asgardmeridiem | NOVEMBER INTRO MINGLE

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NOVEMBER INTRO MINGLE

Who: Newbies and anyone who wishes to greet them!
What: Getting used to the city
When: Days 351 and forward
Where: Anywhere in town!
Rating: PG-13 tops! If it gets worse, move to a private log please.

[Please include your location and the IC day (ex. Day 353 - this can be found in the schedule) in your top-level comment or your subject line when starting a thread! It can be any welcome hall, major attraction, or just out an about in any district. For newbies making a top-level thread, you may include your character's name/canon/house in your subject line if you'd like, to make housemates easy to find! :) If a God is needed or wanted, please ping the mods and depending on availability we might be able to throw them in where asked.

Also, keep an eye on the event schedule for November! If you're ICly introing during an event, make sure you take that into account. Thank you!

Have fun!]

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[The issue of where he was and how he came to be there was a fleeting concern, if not brushed off all too quickly. Of course he was jarred from the abrupt change of location, everything that he had seen before he fell asleep disappearing into a bright white room--and how someone even managed to move him from the woods without stirring him when he hadn't had a drop of wine to dull his senses. But the thing that ends up disturbing him most was realizing he was alone.

Arya was nowhere to be seen: knowing this makes it impossible to absorb most of what the faceless woman was telling him, if he would've even taken it to heart under normal circumstances (something about serving the gods and the "greater good" like he was a bloody septon). And she continued prattling on whether he mocked her, insulted her, or threatened her, she did not frighten or budge. It would've been more effective to just bash his head against the locked doors.

But once they opened and he was allowed outside, he lunges from the room like a horse in a flaming stall, into the city that looked like nothing he had ever seen. The map makes no sense (there was no "holy city of Asgard" in the Seven Kingdoms, and nowhere else he's heard of), and he reads the welcome letter just long enough to deem it useless and then crumple it up in order to violently throw it away, along with the bracelet.

Sandor doesn't know how long he was unconscious in that room, and consequently how much time he had given her to be separated from him. Either the bitch ran, even after he made it clear that he was taking her back to her family, or something else happened.

He would deal with everything else once he found her.]

[That damned cold of his is finally starting to dissipate, and though Robb knows he should stay in bed and let it pass, he decides he's done so for long enough, and thus wraps himself up in a few layers of warm clothes before heading out. It's the first time in a while that he's gone out since returning to Asgard from the camp, and it's more refreshing than he thought.

And then he sees the Hound, and thinks, oh.

And here he doesn't have a sword. Grey Wind is back in the Welcome Hall, fast asleep, and Robb is only just managing to recover from a cold, and he should've remembered it was that time again. He didn't, and now he's stuck fast to the ground, shocked to his core.]

[There are multiple places in Sandor's life where his luck has failed him horribly (starting with the raw ridges of scar tissue where his brother held his face against the fire), but then there was always a morning star that almost took his kneecap, or a lance that missed him by a half inch. Of course those things he accounted to his own physical prowess and nothing more fanciful than that. He spends as much time thinking about the fates as he did about the dirt beneath his nails.

He has nothing to blame as he turns and gapes at Robb Stark standing not twelve paces away from him. Perhaps a bit taller, maybe a few more whiskers on his cheeks than when he last mocked him in Winterfell, but Sandor recognizes the boy all the same. And his sister still nowhere to be found.]

Fuck me. [The curse comes instantly. Angrily.]

[That curse can sum up Robb's thoughts at the moment quite handily. No sword, no wolf, nothing but his clothes and still recovering from a cold--he's uncomfortably aware that he's in a very poor position here.]

What are you doing here? [He says it in as neutral a tone as he can muster at this point, which is to say it's very suspicious.]

Edited (icon change) 2013-11-15 12:42 (UTC)

[With no sword or armor to speak of, it would've been too easy to kill the boy. Sandor had both his sword and dagger: he could just slit his throat and put an end to his rebellion--if he still counted himself as one of the Lannister's men.

But he still doesn't trust Robb appearing alone here, in nothing but cloth. He looks around, checking for any Northmen hiding in wait. Or even that damn wolf everyone in court said could swallow a man whole. Then he wrinkles his face.] What are you doing here? A dog can go as he pleases--you're about a thousand bloody miles from where you're supposed to be.

I was taken here without a choice in the matter, as was everyone else in this city. As are you, now.

[And as for where he's supposed to be--well, that's not something he prefers to think about, most of the time. He eyes the Hound's sword warily, and thinks back to the last time they saw each other, to the last he'd heard of Sandor Clegane.]

Then what do I have to tell you? You could spare me and have this conversation yourself if you keep answering your own buggering questions. I don't have time for this.

[It feels more powerful to lash out than to act stunned, argue with Robb, and call him insane (though he feels he has every right to).]

I could, but you'll find that we have more than enough time here. [As much as he mislikes it, mislikes the fact that the Hound, of all people, has been dragged here.] And as for my questions, I have plenty to ask of you, and I'm certain you have the answer to some of them. But I'd wager you have some of your own to ask as well.

You bet wrong. Don't expect me to thank you for your courtesy, either.

[Sandor looks around them again.] You could be a dream. [He says this to Robb, himself, and no one at all.] I've had more unpleasant ones than seeing your grim face scowling at me.

[And how the fuck else was he supposed to explain what Robb was saying to him? Or the gray people walking past them?]

I'm not asking for thanks.

This isn't a dream, though it may seem like one at times, and at others I've wished it were. [Right now being one of the latter.]

Smarter than you look.

[But that does bring up a question he wants to ask Robb.] Just how long have you been here?

Two months, and more than that besides.

[It's surprising how used he's gotten to this place, in such a short span of time--it almost seems longer, when he thinks back.]

[Sandor clearly wasn't expecting that answer and turns to him. While his eyes are white, and his jawline is rigid, his voice is harsher and more threatening than ever.]

Two months ago, you were in Riverrun. After that, you were going North with your buggering host, every drunk knows that. Lie to me again, and I'll snip your damn tongue from your mouth.

Now how long have you been here?

Two months ago, I left for the Twins. [He doesn't mention that he never went back North.] Do you truly think I would lie about that?

I think you take me for a suckling halfwit to believe such a farce.

[And he doesn't mention that he was going North to see him.]

Does this look like the bloody Twins to you?

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builtbykillers - 2013-11-25 04:39 (UTC) - Expand

[Sonya didn't begin work until tomorrow, which meant she had the rest of the day off-so to speak. Her talk with Daenerys led her to missing the fill of a handgun again, and while she'd kill to feel the grip of a rifle, she'd make due with what she could get her hands on. Prices were better in her own district she found, so she went there rather than remain in Thor, looking around to see where she could find such a dealer.

She stopped when her boot hit something metal, seeing it as one of the bracelets given to the new arrivals. On habit, she picks it up and looks around, frowning: it seemed to be that time of the month again.

Sonya looked around for the owner, not as hard as it could've been given that half the people were either colorless or didn't have a face.

If Sandor were to look around, he'd see a tall woman wearing black BDUs and definitely not like most of the women in Westros.]

[The people are something that he's just beginning to notice, as he searches for a little girl among them. Sandor has seen men hallucinate under the influence of the milk of the poppy, but he hasn't even had a cup of wine in weeks. And all wine did was dull the senses and make the bitterness of living easier to swallow. He has nothing to hold responsible for seeing nothing except crowds that were the same color of a sky before it rains.

The woman was a somewhat familiar sight for him to anchor his eyes to, focusing on her instead of the crowds whisking by them in silence. However familiarity ceased at her being more than one color. He'd never seen a highborn lady wear breeches, but she was not dressed like any poxy peasant he's ever seen, either. The boots are too well-made, and the coat and breeches aren't roughspun.

He turns on his foot so he is facing her completely, tilting his head to see if she would change the way the maid did.]

You. What house do you serve?

[Even in the crowd and with the rather general form of address, she's one of the few people in his direction that has a face and isn't in grayscale. That she doesn't see a bracelet on his arm is another factor.

Still, the question's a strange one even for this place.]

I live in Heimdall house, but I don't serve there. [Well, least she didn't consider herself serving there-living yes, but that was it.]

[The name is familiar, though he doesn't immediately connect it with what he had heard from the maid (not listening to most of what she said to him). As far as he's concerned, he has heard the family name in the past and it's resurfacing from old memories.

He still believes her too finely dressed to be a commoner. And if she didn't serve her house, that either made her a lady or a bastard daughter.

His snort is thin and almost inaudible.] Is it common for the ladies of Heimdall to wear a man's boots?

[Sonya had worn her boots long enough to not look down at them when he mentioned them. He wasn't dressed like someone from her world though, so her clothing would probably appear strange. Still..he was obviously new and yet he could only remark on her footware?]

It's common for soldiers where I'm from to wear combat boots. As for the other women living there, I never cared to check. [There were other women living there, she knew that now, but aside from the occasional nod she didn't really check any of them out.]

[She looked once more at the bracelet, the colored jewel matching the one on her own arm. It was the only piece of jewelry she wore, but then it was out of necessity. She handed it to him.] Here, outside of the welcome hall, not wearing this will eventually cause you to turn into one of those. [She motioned her head towards the grey ghosts.]

[Even from her standing several feet away, she could see the damaged side of his face, but she'd seen so many soldiers wounded and disfigured in combat that it hardly made her blink. She had her own of course, but she was lucky enough to be able to cover them with a jacket and pants.]

[Sandor barks out a laugh.] I don't suppose you could tell the difference. That's the point of all the pretty silks and ribbons, isn't it? I wonder how your knights and men-at-arms even know who to prance for, if all your women are hidden in greaves and mail.

[Female warriors were not unheard of in Westeros--but they were uncommon. There were the Targaryen sisters that rode on the backs of dragons, and Nymeria, the warrior-queen that conquered Dorne. Names that were mostly legend.

The mindset that Sandor is accustomed to is that it was unnecessary for women to have any concept of warfare or self-defense--highborn women especially were steered away from such indelicate things--"The gods made men to fight, and women to bear children." So ladies were meant to give their brave men sons and favors and weep for them when they rode off to battle. Never mind what happens to her when she's attacked and cannot fight for herself.

And this is where the sarcasm is present in Sandor's voice, mocking more than just her outfit.

His mouth twitches as she hands him his bracelet again, giving a quick glance to the shadows around them.] Never needed it, before. What makes it any different, now?

[Had she been here for a shorter time than she was, Sonya would've laughed at that, but then she had spent some time with Loras and Dany and knew that not everyone here was from the same world. Even so, it was hard to not smirk.] The only people knighted in my world are actors and the only battles they see are the ones on stage or in movies. [It's not the first time she's felt discrimination, but she's too experienced and too tested to jump at the bate.]. It's not a common occupation for a woman, but if she's able to keep up and take the heat than it's not forbidden either. I just never felt inclined to settle down like most others, don't have the patience for it.

[Or the ability to keep pretenses for it either.She grew up in the sixties and seventies after all, when if it wasn't the feminist movement, than it was witnessing housewives take away boredom through drugs or alcohol.]

[The last remark made her roll her eyes.] Okay, fine. Give it an hour or so, you'll start to forget your world back there, another hour and you'll start to turn grey and pretty soon you'll find yourself just wandering the streets with no goals and no identity. The rest of us may only be here a month, maybe two. Hell, better remaining here a year and the chance of getting out, than going grey and facing permanent residency, but then that's just me. Maybe it'll suit you better to turn into a shade.

[She doubted it. She knew a killer with she saw one-sometimes she even recognized one when she looked in a mirror-and to be stuck as a shuffling ghost when there were other things to get to back home wouldn't have settled with anyone in that mindset.]

[And another person from Westeros might've gaped or even taken offense--someone else that wasn't two black birds short of a pie and didn't already preach about something quite similar. It aligns with Sandor's opinions enough for him to take her literally and not lapse into culture shock, whether that was a small mercy or not.] True of knights in any realm, girl. The Seven Kingdoms or wherever the bloody hells this is, they're all lower than mummers and fools. [He blinks.] What is a 'movie'?

[Sandor shrugs off the next part.] Whatever pleases you. It's not my house you're disgracing. Most men fight worse than women anyway.

[The rest of what she says is too detailed and insistent for him to write it off and walk away. But he's just stepped off the boat, and if the maid mentioned anything about the gray sickness that came with taking off the bracelet, he had not listened.

He feels like she was playing an elaborate trick on him, first spouting off some nonsense and then trying to use reverse psychology to get him to bite. He narrows his eyes, trying to find the irony etched into her face, but moreover, he becomes mutinous.] Might be. Might already be working, with the way you're snapping at me. Most wouldn't have the stomach.

[Unless the bauble could find missing brats, he isn't sold on its importance.] You've wasted breath on everything but answering my question--what makes now any different than before?

And I've fought of worse than men.[There was no bragging in her voice, only fact. The tarkatens of Outworld were nothing to laugh at, to say nothing of the living forest. It's a wonder she's still intact really.]

[She does let out a sign, deciding to start over. You're not in your world anymore, this isn't even my own world. I found myself here just a few weeks ago-appeared the same way as you, in the room with the faceless maid, bracelet and that crazy drawing. [She motioned towards her own bracelet, the gem the same color as his.] This is used to communicate with others quickly, when you need to get news out quickly, just press the gem to bring out the screen. It comes with a list of contacts-people in the city that were brought along as well.

[She pressed the gem, pulling up the screen as well as the list of contacts.] Combination of magic and technology. Very handy in cases of emergency and you need to get a hold of someone really quickly-or tear them a proverbial new one and you can't actually reach out and grab them.

[Or maybe that was just her.]

[Sandor is no more susceptible to absorbing the newcomer debriefing, even during his second round of hearing it. As soon as she starts talking about different worlds, impatience rises in his stomach like a cork in a barrel of water, and it unfurls from there into something that doesn't make sense.] It carries messages for you like a raven--does it shit and eat mice, too?

[He's preparing to leave on that derisive note; then she does something to her wrist that causes (what he can only describe as) a translucent and hovering piece of written parchment to appear, which in turn causes Sandor to jerk backwards, as if it were going to bite or burn him. Though he catches this automatic reaction and corrects it into close scrutiny. He's not "curious," or mystified by the glowing parchment--but he wouldn't mind knowing what the fuck it is.]

Magic. [Sandor repeats dryly.] Are you a warrior or a bloody sorceress?

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NOVEMBER INTRO MINGLE

Sandor Clegane | Heimdall District | Day 355

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Re: Sandor Clegane | Heimdall District | Day 355

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