not as uncomfortable a thought as it could be. Bucky allows a smile, something that's almost self depreciating.]

I called you wise when we first met. I think I stand by that descriptor.

I think it's less that I know portions of your life and more that we've shared more than would be expected. We come from very different places, you and I, but I think we've both been through things no person should go through.

( It is nice for Sansa to have someone who understands. Bucky is someone she can talk to these things about and not feel broken or wrong because he's experienced it too, in some way. He's not given her details and she hasn't shared her own but it doesn't matter - the feeling is the same. )

I only became wise through sacrifice. I'm afraid that's how it is for most people.

Maybe one day we'll share a little more of our stories.

[It's not a promise, because that would be foolish; Bucky still doesn't hold a lot of trust for this place. Instead it's more an expression of hope for their continued association, which has been pleasant thus far. Truly, Sansa has owed him nothing; her kindness has all come of her own volition.]

There's nothing wrong with that. Sacrifice does make a person stronger, doesn't it? As long as he hasn't lost too much of himself.

There's a limit to what a person can give, yes. Sometimes, if the cause is worthy, you can push through but often it's just a slow erosion.

( Sansa feels like she gets a little respite in this place. There's no one vying for her attention or for her claim and she can focus on herself. It's novel to her. )

I try to think of this place as apart from my other life, separate. I try not to dwell on things of the past here because I cannot control them here in the Fleet. It's easier said than done, though.

Pieces taken away or reshaped until the original is less than a memory.

[He knows it well, the cold, painful reality of it. And Bucky can't help but wonder what Sansa's been through to know similar.]

I don't know if that's something I can do, but I'll try to take your advice. [A beat.] At the very least the Fleet has brought us acquaintance, so I suppose it's not all bad.

No, it’s not. I’m very glad to have met you, Bucky, and I hope you’ll be here for a while. It’s selfish, I suppose, but I would like the chance to be your friend.

( They all have things back home that are pressing - Sansa hasn’t met anyone who doesn’t - but she’s human enough to admit when she cares for someone and wants them to stick around. )

Is it really selfish if we're being selfish together?

[It's one of the first things in his life since breaking away from HYDRA that has felt safe enough to want. A dangerous thought perhaps, given their situation, but one he wants to indulge.]

I can't promise that I remember enough of myself to be a good friend to you. But I will try.

I don't think missing parts of yourself means you won't be a good friend. I've...lost parts of me, too, and I don't think it's changed who I am fundamentally. It couldn't.

( Sansa touches his hand again, wanting to comfort him. She doesn't want him to think that being a good friend requires remembering everything in his past; she has things she wishes she could forget. )

I think you'll still be Bucky regardless.

Maybe you're right. I hope you're right.

[This time he turns his hand under hers, lightly grasping her fingertips in his own. There's nothing but firmness in it, metal doesn't have the give of flesh-and-blood, but he has learned to keep his touch light with that arm.]

I still don't even really know who Bucky is. I guess we're going to find out together.

I think it'll be a worthwhile venture to pursue. I'm happy to help you in any way that I can. I cannot promise to...I've never done that before, or anything, but I know what it's like to not remember, to be someone else, to lock your true self away. If nothing else, you know that I will understand and accept without judgment.

( Sansa wonders what her family would think of her now. Not Jon, Bran and Arya, who have all changed too, but her lord father and lady mother, what Rickon would think - what those would think who knew her as a bright-eyed girl who loved songs and dancing.

She's not that little girl anymore, no longer so naive, but it's in there somewhere. She found it. She thinks Bucky can find himself too. )

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