(Untitled)

[practiced]

DATE: November 4th, midday.
CHARACTER(S): Sansa Stark and anyone who happens across her | OPEN
SUMMARY: Question: how does a medieval princess adapt to life on the prairie? Answer: not very well.
LOCATION: Independence, Missouri.
WARNINGS: Curtseying. Lots of curtseying.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start. Responders get to pick their poison!

Comments

[yokoonomuch]

[ It's stupid, but she's still really worried about her biology quiz. In the realm of "Things that Should be the Priority Right Now," biology quizzes probably don't even make the top ten anymore, but it's still something there in the back of her mind, a buzzing insistence that she doesn't actually have time to wander around because she has studying to do.

But Annie wanders anyway, if only because even a few hours hasn't turned the wagon area into less of a mess of people trying to figure out what's going on. She's halfway waiting for the moment when she wanders off the movie set and everyone yells "Surprise!" (not that suddenly waking up on a movie set is actually any less disturbing).

Annie's thinking so hard that she almost literally bumps into the girl outside the bakery. Only a short stop and a quick step backwards prevents the collision. ]

Oh, sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going. [ For the first time, it occurs to her that maybe she should not be doing that if she doesn't want to get lost. Embarrassed, she tucks hair

[practiced]

[ Sansa startles just as easily as the strange girl with the pleasant smile does. Nervously, she touches her hair, then her sleeves, smoothing each in turn as if somehow the repetition of such a gesture will suddenly conjure some sense of comfort and calm. It doesn't, of course, but she doesn't anyway. (She hopes and she hopes, even when she knows not to. It is the source of Sansa's strength and her secret torment.)

The smile is returned with one of her own. Graciously, she gives a little curtsey even though the girl does not bear any trappings of nobility or high birth. Just because she was lost and without a tether did not mean Sansa could forget her courtesy. No, if anything, she needed it now more than ever. ]

Please - there is nothing to forgive. [ Her words are sincere, but halting. ] If you are as lost as I am there are many things here to distract the eye and hold the attention. Worries and distractions.

I have come to no harm and neither have you and so, no amends must be made. [ Sansa nods. ] Truly.

[yokoonomuch]

[ The curtesy surprises Annie enough that she automatically hops back another step to make sure that the girl has enough room to pull it off. She seems good at it, though, well-practiced, and not in as much danger of accidentally tipping over as Annie would be if she tried.

At the same time, though, she's seen more than enough strange things today that she doesn't let herself get too hung up on what the girl is doing and tries to pay attention to what she's saying. ]

You're lost too? [ she asks, surprised. She actually just assumed from the fancy, old dress and the fancy, old manners that maybe this girl was one of the few people who belonged here. ] This place is weird. Like uncomfortable music video from the 80's weird.

[practiced]

[ The girl is odd, Sansa decides, but no more odd than anything else she has come across today. Tales of strange lands with even stranger names. Armor that walks without a soul inside it. Cats that speak as if they were wise and whisker-chinned maesters. In comparison, the girl is almost commonplace, but still Sansa hangs on her every word - as if somehow the answer to all of her question lay somewhere in between all the phrases.

It doesn't, of course, so all she finds are more questions. Large-eyed, Sansa tells her, her voice dropped to a low, quick whisper: ]

I woke in the back of a covered cart with naught save my clothes and this. [ She lifts her hand and pulls back the large sleeve of her dress to reveal the communication device around her wrist. ] A shackle to bind us, no doubt. It speaks when spoken to, and sometimes even when not. And if you listen, you will hear them, the voices of others who have been taken, like us. From lands so exotic and far as not to be believed - not even Nan and her tallest tales could

[no2ndbreakfast]

At first, Pippin hadn't realized the landscape had changed. He'd been sleeping in a fine tent, provided by the Elves as they all journeyed back to their homes. Elrond and his household would return to Rivendell, and the Hobbits and Gandalf would travel on to the Shire

[practiced]

It was from a distance that Sansa spotted a small cloaked figure pull himself up into the back of her throat. Immediately, she froze and tasted fear upon her tongue. There was only one man she knew that cast such a short and stunted silhouette: the Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister himself, the one they called the Imp. Sansa's heart sunk, a leaden weight in her chest. Surely if Tyrion was here, the Joffrey, his king, could not be far. For a long while, Sansa did nothing but hide behind the prow of a particularly large and unwieldy-looking wagon, a shawl pulled up over her bright red hair so as to keep from garnering too much attention.

She watched as she hid, and waited, and only after it became clear that no Lannister guards accompanied him did Sansa emerge. If they discover me hiding, they will only punish me more, she told herself. Perhaps if I make myself eager and glad of our reunion, they will show me a mercy.Hesitantly, she approached the back of her wagon, pausing only to make note of the 'S' that Jack Kelly had

[no2ndbreakfast]

Pippin had been dozing off again when he heard the voice coming from outside. It could have been meant for anyone, but he felt it was being directed towards him, so he was quick to hop up and hurry to the open back, popping out his head.

There a lovely young woman there, wearing a wardrobe similar to what he'd seen in Minas Tirith. Settling his arms upon the wooden back, he grinned.

"I am sorry, my lady, but I am not this lord of whom you speak. Peregrin Took is my name, though most call me Pippin. And who might you be?"

[practiced]

Twin ripples of confusion and relief disturbed the fine prettiness of Sansa's face as she was met by no Lannister lord but a person of dwindled stature who was neither imp nor child. In her chest her heart leapt and sang out with a cry of you are still free and its song was so strongly heard by Sansa that her face flushed and her eyes grew wet, though she forbid herself to cry. One of her delicate hands clutched at her skirt. Poise and grace, she reminded herself and then lifted her chin. Her bright red hair shone as she slipped the scarf from her shoulders and held it loosely by her side.

"I am Sansa Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell. And you, Peregrin Took-" She lifted her eyebrows now, though she felt too much mirth to be properly sharp. "-are in my wagon."

[practiced]

Across the street there had been a flurry of activity as a fight broke out between two strangers - one, a local with a floppy-brimmed hat and the other, a stranger with scaled skin and a forked tongue like a snake. Sansa had been watching as on-lookers stared or gaped or hurried along quickly. It was not until the local man cried out to his god above that others felt brave or willing enough to come to his aid. But by then she had become so engrossed that she did not realize her collision-course with another stranger until he had already bumped into her.

Caught off-guard, and only a small slip of a thing, she stumbled. With one hand she caught up her skirt, making sure not to trip on its full length, and with the other she grasped for a nearby hitch to which comers and goers would tie their horses. Fearful of an angry response (she did not want a fight, not like the local and lizard man) she attempted a curtsey, bowing her head so deep that her chin touched her chest.

Quickly, she stammered out: "Forgive me, please. I did not

[practiced]

Ah, introductions. Sansa was quite familiar with those and, she was of the opinion, that she managed them quite well. She was practiced, if nothing else, and many of the people with whom she'd made acquaintences thus far had know how to properly address a young lady - especially one of noble birth, as she was. Taking her skirt up with her hands, she curtseyed again, deeply this time and with much of her previous fear now tucked away, behind a veil of politeness.

"John Boyd, you are as much a stranger in these lands as I. Pardon me, but I had assumed by your dress thag you were among those local to this place. I am Sansa, sir, Sansa Stark. Daughter of Eddard Stark, once Lord of Winterfell; sister of Robb Stark, now Lord and King in the North.

"It is always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of another traveler. It seems as though our number grows by the hour."