OPEN;

[wandbreaker]

When; Saturday, January 28th, nighttime
Characters; All are welcome! Open log, just specify if it's an open thread or not or if there are 4th wall rules for your character in the comment or subject line! (4th wallers also welcome~)
Summary; The Blue Light's one chilling hangout; good music, good food, and a spectacularly crabby owner who is even letting in under-18s for the 4th Wall weekend.
Log;

Edmund is actually at work tonight - he hopes a member of his family might show up, but he's also wondering who else might show up. He's made sure that he's well staffed for the extra crowds and well stocked, no less.

He just hopes nothing gets out of control.

And of course, that a member of his family shows up, looking for him.

Comments

I'M NOT EVEN SORRY.

[northerner]

[ robb was wearing the iron crown, but now he holds it in his hands. it does not yet sit comfortably upon tully curls, still a strange and crushing weight. and here, in the absence of his bannermen and his lady mother, robb stark removes it, if only for a moment. grey wind is at his heels, hackles raised at the press of the crowd, and that is why robb retreats into the tavern, in hopes of escaping the clamor and chaos of the other visitors.

and then he sees her.

he would know his sister anywhere, in any form, even grown into a young woman, wearing their sigil upon her robes. grey wind bounds ahead of him, ignoring robb's half-hearted order to heel. truth be told, robb would have run, had he not been a king, and kings do not shove their way through rooms like ill-mannered boys. so robb stark crosses the room at a stately pace befitting a king, in accordance to the crown swinging from his hand.

the smile upon his face is the rarest of things. robb stark is his father's son. the smiles do not come often, but if ever there were an occasion to smile, this would be it. ]

/cries into my cocoa

[ferrous]

[ The crown of the Iron Queen remains where Sansa left it, couched upon a velvet pillow within the inner sanctum of the Queen's chambers. It is a lofty thing and quite heavy besides and, perhaps if the subject were ever to be broached by the two siblings, they would have much to say to one another of the weight of such things — both on the head and the heart. But even without her crown, it is obvious in the way she sits and carries herself, that Sansa is someone stately indeed, something more than lady noble-born; through and through she is what her blood and suffering and the mockingbird sought out to make her; she is undoubtedly a queen.

When Grey Wind bounds over, his nose snuffling at her skirts, she does not notice at first; wrongly, she thinks it only to be Ghost again, but then that silvered back catches her eye and— ]

Grey Wind— [ she whispers, her eyes growing large though her face holds the true depth of her surprise in reserve. Shortly, Sansa stands, her attention moving quickly to her half-brother, her hand reaching for the Lord Commander's elbow, drawing herself near to him and away from the creature. ] Surely, it is a wraith.

There is weeping everywhere

[wolfinthesnow]

[Ghost's hackles don't rise, he stands then, rising up on his massive hindquarters - honestly two wolves this size should not be allowed in a small room - to greet his lost brother.

The Lord Commander's face, however, has gone pale, and he moves in front of the Queen, his sister, just a step]

No, no, Sansa, it is no wight.

my heart will never recover.

[northerner]

[ there is confusion on robb's face, something like hurt in his expression, at sansa's reaction. he has never had a family member recoil from him, as if he meant them harm. his gaze moves immediately to jon, seeking explanation, seeking welcome.

the crown is heavy in his hand, and it should be upon his head, should it not, but he does not raise it to his brow.

it seems grey wind cannot decide who to great first. it has been months since he has seen any of his siblings, and the joy at reunion is obvious. robb hangs back, hesitating, unsure of himself. they are older, they are changed, and they are staring at him in shock. he does not know what to make of such a reception. ]

A poor greeting, sister. And I had meant to tell you how beautiful you looked, now that you're grown.

[ and jon snow, all in black. how many letters had robb begun and then burned in the nights since the crown had been placed upon his head? jon snow, your brother has need of you, those were the words consumed by the flames. ]

And you, Jon Snow. Black truly is your color.

why is this happening /glass case of emotion

[ferrous]

[ How does one greet a ghost? Does one run from it, streaming tears and loss, begging it for mercy enough to leave the mourner be? Or does one rush to embrace it, to cling to the memory of what was lost and what will — invariably — be lost again once paths diverge once more? The truth is there in Sansa's mouth and writ across her features as clear as day, all of her lessons in lying forgotten for a moment's breadth. You are dead, beloved brother, that is what Sansa knows. Gone and lost forever.

But instead of speak, Sansa gives pause.

Petyr Baelish had taught her once, when she was still young and malleable as wet clay: Sometimes lies are love, sweetling. Silence can be a lie. The lie of omission: the most insidious kind. Behind her teeth, Sansa bites her tongue and tries to curb the queen inside her. Robb Stark had died, leaving the North for Sansa to inherit, but now here he was, alive and well, the iron crown clasped loosely in his hand. The Iron Queen was not needed now, not when the King of the North still lived. Only Sansa Stark was necessary, the girl with snowflakes in her hair; a younger sister, a lady high-born. Soft-hearted, wolf-blooded. Yes, she could be those things for Robb, so long as she could recall how.

After a moment's hesitation, she sweeps her skirts sideways and takes a knee. Her eyes flicker once again to the crown in Robb's hands; nervously she touches the mockingbird at her throat. ] Your Grace, Lord Brother, forgive me. I had thought never to see you again, being separated by both time and tides.

[wolfinthesnow]

[Jon watches, sleek in black, even his hair keeping the color, none of it gone the iron gray that is common in men of his coloring. He cannot stop watching. He cannot watch this.]

Robb.

[And then he moves to embrace him, the older brother who was his confidant, his best friend]

You gave me a fright! I almost rode South because of you!

[Remove the mockingbird, Sansa, he is buying you time to hide the signs]

[northerner]

[ the confusion does not quite leave his face, but it is tempered, it is edged away slowly. robb is still young, all but a boy in his furs and his armor, and he is undone by his pleasure at this reunion, at jon snow returned from the wall and his sister grown tall and beautiful. he is too young, too newly crowned, too hopeful, to push farther, even if the word eats at him.

a wraith. she'd called him a wraith.

it freezes the blood in his veins, that word, the look on sansa's face before she recovered herself so neatly. and taking a knee before him, calling him a lord. sansa and her courtly manners, none of that had changed. a wraith. why had she greeted him with fear and that word upon her lips, why had jon snow's face gone nearly white?

but jon steps forward, and robb sets aside his questions to embrace him. at their feet, grey wind pushes forward, whining for sansa's attentions. for the moment, nothing is amiss. ]

I must have begun a thousand letters to you. I have missed your presence, Snow.

[ robb's arms are tight around jon, betraying the truth of his wods. he had spent many nights wishing for jon snow's conversation. when he steps back, is to reach a hand for his sister, to draw sansa to her feet and embrace her as well. ]

You have both surpassed me in age. I am no longer the elder, it appears.

[ferrous]

[ Her head ducted, her skirts splayed round her as she remains bowed and genuflect, Sansa's fingers fumble with the pendant at her throat. A mockingbird of both smelt silver and enameled feather, an homage to the man who — for a time — served as her lord father and protector. Of the lords of the Baratheon court, none served (or arguably loved) Sansa as much as Petyr Baelish did. Granted, it had been in service to himself that he had helped her, but it had proven more than enough to buy her time to blossom into the queen she is now. With a sleight of hand, the pendant disappears into the belled sleeve of her dress, secreted away to one of the myriad pockets there.

When Robb offers a hand, she does not hesitate to take it, so long and lithe in leg that they stand near to eye-to-eye when she raises to full height. If there is wariness in her heart, Sansa's face does not betray it. If anything, there is sadness that lingers in her gaze, as if she has remembered some very sad thought that she'd only just managed to forget. Still, her mouth smiles and she kisses him twice, once on each cheek before embracing him with both arms.

She's stronger now, more steady. Sansa is loathe to let go. ] The eldest born is always eldest. In our hearts, the truth remains, even if our bodies rebel.

How many times did I dream to see you again? [ Now that you are gone. ] And with Grey Wind by your side. We are visited with a wealth of blessings, tonight.

[wolfinthesnow]

Worry not, Lord Stark - or should I say, King Robb, highest rank, highest honors, I'm sure.

[There is a touch of jest in his voice, just that slightest bit of Jon's old self from their rides and their hunts, from nights where they and Theon joked and often at Robb's redheaded expense]

I was speaking to your sister of the wild beyond the wall and I'm afraid the story got in her head. Even time cannot change that. My apologies, lady.

[To Sansa. Who knew Jon was so skilled with words? But that came with age, with time on the Wall as Lord Commander. He looks at Robb for a long moment]

I would have come. If you had asked me.

[northerner]

And I you. I reached you, didn't I? Tell me of what is to come.

[ it's a boy's hope written upon his face. robb had marched south to free his father, and that had failed. but surely he had managed to save his sisters, if sansa standing before him was any proof of that.

in a way, robb needed it. he needed to know that his men were not marching and dying in vain. their deaths were in service of his sisters, each life sacrificed so that he may break down the doors of the red keep and break the shackles keeping his sisters there. he must hear it from their lips, that he does not fail.

and jon, offering up his honor. robb's expression softens, finally releasing sansa to clasp jon snow's shoulder tightly. ]

I wish that I could have. To have you marching at my side would ensure our victory.

[ weight. she'd called him a weight, and surely that was more than the effects of a story but... ]

You've changed, Sansa. The last I remember, you tastes ran more towards songs of noble knights and their ladies, not weights.