ataraxion | 002 -- video;

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002 -- video;

[ robb's face is like stone, his voice like ice, and the mask of kingship just barely hides the undercurrent of fury in his voice. in his tone there dwells bared teeth, raised hackles, all just barely contained. for all the kingly restraint, the viciousness of it shines through. ]

There is a man upon this vessel named Magneto, who has done a great harm to my brother's companion, a lady named Alayne Stone. I call upon you to present yourself to answer for your crime, ser, and save me the task of hunting you down.

[ there is a moment's pause, as if he would say more but thinks better of it, and then disconnects. ]

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I have.

[ there's something short to his tone. robb is a warrior and has won great battles, but he is still young, still believes in mercy and he doesn't wish to speak of it, of all the men who did not receive his mercy. ]

I'm not afraid. You needn't worry about me.

[ although his knuckles are white around the hilt of the blade.

suppose this had been a foolish thing to do? suppose it killed him, then what would become of his family? he did not assume that there would be a second chance for him as well. ]

Shall we begin, Jenna?

Before I got here, I'd never thrown a punch in my life.

[ she hears that shortness, wonders if it's the same as her own-- if he sees the first person he hurt when his eyes close, if there's a sense of heavy, weighted justice (a little bit of excitement) along with the disgust.

or maybe she's reading into it, her own emotions stubbornly working themselves out in her usual practical way, even without her trying to bring them up. ] I'm not, I promise.

[ if anything, her fear is for herself-- but the med bay helps with that, blood smells old and new filling her senses until it's easier to not care, nothing more than the scent of a burger making you think 'god, i could use one of those later' just after you've eaten something else. ]

Let's do it.

[ she waits for robb to make his own cut, fishing the oddly streamlined looking cup out of her bag so she can get her part done as soon as possible. ] After you do it, I'll do it again-- [ euphemisms: easier right now. ] then... hold your nose and bottoms up.

[ before his father rode south, robb had never killed a man. but then suddenly he was the protector, and things had gone rushing ahead of him, and he'd had to be a man and no longer could he avoid the sight of blood. he saw it every day now, coating the blade of his sword and he'd wipe it away and sigh, and think of the days when he'd never used anything but wooden practice swords.

he doesn't like thinking about that, especially not now. ]

Alright...alright.

[ he's steeling himself, taking a breath before tossing himself headfirst into this situation. it takes a moment to make the cut, because his hand shakes and a shaking hand is the last thing he needs.

it's a neat cut. not painless, but neatly done, a sharp slash across his forearm. and he follows her example after, wipes the flat against his sleeve before holding the knife out to her. he says nothing, but his expression is silently imploring, in a way that a king's should never be but robb can't help.

what now? ]

[ if jenna had been more experienced, less terrified, she might have known to snap greta's neck-- she could have saved them all, and her own fear and instinctive lashing out with fangs instead of her hands ended the chance before it began. she's absolutely not doing that again-- not failing the people she loves, not letting who she used to be get in the way of protecting what matters.

she controls her face through robb's cut, but when the knife splits her own skin jenna's face changes, black veins spiderwebbing out under her eyes as she stares down at the cup, filling it with enough that a gut wound should heal, let alone that. (trial and error might have done better earlier, and she's kicking herself for not knowing, yet again.) if katherine could be trusted at all she would ask her, but there's no telling how true anything that escapes her mouth is-- maybe godric will know. ]

Here. [ she thrusts the cup out, not looking up until the eyes she turns on him are green and not black. ] Cheers, I guess.

...Fast is probably better, I don't know about shelf life.

[ this is dark and unholy, something that he would never have dreamt of doing in westeros. something in him hesitates, shying away from what he's doing, but it is only a moment, and then he takes the cup. robb stark doesn't know how to retreat. he doesn't know how to back down, or to turn tail and run from something, even if its bigger than he and even if it sends chills through him, he who never grows cold.

but he holds the cup up to her, a grim toast, before swallowing it all down. the blood streaks down his arm, leaving red tracks in its wake, soaking into the fabric of his sleeve. he doesn't think of it. he cannot think of what he's doing with gagging and gagging leads to wretching which would be a waste of this entire business.

so he swallows down blood, scrubs a sleeve across his mouth and waits. waits for it to take effect, waits to see what it will do. what the outcome of this moment is.

[ 'arcane' is never a word jenna associated with her life. the walls of her room are mint green, and the house has plenty of windows. she used to spend her weekends drinking coffee and making pancakes for her life-in boyfriend and their adopted little family, for chrissakes. she's never had more than a drop of darkness in her, and that was mostly just an ability to be extremely petty.

now, though, it's more than a drop. there's something fierce and rushing that approves of meetings like this one, turning her stomach while she has to bite hard into the meat of her cheek to keep her face the way it always looks. jenna offered her blood because she couldn't bear the thought of a girl in pain; whatever it is that is exhilarated by robb's pain-- and his fear, like she can't tell-- doesn't care about alayne, and she shoves it down and tries to lock it away with chains, turning to practicality to keep going. ]

Give it a minute, and you should uh... heal. [ she shrugs, watching robb's arm and then the wall, then his arm again with ill-concealed anxiety. ]

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002 -- video;

THE VERY BEST THERE IS, OBVIOUSLY.

THEY'RE LIKE THE BAD NEWS BEARS OF A PERSONAL ARMY OKAY.

NO ONE'S GONNA MESS WITH THEM.

ROBB STARK: ROLLIN' WITH THE BATTLE HOMIES, ENTOURAGE STYLE.

LMFAKSDGJ THAT SONG CAN BE HIS AX THEME

I AM JUST PICTURING SLO-MO WALKING DOWN CORRIDORS TO JAY-Z