Jeyne spends most of her time at the beach, enjoying the sounds of the waves rolling against the shore and the sting of the salt against her eyes. It's a glimpse of home without taint and without interruption. Perhaps that's why the images come, the moments where she seems to blink and be back in her world.
For anyone walking past, she is stock still and staring into the distance, a frail girl against the harsh winds and rain, noticing neither. She's lost in something, a waking dream. Shake her and see Westeros, home for all that means.
I. The Crag
The keep is in a decrepit state. Years of harsh weather and disrepair have the walls and roof near crumbling. It's an ancient castle, one that has stood for generations, but it is in these recent ones that the penniless nobles are no longer to care for it as it needs. It now stands as a testament for what the Westerlings are, a shadow, a name without foundation or strength.
Inside, there is at least activity to combat the emptiness along the cliffs. Servants move about quickly, some tasked with quick repairs of beams meant to hold part of the ceiling up. Others remove old pots where water drips to the floor and replace them with new ones. There are a group ordered about by an intimidating woman with dark features and hair. When she speaks, others are quick to respond.
Her husband is more passive and gentle looking, though he is entirely occupied with troop movements and the number of soldiers at their disposal. He mentions something about "The Young Wolf" and "Lannisters", but it's muttered and drowned out by the sound of something clattering in the distance.
A young girl runs to the courtyard where two boys are playing together, both wielding wooden swords. The older boy was knocked into a weapons rack, unharmed and laughing loudly. He congratulates his brother for a good hit, but offers him instructions in how to hold the sword better. The girl watches from a distance until her mother tugs her by the arm, leading her up into a small room filled with plants, salves and potions. She's made to sit on a stool and work on her embroidery while her mother mixes a potion together.
"Don't let her see you standing around," Jeyne will whisper at you. "She doesn't like idle people."
II. The Young Wolf's Camp
Robb Stark's camp is large with several tents camped close together. It's easy to be overpowered by the smell of manure, sick and blood. These soldiers are not ornaments, they have been to battle and carry the muck on their armor. Banners depicting a Direwolf flap against the wind in every direction, the sound drowned out by activity, shouting and horses.
Among them, Jeyne wanders through the crowd. She pauses among the sick and wounded, tending to them carefully as well as offering words of comfort. Some are respectful with their smiles and responses, but others push her away. It isn't something she seems to linger on, almost expecting it. When one turns from her, she only goes to another bed.
When her work is finished, she runs to meet a young man at a larger tent, the entrance manned by two guards. The man is taller than her with red curls and crown of steel on his head. He seems exasperated by her presence, though is gentle in his words, even offering her a kiss and a whispered promise to see her later. She murmurs his name, pleading to stay with him, but he turns and follows his generals into the tent. The guards close the flaps and watch her steadily, waiting for her to try and insist on following.
When Jeyne turns, she will notice you and smile sadly. "It's not a woman's place to be in war councils."
Jeyne Westerling | OTA | Warning: Talk of war, injuries and death
For anyone walking past, she is stock still and staring into the distance, a frail girl against the harsh winds and rain, noticing neither. She's lost in something, a waking dream. Shake her and see Westeros, home for all that means.
I. The Crag
The keep is in a decrepit state. Years of harsh weather and disrepair have the walls and roof near crumbling. It's an ancient castle, one that has stood for generations, but it is in these recent ones that the penniless nobles are no longer to care for it as it needs. It now stands as a testament for what the Westerlings are, a shadow, a name without foundation or strength.
Inside, there is at least activity to combat the emptiness along the cliffs. Servants move about quickly, some tasked with quick repairs of beams meant to hold part of the ceiling up. Others remove old pots where water drips to the floor and replace them with new ones. There are a group ordered about by an intimidating woman with dark features and hair. When she speaks, others are quick to respond.
Her husband is more passive and gentle looking, though he is entirely occupied with troop movements and the number of soldiers at their disposal. He mentions something about "The Young Wolf" and "Lannisters", but it's muttered and drowned out by the sound of something clattering in the distance.
A young girl runs to the courtyard where two boys are playing together, both wielding wooden swords. The older boy was knocked into a weapons rack, unharmed and laughing loudly. He congratulates his brother for a good hit, but offers him instructions in how to hold the sword better. The girl watches from a distance until her mother tugs her by the arm, leading her up into a small room filled with plants, salves and potions. She's made to sit on a stool and work on her embroidery while her mother mixes a potion together.
"Don't let her see you standing around," Jeyne will whisper at you. "She doesn't like idle people."
II. The Young Wolf's Camp
Robb Stark's camp is large with several tents camped close together. It's easy to be overpowered by the smell of manure, sick and blood. These soldiers are not ornaments, they have been to battle and carry the muck on their armor. Banners depicting a Direwolf flap against the wind in every direction, the sound drowned out by activity, shouting and horses.
Among them, Jeyne wanders through the crowd. She pauses among the sick and wounded, tending to them carefully as well as offering words of comfort. Some are respectful with their smiles and responses, but others push her away. It isn't something she seems to linger on, almost expecting it. When one turns from her, she only goes to another bed.
When her work is finished, she runs to meet a young man at a larger tent, the entrance manned by two guards. The man is taller than her with red curls and crown of steel on his head. He seems exasperated by her presence, though is gentle in his words, even offering her a kiss and a whispered promise to see her later. She murmurs his name, pleading to stay with him, but he turns and follows his generals into the tent. The guards close the flaps and watch her steadily, waiting for her to try and insist on following.
When Jeyne turns, she will notice you and smile sadly. "It's not a woman's place to be in war councils."