agentlelog | 001 winter is coming

Entry tags:

001 winter is coming

Who: Sansa Stark
When: after the power plant
Where: around Draega; various
What: Influence Prompts - Baby Light My Fire, A Somber Affair, Loren's Lament
Warnings: TBD

Sansa has spent the last little while getting comfortable with small spells and basic Craft. She cannot think of it as a proper extension of herself, not yet, but she can conjure witchlight and do convenience spells with a modicum of effort. Her biggest issue is knowing the depth of her strength and how long she can go without resting and rejuvenating herself. When Grejor asks for volunteers to help warm houses when the power plant has gone awry, Sansa is among the first to volunteer. Perhaps she doesn't wear the darkest Jewel, but she does want to help and to know the people she's come to aid. This allows her to do both.

She asks how to do the warming spell and seems to get it after a few tries; she'd already figured out witchlight with Molly some days back. She has a partner in this endeavor, someone willing to go with her to help share the burden, and she extends her gloved hand to them.

"We should get to know the people as we help them," she suggests. "We should show them that we only mean to help, that our intent is always good."

Sansa hasn't heard the stories of witchblood. If she had, a great deal of it would have been growing in the cracks of Winterfell, covering the snowy grounds with blooms of sorrow. When she sees the White jeweled witch scrabbling at the plant, she cannot help but want to aid her, want to ease her suffering somehow. Sansa kneels alongside her and gently asks what she might do to help, only to be told that this plant shows the blood of a witch has been spilled; it doesn't take long for her to realize that this is a relative of Councilwoman Vera.

"I'll help you move it, if you want. We can transport it to your own garden and have a cup of tea, perhaps?" Sansa knows what it feels like to lose family, to feel as if you are alone in the world. She doesn't want this witch to feel that way. When she sees someone nearly step upon the plant, she tosses up a Purple Dusk shield and speaks a bit harshly.

"Careful where you step," she says, eyes ice cold. "We're attempting to save...what is it called?" The witch supplies that it's witchblood, for her mother, and Sansa nods in acknowledgement of that.

"Help us move this witchblood to the family home. It's a token of remembrance and it should be where the Councilwoman was loved and cherished, not here upon these stones."

Sansa has spent most of the day out in Draega trying to find shops to buy sewing supplies and meeting both Blood and landen to get to know them better. She's only just returned to the Queen's Residence to be looped into a conversation with Prince Loren. She has little experience with him, save in exchanging the smallest of pleasantries, and being asked to help with something is both bewildering and something of an honor. He'd trust a stranger like her to handle delicate business?

The delicate business, it turns out, are a stack of sternly-worded complaints that need addressing. Both the explosion and the death of Vera have upended the balance of Draega and both Blood and landen have taken to pen and paper to make their voices heard. Sansa has experience with this, having mediated disputes and handled correspondence on Jon's behalf as Lady of Winterfell, so while there's quite a lot to go through, she has an idea of where to begin.

She hasn't sat down at the worktable very long before someone else is pulled into the room, someone who looks familiar enough as another stranger and not one of the Draega citizens. Sansa tips her head toward a chair across her.

"It seems you, too, have been conscripted. Come, help me sort these complaints by subject so we can get started."

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"It's good you're thinking of her and her well-being." Zita lowers her voice as she readies her magic, extending a palm out to use it a channel point of her magic. Her voice is whisper soft, so it only makes it more difficult for her to be heard. Perhaps for the best, considering her next words- "It seems no one else is and no one wants to."

The crowd around them tries to politely but pointedly ignore the spectacle of Vera's child trying to dig up the plant. Some even go out of their way to throw certain looks at her, or make it a point to murmur unkind words.

It causes the woman's shoulder to hunch up while she tries to get the plant out. The sight of it causes Zita's lips to thin in disapproval at the others' and in sympathy for the woman. "We should hurry. The sooner we get her out of here, the better for her sake."

"I know what it is like to lose family," Sansa says, just as quietly. "I don't even have the bones of my family to put in our crypt. If I can help this woman take the witchblood back to her home where it can have a place of honor, perhaps she can have solace in the way I never had."

It's a somber thing to mention, of course, but it's very personal to Sansa to be able to help Vera's daughter the way no one helped her.

Zita's eyes widen for a bit before she regains her composure, her expression settling for sympathy. She never experienced the lost of family just yet, but there have been far too many close calls in the past that she would never wish for it to happen to anyone else. Meeting someone who has lost loved ones is a sobering experience. It reminds her to count her blessings more than ever.

"That's a kind thing of you to do," she says at last, after taking a minute to consider her words. "Experience is a harsh mistress but offers us insight to things that would not have been available otherwise." She looks towards the daughter of Vera, seeing she's finally gotten the plant out of the ground, cupping it and some soil in her palms. "Looks like she's ready- I have the spell up. Give me the word and we can proceed."

"Go ahead and cast the spell so we can get this plant moved and put in soil where it can grow and flourish," Sansa says. It's strange that blood would cause this to grow but so many things in Hayll are strange to her. This is just another among their number, she's afraid.

"We'll have the witchblood moved soon, I assure you. You won't have to worry about careless feet any longer."

While the Craft of making shields and wards is different enough from her own world’s field of warding, there’s enough similarity that Zita is able to cast the spell without too much trouble.

Soon, the little plant is protected from harm as the shield is wrapped around it. Vera's daughter expresses her relief in seeing it now safe and secure, thanking the two women for their aide. That alone has the councilwoman's daughter wiping tears from her eyes, finally gathering her composure now that this first crucial step is done.

The second step is to hurry back to the family residence - Something she takes the lead on now, able to think more clearly thanks to her end goal being so close now. She gives directions to her home- Which is far. It seems the family of Councilwoman Vera lives in River East. Which makes sense. It's where most of the Blood live and have lived for generations.

But it happens to also be very far.

The walk doesn't bother Sansa necessarily. It isn't a rough neighborhood, River East, and the work they're doing is good. She talks a little with Vera's daughter but she's withdrawn and quiet; Sansa understands, having lost her own mother. She turns her attention to Zita instead.

"Is magic common where you come from? You seem more at ease with it than I am, for certain."

Zita seems surprised by the question but, thanks to her past experience with the others here in this world, she's willing to answer: "Yes and no.

Magic exists where I am but it's not common enough. Those who have a connection to our magic must hide themselves to avoid persecution and judgement." She smiles sadly a bit, recalling some of the stories she's heard when meeting new faces of the carnival workers. "I admit- One of the things that intrigue me the most is how magic is integrated here. It's... nice. Gives me hope for my home."

Vera's daughter leads the way as she talks, walking faster since she hopes to bring the planet to safety. It allows Sansa and Zita to discuss matters without upsetting her, at least. "And I take it that magic is not common you are? You're not surprised by the idea of it."

"It's something we don't look upon with favor," Sansa admits. "Mostly it's things that priests from the East do and those of us in Westeros naturally distrust it. That being said, I've...well, there's been things I've seen that could only be explained by a sort of magic."

Arya's ability to change her face, for example, has to be some sort of magic. She'd learned it in Braavos, which lends truth to Sansa's Essos theory, but it's still so extraordinary that there's no other way to explain it. There's also the rumors surrounding Renly Baratheon's death the eve before the Battle of the Blackwater, the way they'd said it was Stannis' Red Priestess who'd done the deed without even laying her hand upon him.

"It's a bit difficult for me to adjust being able to use it myself but the things I've used it for and seen it used for here have been for good, not for ill."

It's interesting to hear about someone else's experience and views of magic if they don't have it but are exposed to it all the same. Hearing Sansa's account makes it clear to Zita that she isn't used to it but she also doesn't reject it.

A far cry from her world's reaction to it whenever they caught a glimpse of something more than they're used to. It helps allow Zita to speak more freely on her end, her body language relaxing as they speak more on the subject.

"I'm also happy to see most of the magic here being used for good, but I understand one's wariness of it since the use of the magic will always, at the end of the day, depend on the user." She's seen good things be done with magic and she's seen terrible things be done with magic. Zita can only hope they don't see an example of the latter too soon.

She tries her ward her mind off the subject, focusing on something that Sansa said that intrigued her: "Are you attending some classes that are being offered on the Craft? I've been to some and they helped me get a better understanding of their system here."

"I've gone to a few," Sansa admits. "I don't want it to become a thing I rely on as easily as breathing and that's what I see the Blood doing. I don't want it to be something I'm dependent on because I want to still be able to relate to the landens, too, since I was one of them not that long ago."

She presses her lips together a bit. "But I want to know how to use it for good. I've learned the shields and a bit of healing so far. I still can't vanish and call in objects properly, though."

"It’s their way of life here. I can almost understand the reliance some show with the use of their Craft." Almost. Zita admits: She isn't impressed with the conduct the Blood have with the landen when she learns more and more of the history of the city during her private studies.

She keeps those thoughts to herself, wanting to focus on something more positive in light of what's been happening. "It sounds like you would do well with the fields of warding and healing in my world," she observes with genuine interest and admiration. "I also have issues with conjuring. Never been my strongest suit. Perhaps we can improve together?"

“I could always use a partner to help practice with,” Sansa says, laughing the tiniest bit in relief. “Because I really am dreadful at anything other than the shields and the healing. The healing came in use when the power plant exploded, so I was glad to have it, but I would like to be proficient at other things too.”

Sansa takes care not to leave their companion behind. She looks back to see Vera’s daughter still following close behind.

“It seems you have more of a natural talent for it than I ever would just by virtue of being somewhat familiar with it.”

"Where I'm from, I'm known as a witch," Zita says, explaining why she's so proficient with the use of magic. "I've dedicated a good portion of my life to studying and practicing it, so I like to think it explains why I've had an easier time in adapting to the Craft here.

"I'll be honoured to help you practice it so you have a better grasp of it. It's nice to meet someone else who is helping others out." Now it's Zita's turn to check on the young woman, relieved to see she's still following them. If they start to diverge from the path, she'll like to think the young woman would alert them to it so she returns to the conversation. "I think you have potential for learning the Craft, if I'm allowed to say that. You were able to bring up the shield so quickly when my friend almost stumbled across the scene earlier."

Sansa colors slightly with the compliment. She's been under the impression she's not been very good with Craft, especially considering her trouble with vanishing, and to hear she's good with shielding is a welcome compliment and encourages her to keep working at it. Zita's offer is one she wants to accept, too, because she does want to be better at it.

"Thank you, my lady. I've struggled with it so it pleases me to know that I have some talent in this one area. It isn't something that comes natural to me and I've been working quite diligently to learn it. I would love to have more lessons if you are offering; I want to help as many people as I can."

"You did excellently back there." Zita is a big believer of positive encouragement when it comes to education. More so when it came to magic, something that can be a difficult and unwieldy thing for someone to control. Last thing they need is someone to be critical of their first attempts. "The quick thinking helped the young woman preserve a part of her mother."

Soon the trio of women find themselves at the entrance of the family residence. Servants step out to help usher the woman in and, after some hesitation and only after getting the daughter's confirmation that they are her guests, Zita and Sansa are gestured to follow.

Zita, for her part, is surprised by these turn of events. "Ah... I suppose we'll be seeing this through." She had honestly thought they'll be turned at the gates at this point. "Have any knowledge of gardening? It seems we'll be helping her place the plant in the gardens."

"Some knowledge, yes. I've had to learn how to do a bit of everything since becoming Lady of Winterfell."

Being the lady of a Great House meant having your fingers on the pulse of everything that happened from grain stores to seedlings. Sansa had overseen the glass gardens being repaired and tiny seedlings placed in the rich earth. Even if she hadn't planted them herself, she thinks she can manage.

"We'll be very careful," she assures their hostess. "We want to keep it safe."

Zita takes note of the title, now understanding how Sansa - should she address her as 'Lady' then...? It's what she's doing with Lady Mary but (Lady) Sansa doesn't seem to mind it - was able to navigate through this situation with such poise and calm.

It's something she keeps in mind as they're lead towards the gardens. To the particular spot where the plant will be potted, the daughter leading them the entire time with single-minded determination.

"I see. Well- I'm more glad than ever that you're the one to help the young lady," Zita says, smiling at Sansa when they're left alone for a moment as the daughter heads off to get some things with help. "And I'm glad to be helping you and her out. We need to stick together in these trying times."

"Absolutely. If only I had a kind word or a gentle touch at so many points in my life. It wouldn't have seemed so lonely, I think."

Sansa kneels down and tries to use Craft to clear a bit of the dirt away so that she can plant the witchblood. It's not perfect and she does get enough earth cleared away that they might be able to plant. She looks up at Zita, a soft smile on her face. This is good work, even if it's messy. It's meaningful and it's something that needs to be done to heal the Coucilwoman's family.

"I think I'm ready for our plant now. You can take the shielding down."

Zita nods in agreement. She soon dismisses the shield and it vanishes with ease, allowing the plant to be exposed to the cool air of the gardens now.

Usually, Zita would stay quiet and allow the proceedings to continue without question. But- "If I may say something," Zita says, bowing her head in deference. "Where I'm from, it's a tradition to leave a ribbon made from your clothing when making a tribute to someone who's..." She pauses, trying to be delicate with her word. "...departed."

"If you'd allow me- I would like to make a tribute to your mother."

Councilwoman Vera's daughter, while still visibly upset, seems a little touched by this gesture and gives her assent. Sansa likes the idea of this tradition too and she uses Craft to slice a neat bit of her dress off at the sleeve to make part of the tribute.

"Will this work, Zita? For my portion?"

"It will." Zita, with confidence, now takes a strip from her own dress to offer it up as tribute.

She takes Sansa's tribute with thanks and begins to tie them up into a ribbon, making sure both strips were clearly seen despite being entwined now. She then sets it to the ground, where the plant will be placed now.

"I'm sorry for what happened to your mother," Zita says after she raises up to address the daughter once more, doing her best to remain respectful and polite in the face of someone else's tragedy. Sansa by her side helps her remember the important bits she often forgets: Keep poised. Chin up. Expression honest. "I hope we and the others can help honour her memory."

"It is my sincere hope that something like this never happens again," Sansa adds, giving Vera's daughter a tip of her head in deference. "I will remember your mother, even though I never met her, because we should honor our dead. Thank you for allowing us to help."

Vera's daughter seems calmer now, pleased that the witchblood is where she can care for it, and she squeezes both Sansa and Zita's hands.

"Thank you, both of you," she says, tears shining in her eyes.

Zita gives the young woman a squeeze of the hands in the return, her expression one of sympathy and understanding. "I think it's best to take our leave now. So you're allowed to mourn properly without interruptions." It's the least she and Sansa can do, now that all they could do has been completed.

... And much as Zita likes to keep her head low, she can't help but add, "If you ever need us again, please let us know. We're all here to help each other in moments like these and we'll be happy to help you in anyway we can."

She quickly looks over to Sansa, her expression mildly apologetic. She didn't know if Sansa would be up for that possibility or be pleased someone is speaking for her on her behalf, but it had Zita had blurted out before she could think on her words.

Zita can only hope that Sansa doesn't mind too much and, if she does, she'll have to ask for her forgiveness later.

"Yes, please, do not hesitate to call upon us again. I will be happy to do anything within my power to help you, even if it is just to have a cup of tea and listen."

Sansa doesn't mind being volunteered for anything regarding the Councilwoman's daughter. She wishes she had someone kind to give her soft words and comfort at the deaths of her family and she's glad she's able to do it for someone else.

The Councilwoman thanks the women for their help, promising to keep their words in mind as the household staff now guide Zita and Sansa towards the exit.

As they leave, Zita takes a privateish moment to tell Sansa, "And that's extended to you as well, you know." She smiles at her, a small but sincere curve of her lips. "If you ever need someone to help you, I'm happy to be of service. We need to stick together and I think you're a good soul."

Certainly a better soul than the others willing to ignore the woman in need.

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001 winter is coming

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