004 » video

[seem]

Tranquility.

[ It's with a warm sort of politesse that Petyr addresses the network this time around, a crimson sash draped over one of his shoulders and a new set of robes upon his frame. Visible next to him, at the fringe of the image, is a girl with chestnut brown hair and her hands folded in her lap, who should prove familiar to at least some upon the ship. ]

I inquired some months ago as to the existence of a physical library, and was informed that the ship lacked such a facility. As such, I have taken it upon myself to begin one for the sake of those who would prefer the feel of a solid page than the, ah. Furnishings that the ship provides. My collection is meager, but it is more than what was available upon my arrival. Should you care to take advantage of it, I can be found upon the fifth level, next to the quarters that Alayne Stone — [ at the mention, the girl sitting next to him smiles prettily and offers up a wave ] — keeps as a seamstress. She has offered her help in my endeavor, to care for the books in my absence.

That said, should you be willing to part with them, we would greatly appreciate any spare books that you might have. This service is without charge, and meant simply for the comfort of those upon the ship.

I have taken the liberty of attaching the list of the books collected so far, and hope that some of you, at least, will find some use in it.

[ And, with a duck of his head, the feed cuts out. ]

ATTACHMENT.


ooc: feel free to talk to petyr or alayne or both!

Comments

[seem]

[ At her words, Petyr glances up almost immediately, the line of his mouth going crooked as he considers the book that she holds. ]

To my understanding, they are not uncommon outside of our world, [ he notes, placing his device down as he turns to her. ] Some would appreciate the presence of a silent septa, I imagine, if only for a shallow sort of encouragement and the illusion of betterment.

[wont]

[ He places his device to one side and so does she set aside her book. Smoothing her skirts she rises and comes to sit by him instead. Ultimately an unnecessary gesture, but one that Alayne indulges in regardless. The room is as small as any other quarters, though the beds have been converted to benches by way of some of Alayne's cleverness and keen eye for niceties.

Lady lies dozing in a corner. Alayne looks at her while she speaks. ] But not all septas are agreeable and people are often loathe to own a wealth of fault. One would think themselves imperfect indeed, having read such a book. Gods forbid, more than one.

[seem]

[ As she sits beside him, he shifts to better face her, fingers drumming once upon his lap as he gazes at her. (He itches to reach out, to touch, but he keeps the impulse to himself for the moment.) ]

Incentive for some, perhaps, to change. To each man, a book will hold different worth, and who are we to decide which appetites we do and do not cater to?

[wont]

[ We. Petyr says the word and it gives Alayne a private tickle of satisfaction. Once we had been a terrible thing, the two of them bound in a complicity that would easily see their heads lopped. But things in the Vale had been so very different then; the Queen and her poison, the Iron Throne and its talons, they all reached out for Alayne and she'd had no choice but to follow along.

But here, aboard their Tranquility, any nearness she has to Petyr Baelish is given by choice. He has made her bold and brave and clever, and in turn she offers him her companionship. Did that not make them fine friends?

Primly, she lifts her chin: ] For the moment I cater to my own appetites and I say: I will not give the book another glance. If it proves too lonely upon the shelf, it will be left to you to provide it company and measure its worth.

[seem]

[ (Her nearness is given by choice, and the distinction is not one that has escaped Petyr's notice. He has no true hold over her here, not in the fashion he had had in the Eyrie. She could disown him, name him a liar and traitor, and yet—)

That young, petulant sort of primness (that quality that she had lost so much of so long ago) prompts a soft laugh, half-hidden by a quick duck of his head. ]

I had not been aware that books could express such malcontent.

[wont]

[ (And yet.)

She looks at him and then away. Best not to let her eyes linger, or else encourage him to stare back. Though Alayne has finally grown accustomed to his silver-flecked gaze, it is not fatherly and the pantomime must hold. ]

Was it not you who taught me that words were weapons, father? Does that not make a book the very means to malcontent?