hadriel_logs | [OPEN] Be my mirror, my sword and shield

Entry tags:

[OPEN] Be my mirror, my sword and shield

Who: OPEN. Jon Snow and… maybe your character?
What: Open direwolf meet and greets, horse exercise, hanging out at the Speakeasy, planting trees, and attempting to start to come to terms with some extremely difficult truths about his identity: the man he thought was his father, and idolized, was not; his parents accidentally started a war with their elopement; that throne people have been fighting over for seven seasons should have been his all along. [This is written in prose, but any format is fine.]
Where: All around Hadriel.
When: Late October/first half of November, up to the upcoming memory share event. Fourth Wall is technically over, but since this log is partly intended to deal with the fallout of those events, fourth wallers are still welcome for threads set before the end of October, or threads set after that if they have apped and been accepted.
Warnings: Jon is a good guy, but interactions with him always carry a general Game of Thrones warning, mostly for violence (medieval warfare and justice) and adult themes (heavy sexual content, various incestuous relationships that are varying levels of scandalous and central to the plot, etc). Anything set during or after Fourth Wall has an additional disclaimer for the fact that he's learned about his actual parentage during this event… which means, sorry dudes, but he's just figured out that the girl he's fallen hard for is his aunt. The show has not addressed the potential problems with this one way or another yet... but while the books suggest that marrying your aunt or uncle is juuust within acceptable limits in their culture, it seems important to acknowledge that it's obviously way outside of acceptable limits in ours.

This log is intended to deal with the fallout of that revelation, so it's definitely going to come up in some of these prompts -- not least because his claim to the throne is better than hers if he chooses to pursue it. Still, you can leave me an ooc note about your comfort levels, avoid the prompts where he's visibly upset, set stuff a little before Fourth Wall or after the first week of November (where he's likely to be less upset about all of it), etc.

Prompts in the comments! Here's a visual reference for Ghost, by the way:

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The moment he first saw Ghost, Jon had known that the direwolf was his. The sigil of a Stark bastard is a white direwolf. To find a white direwolf in a litter of five other darker ones, when he had five trueborn half-siblings, had seemed like uncanny good fortune.

Ghost had been a tiny pup, nearly albino, but he had crawled out of the womb of his dead mother with an indomitable will to live. And Jon had raised him from that point on, soaking a piece of cloth with milk and nursing him on it, then, as he grew bigger and stronger, feeding him meat and helping him learn to hunt for himself.

In the years since then, they've been separated now and then, once for months… yet aside from that time when the Wall was between them, Jon has always felt a pull to the creature, always had dreams that he knew what was in the wolf's mind, or that he was hungry for raw meat and to feel the crunch of bone between his teeth. Sansa -- whose own direwolf pup, Lady, had been killed early by the Lannisters -- cares for Ghost when Jon cannot, as when he was on the seas looking for a fragment of the Door. But now that he's back in Hadriel, he spends more time with the animal that feels like a second self.

A direwolf will never be anything but mostly-wild, and Ghost is not a pet. Yet he's often content to sit in a corner of the great hall of the home that Jon and the other Westerosi have made, or to lie outside in the grass, where it's like enough to the North that he came from, or to chase after monsters when they come and make his own kills, because there's little else for him to hunt.

NEAR GUARD HQ, OR NEAR THE SHOPS, OR ETC.

Today, Ghost has come over to the Guard HQ with Jon: the sight of Jon in a smallish boat with a white direwolf almost too big for the boat has probably become common. There's a stick that Ghost likes that escaped the ship-building madness, and it's come with them.

They stand amidst patchy grass and rocks, and Jon tosses the stick to be fetched back to him. His arm is strong -- he's a swordsman -- so the stick goes far. And the big wolf fetches it back like any dog would, and when he returns, they tug the stick back and forth between them, and Jon says, "Good boy," and scratches Ghost rather incongruously behind his soft enormous ears.

One thing that may stand out: the wolf doesn't bark, and rarely growls, and when he runs across the earth, his feet are nearly silent. Most animals don't move so quietly.

NEAR THE COLISEUM

Later in the day, they can be found on the central island, near the Coliseum, but there's no stick in evidence: they are looking seriously to see if anything dangerous has come through today. If it has, Ghost is ready. So is Jon: his hand is moving towards the pommel of his sword.

Which, not at all coincidentally, is sculpted in the shape of the head of a white direwolf with garnet eyes. It stands out against the dark brown leather brigandine that Jon wears as a matter of habit.

For the moment, it seems everything is lucky, and there is nothing to fight, hasn't been in days. He lets down his guard halfway, lets his hand fall from the sword without unsheathing it -- and meanwhile, Ghost stands down from a position of high alert. Then Jon notices someone watching, so he gives them a questioning look.

"Are you in need?"

How does a white direwolf, the sigil of a Stark bastard, feel like a second self when you're neither a bastard nor a Stark? Jon is a dragon. He is not Jon, not Snow, but Aegon Targaryen, like the conqueror, and like the man who was utterly unworthy to sit the throne, and like the little bald boy who's been walking about lately with a mule. He was born a king whose throne had been lately usurped. His mother is beautiful, wild, kind, noble, everything he had always wanted her to be, except that he had never really thought that she would be so young.

His father is -- not the man he thought he was.

There are no dragons here, and no matter what Jon is, Ghost has always been a companion and a comfort to him. He still feels the wolf's hunger, still understands that Ghost watches over him and those he cares about. Somehow Ghost and the North and Ned Stark are all tied together in a knot of gratitude that Jon feels. How many times was his life saved without him ever realizing it?

TOSSING A STICK ONLY THIS TIME JON IS VISIBLY UPSET

Today finds him out in a stretch of open land with Ghost, tossing the stick, tossing it again when the direwolf returns it. Instead of looking invested in the play, Jon looks listless, disconsolate, grim, going through the motions of tossing the stick, sometimes tossing it with more violence and frustration than is strictly necessary in what amounts to an attempt to entertain a large canine.

Ghost doesn't care; he bounds after the stick no matter what Jon's mood, though when he brings it back, he sometimes nudges at his old friend's hand, to bring him back to here and now.

BROODING BY THE SEA IS EASY WHEN YOU'RE ON AN ISLAND

Later, Jon can be found without Ghost, standing near the edge of an island and staring disconsolately out at the sea.

It's one thing to know that you were wanted when you spent your whole life thinking that you weren't, and that much of what you've achieved has been in spite of that fact -- though the man who raised you was kind, approving, the best father you could have wished for in the circumstances. But it's another to know that this means that much of what you'd envisioned for yourself in the future -- if there is a future, which is by no means certain, even less so than almost anyone can ever say -- may not be feasible.

He paces back and forth near the rocks, near the sea, and at one point he picks up a stone and tosses it out across the water in frustration. Sometimes he just stops and stands and stares out into the distance for minutes at a time.

Maybe he's waiting for a housemate to meet him for an important discussion: his mood has been like this for at least a day or so, and he's arranged to speak with different people. Or maybe you find him here without an appointment.

THE SPEAKEASY, BECAUSE HE NEEDS MORE THAN ONE DRINK TO COME TO TERMS WITH THIS

… And there Jon is in the Speakeasy, looking unusually grim, either in search of a drink or with one in front of him. His demeanor hasn't improved since he was out on the shore, but at least he's not trying to skip stones across the waves anymore, nor is he waiting for anyone in particular.

Just as Ghost needs exercise, so does the horse.

Unlike Ghost, the dark brown palfrey is not content to follow Jon about or amuse himself chasing sticks, and taking him in a boat that hasn't been prepared for him isn't a good idea. He can't be turned out to pasture here, because there isn't any pasture, and because on days when there are creatures of all sorts in town, it's not safe for him to roam. Nor is it a good idea to allow him to wander into the fog.

There are days when Jon assumes that it might be mercy to kill the poor beast sooner rather than later, that he might wind up being required to do it someday, but since they both came to Hadriel, things have never been so bad. The horse is strong, well-bred, with a comfortable ambling gait, able to withstand inclement weather -- everything even a king could want in a horse he planned to ride for weeks on end. The only trouble with him is that Jon had never intended to ride him straight into this city, far from home.

In a new location, the city might not be dispersed among islands, and that will also be better. The horse is available for the use of other members of the household if they want it, but there aren't many places on this island for them to ride him to.

So for a while nearly every day, Jon can be found riding the horse at a pace somewhere between careful and comfortable. Ghost is usually trotting along behind -- at a distance, because the direwolf seems to make the horse nervous.

Some days, Jon even ties the horse up near the Speakeasy and goes inside for a drink.

Hard work is a way to forget yourself and your troubles. Jon is grateful for the chance to pitch in, to pick up a shovel or a spade and dig in and plant trees and not think about Aegon Targaryen. He strips down to his shirtsleeves and concentrates on the task at hand, lifting dirt out of a hole and putting a tree in it and filling the hole around the tree, and Ghost looks on at a distance. At one point he looks up at the direwolf and murmurs, with a roll of his eyes, "You're no help at all." (But of course, he's not expecting Ghost to be.)

Today, he stands the shovel up by stabbing it into the dirt, wipes his brow on his forearm, squints at the sky, and says to the nearest person, "How much longer do you think we have today?"

It's hard to tell when it's overcast, which it usually is.

Pratt is heading towards the shops, trying to stock up on things in preparation for the impending move. He's not wearing his Deputy outfit, instead clad in jeans and one of his horrible Hawaiian shirts. Maybe if he keeps wearing them it'll shift the cosmic scales a bit into sending them to the jungle instead of the frozen tundra. Every little bit helps right?

He takes the wolf in stride, almost not reacting as he watches it chase after the stick. It's huge, it's white, and it's silent - just like the Judges back home. So for a few moments his brain doesn't process that he's not back in Montana and there shouldn't be Judges here.

It's actually the tail that causes him to finally register that this isn't a Judge, nor is it normal for there to be a wolf this large or soundless. The wolves back home had been mutilated, their tails docked and then drugged with a serum that made them vicious, huge, and obedient. This clearly isn't an abused and tortured wolf, but he's not sure what it is.

The man throwing the stick doesn't look familiar either, which is a relief. His first thought was that it would have been one of the Chosen, decked in their red coats to distinguish them from the rest of Jacob's army and hunting down people with their Judge wolves.

Pratt pauses to watch them before approaching, "What's his name?"

A lame conversation opener, but his social skills have taken a beating lately.

It's been a while since Jon has looked askance on anyone's clothes. Even before -- well, he's used to the clothes worn by brothers in the Night's Watch, the patched-together black garb worn by men who might have come to the Wall with nothing, and the fur suits and deerskin undershirts worn by the Free Folk.

He's just not used to why anyone would wear such a bright design on their shirt if it weren't the sigil of their house.

Still, Jon smiles faintly at the new arrival. Ghost is one of his favorite things in the world, or any other world, and one of his truest friends.

"Ghost. Because he's always been quiet like one."

As if called, Ghost trots up with his stick between his teeth, waiting for Jon to take it and toss it again.

On closer view, Pratt may notice that Ghost's eyes are garnet-red.

"He's a direwolf. They have those where you come from?"

Maybe, maybe not -- they're known in Westeros, but they've been gone from the Seven Kingdoms for so long that they might have been forgotten if they weren't also the Stark sigil. No telling whether they're known in other places.

Getting into the nooks and crannies of the islands has been Egg's mission over the past few days, but the area's still small enough that he's seen some of the same faces over and over again. So he's not surprised when he sees Jon Snow again, even if their location is away that of most people.

What he's definitely not expecting is the white beast nudging at the young man's hand. At that sight, Egg pulls Maester to an abrupt halt and his eyes go wide.

"Is that a direwolf?"

Edited (a couple of punctuation errors, alas) 2018-11-09 07:17 (UTC)

She does as she pleases, which is no different than any other day for the Dog. Her usually routine is exploring, as there is much to explore here, many new things to see, and plenty of places to mark as her own. The lack of little critters to chase is a bit of a disappointment, but she only eats mice if they are cooked with herbs. Her Mistress never did oblige her in that regard.

The Dog is her usual looking self today. A black and tan mutt with pointy ears, a waggling tail, and her tongue lolling off to one side of her mouth. There might be no ham bones to bury, but she does enjoy sniffing out various spots and splashing around in the puddles. Mud clings to her legs, that slight whiff of wet dog hanging around her as she herself is trotting along.

Yet it is the sound of hooves upon the ground that catches her attention, and her head swings, that famous nose giving an experimental sniff. She comes to a seated position, watching as the speck of horse and man, and something else akin to a canine, comes closer in to view. Curious eyes watch, tail thumping lightly on the ground, as that nose continues to wrinkle, scenting the three who seem to be companions.

Curufin is the nearest person. Despite the fact that they both live in Delight's Housing, in #06 and #08, they don't often see each other in that area. On Curufin's part, this is because he's so busy. If he's not pulling Guard duty, he's at his craftworkers shack working on any of his many projects, or he's scrounging the city for materials that can be used by the Clinic, the Fire Brigade, or various friends. But since he's been back from the Door-shard-fetching voyage, he's been spending hours every day replanting the Orchard or the North Island park. He's at it again today.

He looks up at the sky and gauges the weather. "Maybe a couple of hours? It feels like rain today."

He finishes shoveling earth onto the roots of a seedling tree, sets the shovel aside for the moment, and tucks his hands into his pockets after wiping them on his work shirt. He looks at Ghost and Jon with a smile. "And how are the two of you today?"

"We have wolves. Well," He frowns, looking askance for a moment. "They used to be wolves anyway. Big and silent and white like he is. We call them Judges."

His eyes soften as he watches Ghost with the stick; he almost misses the drugged up wolves back home, though their entire existence was an abomination.

"Is he from here, or did he come from home with you?"

"He came from home. I raised him from a pup -- and he followed me here. But there haven't been many direwolves south of the Wall in centuries. He and his brothers and sisters were all rare."

Jon takes the stick, scruffs briefly behind Ghost's ears, and tosses the thing away again. Ghost would probably rather be chasing rabbits or squirrels or elk, but there's nothing like that here. He takes off after the stick, a blur of bounding white fur.

"Your Judges... why do you call them that? What do they judge?"

Some legend, maybe, about their watching eyes and things that may happen to men's souls, he imagines. The face he turns to Pratt with the question is curious and interested.

It is one thing to meet a child who you know will grow to be a king, and who died almost a quarter-century before your own birth. It's quite another to learn that that child, who you'd thought was no relation, is your great-grandfather-to-be.

But he's a funny boy, likable, a little strange... he reminds Jon a bit of Bran here and a bit of Arya there, and he wonders how his siblings would have gotten along with Egg when they were of an age.

So Jon tries to put on a half-smile. It's sad, stifled, not reaching his eyes, but he tries.

"It is. Look to your mule; they tend to be frightened of him.

"His name is Ghost: can you guess why?"

Dany approaches. She is alone, as she nearly always is in Hadriel, and does not walk up to Jon's side before she speaks.

"What is it?"

Her tone is a mix of hesitation and concern, and all that and more shows in her expression. Trepidation is a light description of what she feels, considering that something has thrown Jon Snow off so much that he summoned her with no explanation and a tone that is very unlike his usual.

Her shoulders are stiff as she muses over what it could possible be. Whether it has to do with some of their guests over the past few weeks, or the move from these islands to their next location, or...something else entirely.

"Jon?"

"Sinners."

His eyes follow Ghost instead of looking at Jon, he's been here for months and still isn't entirely comfortable talking to people. At any moment something might send him into a complete breakdown, and he still doesn't really know what the trigger is. He's already freaked out in front of enough people that he's surprised they haven't put him on house arrest for his own safety and the safety of others.

"Jacob made them, to help him hunt those who went against the Project. The idea was that they would judge men's souls." He shakes his head. "But they were just ferocious wolves that followed orders and killed whoever he wanted. There wasn't any judgement, it was all bullshit."

Like everything else the man spouted, only it was harder to convince himself of that part. The wolves at least, he was thoroughly convinced were just tools of violence.

"Maester's not afraid-" Egg tries to argue, only to be brought up a little short by the fact that the poor mule is clearly backing away. "-Oh, all right. We'll stay over here, won't we?"

He pats his companion reassuringly on the nose, then turns to look at the wolf.

"...It's his fur, isn't it? It's all white- so in the winter, no one would see him?"

It takes Atem a couple of seconds to fathom what he's seeing from afar, he hasn't seen a horse in so long he's not sure if it's a monster or his mind playing tricks with him. Just as he did when he found the Dog, the young man follows the trio from a safe distance, but aiming to catch up with them. He's sure now, that's a horse, and a man, an huge wolf.

Said wolf catches his scent, of course, as expected from such creature, but Atem is not aware that he might not exactly be a pet — he turns at him, stands firmly between the other two and the way he bares his fangs at the younger man is telling.

"Hey..." Ah, he should have seen this coming. This is no dog, and certainly doesn't seem to be like the Dog, Atem is unsure how to act around him. Act casual? Non threatening... Not that Atem looks so in the slightest, he's extremely short and on the scrawny side! Atem doesn't budge, however, maybe expecting the wolf will turn and continue on his path.

He has been waiting, staring out over the water at nothing in particular. If he were at home, he might think of what else is out there, but here, the answer seems like it may well be nothing. No lands but more little islands, more sea, more vast open sky, but no great cities to see, no Braavos or Qarth or Asshai. Not even a King's Landing or a Lannisport, or even an Eastwatch -- nothing. Finally, he hears footsteps approaching.

When he turns to her, he looks haunted and apologetic.

"Did you speak to your brother?"

Before she can answer, he adds, "Did you meet my aunt Lyanna? It touches on that. Did you ever -- did you know much of her, when you were growing up?"

A useless beginning, he thinks. But he doesn't know how else to begin.

It's a subject that's always been good for a Stark, even a bastard one, to avoid as much as he can in conversation with a Targaryen. What possible use would there have been to pointing out that her brother had stolen his aunt?

Edited 2018-11-12 04:33 (UTC)

"Sinners," Jon echoes, not really understanding, before the explanation comes. He'd thought -- still thinks -- that Ghost is in some way inextricably tied to the Old Gods. Maybe it's just that he's a beast of the forest, but it doesn't seem like an accident that he resembles a weirwood heart tree, like the ones in any godswood north of the Neck. His fur is white like their wood, and his eyes are red like the eyes that the Children of the Forest and the First Men carved into the weirwoods, causing the red sap to run like bloody tears. So what sort of sinners? People like Craster, people like Walder Frey?

"I'm sorry. I don't know the Project, or Jacob. But I knew a man who hunted people with his dogs. His dogs killed him, in the end."

That's not the entire story. And he's willing to tell it, has no shame in how he and Sansa brought Bolton down, even little shame in how large a part Sansa wounded up playing in it -- but he's interested in hearing the other man's story first.

Meanwhile, Ghost comes bounding back with the stick, dropping it at Jon's feet. Distracted, he smiles and says, "All right, boy," and bends down to retrieve it, something that makes Ghost's great size all the more apparent. Or maybe it reveals that Jon is not a large man himself, or both.

"Not a bad guess, but no, that isn't all of it. Listen to him."

There's nothing much to listen to. Jon glances at the restive mule, then adds, "Why Maester, for the mule?"

A suggestion that maesters are mulish? Somehow he doubts that: the ones he's known, Luwin and Aemon and Wolkan, have all been good men. But maybe they're more like mules in other places, or earlier times.

Aemon. Jon looks briefly stricken again, a quick, passing expression. Had the old man ever known that he was Jon's uncle? Or had Aemon Targaryen fought for him, saved his life more than once in more than one way, really thinking that Jon was a Stark bastard, maybe out of respect to his other uncle in the Watch?

Pratt actually smiles, "Eaten by his own dogs? I like that. It's fitting."

It's a shame that Pratt wouldn't be around to see if Jacob was ripped apart by his own wolves because he knows he's dead as soon as he gets back to his own world. But it's a nice thought nonetheless.

"If I could turn the wolves on their masters I would. At least then they'd have their revenge. But it's not possible." At least he can't imagine a way to do it. "The Project at Eden's gate. It's a ..."

Religious organization. Family. A place to find truth, belonging and a purpose.

"It's a cult. Back home." Even talking about them leaves a sour taste in his mouth. And a strange feeling in the back of his head that Jacob is listening to this, deciding his fate.

"They don't deserve wolves."

Jon knows Atem on sight: he's seen him both around town and on the network, though they've never interacted. Because it's happening behind him, it takes him a moment to notice the standoff: he's taken the horse a few hundred feet ahead, then turned it around.

He can't see Ghost's bared teeth, but he can see the tension in the wolf's posture, and he doesn't have reason to think Atem is any sort of threat. So he calls out in his low voice, "Stand still there. Ghost! To me." The horse won't like it if Ghost gets any closer, but the horse is probably more used to the wolf than any living person on Hadriel is, other than the ones Jon lives with.

Ghost sniffs the air, gives Atem a suspicious look, and makes a visible decision to turn and lope in Jon's direction, as Jon himself closes the distance. He murmurs, "Steady," into the horse's ear and pats its neck.

To Atem, as he gets closer, he says, "Not used to wolves? Ghost is a direwolf."

As soon as the horse is tied and Jon turned to head into the speakeasy, Lyanna is quick to undue his work, launching herself up into the saddle. The movements are so quick, it is almost as though she flew, a wingless raven against the sky. The horse nickers and she is more than eager to rile the creature up, rearing it back on its hind legs.

She circles the horse around Jon, urging it into a quick trot as she used to with her brothers. "How can you still be so serious? You smile as rarely as Ned." Something else he seems to inherited from his uncle...and likely his father. Rhaegar had a tendency to brood as deeply as though he were a Stark.

"If you had another horse, we could race over the island. I suppose you will have to climb on behind me. I promise not to go too fast and frighten you." She grinned, a challenging look in her eyes. "I trust my brother taught you to ride properly?"

There is a teen who makes quite a bit more noise than normal as he approaches in contrast to the near silent. He limps quite badly and the cause is obvious. He's wearing a pair of heavy leg braces and using a crutch to help him maneuver about. He's crippled and the braces only just barely allow him to move.

Ivar's always felt a certain connection with the wolves of the Norse tales. He's very much a wild thing himself sometimes, someone not fully tamed, even after he'd become king. There's a reason he's got the two spawn of Fenrir tattooed in an elaborate pattern on his back. So when he spots the giant one happily fetching a stick, he follows it back towards its owner.

"What an animal," he says admiringly. "It looks like Hati, the wolf that will devour the moon." Hati was pale as the moon he would one day devour. Skoll, its twin, was dark and would devour the sun at Ragnarok.

Egg's brow furrows at that, but he turns stubbornly to the task at hand. But those he stares at the direwolf.... "I can't hear anything," he says, bemused.

Something flashes across Jon's face and Aegon's brow furrows a bit. Something's off, and no matter how he tries he can't connect it to a simple question about his mule.

"Aemon gave him to me," he responds. "Ser had two horses before, but Chestnut died while we were in Dorne. So we had to ride double on Thunder then, and when we went to Oldtown later, Aemon gave him to us as a gift."

Atem wishes he could say he seen this one around, in fact, a few days ago he could have, but unfortunately his memory got tampered with and he no longer can recognize a few people he's met ever since he arrived here. It doesn't deter him from wanting to talk to the other either way.

"I'm more used to jackals, if I were to make a comparison." But wild jackals are nowhere as big as a direwolf. Hadn't he seen an skeleton and a life-size exhibit at Domino's museum, he'd actually wouldn't know what a direwolf is. It's nowhere as accurate as the real thing, and it was definitely less threatening. Atem keeps his eye on Ghost for a moment, he can only assume that he might smell a little like the Dog and that's why he's giving him that suspicious look.

"Accurate name. What about your horse?" It also is definitely doesn't look like the ancient Arab breed he's more used to, this one seems bigger, sturdier in some way, and Atem finds himself admiring the beautiful creature, giving it more attention that anyone probably has over the canine.

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[OPEN] Be my mirror, my sword and shield

GHOST: GENERAL INTERACTIONS

FOURTH WALL FALLOUT, FEATURING GHOST (AROUND TOWN, ON THE BEACH, THE SPEAKEASY)

SOUTH ISLAND: LOOK! A PONY!

TREE PLANTING: AFTER THE FIRST FEW DAYS OF FOURTH WALL

Near the shops!

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STICK TOSSING

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CW: the one in the log setup will probably apply to this entire thread.

cw Craster, Ramsay Bolton

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Re: cw Craster, Ramsay Bolton

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Tossing a stick

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