Sansa Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theladyofwinterfell) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
agentlelog2019-03-05 12:31 pm
theladyofwinterfell) wrote in agentlelog2019-03-05 12:31 pm
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."
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
"Will this work, Zita? For my portion?"
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
... 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.