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ABRAXAS MODS ([personal profile] abraxasmods) wrote in [community profile] abraxasooc2021-05-20 09:20 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME #1

TEST DRIVE MEME
Welcome to the very first test drive meme for Abraxas! This meme is run a little bit differently than most in that you'll be asked to choose one of the two different arrival scenarios below for your character to take. If you have any questions about this mechanic or anything else related to the TDM, please take a look at the questions below or ask one of your own here. For general game questions please still use the FAQ.

Arrival

You awaken suspended in the abyss, silent darkness stretching out in all directions. If you try to yell, you'll find that the sound doesn't carry. If you try to move, you'll find it's impossible to tell whether or not you're actually getting anywhere. If you reach for an item you were carrying last time you remember being awake, your hand will only touch bare skin.

You're naked and floating helplessly through the void, and what little air you have in your lungs is running out.

There's a pinprick of light that almost looks like a faraway star but as it grows it becomes clear that it's actually quite close. Through the opening you can see a bright room, but it's hard to make out any individual objects, as if you're looking from beneath rippling water.

A hand plunges through and you realize water is just what it is. Whether you take hold of the hand or not it will grab you and yank you up through the surface, lifting you out until you're sprawled on solid ground. Once you catch your breath, you can get a better look at the surroundings: tall trees and even taller stone pillars surround the platform you're laying on. Behind you is an ornate fountain, the base of which is so deep and so dark you might be compelled to scramble away from it lest it suck you back in to that endless abyss. Ahead of you are the walls of a large castle with several tall towers reaching up towards the sky.

If you had any powers, they feel unusually weak. Attempts to use magic or enhanced strength or powers of any sort fizzle out without any effect, but they don't feel completely gone, either.

Set into an indent on a marble slab behind the fountain is a card baring the image of one of the arcana.

An apprentice mage - the one whose hand lifted you out of the fountain - brushes the water off on their robes and runs back to join a group of three others, who all stare intently at a mage with highly decorated robes and a large, heavy book. He peers up at you for a moment and starts flipping through the book.

"I beg your pardon," he says, so absorbed in the pages of the book that he doesn't bother to look up, "I am Ambrose Rhett, the High Mage of the Kingdom of Thorne. One of my apprentices will explain everything in a moment, but please refrain from yelling and thrashing about until then. You're quite alright, and screaming gives me a hell of a headache."

Regardless of your response, he keeps flipping through the heavy tome, until he stops on one specific page, stares at it for a moment, and then exclaims:

"Aha!"

Scenario One: Welcome to Thorne

Ambrose's expression brightens, eyes twinkling with delight. He waves one of the apprentices over with a fine silk tunic, pants, and some basic sandals and with a wave of his hand they reshape to fit you perfectly.

"Success! It's a success!" he exclaims, slamming the book shut and scurrying towards you.

Now that he's not hunching over the book, he doesn't seem quite so stuffy and inapproachable. The apprentices all seem quite relieved at his jovial outburst, and the one that handed you the tunic stops to take the tarot card down from the marble slab. If you show any curiosity about the card, they'll let you take a longer look, but won't let you touch it.

"Please, come with me, you're an honored guest here," he says, motioning for you to follow him towards the castle, "As promised, my pupils will explain your current situation. And, ah - if you had any magic of your own, or other special abilities you can't access right now, fear not, they'll return within the week. The summoning takes a lot out of you."

One of the apprentices steps forward and rattles on and on about the castle, Thorne itself, the names of a bunch of royals and nobles, and of course, your reason for being here. The Kingdom and the world itself is in great peril, and tales of your exploits have reached far and wide across universes. If asked about these exploits, the apprentice will simply smile and shrug. The High Mage was happy to see you and that's good enough.

Once inside the castle you're taken to the North Wing, which has been set up as living quarters for you and your fellow newcomers. There are four people to a room, but each generously-sized bed has opaque curtains that can be drawn around it. You can meet your roommates here and discuss your shared situation (everyone appears to have arrived within the last few days), or you can wander around and meet the others.

There's also a dining hall stocked with all sorts of fancy food to meet every possible dietary need, and a library filled with epic tales and legends and the history of Thorne. Given that this is the Thorne library, it may be a biased account that makes the Kingdom look a fair bit better than the rest of the world sees them. Last but not least, there's a study hall where a few junior mages (younger and less experienced than the apprentices from earlier) might be willing to teach you some simple elemental magic. Think holding a small flame in the palm of your hand, or blowing a door shut with a gust of wind.

You may also notice that your sign is embroidered on your tunic: the same image you saw on the card from before with the name of the sign itself beneath it. If you ask the castle residents, they'll tell you a little bit about your sign (and will mostly stick to the positives, although some might point out the negatives).

Last (and, if you ask anyone else in the castle, least) there is a worn stone staircase leading underground to the dungeon. You can go there, if you wish, but all powers are restricted in the dungeons and spending too much time with the prisoners will lead to some suspicion being cast upon you. If you ask anyone why the prisoners are being held there, you'll be told that they pose a great threat to the Kingdom (and, by extension, the entire world).

Scenario Two: Imprisoned

The High Mage scowls, grinding his teeth as he slams the book shut. "Another failure!" he barks at the apprentices, "You lot wouldn't know your ass from a hole in the ground, would you?"

All four of them lower their heads, and two of them mumble an apology that Ambrose either doesn't hear or refuses to acknowledge. "Well, don't just stand there," he says, waving a hand in the air, "We've put all this effort into getting this wretched creature, we may as well put it to good use."

One of the apprentices drops a baggy, rough-feeling tunic, a pair of pants, and some worn sandals in your lap and glares down at you until you put them on (if you refuse, they'll tell you they can kick you back down that well if you don't want to cooperate). They're glaring at the High Mage as much as they're glaring at you (when they're sure he isn't looking, anyway). You might catch one of them long enough to ask them why they're so upset with you, but all they'll say is that the High Mage knows something they don't, and he's awfully upset about it.

Once you're fully clothed, another apprentice clamps some heavy iron shackles around your wrists and leads you on. The High Mage is far ahead of you already, muttering some long string of Thornean curses before he stands up straight and pauses, spinning to face you.

"One more thing," he says, holding one hand in the air and chanting something under his breath, "Can't have you getting too troublesome."

If you had powers, the slight connection you still had to them slips away completely and you're left with nothing as the four apprentices drag you towards the castle. They may answer a few of your questions (with some insults and curses peppered in), but they won't tell you anything important.

Once you arrive at the castle you're brought to the dungeons and thrown into a locked cell. There are four people to a cell, and two sets of bunk beds with a thin and lumpy straw mattress. If you're over six feet tall, these beds are going to be awfully uncomfortable. You might as well meet your roommates. Once per day you're dragged out to an enclosed courtyard for one hour of recreation (with some crude weights, benches, and balls lying around but not much else), where you can meet the rest of the prisoners, but you can also talk to your immediate neighbors in the cells on either side and across the hallway. Just don't yell too much or the guards will snap at you to be quiet.

Everyone in the dungeon is fed one meal a day, and for a prison meal it's decent: a bit of meat, a bun, and a salad. It would seem that the Thornean chefs take too much pride in their craft to send bad food to the dungeons. The meals are all served in equal portions, though, so the smaller prisoners may be overfed and the larger ones may be getting hungry. Feel free to fight for food or share with your cellmates.

Crudely embroidered on the back of every prison tunic is the same image that was on your card and the name of the sign beneath it. A guard may explain a bit about the sign, and tell you some negative stereotypes they hold about yours.

You may be blessed with a visit from one of the more welcomed newcomers, and they may sneak you some extra food or a small book to read or they may share some of the information they've gathered. However, rumors travel fast and some people believe the honored guests in the castle above are somehow responsible for the lot of the prisoners below. And although you may hope for kindness, there's nothing stopping them from being cruel to you if they wish. The guards will certainly turn a blind eye if one of them wishes to take out their frustrations on you.




Questions


How do I choose a scenario for my character?
Pick whichever situation appeals to you most. Whether your character is honored or imprisoned has nothing to do with their personal morality, or how highly they regard themselves and their own accomplishments. Anyone can be put into either situation.

Can I try out both scenarios?
You can! But please keep in mind that only the one you eventually choose can be game canon, if you decide to keep any of your TDM threads.

What happens if my character refuses to comply with Ambrose?
Prisoners will be dragged against their will. Honored guests will be forgiven for their moment of panic or anger if they have one, and Ambrose and the apprentice mages will try to calm them and persuade them further. If they put up too much of a fight and/or start actively attacking anyone, Ambrose will warn them once that he's willing to put them back in the well where they came from (see below), and if they continue to fight he will make good on that promise.

My character intends on causing a lot of trouble (destroying parts of the castle, murdering the castle staff, etc.), what would happen to them?
Characters who make too much trouble for the mages and other staff would be thrown back in the well (which will mean drowning in the void, not returning home). Brawling with other PCs and causing minor damage is fine and will be greeted with a cranky attitude (if they are an honored guest) or a punishment like denial of food or temporary solitary confinement (if they are a prisoner), and there will be plenty of opportunity for destruction and murder later, but for now the Thorneans have no desire to keep huge liabilities around.

Ambrose will take it especially personally, as this experiment was his idea and too much trouble would risk the summoning spell being scrapped and potentially result in him being demoted. Rest assured it does not take much for him to throw someone back in the well at this point in time.

Is the power loss for the prisoners permanent?
No, although honored guests will regain their powers first due to the lack of interference from Ambrose, the prisoners will be able to regain theirs soon enough as well.

Can the prisoners talk about anything private, or will they be overheard at all times?
There are guards patrolling the dungeon, but they aren't always within earshot. Most of the attention is being focused on the new guests, so the prisoners will have some opportunities for privacy.

Can my character leave the castle?
For now they will be prevented from leaving the castle, even if they are an honored guest. A bit of a gilded cage, isn't it? They'll also find that any powers they regain cease to work outside of the castle walls (this is also a temporary effect) so flying outside is not an option.

Can my character eventually side against Thorne if I choose to make them an honored guest/can they side with Thorne if I choose to imprison them?
Yes, characters in Scenario 1 will be able to betray Thorne, and characters in Scenario 2 can work themselves into Thorne's good graces.

How much will my choice of scenario affect my character's plot later on?
This choice will have a major impact on gameplay throughout the first few months of the game, and potentially a bit beyond that depending on where our players guide the plot. This decision - and every other major decision you make in game! - will also be used to flavor some mod surprises that will be coming down the line.

Don't get too anxious about this choice, though; this is just one choice you'll get to make in a game that has a lot of them, and every character in both scenarios can work their way towards many, many individual goals and outcomes. You're not locking yourself out of anything in the future via the choice you made on the TDM. It will primarily impact the immediate future with the far-reaching effects being up to each player.

Are TDM threads mandatory for my application?
No, you may use other samples, but we encourage you to post to the TDM and get a feel for this game and its mechanics before you join. If you do not have a TDM thread you will still need to choose one of the two scenarios on your application.

What if I haven't settled on a sign yet?
You can ignore sign-related prompts if you're undecided (or try out different signs in different threads).

Can a put a character on the TDM if their canon is less than 30 days old?
Yes. For this app round, anything that's at least 30 days old when the game opens on June 12th can be applied from.

Do the apprentice mages have names?
Their names are Jeffrey, Grigory, Noelle, and Jolene.


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girl_at_the_window: (All through this world)

i - hello i am here to plague u

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-24 07:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Not my queen, sai.

[Susan took the top bunk first chance she got, and she's been sitting there in silence for some time now, face in her hands, occasionally sniffing. When she raises her head to look at Cersei, her eyes are suspiciously red-rimmed.]

[Still, her tone is dry, and for a moment, she regards the older woman from her perch. Then, making her mind up, she sighs and pushes herself off the bunk. For a moment, she is in flight, and she can almost pretend that the air that moves her hair is a wind on the Drop, that she's home and none of this has been more than a dream.]

[But that's stupid. It's stupid and fanciful, and it's only a split second before her sandals hit the stone of the floor, and jar any stupid fancies back out of her head.]


But sure. If you want it, sai, take it. It's no difference to me.

[It is, actually. Not much of one, but she'd snagged that bunk for a reason. She's seen jail floors before, and she doesn't want to be any closer to one than she has to be, especially not when it's unclear how often, if ever, they'll be let out.]

[Trouble is, Susan was raised right. And she saw that look in the woman's eyes, that flash of animal desperation, just as she sees the clenching and unclenching of the queen's fists. Queen means little enough to her mind - how long since there even was a Queen in the Baronies? - but that look means plenty. She has an idea this woman could use a win.]
reignfall: (018)

hello why is she so good already

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-05-24 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
It is just like her to try her commands on a sniffling girl at most half her age. More like than not, that quiet weeping had been an act to begin with – Melara had been a good deal younger when she'd so cowardly planned to take what could never be hers. No one could be trusted, and no one lies better than a sweet-looking girl: for this, she takes her own life as proof.

So she means to simply step past her to seize the victory she has been granted, arrogant enough to ignore that she has not received the worshipful notice of her station that she believes to be so deserving of.

Only unfortunate that it's a smallish blond girl, so easily someone Myrcella would grow to look like in a handful of years, or that her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, belying that there is truth in her weeping.


Are you hurt?
girl_at_the_window: (All my happiness bereft)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-24 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[Are you hurt? Now there's a question, Susan thinks, to tangle with - and she almost laughs at it, despite the tight knot of tears clustered in her throat.]

[Is she hurt? She looks down at her hands, calloused but whole, and remembers all too clearly the bite of the rope against her wrists, deep enough to cut; remembers the feeling of the skin on her palms blistering and peeling as the flames caught. There's no sign of blisters, no sign that the fire licked its hungry way over her skin, and the lump in her throat doesn't taste of smoke, and the blood and bruises are no longer lingering on her face where Jonas struck her.]

[Slowly, she shakes her head, biting her lip.]


No. No, I don't think so, I...

[And her hands (her whole hands, her unburnt hands) find their way back to her belly and she swallows, looking at her cellmate. She doesn't expect sympathy, isn't even sure she wants it. But she never said it. Never out loud, never to someone. And now it's over.]

I was with child.

[The stress on the word was is small, but audible.]
reignfall: (006)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-05-24 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Everywhere in the world they hurt little girls, women grown. Few days go by that she does not look upon her daughter and thinks of the inevitable, and how she can use the crown's power to stifle it. She can be conscious of it and complicit all the same – back home, she is in the process of finding men suitable for the task of murdering all Robert's whores and the bastards he got them with.

That does not mean the girl here and now does not speak a fear back into her mind. Children do not always take, and she remembers the sudden awareness of how fragile all of it can be when she'd first learned that she was with child. The fragility never stops – even now that Joff wields a sword of his own and sits the Iron Throne he was meant to rule from, she is, often, painfully aware of how small he'd fit into her arms once upon a time. Three children could be an equaliser, in their way: so much of it all from conception to birth was between the gods alone, something no gold nor crown could aid her in.


Take the godsdamned bed, I will argue with whoever set his bundle on the other high-up one. ⟪ There are four people to the cell, and their companions must have been taken to devour their serving of food.

That is all the kindness she can spare, and it is barely a kindness when she steps away from the ladder. To say there is concern in her eyes may well be a reach, but the advice she'd once received comes to her nonetheless. Three children she has, but four pregnancies, and while Jaime had complied and found her a woman who knew how to do away with Robert's spawn before she was forced to carry it to term, the process had been anything but pleasant.


You should lie down. Your body needs the rest. ⟪ She sounds near indifferent. ⟫ Are you running a fever, child?
girl_at_the_window: (You filled my heart with weary blues)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-24 09:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's something more comforting about that indifference than there could be in gentler kindness. Softness would be wrong for this place and this situation. Besides, if someone were kind to Susan, at this very moment, she's not at all sure she wouldn't burst into tears all over again, and she's sick of crying already.]

[I'm not a child, she wants to snap. She's going on for seventeen, and she's cared for herself long enough, cared for the ranch long enough, given up enough and suffered enough, that being an adult feels the least she's owed. But at the same time, there's a part of her so small and lost that it would be a lie.]

[In the end, wrapping her arms around herself, she just shakes her head.]


No fever. No bleeding, neither. Naught that needs resting from.

It was gone when they brought me here, I think. So I ain't... [Her voice betrays her, cracks a little against the knot in her throat.] It ain't miscarried. Just gone.

[And, really, she shouldn't be surprised by it. The fire that took her took her child too. Enough of an accident that they brought her here somehow - why should she ever expect they could have brought the baby, too?]
reignfall: (071)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-05-24 10:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Naught but the hell itself.

It is magic that brought them out here – perhaps she should not be surprised that there seem to be none of the cruel effects on the body that such a thing can have. She holds no love for Lysa Arryn – despises her, really – but there is no one safe for long-dead Rhaella that she could name who has suffered the loss of an unborn child more often. The effects are visible, undeniable, and telling to all who know what to look for. They are also intimate and humiliating, and perhaps not the things she would share with another.

Perhaps it might be better to offer a solution, in case she is simply opting not to tell the truth of it.


If the bleeding does come, we'll rip some cloth from a blanket.

Crude, but not to be dismissed. In fact, she abandons the beds entirely now to step on over to the equally as disappointing washing basin they were given, and a dip of her fingers proves the water clean and cool. The rags leave something to be desired, but one is quickly soaked and wrung, before she returns to face the girl.

Close your eyes. No one else in here need know that you wept, the coolness will do away with the swelling.

Her tone does not precisely soften, but Cersei is rarely someone who craves pity, and normally merely extends it as a means of tangling manipulations. Yet what she does know is the humiliating sting of tears, and how much worse they are when witnessed, a fresh hell when seen by one who caused them. Only her brother ever sees her weep these days – except, of course, when it was the news of his capture that broke her down.

Now, this girl is as trapped as she herself is, and holding herself with a strength she could halfway admire, and there seems to her no need to drive the coldness of the situation home by showcasing her as a weak link to be picked out by another prisoner.
girl_at_the_window: (No good man)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-25 12:04 am (UTC)(link)
[Well, there's the kindness, and sure enough, there's the rising pressure of tears again, thick and bitter on the back of her tongue. No one else need know that you wept.]

[She didn't weep when they dragged her to the pyre, not until the smoke dragged it from her eyes. She didn't weep when she was pulled out of fire into water, out of water into air. She can hold fast now, or so she tells herself, and, obedient for once, screws her eyes closed, perhaps tighter than is strictly necessary. One or two stray tears squeeze out from under her pale lashes, tracking down the sun-browned skin of her face, but that's all.]

[Her tongue feels thick and rough, as if it's cleaved to the roof of her mouth. She's glad to close her eyes, even if there's a part of her that doesn't wholly trust this so-called queen. What's the worst that can happen, after all?]

[Clearing her throat, she searches for something to say. She's pretty sure she should say something, that it's not right to just drop a grenado of a truth like that and then run into silence. But there doesn't seem much to say.]


...Thankee, sai. And, really, it ain't too much if you want the bunk.
reignfall: (090)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-05-25 08:04 pm (UTC)(link)
With her eyes shut like this, the similarities to Myrcella become more striking in the dim like of the dungeon. It is less apparent here that this girl's face has seen plenty of sun, and with her eyes shut, she looks a fair deal younger. It may well be Myrcella then, set on a bench while she soothes away a tear from some mishap. Her daughter loves her own little garden, and love makes tripping inevitable. Though even now, her girl is outgrowing such petty tears –

It is not use to think of it. It is no use to think of any of her three children, wherever they may be, and she cannot even guess that not a one of them will live to reach Susan's age, ever.


I meant what I said. I shall seize the other.

She says it as though it had been meaningless from the start, and perhaps it had been. Perhaps she should not have so bleeding a heart in this moment, after all, the girl is in for a good deal more cruelties in this world.

I have three children who lived and one who did not, much like yours. ⟪ By choice, perhaps, though not all the surroundings had been made of choice. She does not claim, then, to understand.
girl_at_the_window: (Many a poor girl led from home)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-25 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's Olive that Susan thinks of then. Olive Thorin, sad and sometimes sour; Olive who had every reason to hate her and despise her for what she was; Olive who gave her life for Susan's out on the coast road. Olive had no children who lived - to both of their misfortune - but still, Susan thinks of her as the cool rag washes her aching eyes. In that moment, she decides to trust her cellmate. Decides, too, that she will look out for her, if she can. One woman who showed her kindness has died for it. Perhaps there's some atonement to be found, here.]

[Sniffing a little, she opens her eyes and offers the older woman a small, sympathetic smile.]


I'm sorry to hear it. [Most women of her cellmate's age, she suspects, have lost a child at least once, by accident or by design. But to say as much... that's another matter.] Sorrier that you've been parted. That's a cruelty and a half. [At least her baby had no chance. At least it never had to know what was being taken from it. She's not sure if she feels worse for a mother separated from her children, or a child separated from its mother, but either is a hideous unkindness.]
reignfall: (048)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-05-25 10:28 pm (UTC)(link)
They are well-guarded, and even my youngest boy is older than my brother and I were when our mother was taken from us.

It is a gentle and evidently practiced process: she dabs away the tracks any tears may have left, and then moves over the girl's closed eyes. Not pressing, but merely leaving enough of the cool, wet cloth to touch her so that the worst of the puffiness is soothed. It does not take long at all, and she withdraws slightly after, to press the cloth into her hands.

It almost masks the quiver in her own voice, when she thinks of her children now left with protection that even she does not fully trust.


If you let it rest beneath your eyes, it soothes the skin there. They'll all be none the wiser.

Why she now takes any precaution to protect the girl from harm – gods, what a ridiculous notion. Yet she has few allies here, and neither does this child, so what harm can it do?

You are young to have suffered such a loss. Do you know of the babe's father?

A brutal question, perhaps, but it is a dark and a cruel world, and anything can have happened here.
girl_at_the_window: (All my happiness bereft)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-25 10:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[Susan hears that unsteadiness. It seems to her that the kindest thing she can do is not to draw attention to it, and not to rub any more salt in the wound; she's given her sympathy, and unless the woman wants to talk more about it, that's that.]

[She nods, taking the cloth and doing as she's bidden, pressing it to her face.]


Aye. Though I've no faith he's alive. Last I saw of him, 'twas three men - three boys - against an army, and half the Barony on his heels.

[She bites her lip. Let him live, she thinks, not for the first time today. Prays, almost, although she's not sure who she would pray to. I died. Our baby died. Let Roland live.]
reignfall: (001)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-05-25 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Of armies, she understands much and more, though the Barony is a foreign term. Whichever way its true meaning leans, she can glean an idea of her own accord, and were the taste of it less bitter, it might make her laugh. A hundred, no, a thousand things lay between her and this girl, too many perhaps to count with ease, but there they are, those stark similarities.

Her head cocks to the side, watchful, and perhaps not wholly free from pity, must of all, troubled with understanding.


My eldest boy still fit my arms when I learned that I carried my second. I was alone, too, for their father had ridden to war. There is nothing like the wait.

The Greyjoy rebellion, that had been the thing, when so much of their armies was still recovering from Robert's own rebellion. Half she had wished for Robert to be murdered, and half she had known that Robert slain would almost certainly mean she would lose Jaime in the process.

We were reunited thrice against every one of the odds. It is not even wise to wager against a man with a weapon and a fool's head full of ideas of glory.
girl_at_the_window: (Many a poor girl led from home)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-26 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
[That wins a little smile, a huff that might be laughter. True enough. Even against all the odds, it isn't impossible. Particularly not after everything she's seen of the three gunslingers. There's hope on that front, perhaps.]

Then there's hope, for there's not a one of the three of 'em who ain't a fool one way or another.

[Except perhaps for Alain, who seemed far and away the steadiest of the three. But she suspects there's a foolishness there too; after all, what boy is anything but foolish at fourteen?]

[(That she, at sixteen, might be equally foolish with youth is something that has not occurred to her)]

[It's the wording, though, that brings the other thought to mind. We were reunited thrice. The smile, thin as it was, drops from her face, and she closes her eyes again, taking a deep breath.]


Hope for him, anyroad. No hope of reunion.

Gods, I hope he never needs know. [Her hand finds her belly again, and a look of pain crosses her face.] I hope he didn't know. That's a pain he shouldn't bear.
reignfall: (047)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-05-26 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)
A momentary smile, there one moment and gone in the next, and many a thing can stand between her and this reunion she might crave. Vows and oaths, blood, fathers, a thousand little things that can not all be overcome. This, too, is a cruelty of the world: love means little, compared to so much else.

Not that there is one who understands love the way she does, the way Jaime does.


You would spare him? ⟪ She does motion for the girl to seat herself on one of the lower bunks – they haven't been given much in the way of comfort, but it seems a step away from standing as they do now, like dogs in a barren yard. ⟫ Fool or not, a man worth his salt would share in your pain.

It should be his pain, too. She has never been one to suffer by herself –– and then there is Robert and the things she never spoke of to Jaime, knowing well her twin would commit a crime he would not be forgiven for a second time. Her eyes are very careful on the girl's face: perhaps there is more understanding here than she is for once willing to admit.

You doubt there will be a reunion?
girl_at_the_window: (pic#14924636)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-26 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[Susan hesitates, then moves to sit, still holding the cloth against her cheeks. It's no longer so cool, but it does feel soothing, nonetheless.]

[The smile that crosses her face is thin and taut, and far too old for her.]


I guess if the dead can walk, there's naught impossible. But... aye, I doubt it.

[Hell, she's come this far in sharing what weighs on her. It's not that much further to tell the whole truth.]

It ain't just the baby he lost. They killed me. I think they must've.
reignfall: (006)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-05-28 10:12 pm (UTC)(link)
If the dead could walk... there is a chill running down her spine at the thought. She likes her problems dead and buried, gone for good, killed by her twin's blade or snuffed out like candles in the night by poison. This only works, however, if the dead stay dead.

It may be for the best if she seats herself next to the girl, the lumpy straw shifting uncomfortably beneath her.


How?
girl_at_the_window: (See what careless love has done)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-05-28 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
They burned me.

[She's a little surprised by her own voice, how flatly matter-of-fact it is. As if she's remarking on some gossip out of town, or on the weather.]

Dragged me to the Reaping-day fire and burned me like a stuffy-guy. [Her eyes drop back down to her hands, to her belly. Her brows draw together.] It didn't hurt as much as you'd think. Not what I remember, anyroad.
reignfall: (051)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-06-02 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)
The screams of burning men are familiar to her still. Years it has been since Aerys' reign, but his love for fire remains unrivalled, and there has been little since that quite replicated those agonised cries. Fire is unrelenting, and crueller than any torturer, and that is why she has fondness for it at all.

Mayhaps your memory is doing you a kindly service. ⟪ She knows the scent, too, the smell of flesh given to flame. ⟫ What crime were you accused of? The Mad King fancied treason, but a change in the weather would do.
girl_at_the_window: (You filled my heart with weary blues)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-06-03 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Naught as dramatic as treason. [There's almost humour there, a wry twist of her mouth and of her tone.] Just murder.

[She'd add that, of course, she didn't do the murder - only the image of that spreading stain on Dave's shirt-front is too fresh in her mind, and sure, she didn't murder Hart Thorin, but it seems like a lie to protest too much innocence. Dave deserved it less than the mayor.]

That, and finishing what they did to my da all that time ago, I guess.
reignfall: (046)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-06-05 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Vengeance?

Curiosity is well beyond undeniable now, which is, perhaps, unusual for her. Yet now that she can hear tales from other worlds, she is not disinclined to do just that, and the more she knows of her fellow inmates, the better.

Not that so rational a sentiment tends to last her for all that long.
girl_at_the_window: (Till judgement I'll atone)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-06-05 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[Susan snorts at that. Vengeance? Aye, she guesses it was, of a kind - small and petty vengeance for small and petty slights, vengeance from Rhea, from Aunt Cord, from a town that never much cared for her. But it seems to her that if anyone in Hambry was owed vengeance, it was her.]

[She shakes her head.]


Convenience. Convenience, and spite, I'd guess, and... and if I guess a little further, there's some who might've feared what was in me. [Yet again, her hands are on her belly.]

I don't doubt there's many in the town who truly thought I killed Hart Thorin, but they weren't the ones baying loudest for blood.
reignfall: (001)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-06-08 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Convenience sees her eyebrows darting upward. It is the most obvious motive for a murder, hand in hand with the aforementioned vengeance. She stands corrected in her assumption quickly enough, and it is almost disappointing – not a bloodthirsty killer she has on her hands, but a victim of circumstance, likely left pregnant by the wrong sort of man.

An execution can be a powerful thing. ⟪ How the peasants he so nobly thought to protect were chanting for Stark's head – ⟫ Who killed him, if not you?
girl_at_the_window: (pic#14924629)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-06-08 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[Susan's shrug is miniscule.]

If I had to guess, Eldred Jonas or one of his gang. 'Twas meant to frame Roland. He was to be the one on the Charyou Tree.

[She appears to remember, at that moment, that she's talking to someone with no knowledge of the situation. She clears her throat.]

The father. He's the father.
reignfall: (031)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-06-09 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Char-you tree. Very fitting, given all she has heard, and if it were a play of words from her brother's tongue, she might have given it the acknowledgement it deserves. These days, that would not often translate to laughter.

There is more of that bitter sense about her: of course it is the girl who burns for her lover's disputes. Love, as ever, kills more reliably than any sword, though she does not necessarily consider that she hardly has enough information to speak of love here at all.


How twisted. Where is the rest of your blood in this? ⟪ A father, mother, a brother who could have wielded a weapon.
girl_at_the_window: (pic#14924636)

[personal profile] girl_at_the_window 2021-06-10 12:08 am (UTC)(link)
Da, they killed, for he stood against 'em. [There's some heat in her voice.] Said Ocean Foam threw him, as if Pat Delgado weren't a better horseman than that. His friends. Sons of bitches.

[She almost spits that last. Pat may have been some years dead in the ground now, but the certainty of his murder is still fresh enough, a raw and reopened wound.]

And my Aunt Cord... [She snorts, bitter and sharp. The memory is clear in her mind: Cordelia with the box of stove-ash, shrieking her recriminations. Ye'll be wedded in fire, she had said. Bedded in the ashes, do 'ee hear me?] She's one of the ones told 'em to do it. One of the first who set the light.

[She bites her lip, her brow furrowing - part grief, part anger.]

Helped 'em kill him, too. Her own brother, and after he took her in and all. I knew she was cold, but...