Bran Stark | the wolf dreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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ataraxion2014-01-21 01:02 pm
wolfdreamer) wrote in ataraxion2014-01-21 01:02 pm
Entry tags:
video;
[Bran's smile is only a little wan--and that is only because he is distracted, because Summer is distracted. The great direwolf is sitting at his feet, but Summer has grown large enough that he is still visible in the video feed. Something is ailing the direwolf, making him skittish. He huffs a whine as the video begins, and Bran looks down at him, and lays a hand atop Summer's head.]
Be still.
[Summer's ears flick, nervously; he blinks, and whines again. Bran looks to his device, his hand still resting atop his direwolf's head.]
I am looking for paper--perhaps twenty or thirty sheets of paper, that is not being used. Most things on this ship are written by typing, but there must be some paper somewhere. I can make a trade for it, if it is necessary. And I will need tape-- [That is a new word, but he says it smoothly.] --and scissors, with which to cut. They must be able to do fine work, I think.
[Restlessly, Summer raises his head. The video jars a little, and Bran quickly reaches to steady it, as he gives his direwolf a slightly anxious look.]
In Westeros, great tourneys are often held, where knights prove their merit in the lists. That means a joust, though there is sometimes melee fighting as well. I have never seen a tourney, only heard tales of them--and we have very few knights here. So we are going to let our direwolves race instead, and have a feast, just as if it were a true tourney. [Summer whines again, more plantively. He shrugs out from beneath Bran's hand, turning in a tight circle.] Summer, quiet. It is only a shadow.
There must be a prize, at the end, and I have been trying to think of something good. I have ideas, but they aren't very good, so I thought--
[But what he thought is never realized, because Summer moves quite sharply then, twisting away from Bran and the video with a sharp growl. Bran's face pinches in worry, and he grabs hastily for his device, to steady it again, before he shuts it off. It is an ungainly end to the message, but his concern trumps his good manners.]
Be still.
[Summer's ears flick, nervously; he blinks, and whines again. Bran looks to his device, his hand still resting atop his direwolf's head.]
I am looking for paper--perhaps twenty or thirty sheets of paper, that is not being used. Most things on this ship are written by typing, but there must be some paper somewhere. I can make a trade for it, if it is necessary. And I will need tape-- [That is a new word, but he says it smoothly.] --and scissors, with which to cut. They must be able to do fine work, I think.
[Restlessly, Summer raises his head. The video jars a little, and Bran quickly reaches to steady it, as he gives his direwolf a slightly anxious look.]
In Westeros, great tourneys are often held, where knights prove their merit in the lists. That means a joust, though there is sometimes melee fighting as well. I have never seen a tourney, only heard tales of them--and we have very few knights here. So we are going to let our direwolves race instead, and have a feast, just as if it were a true tourney. [Summer whines again, more plantively. He shrugs out from beneath Bran's hand, turning in a tight circle.] Summer, quiet. It is only a shadow.
There must be a prize, at the end, and I have been trying to think of something good. I have ideas, but they aren't very good, so I thought--
[But what he thought is never realized, because Summer moves quite sharply then, twisting away from Bran and the video with a sharp growl. Bran's face pinches in worry, and he grabs hastily for his device, to steady it again, before he shuts it off. It is an ungainly end to the message, but his concern trumps his good manners.]
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[Or, well. he knows what it is to still want to keep the secret of the truth. The ship might be welcoming, in its way, and its people good and kind--but a secret can be hard to confess, when you are so used to keeping it quiet--and there might yet be danger. That feeling is hard to shake, too.
And Bran knows, too, what it is to consider others in what you confess to and what you do not. He would not endanger Arya or Robb or Jon, or his mother. He looks down at Summer, as he considers what Scott has said, and smooths his direwolf's ear between his thumb and forefinger, gently.]
A secret is not so easy to tell. But I thank you, for trusting me enough to tell me. [He hesitates, then, a moment, but asks--] Have you always been so?
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the question that follows is honestly curious, though it's also a subtle deflection. ] But it's possible to be born a werewolf. Is that how it works with wargs and skinchangers?
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[And one skinchanger in a thousand is born a greenseer, but he does not say that part, not yet.]
He learns to use it, but it is not as a man learns to wield a sword or use a spear. Anyone could learn those things. Wearing the skin of an animal is a gift that a man must be born with.
A man who is a warg might have wolf dreams when he is a boy--dreams where he walks as a wolf. He would be wearing the wolf's skin and not know it. That is not like your werewolves, I think.
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Not always. Sometimes you don't— we don't— know what we're doing. It's like sleepwalking. [ waking up in the woods, waking up with memories of violence, having no idea how to piece it together. scott realizes that sounds a bit ominous a beat later, offering a quick reassurance. ] But only before I knew what was happening. Now I'm in control.
[ ........ mostly. ]
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But he knows what it is to be in and out of control. Before Jojen taught him what it was to wear the skin of the wolf--told him of skinchangers and greenseers--it was easy for him to slip into Summer's skin without knowing. So he nods, as Scott speaks, entirely free of any judgement.]
It is better to be in control. Before--
[He hesitates, biting at his lip, uncertain. But Scott has trusted him with so much. Surely he ought to do the same?]
I am not a warg. [Again, a little hesitation, but--] I thought I was. But my friend Jojen--he has what we call the greensight. It means he has green dreams, and he sees what the future will bring, even if he does not always understand it. He came to Winterfell, and he told me-- much.
[Not all of it is for Bran to say, so he only bites at his lip again, as if this will help him to hold his silence.]
I can wear my direwolf's skin, if I want to. I used to have wolf dreams--sometimes I still do. But it is better to know what it is that I do--to understand it.
[tl;dr bonding over wolf stuff]
omfg this thread started in january cee
which doesn't mean he doesn't want those details, man. there's a slight pause, maybe out of respect, but there's just acceptance and maybe a hint of genuine curiosity in his expression and tone. ]
What's that mean, exactly? Wearing Summer's skin. [ because it's clearly not a literal statement, thank god. although a beat later— ] Can you see what he sees?
i didn't even get you a 3 month anniversary present!!!
[He stops himself again, but this hesitation is less about caution and more because he does not know how to explain. He wishes, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, that Jojen was here. Would Jojen have wanted him to tell Scott of his ability? He could at least have offered his counsel. Bran bites at his lip. He misses both of the Reeds very much in this moment.]
When I open my eyes, I open Summer's eyes. I walk on his legs, and I am not a boy any longer. I am somewhere else, and it looks as if I am sleeping. [Maybe a little scarier.] I don't see what he sees. I am him, and he is me.