ataraxion | 001 ♕♗ video

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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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A good observation.

[A beat. He hesitates-- but better to alienate this boy and keep him safe.]

Be that as it may, however . . . when I transform, you cannot come near me.

[He will be unable to anyway, except perhaps if one of these offers of legs should prove good--or if the wheeled chair turns out successful--but Bran doesn't say any of those things.]

But a wolf is a wolf.

[His expression is grave.]

If I were to bite you while I was a wolf, you would become like me-- unable to help transforming once a month, condemned to do it once a month.

Oh.

[And that does sound like something out of a tale, a strange curse--only would it work if you could already turn into a wolf, in a way? What he is learning to do with Summer, and this--they are different things, but similar.

He dare not say anything of his power, not just yet. Though it doesn't matter, with Summer gone.]

What if you were to bite a wolf?

That would have no effect on it. Animals cannot be harmed, only humans.

[He nods--of course, that makes sense. A curse would naturally occur in such a way.]

Then when I find Summer, perhaps he can accompany you for those times of your curse. He would be a good companion.

[He smiles.]

That's very kind of you, Lord Bran.

[He shakes his head--and though he knows he should not (should not trust this man whose name he does not know, who has said that he is cursed), he smiles. A wolf can be trusted.]

You can call me Bran, if you like. What are you called?

Bran, then. My name is Remus Lupin. Can I ask why you named your wolf Summer?

[Remus Lupin, another strange name to add to his list of strange names. He hesitates when asked about Summer, though, unsure of how to explain something he doesn't want to tell.]

When we found our direwolves, it was still summer. Maester Luwin said it was the longest summer recorded for a very long time, but winter was still coming--and I didn't want to forget summer.

[There. Some truth with a lie--that was the best way to speak falsehoods.]

[He raises an eyebrow.]

How long does summer last in your country?

This summer lasted for nine years. The maesters declared it winter not long ago--and they say if summer was so long, then winter will be longer, and harder.

It snows, at Winterfell, even in the summer years, but I've never seen true winter. [It's both a relief and a sadness, that he is to miss it, and Bran frowns.] In the Summer Islands, it's hot all of the time--everyone wishes for that, but I think they would miss the cold. Are your summers shorter?

[His eyes widen.]

Yes. They only last a fourth of the year; I've never heard of a summer lasting beyond that.

But--how do your crops have time enough to grow? Unless your winters are also so short.

Each season lasts an equal number of months-- about three. Summer, winter, autumn, and spring-- do you have the latter two where you come from?

[A child of summer would hear of such things only through lessons, and--eager to appear clever--Bran tries to remember his own lessons. What did Maester Luwin say?]

We do--but they are very brief, and sometimes false. Maester Luwin keeps a record of the temperatures, so the maesters can declare when spring or autumn approaches. Though sometimes it happens very quickly.

How quickly is very quickly?

[He leans forward, clearly fascinated.]

[The trouble is, Bran did not always pay closest attention to these sorts of lessons. He scrunches his nose as he tries to remember.]

Well-- there was one turning of the year where the autumn lasted only three weeks. It was a short winter, which was a mercy, because there was hardly time to prepare for it.

Fascinating. We only-- well. Ours can be cut short like that, I suppose, though not that short. Do you still have twenty four hours in your day?

I-- think so. I don't know how the hours are marked, save for by bells. The maesters would know better of those things.

Does it snow, in your summers?

No-- no, they're always warm. High temperatures in the summer, low temperatures in the winter.

Are all other lands like that?

I've never heard of a land like yours, to be honest, although I admit this is my first time I've heard of other worlds.

Are there any here who knew of such things before coming to this ship? Perhaps-- perhaps we were brought here to learn of other places.

It's possible. Though it begs the question-- why us?

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