[un: whitewolf] video (backdated to before current event)

[northerndragon]

[Jon looks rough, and he sounds it, too. Under his beard, his face is mottled, and he rubs at the affected area occasionally as he talks. His voice is a low rasp.]

I am seeking my sister. You might know her as Alayne Stone. Girl with long dark hair, but might be that you can see the red in it.

She has been missing for several days. I fear that she is lost in the forest, or that someone has taken her, or —

I don’t know what to think. She is simply gone.

One other thing. It’s not so important as finding Sa— as finding Alayne.

Will you tell me what you’ve done for your curses? I’m having a bloody hard time even thinking of how to set things right with mine. [He rubs at his beard yet again.] Harder still when my mind is on my sister.

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[northerndragon]

[Her fingers are small and delicate in his, which are rough.]

Can’t send ladies to the Night’s Watch.

I think you have had punishment enough. But I don’t know where we go from here, that isn’t more punishment.

[song_of_fire]

In this moment?

[Her vest was starting to stick to her back, wet from the blood.

It was hard to completely forget the curse.]

Or in the future?

[northerndragon]

At any time. Don’t you think I —

[He begins to blush again.]

I wouldn’t just be standing here.

[song_of_fire]

Perhaps not, though I wish I could know what might have happened without this village and its curses.

[It seemed to be the reason that they were both holding back. He knew well what was happening to her, perhaps not in the moment, but from before.

She shifted, glancing over her shoulder.]

I may suggest something shocking, if you will allow me?

[northerndragon]

Shocking.

[He sounds dubious: not about whatever the idea is, but about the potential to shock him. There is so little to scandalize him anymore.]

[song_of_fire]

[She doubted he would be troubled, but still it seemed strange to ask or suggest intimacy to Jon.

Leathers and a painted vest were already scandalous by some morals, perhaps even for the North, but a bare back and bare breasts might be far too much

She let go of his hands and peeled off her vest, quite literally. She winced at the pain as the leather tried to stick to her back because of the blood.]

Help me clean my back?

Maybe slightly smutty but not really

[northerndragon]

[This is not how he would have wished to see her bare breasts, and he tries not to stare, though in recent days, he has ached to see them. He has dreamed of it. He looks, and then looks away, with effort, and then swallows and says,]

Turn around. What have you been cleaning it with — just this water? Never any wine, or honey?

[song_of_fire]

[There is a heat to her cheeks and a heat between her legs, but those sensations are pushed down by a surge of sickness. She doesn't answer him for a moment, turning her back towards him.

It allowed her a moment to regain her strength and let him see all that needed to be washed off.]

I use the lake. Normally I swim but my back feels too sore.

[northerndragon]

[Her back looks terrible: all cracked and bleeding skin. He’s seen little like it. It must cause her great pain.]

Do you have a cloth? Something you meant to dry yourself with?

[song_of_fire]

[There was a cloth near the edge of the lake, resting on a large stone that had managed to stay dry. She didn't bother to cover herself, not terribly concerned that she was bare. Given what she and Jon spoke of, he was the only man she'd let look on her here.

There was something more important as it was. She handed him the cloth, drawing him closer to the water's edge.]

I will look today to end this curse.

[northerndragon]

[He’s too unsettled by the condition of her skin to think much on the larger implications of this.

He dips the cloth into the water, lifts it out, wrings the water from it. Then he looks at her back, dips it again, and squeezes out less of the water. Wiping her back seems as though it will only pain her further. He wrings the cloth out near her shoulders instead, so it spills down her back.]

What will you do?

[song_of_fire]

[She winced at the water trickling down her back, clenching her pants tight fistedly. He was gentle at least and it was better that it was him helping her. He could see whether it needed medicine to fight infection or not, something she deeply feared.

There was at least time to have considered this curse, finally making her decision.]

I have items belonging to the wives. I will burn them over his tomb.

[northerndragon]

[He responds after a moment’s consideration.]

It’s worth a try. You can’t go on with these wounds.

[A miracle she hasn’t been laid up with fever, though he supposes that must be some of the magic of the curse.

Once her back is relatively clean of blood, he dabs at it very gently with the cloth.]

[song_of_fire]

No. I risk infection already. I want as well-

[She fought the curse, finding the strength to speak her mind at this.]

I want as well to share what we may both want and not hold back on what I feel.

[northerndragon]

There’s time for that.

[He pauses his gentle dabbing with the wet cloth, and rests just the tips of his fingers on just one of his hands on her shoulder, for just a moment.]

At least, I hope there is.

[And then he takes his hand away and resumes dabbing.]

[song_of_fire]

I imagine if I disappeared, the Merchant would never hear the end of it until I came back.

[But she's not truly worried about it. Perhaps it was naïve confidence, something she tended to have backfire on her repeatedly, but she still felt it nonetheless.

She turned her head a little, seeing him from the corner of her eye.]

There is time enough, but I still wish for it.

[northerndragon]

Someone might trouble him about it.

[He tries to say it lightly. He probably wouldn’t: it seems selfish, if he was assured that Daenerys was safe — as safe as she might be — at home.

He does not want Sansa back here; he only wants to know that nothing terrible has happened to her here.]

We will leave this place, sooner or later.

[song_of_fire]

It will be some time before I leave for Dragonstone. If I leave for Dragonstone. There are so many depending on me that I freed, I can't let them be preyed on by other slavers in Essos. There is the Gray Mare running through the refugees. The Harpies.

[It was so overwhelming.]

For me, it will be a long time until I see you again.

[northerndragon]

[She can see him, maybe, out of the corner of her eye, as he slightly shakes his head.]

I meant this village. We will leave this village. We will leave its curses.

But aye, I know well enough not to think that any time will last forever.

[song_of_fire]

I wonder where we will go from here?

[She wrapped her arms across her chest, trying to block her sensitive skin from the breeze. The lighthouse had been terrifying and toyed with her psyche, but she did miss the smell of the sea.]

What of your curse, Jon? Is it troubling you?

[northerndragon]

No.

[Yes.

A livid red rash is visible under his beard, beginning to creep onto parts of his face not covered by it, and he sounds a little more hoarse every day.]

I suppose we’ll keep going wherever he tells us to go, if he hasn’t decided to leave us here for good.

[song_of_fire]

Jon.

[It's a gentle admonishment. He is trying to be strong, refusing to admit that anything might be wrong. It didn't make matters better and only worried her all the more.

She can hear his voice and noticed his rash. It had to be uncomfortable.]

You have a very cynical view of him.

[northerndragon]

I don’t. But he was angry, and not without reason, and he has been taking a lot of trouble for us.

Still, it was only a few of us.

[song_of_fire]

Even if he was angry, he needs us and wants our help.

We have no other choice but to trust him, but not fully.

[She's not letting this go, Jon.]

Your voice is growing worse.

[northerndragon]

[He sighs and looks away.]

Aye, and what if it is?

I have a few things to try. If they don’t work, I’ll try something else.