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001 ♕♗ video
[ The camera flickers on to reveal the ceiling to one of the passenger quarters. There is the rustling of movement and then, after, the image jostles and then wrongs itself to show a wisp of darkly colored hair and the pale sliver of a young woman's profile. She doesn't seem to realize the device is recording because soon, the camera is covered up by her hand, as well as the microphone, so her voice comes muffled and at a distance. When she speaks, it's apparent she's speaking to someone else there with her and not the device itself. ]
Do you think it best we show our faces? Perhaps they would be more willing to help us, were they to see our entreatments. [ The image jostles again, from side to side. A hand here, an eye there. Bits and pieces of a person, blurred by movement and dimness.
A second of hesitation is the only reply, first. There are too many tales of enchanted objects lying in wait, to steal souls and work other mischief. And they are none of them true (probably), but even so— ]
Yes. But we should carefully show ourselves. Do you know how to work the device to show pictures?
[ There is a bit of primness to her voice when the young woman speaks again; something like pride, albeit tempered by an attempt at humility. ] I've not been idle during my time here, [ she says. ] All the things I know, you'll know as well. In time, I promise. But first—
[ More fumbling and, finally, the picture sets itself to rights to reveal a young woman with burnt brown hair and a young boy seated beside. Were someone to look at them both long enough, they would perhaps notice something of a familial resemblance (though each will deny it, if asked). Setting the camera to rights, the woman leans over and whispers something into the boy's ear, the murmur too low to be picked up by microphone. Then, she nods, smiling faintly at him.
He looks to her first, hesitating—but then finds his strength and turns back, his chin lifted higher. ]
I'm—I am Bran Stark of Winterfell, newly come to this ship. I have been told a great many things of this place, some of them strange—but I am pleased to have come, and pleased to make meeting with the people here. [It is a route and studied response, a lord's response, somewhat stiff, and he looks back to her to confirm that it was well said.] My—companion, Lady Stone, has said that I might ask things of this device, and be give responses in reply. I am seeking my wolf--my direwolf, Summer. He is large, but he will not harm anyone. You have my word of that.
And a lord's word is goodly. [ The lady 'Stone' interjects. It was a lie, she knew as much, but this lord was honest and good. ] I have heard talk of animals aboard the ship. Of cats and dogs, alike. If Summer is here, it is of great import that we find him. A wolf does poorly without its pack. [ A pause and the girl dips her chin, pressing a modest hand to her chest in an expression of earnestness. ] We have little to give in exchange for answers, though we do promise our thanks and a favor in kind. The ship is vast and we're loath to explore without proper company, though— [ Again, she turns to look at Bran, her gaze flickering imperceptibly to his legs. Should they ask for Hodor? ] —though any offer of help will not be turned away.
[ Again, he hesitates—he can read the question in her eyes, and it is one that they have talked of, but even so, now that it comes time to ask— ]
There is also my servingman, called Hodor, who is also quite large and harmless. I should find him as quickly as I might. He is simple-minded, but kind, and— [ He looks down at his legs a moment— another quick glance at his companion— ] I am crippled, and require his aid.
[ There. It's been said. His ears go a little pink, his shoulders slump—it's a weakness he'd sooner not have revealed, though it would have soon been learned—and still, he keeps his chin high, as much a lord as he can manage. At the very edge of the picture it is visible to anyone who would take notice— the girl touches the boy along the edge of his arm, a small encouraging gesture as her hand encloses the round of his elbow, patting. And, perhaps she is proud. It is not small thing to admit. He continues: ]
Any help that can be given would be met with my earnest thanks. With our earnest thanks.
[ ooc; Alayne and Bran. ]
Do you think it best we show our faces? Perhaps they would be more willing to help us, were they to see our entreatments. [ The image jostles again, from side to side. A hand here, an eye there. Bits and pieces of a person, blurred by movement and dimness.
A second of hesitation is the only reply, first. There are too many tales of enchanted objects lying in wait, to steal souls and work other mischief. And they are none of them true (probably), but even so— ]
Yes. But we should carefully show ourselves. Do you know how to work the device to show pictures?
[ There is a bit of primness to her voice when the young woman speaks again; something like pride, albeit tempered by an attempt at humility. ] I've not been idle during my time here, [ she says. ] All the things I know, you'll know as well. In time, I promise. But first—
[ More fumbling and, finally, the picture sets itself to rights to reveal a young woman with burnt brown hair and a young boy seated beside. Were someone to look at them both long enough, they would perhaps notice something of a familial resemblance (though each will deny it, if asked). Setting the camera to rights, the woman leans over and whispers something into the boy's ear, the murmur too low to be picked up by microphone. Then, she nods, smiling faintly at him.
He looks to her first, hesitating—but then finds his strength and turns back, his chin lifted higher. ]
I'm—I am Bran Stark of Winterfell, newly come to this ship. I have been told a great many things of this place, some of them strange—but I am pleased to have come, and pleased to make meeting with the people here. [It is a route and studied response, a lord's response, somewhat stiff, and he looks back to her to confirm that it was well said.] My—companion, Lady Stone, has said that I might ask things of this device, and be give responses in reply. I am seeking my wolf--my direwolf, Summer. He is large, but he will not harm anyone. You have my word of that.
And a lord's word is goodly. [ The lady 'Stone' interjects. It was a lie, she knew as much, but this lord was honest and good. ] I have heard talk of animals aboard the ship. Of cats and dogs, alike. If Summer is here, it is of great import that we find him. A wolf does poorly without its pack. [ A pause and the girl dips her chin, pressing a modest hand to her chest in an expression of earnestness. ] We have little to give in exchange for answers, though we do promise our thanks and a favor in kind. The ship is vast and we're loath to explore without proper company, though— [ Again, she turns to look at Bran, her gaze flickering imperceptibly to his legs. Should they ask for Hodor? ] —though any offer of help will not be turned away.
[ Again, he hesitates—he can read the question in her eyes, and it is one that they have talked of, but even so, now that it comes time to ask— ]
There is also my servingman, called Hodor, who is also quite large and harmless. I should find him as quickly as I might. He is simple-minded, but kind, and— [ He looks down at his legs a moment— another quick glance at his companion— ] I am crippled, and require his aid.
[ There. It's been said. His ears go a little pink, his shoulders slump—it's a weakness he'd sooner not have revealed, though it would have soon been learned—and still, he keeps his chin high, as much a lord as he can manage. At the very edge of the picture it is visible to anyone who would take notice— the girl touches the boy along the edge of his arm, a small encouraging gesture as her hand encloses the round of his elbow, patting. And, perhaps she is proud. It is not small thing to admit. He continues: ]
Any help that can be given would be met with my earnest thanks. With our earnest thanks.
[ ooc; Alayne and Bran. ]
( voice )
Oh! Right! Sorry, I keep furgetting--cultural diffurences. [ she laughs a little in embarrassment. wtg nep. ] It's a term my kind uses to describe someone who we have a very deep bond with and love dearly, though on a platonic level. I'm not quite sure what the human equivalent is, but try to imagine someone who you have very deep affection fur and is basically your other half, yet you don't really want to kiss them or anything like that.
( voice )
[And if she keeps a cat that she found aboard the ship, this is a strange prison indeed--but it gives Bran some hope. It isn't her cat from home, but someone came here with a cat. Summer could be here somewhere.]
( voice )
Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's a fairly accurate compurrison! The biggest diffurence is that moirails are a type of romance to us. You guys don't really consider brotherhood a form of romance, right? I guess if you consider moirallegiance a form of love, that would make the compurrison a little more complete.
[ She giggles a bit at the implication of reading Equius' thoughts. ] I dunno about you, but I'm preeeetty sure I don't want to share any thoughts with my moirail. He can be gross sometimes. No judgement if you do have those kinds of powers though!
( voice )
[Brotherhood and romance are about as different as they come, very much indicated by the tone of Bran's reply. (There is, of course, another road to take in that line of discussion, but it's disjointed, more the stuff of nightmares than anything Bran really understands, and it always ends in falling. It's a thought that hardly occurs to him, anyway, but flickers at the edge of his mind.)]
Those aren't the same thing. And I don't have any sort of--power, not really. But what is it that makes is your more-rail "gross"/
( voice )
Well, you still love brothers, right? You just don't want to... um, kiss them or anything like that. That's like moirallegiance!
As fur mine... [ She laughs a bit, picturing hers. ] There's a reason I call him Sweatquius, heehee! And he's got this thing with musclebeasts. He says his posters are art but there's only so many pictures of musclebeast repurrductive parts you can have befur people start to wonder.
( voice )
But what are musclebeasts?
( voice )
Well, they've got hooves and manes and tails, and their snouts are long and they mostly eat grass, I believe. And they do this!
[ She blows air out through her lips to imitate a horse snorting. ]
They're also called hoofbeasts, but that's just getting into some complicated classifications.
( voice )
[Despite his confusion, Bran finds himself smiling, pleased that he's worked this out. It was not so difficult a riddle, of course, but he can't help being happy over it.]
We have horses in Westeros, too--I've not seen any here. But why-- [And then he puts together the first part of what she said as well.] Oh.
( voice )
And... yeah. [ That's really all there is to say about Equius' "art." Yeah. After a small uncomfortable silence, she decides to switch topics. ]
So tell me about your lusus! I mean, your wolf!
( voice )
They're all the same in fierceness, though. Summer comes to me if I call him, but he would protect me no matter what. He's a very good wolf. If he were here, he would find me.
( voice )
He sounds like a very good caregiver! My lusus was like that too. She was a cutie and sweet as can be with me, but she was quite the furrmidable force when she needed to be! Never let any harm come to me, even when we were up against seeming impawsible odds. Pounce de Leon was pretty much the greatest kitty Alternia ever had.
[ Remembering brings a little sadness. Nep really misses Pounce 8(( ]
Ah... well, even if Summer isn't here, I'm sure you'll see him again!
( voice )
[It's a quiet agreement, but sincere: he will see Summer again. He must. The three-eyed crow brought him here, for some purpose--but would not have left him without Summer, not when he was only just starting to learn.
But any sadness or homesickness fades as he picks up on some similar sadness in her tone--and his curiosity perks, too.]
Is Alternia your country?
( voice )
( voice )
Your home. I'm sorry. My home-- [He hesitates, and says instead:] Where do you live now?
( voice )
[ Wow no one is going to understand anything she's saying. How to simplify this... ]
That is, I now live on a rock in the middle of space. Basically. It's not a terribly good place, but since we don't have a home anymore, it's all we've got.
( voice )
That's terrible. [That's too bold to say, of course, and he bites at his lip before amending it with more politeness:] Though it is good that you are not alone. Are there homes on this new rock, at least?
( voice )
Heehee, yeah, it does suck quite a bit. If it weren't fur my friends, I don't think I could bear living there.
It's hard to explain, but there's really no... life to it. No grass, no trees, no sun or fresh air or even a sky to speak of! Not even stars, just endless black space. [ And Horrorterrors, but probably best not to bring that up. ]
So no, not really homes. We stay in this big abandoned laboratory, which really adds the whole "dead world" feeling.
Yeesh, this got gloomy fast. Tell me about your home!
( voice )
He looks down for a beat, considering.]
Winterfell is very large. It's furthest north, so there are summer snows, sometimes, and it is cold--but I like the cold. It has everything, even a glass garden--and Starks have always lived there, since it was built. It's better than any other place.
( voice )
Oh, but you might not want to say to Mr. Thor that Winterfell is better than his home. He's from this big golden city on a planet called Asgard and he's very proud of it.
That isn't to say Winterfell is bad though, or even that it's any better or worse than Asgard! I bet they're both amazing, just in diffurent ways! Purrsonally though, I'm a warm weather kind of girl.
( voice )
Is your home a warm one? Or-- the home where you live now.
( voice )
You mean the Veil? No, not really. There isn't a sun, but there isn't a sky or clouds fur snow either.
[ She doesn't want to bring the conversation down again, so she tries to divert some positivity into it. ]
But it's okay! There is one very good thing about living there: I get to talk to humans! Not in purrson, but through communication devices like the one we're using now. Still, that makes it all worth it!
( voice )
And he would make comment on that, except--]
Are you not human?
( voice )
( voice )
[He repeats the word with a surprise mingled with the smallest of fears. The only trolls that he knows are of Old Nan's stories. A troll?]
( video )
Don't worry, I'm the good kind of troll!
[ At least the kind that doesn't eat people, anyway. She can't really vouch for all Alternian trolls though. ]
So um... hi!