agentlelog | [open] try hard to do your best. the magpie will have his way

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[open] try hard to do your best. the magpie will have his way

Who: Mollymauk and YOU
When: Early in the month.
Where: Various
What: Open influence catch-all. (Sharing is Caring, Visual Disturbances, Ore's a Plenty)
Warnings: Will update and label as they come in, but for right now none.

𝐢. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

[Molly sides with the oppressed and the people who aren't privileged, so the idea that his actions are tipping the scales irritates him. Of course, he's going to do something about it. The thing he's not anticipating is that the landens are emboldened and still looking to lash out, especially when pressed by a Stranger that they believed supported them. What Molly had gone into expecting to be a nice conversation has turned ugly as he bolts behind a cart while a landen shopkeeper pelts him with rotten food.

"HERE. SHARE THIS!"

Right. So this is going to require a different kind of tactic, especially now that it's become something of a scene.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

[Taking jobs outside of the city becomes something that Molly leaps onto without the slightest thought. Playing bodyguard isn't all that difficult, and while Lady Abigail works her magic, he's taken up a watch alongside his partner from a safe distance.]

Is it awful to take bets on what the coming danger is this time? I'm hoping for something unifying.

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲

[Despite being irritated at the Guilds and the landens... Again, Molly wants to get out of the city and stretch his legs and work out some frustration free of the oppressive class wars. With Caleb here now, taking anyone else seems stupid and dangerous, but he didn't really get the choice. The second he agreed, the shopkeeper paired him off with someone else who was interested, regardless of whether or not they knew each other.

So that's fun.

Luckily, for all that Molly is ostentatious and fabulous, he's extremely well-traveled and knows what he's doing, which is fairly impressive and may save the mission some grief. As he and his partner get within a hundred feet of a campsite not far from the mountains themselves, with a campfire that's still smoldering slightly, Molly puts a hand up.]

Is it just me or does that seem a little bit like a trap?

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[Molly cants his head as if he's trying to consider whether "male" or "foreboding" really applies to him, but he does look dangerous.] You know what? That's fair. I'll take that. I've been known to bare my fangs and growl at people to scare them off when it suits me.

[To demonstrate, he playfully snaps his teeth, showing off the sharp pointed canines.]

They're quite frightening. I'm literally shaking at the moment, actually, so you're very good at an imposing presence.

( Sansa is teasing, of course, and giggles a bit. She does rather like Molly. She likes him quite a bit. )

Would you bare your fangs at anyone who looked at me?

If they were gawking and looking shirty, then yes. [Molly shrugs. As someone who likes being looked at, it's hard to imagine anyone being weird about being looked at, but the proof is in Caleb. He doesn't like it either.] Most of the time people looking at you is a compliment or at least worthy of a wink and a nod to see what happens, but I've got a good eye for wicked intent.

People who look at me don't usually have good intent, I'm afraid. Perhaps it's just the nature of Westeros but I've always been looked at as something to possess and take, not as a person.

( It's better now, as Lady of Winterfell, but Sansa can still catch hungry glances here and there and she hates them. She's no prize to be won. )

[Molly's solid red eyes narrow to cold slits, recalling Keg's description of the Iron Shepherds. That's not what she means. This is rich people bullshit. He still doesn't like it.]

People who look at anyone like that deserve whatever comes to them, and they'll get it in time. And if anyone here is that kind of arsehole, point me to them, and I'll happily dissuade them from continuing. I wouldn't think of it as being an attack dog, so much as being an aggressive negotiator.

I haven't really had anyone do anything unseemly here. I'm usually with you or Bucky or Guts. I don't get a lot of errant comments when I'm in your company.

( There's glances, of course, but glances of interest have followed Sansa since she first flowered. It's no shock now that men would look at her and see something they hungered for. It's different in Draega, at least, than it'd been in Westeros. She doesn't have the social standing to drive ambitious men. )

That's probably because they're thinking of things to say about me, and then they get too panicky to even bother like the arseholes they are.

[Molly flops down on his back so he can view the stars. Lady Abigail is still working and there's been no sign of danger for hours. He can afford a look at a strange new sky and an even stranger moon.]

You have gods where you're from, don't you, Sansa?

We do, yes. In the South, they follow the Faith of the Seven. I don't keep with those gods, though. Our gods are the Old Gods of the Forest. We pray in Godswoods.

( Perhaps it makes her queer and Northern but Sansa doesn't care. She's proud of her Northern heritage and proud to be of Winterfell. She doesn't need pretty excess in her religion. )

We have so many. There's some that aren't allowed and some that only the worst sorts of people worship, but the reason I ask is... D'you think they can still hear us here?

[It's a silly theological question, one Molly might not have ever asked were it not a night with a promise of premonitions. What Lady Abigail is doing reminds him of turning cards and those occasional moments where something would creep into his senses and give him a solid read on the future.] Just out of idle curiosity.

I don't know. Sometimes I think my gods cannot even hear me at home, Molly. I pray to them, though, because I know not what else to do. I pray to the Old Gods of the Forest even now.

( She can only try to keep faith with the Old Gods and hope that they protect her here. )

What about you? Do you have gods that you keep to personally?

[Molly never speaks freely of the Moonweaver simply because he can't. He pretends to follow the Platinum Dragon and even now, the pendant remains around his neck, hanging just above the green jewel cut into a moonbow so that he has a garish and ostentatious variant of her symbol. He could keep her private, now, spin his fantastical tales about Bahamut and leave it at that, but he's so far from the Empire that it feels wrong to even lie about that when it doesn't even mean anything to most people. He has plenty of lies. He can afford one truth.]

Just the one. Sehanine, The Moonweaver. Lady of Dreams. Champion for the people who live life in the moment and don't get bogged down in technicalities. She's done quite a bit for me. At least I think she has, and that's all religion is, really. Believing a god's gotten you through some shit, whether they have or not.

It's true. For a while, I thought they didn't listen to me any longer. I was in a desperate place, trapped and alone, but I think my gods did help me through. They gave me solace and silence if nothing else and when everything around me was intrigue and gossip, it was nice to have a place to simply be.

( Molly's god sounds interesting, the Moonweaver, and Sansa nods her approval. Her gods don't have names like the Seven do but she believes there are many gods, none better than the other. )

[Molly nods, satisfied, tucking his chin against his chest as he traces patterns in the stars and isn't remotely surprised that they're not the same ones that Gustav once showed him. Lady Abigail finishes her web, announces that she needs to rest, and that they'll return home in the morning. She'll explain what she saw on the way back- she needs to think on it.

Once the lady is asleep, Molly pushes himself back onto his elbows.] The reason I ask is I wonder who she's reaching out to when she does all of that. [He points at Abigail, who is dead to the world in slumber.]

I don't know that there are gods in this place. I hear the Blood refer to the Darkness when they curse and that's usually when you hear about gods, during swears and oaths. The landen don't seem to mention much of anything. Perhaps they're just not openly worshipped?

( Sansa is intrigued now and she thinks she wants to ask some of the court, though she's not certain who she ought to approach. )

Or perhaps they can't openly worship them. [Though the Blood don't seem to be the type to oppress religion, but from what he can tell of the landen, some might not feel comfortable with the idea of worshiping things beyond the Blood's Darkness.]

Something to think about, I guess. [He sits up.] You should get some rest. I'll take first watch.

Mmm, I suppose I should sleep first. Do try to wake me if something exciting happens, yes? I don't want to be a drag on resources.

( Sansa bunches up her cloak to form a makeshift pillow and lays down, trying to will herself to sleep. Molly is someone she feels safe with so she trusts him to not take advantage of her while she's vulnerable. )

Oh don't worry. If something should happen, my Infernal shrieking will wake the dead.

[He grins, toothily.] Good night, Sansa.

Good night, Molly. Thank you for...I suppose thank you for being my friend. Your company is almost always wonderful to me.

( With that, Sansa goes to sleep in hopes they won't be awakened by anyone. )

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[open] try hard to do your best. the magpie will have his way

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