(first gallop) | accidental video + action

[wolfwild]

...Benjen? [ when lyanna stark pushes herself into a sitting position a few twists and turns away from the maze's centre, her instinct is to call for one of her brothers: the youngest, first, and with a lilt of concern. with a groan, she brushes detritus off her palms and straightens her skirts (simple; in the northern style). and she tries to figure out why she might have been preparing her palfrey to ride in one moment, and sitting in dirt the next.

not that she minded the dirt -- not really. but she did mind the conspicuous absence of her kin. panic mounts: ] Brandon? Ned?

[ she scrambles to her feet and finds the strange small brick only a few feet away. lyanna picks it up and can now be seen peering suspiciously at its every angle. ] You're a funny thing. [ she mutters, tapping it gently and fingering (but not pressing) the buttons. but then she holds it loosely in her fist and raises her voice. ] By all the named gods and the unnamed gods -- Brandon Stark! If this is some trick or a mummer's game, I will have your hide. And without it, you can hardly hope to woo any pretty --

[ she stops abruptly because the brick chirrups like some odd precise bird. surprise catches the breath in her throat and she's forced to ask -- staring straight at the device: ] ...Are you alive, little brick?

[ grab her attention on the funny little brick-bird or else find her wandering the maze and the gardens. ]

Comments

[wolfwild]

It sounds alarmingly like a tourney I've just left. Was just trying to leave. Saddling up, really, when I found myself here instead. [ but that's not the point. ] Are you all at least competent singers?

[dashingdignity]

Not in the slightest, my Lady. Unfortunately.

[He'd winced at a few and he's not that good by any stretch of the imagination.]

[wolfwild]

How dreadful. Stranded in a land showing itself to be increasingly less like home with every revelation -- and I can't even count on decent entertainment.

[ superficial? certainly. but only so much as needed to hide the continuous undercurrent of concern. ]

[dashingdignity]

There is little to be done in the way of entertainment, though if you can read, the library is quite extensive.

[wolfwild]

[ extensively boring, she's certain. but she keeps that verdict to herself. ]

I can read. [ then -- after a pause. ] Are there stables?

[dashingdignity]

[Wait until she finds the books pertaining to Westeros...]

there are not, my lady and the two horses present belong to a man who should never be around a genteel lady as yourself.

[wolfwild]

Only two. [ this is getting drearier and drearier. except that lyanna might brave the very slums of king's landing itself if it meant spending time with some horses. ] Please tell me one's a filly and the poor beleaguered people of this kingdom can hope for foals in time.

[dashingdignity]

I do not know, admittedly. The man who owns them is not a friend to me and mine and I avoid him at all costs.

[wolfwild]

[ she wants to ask. indeed, she does want to ask rather a lot. but she can't bring herself to discuss such an enmity over such means. so she frowns some more and taps the flat glass surface. ]

And so what diversions are left to you, Ser Porthos? [ maybe he reads. after all, he'd brought up the books. ]

[dashingdignity]

Reading, swordplay, exploration. I manage to fill my days, my Lady. Are you an accomplished rider?

[wolfwild]

I do love it. [ she answers in this roundabout way -- deciding she ought to preserve a shred of modesty before explaining that she might as well be half a horse herself. ] Do you ride, ser?

[dashingdignity]

Not much. I lived in a congested city. It was often easier to walk. I have been known to ride, though.

[wolfwild]

...I've never seen a city. Not from the inside. Unless Barrowtown passes, which I rather doubt it does. They say White Harbour is impressive but I've only seen it from afar.

[dashingdignity]

Paris would love you, my Lady. Bright jewels are always welcome there.

[wolfwild]

Paris? [ oh, her voice simply flutters at the receiving end of a compliment. ] Is that your home, ser?

[dashingdignity]

[He's still got it.]

It is. Jewel of the country.

[wolfwild]

It sounds as though you care a great deal for jewels. Women are jewels; cities are jewels. Must anything else be a jewel as well?

[dashingdignity]

No, My lady. Jewels are far more precious, and far more interesting than crass gold. Only ladies and my beautiful Paris deserve such acclaim.

[wolfwild]

And who is your king in your jewel of a city?

[dashingdignity]

That would be the young King Louis. Have you heard of Paris?

[wolfwild]

No, ser. Not of Paris and not of your King. He certainly isn't my king.

[dashingdignity]

And who would be your King?

[Please don't say James...]

[wolfwild]

His Grace, King Aerys Targaryen. Second of his name. [ a blighted madman, by many a whispered acount. but his family is otherwise a piece of impressive nobility -- or so lyanna believes. aerys's heir, rhaegar, is particuluarly charming... ]

[dashingdignity]

A name I have not ever heard, unfortunately. It seems we are from far different places, my lady.

[wolfwild]

You don't know of Westeros? Of its Seven Kingdoms? And not -- perhaps -- of Winterfell?

[ her home; she's ached for it even before arriving here. ]