[voice/video] I put my trust in you, a stranger (un: whitewolf)

[northerndragon]

1. Voice

[A man's deep voice, colored with some urgency.]

My name is Jon Snow. I need the aid of two or three strong fighters, outside the city -- now. One of the Beastmaster's creatures is on me. He isn't alone.

2. Video

[Later, it's a young man, looking hesitant and unsure of where to begin. A curl of his dark hair is falling into his bearded face, and there are fine vertical scars above and below his eyes, as if someone once tried to claw them out. He has just been shown to his rooms after a long, hard journey, and he looks like it.

When he speaks, it's with the same deep voice from earlier in the day, now earnest and weary. The more he speaks, the more sure of himself he sounds, until in the end, it may become clear that he's used to addressing groups of people.]

I am sorry for my hasty messages earlier. The creatures are dead -- they won't trouble you or any of the people of this city.

I'm Jon Snow. I come from the Merchant -- I've been riding in and out of these canyons for most of a fortnight. Never seen anything like Taravast, but it is good to be in numbers again.

I don't expect that it will mean anything to any of you, but I am from the North. One of the Seven Kingdoms, it was.

I need to meet with Wrath and Wen Qing, as soon as either of you can. I am in the Palace of the Doxe.

For the rest -- tell me what I can do here in the city. Tell me what I can do to help our cause.

Comments

[northerndragon]

[He is surprised when she touches his hands. It’s sudden, and the way she takes them, she’s like a supplicant. Not something he would have expected when he’s the one begging aid from a queen.

Her hands are small, and softer than his, for all that they are a little rough.]

I’ve just spent near on a fortnight with reins in my hands. Too hot here for my gloves.

But you’re right: I don’t shy from hard work. I’ll come with you. The only other thing there is for me to do here now is sit about this palace, and… [A pause; how to put this?] That isn’t my way.

[song_of_fire]

[She keeps hold of his hands, not quick to let him go when this felt rather natural and calming. She looks over his fingers, marking each callous with her gaze. Similar hardships that she had shared. Long hours spent in the saddle and hard work.

He might be king, but he well understood what his people endured. The proof was here on his skin.]

You will have to race me. [Gods, what she would give for her Silver.] The Dothraki admire fierce riders. I heard Northmen were skilled in such things as well. I should like to see it.

[Her face was warm when she looked up at him.]

I'm the same. It's why I spend my days rebuilding and restoring parts of the city.

[northerndragon]

[He isn’t sure now why she’s holding his hands. They’ve just met… still, it isn’t unpleasant. It is warm. There shouldn’t be comfort in it, but to some extent, there is.

So she is holding his hands and flattering him, and he looks down at her, puzzled. It has been ten long days, and countless days before that which had not been easy. It is strange for someone he has only just met to be seeming to try to comfort him.

He almost asks her why, but then she says it: I’m the same. He can’t see any guile in her just now. If it’s there, it’s well-hidden, and in truth, it might have been wiser not to take his hands and say such things to him — to keep a distance from him.

He takes one of his hands away to fold hers between his palms.]

No doubt we’ll have to leave this place soon enough. If we’re lucky, we’ll have horses to ride.

The rest — I’ll do what I can. Don’t want to sit about this place doing nothing.

[song_of_fire]

[There were many unwise decisions in her past. Men that she should not have trusted, but did. People she wanted to believe in, only to be betrayed. These things should concern her when it comes to him, but... she has no desire to push people away. Not in this place where she needs to trust others to survive.

Beyond that, he's similar to her. The dark half of a crescent moon, perhaps? Filling it and making it whole. That image seems appropriate, though she can't say why she's thinking it.

It's not unpleasant when he presses her hand between his. It makes her feel steadier, as though she found her tether.]

I won't let you do nothing. [There was the smile again. Warm, playful and fond of him already.] Be sure I'll seek you out.