ataraxion | video ✘first strike

[A mess of black hair encompasses the screen, slightly tangled and dishevelled still, until the device is pulled back. Blue eyes peer out from beneath that hair, solemn and angry without the slightest trace of warmth. Clearly, he's still not happy and from what he has seen of this place, he is utterly confused. Just how big is it... and what is it? Like nothing he has ever seen.

There's something muttered under his breath, sounding more or less like 'lord of light' if those watching happen to be listening closely. There is a gruffness in his voice as he is not used to having tubes shoved down his throat - let alone any of the other things that he had awoken too.

To those of Westeros, his face may very well bear a striking resemblance to those who knew the late king or even the Lord Renly.

To Gendry, he's just some bastard son born to an alehouse worker.]

I don't know what type of a ship this is... I never paid for any passage. And I'm not going too.

[A challenge there, as if daring someone to say something, suspicion etched across his features. He still doesn't quite believe what he has seen. It is too far out of his realm of knowing to make any sense at all. All these strange and foreign objects...]

I don't know why I'm here or why I was sent to some passenger's quarters. I'm just a lowborn 'prentice smith and I never did nothing to anyone.

[Unless someone knew about the Brotherhood... But then why would he be alive. His brows furrowed, a pained expression as he thinks some more.]

So just return me to the Crossroad Inn. ... or point me in the direction. I'll walk the rest of the way myself. Just want to be left in piece in my smithy.

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[Len is safely locked away in her room, but she is still keeping an eye on all these communications. And, well...]

There's no way out. I didn't find any signs of an escape shuttle or anything, but I haven't been able to really look around.

[Because no way is she walking around this place alone. There's no telling what all's out there, thank you. She will just sit in her locked room (which does not have the door barricaded at all, what are you talking about?) and share what little she knows.]

I didn't pay for any passage either, and it doesn't look like anyone's collecting. We were all taken.

["Still think it's a slaver ship." But she won't say that. Yet.]

This place cares little about passage.

Where are you from?

[He recognizes that accent, and that look.]

[Escape... shuttle?]

So it's more prisoners than passengers...

[Why do most of the people that he meets ask him that question... Warily.]

Why? Who wants to know?

Yep.

It just sounds nicer to say "passengers," and they're obviously concerned about their image. Or something. [She is not impressed, Tranquility.]

I'm Len.

Lord Commander Jon Snow of the Night's Watch.

[He doesn't do that often, but the wariness, the accent, the poor 'prentice smith with the Sothron accent, it all made too much sense.]

Don't see why they should care about being nice. They never do.

[And a pause. She doesn't exactly look like any enemy though.] Gendry.

Well, I was told there used to be passengers. Maybe they need the space taken up? Or...

Eh. Not like I know. Maybe they're just being jackasses.

[A startled flicker across his face. Commander of the Night's Watch? Aye, once Gendry had meant to go there, but he'd never made it. None of them have.

But what was the commander doing here?]

Gendry. [To pause. He had been knighted, true, but that would suit well enough.] Was last at the Crossroads Inn... 'course it's gone by several names. ... King's Landing originally. M'lord.

... an' what happen'd to them, then?

[If they need new ones, after all...]

[He's about to argue - I'm not Lord - when he remembers. Yes. He is. To this man, he is.]

You're a long way from King's Landing, Gendry. But no where near the Wall.

No idea.

My guess? Dead and jettisoned out the airlock. Hopefully in that order.

[ She's a pretty one, but she's certainly not a lady. Gendry was an apprentice to a smith in King's Landing — surely he recognizes her golden dress with its high collar and suggestive drape. ]

Crossroad Inn's a long way off, dear. Not sure you'll be wanting to walk.

There is no way to leave this ship, and I fear you have landed a long way from any inn you may seek.

You won't find a path home outside... or much of anything. Sorry....

[After a pause, his curiosity gets the best of him.]

Lord of light?

... airlock?

There's no oxygen in space. The airlock is what can open into space. Good way to get rid of junk. Shove someone out there, though... Well. Generally, they implode from the vacuum before they suffocate.

But you get the general idea.

Not by choice.

No one is here by choice, save perhaps the Captain.

[Enough that it's design is familiar looking, although Gendry had paid little attention to such things. Those in fancy dresses who came with their fathers, Gendry had been taught his courtesies and to drop the knee.]

If it gets me there... [He'd rather walk than ride.]

[ A woman like Ros with a father — now there's an amusing thought. Not wholly unfamiliar, though, given the tastes of some of the older lords. But that's not really the matter at hand now, is it? ]

There's no returning home for you, I'm afraid. Not on our terms, at least. Not for you or not for me. We're kept here, y'see?

If there's a way on, there's got to be a way off. [...right.]

Don't need a path. Just a direction.

[And scowling slightly.]

Nothing.

[Judging from his expression, he doesn't get the general idea.]

Who's the Captain?

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