OPEN; how could anything bad ever happen to you?

[clothed]

Who: Sansa and others
What: test drive catch-all and may event threads
When: throughout may for the event
Where: all over!

Content Warnings: Will add as things progress!

We all have a hunger.

It's easy to fall back into rhythm with Lady. The direwolf is a miracle, even though Sansa's stopped believing in things like miracles; she knows it is her, and Lady remembers her. During her first few nights in Milton Sansa slept with the wolf curled against her body, the two of them nested together like they used to do back in Winterfell.

Warmth, especially body warmth, can spell the difference between life or death during winter.

These days Sansa finds herself in something of a routine: she wakes early, lets Lady out to do her business and stretch her legs, and then says a quiet prayer to both the Old Gods and the Seven. For her father, and her mother, and her brothers and sister and everyone else who have died.

Then she goes through what reading material is available at the community center. She'll run out eventually; it's a lot like studying, only without a septa or a maester guiding her, but she'll make do.

Sansa's easy to find like this: either walking with Lady as the direwolf maps out the town, sitting by a window and reading, or trying to help with something. Anything.

Just try not to come up from behind when approaching her; she always has her knife with her.

[ Happy to write a closed starter for the event! Send me a journal PM or ping me on plurk (weirwood) to plot something out. Also moving test drive threads here just to keep things neat. ]

Comments

→ thefifthchild

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

Cabins. How strong will the wood hold against the brute force of a beast? Sansa's grown up listening half-heartedly to her father arguing with masons and woodworkers and steelsmiths about how to build stables that will hold the horses well, kennels that would protect both hunting hounds and men alike. She wishes she paid more attention; if nothing else it would give her more confidence in this plan.

And she'll have to run. Her, and running — she's not the quickest runner, is she? Especially not with her clothes soaked through with the wet of snow.

If they make it back alive, then she knows the first thing she'll want to improve.

"Can we both move away from it?" She asks as quietly as she can from behind him. "Tell me how to help."

[thefifthchild]

There's nothing for it. The creature is innocent - like the wolves, like the deer - far more innocent than the people lurking here, certainly far more innocent than he is. All the same, it looms over him like a titan. He's reminded of his battle against Goliath's family. The way they loomed over him before he cut them down.

"You want to help?" He says, engaging in a staring contest with the beast as he cracks his neck. "Then stay out of my way."

Only batarangs for weapons. He should have brought his sword - his bow. It circles around him, waiting for a move.

It stirs, tensing up as it prepares to pounce. He's faster. As it begins to move, he moves too, aiming the batarang right for the creature's eye, the only remaining part of the animal that remains as vulnerable as ever. Cougars have a uniquely poor sense of smell, but their eyesight is advanced. One eye down, one to go. Too bad it's decided to charge right for him, giving him just enough time to dodge with only a heavy scratch to his armour. The second swipe is enough to knock him over.

A feint. He needs it to come closer. To go for the throat so that he can land a killing blow. Unfotunately, to anyone who isn't a mindreader, it looks like it's just straight up about to kill him.

→ bigbaddy

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

"Stuck? You mean—"

Like a warg? Sansa's heard of them, wargs and skinchangers, how there are people who can enter the minds of animals and even control them, but she's always been told it's a story for the wildlings; she's never met one. Her bloodline traces itself to the First Men, and from them, she supposes - were it truly a skill they could have - then she might be able to. But where to start?

Sansa's frown isn't one of disbelief, but of curiosity. She's visibly thinking, and whatever she's come to decide seems to be a pleasant thing when her frown eases into a mild smile.

"We have stories of skinchangers back home. Wargs, too. They say that, ages and ages ago, our ancestors could become one mind with creatures of the woods and the forests, or become beasts themselves. Old Nan said you could become a bear, or a wolf, or even a bird. A long time ago.

"Is it like that, for you? You cannot become another?"

[bigbaddy]

He watches her think.

The smile she seems to settle on is a little surprising. Bigby has had an entire range of reactions from people to this news, but most of them stick to either shock or disbelief. And while he might find a bit of that surprise on her, it's the smile that seems to take up the majority of the reaction. It's not a bad thing, clearly, just-- surprising.

Though her explanation makes it a little more clear. She's familiar with the concept, at least. Our ancestors, she says, like it might perhaps be a personal thing. And she clearly seems close to the direwolf, so maybe that's why the concept might not give her all that much fear either.

It makes it all a little easier to explain, and Bigby's body language eases once he replies.

"It's the opposite for me," he explains. "I was a wolf first, and a human second."

And if he understands the concept she's speaking of well enough, it sounds like it was the other way around for those people. Not that it makes the concept all that different, really. It only turns it upside down, and limits it to one animal, considering it is what he started as.

"I had to integrate myself into human society, and.." His gaze drifts over towards Lady. It's the clear affection between her and Sansa that makes him assume experience when Bigby adds: ".. well, I am sure you know not all people take kindly to having animals in their midst, especially not ones they consider lesser, or dangerous. I was told changing into a human was the condition for me to be able to join human society."

→ tinstar

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

"If this really is the land of Always-Winter, the snow would be last thing you have to worry about."

Wildlings. The treacherous terrain of the greater North, the wild animals that are often starved. The giants, allegedly surviving in small groups throughout the land, and other darker, scarier creatures if the stories are to be believed. Uncle Benjen told his fair share, certainly, and looking back, Sansa thinks not all of the stories he'd told were entirely made up.

"Staying warm will the biggest immediate concern, at least. And finding food that keep, if you cannot hunt. Without those two things, the winter will take you easily, so my father used to say."

Used to. Sansa tries not to remember how Ned Stark's head had rolled off the stone steps after he was executed.

"Why only two of every animal?" Belatedly, this part of Marshall Givens' story strikes her as odd. "What did the people eat?"

[tinstar]

"Your father is right, always winter or not." It was just solid Winter advice that Raylan could easily agree with. "And I got a feelin' we've got wildlife to worry about. I hope y'all have some rifles - pistols are gonna eat up more ammo.."

He glances around, looking for the hints of modernity that would confirm that they'd have rifles. If this was the 1880s they were still okay.

"They all had to fit on a massive boat, and only a set were required for.. repopulation once the Great Flood ended. Lived off food stores they brought with them. Keep in mind that this story also says that the whole of humanity currently are descended from Noah's three sons, and I can promise that is not the case."

→ castitas

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

"Her name is Lady," Sansa answers with uncharacteristic exuberance, thrilled at the familiar newness of having a direwolf to call her own. Lady's more than happy with the attention, similarly soft-tempered as her human companion when it comes to praise.

What a good girl—Sansa had been a good girl, too, if terrible men are to be believed, and she's survived despite them all thus far.

And look at that: venison. Hard to come by during the depths of winter, when the castle's hunters need to contend with the commonfolk as much as the natural predators of the woods. Sansa thanks the girl profusely, out of respect for the skill needed to bring the meat to the table.

"May I know your name, my lady?" Is she a lady? Better to err on the side of caution than to offend with carelessness. "I'm Lyanna."

[castitas]

"Lady? Oh, that is so cute." There's a little laugh, she very much approves! "I don't have a dog but.. I have a bunny, back home. She's called Alice."

She misses her a whole lot. She hopes someone's taking care of her.

Kate's eyebrows raise a little my lady? Like... no one's ever called her that before, and it surprises her. It sounds like something out of Shakespeare or something.

"I'm Kate." She nods politely with a small smile, her hands coming together in front of her. She wrings them a little. "It's nice to meet you both, although— it... kind of sucks more are getting brought here from their homes. This stuff's been going on for months, now."

> community hall! lmk if this works (also feel free to splash him with doggy shakes tbh)

[wingbound]

It's during the first few days that Levi takes it upon himself to scrub the main areas of the community hall clean top to bottom, irritated by the general state of abandonment and dust around town. He's just finishing the lobby when out of the corner of his eye, he sees a teen with what he assumes is a large dog trek back in from the outside, covered in snow.

"Hold up," he barks, holding a hand up as if he's able to stop them through willpower alone, and stomps up to them with a cleaned doormat which he promptly lays out in front of the door before them so they're not stepping directly on the floor. Then he crouches down -- or maybe just leans slightly, depending how big she's gotten, not to mention he's only three inches over five feet -- in front of Lady and holds a hand out, a rag in the other one, staring at her seriously as if he expects her to understand him. "Give me your paw."

He will not have snow and water dragged in immediately after he'd just wiped the whole place down, thanks.

lady obliges!

[clothed]

The large dog is a young direwolf named Lady, and her teenaged human companion is Sansa, presenting herself under a poorly-cobbled alias and story.

They've been playing in the snow for the better part of the morning: Sansa packs soft snow into small spheres that she lobs into the air, Lady chasing after each one and snapping at them. Most times she catches them, and the snowballs break apart against the direwolf's teeth; other times, Sansa's throws catches the wolf in the face or body, though Lady seems not to mind. Most people think wolves bark, but in truth, they don't - not the way people would think.

When a wolf barks at you, it means trouble. When a direwolf barks, it's a threat.

That said, it's been a while since Sansa's had to entertain an animal companion, and by the time Lady's ready to trot back indoors and nap for the rest of the day, Sansa herself is well and truly tired out.

Trudging back to the community hall finds them stopped by a young-looking man, who—has been cleaning?

Sansa frowns delicately. The place has the look of a common inn, or shared quarters; Sansa would not have expected it to be kept in pristine condition, even if she were inclined to cleanliness herself. She starts to speak when the man gives Lady a command, and for a brief moment both girl and wolf are huffing in disbelief at the audacity.

Lady sneezes. It sends ice water and specks of sludge in through the door. When the wolf looks at Sansa questioningly, then at the man holding out a rag, Sansa takes a quick second to think. "Alright," she says more to herself than anything. She gestures with her hand, raising it as if to knock on air. "Raise, Lady."

Then she turns to the strange cleaning man and says, "Be gentle, please. She's a sensitive girl."

outside

[itio]

Jim has taken some time to get a little more accustomed to the cold here, but he likes to think he's been doing alright. The clothes he's found in Lakeside have been a great help, thicker layers that help keep the cold at bay, and when the weather permits it, he ventures outside to gather what he can from nature in terms of supplies.

The air isn't entirely clear of the fog, but it has let up somewhat today, so Jim ventures just a little farther away from the buildings, down the road and through the lines of trees, in search of branches and other pieces of wood he can use for a fire. He's gotten himself an axe, but using it properly is another matter entirely; he's trying, to his credit, but it's more miss than hit whenever he tries to sink the sharp edge onto a thicker branch. It ends up stuck, and Jim's struggling to get it out when he spots movement from the corner of his eye.

He startles when he sees the animal; certainly bigger than the only other dog (or wolf, he really doesn't know) he's seen here. He turns, heart racing in brief panic, until he sees the young woman walking in the same direction, clearly familiar with the animal.

"Is he yours?" His voice is still quiet, just in case it might startle the wolf.

[clothed]

A man with an axe calls out to her, and Sansa feels a sharp-quick swell of panic rise up her throat before she remembers to swallow it down. She is, for the moment, safe in this strange little winter-place; she is as much a stranger to these people as they are to her.

That being said: a man with an axe, though it seems he's using it less than successfully.

"She's a girl, my lord," she replies, pushing the hood of her cloak back so that they may see each other better. She'd found her cloak during the feast, as she was rooting around for something warm to change into. Northern furs and leathers press to her skin like home, and she wears it like armour as she stands a few feet from the man.

For her part, Lady seems more amused than anything, hopping over to the man and sniffing his knees, his fingers. Lady had very quickly learned she would be offered some food or a pat on the head by being friendly; Sansa will have to curb that learned instinct, and quick, for both their sakes.

"She won't bite," Sansa adds to reassure the man; Lady's nosing at his foot now. "Though I would ask not to reach for the axe while she's close to you, she might take it the wrong way.

"Were you gathering firewood, my lord?"

→ guidemyway

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

Barter - Sansa can manage that, she thinks. She can sew, make clothes, wait on people if need be; she's had it done for her all her life, she can learn to perform the same duties if it's asked of her. She nods, cautiously, then makes to approach the other girl.

"I'm Lyanna," she offers, putting forth the name as often as she can until she make it roll from her tongue naturally. "And my direwolf is Lady. She won't harm you, if you would extend us the same kindness."

She holds out her hand to the other girl as well. "Are you not cold?"

[guidemyway]

Look- The fact that Ruby is not currently getting mauled by a wolf is a win in her books, plus she's hopefully helped this girl out. Things are coming out pretty well for her.

She'll take the hand and give it a little friendly squeeze. "I'm Ruby, Ruby Rose. It's great to meet you Lyanna." She gives a friendly and genuine smile, before turning her attention to lady.

"And it's lovely to meet you too, Lady. You're doing a wonderful job keeping Lyanna safe. Keep up the great work." Look. She liked the wolf. She was a dog girl all the way.

She takes a moment to consider the last question before she nods. "Absolutely freezing. But, I guess you kind of get used to it around. It doesn't often get warmer than this."

→ maintiensledroit

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

Partner. Like Jon and Ghost are partners, or Robb and Grey Wind are partners. Both of her older brothers riding for just causes with their wolves by their sides, fighting along with them.

Perhaps that's why she and Arya fared so poorly in King's Landing. Losing their wolves so soon had been a portent of what's to come.

But Constable Fraser is talking about something called a rifle, now. How it fires things called bullets, and Sansa surmises they must be like very tiny arrows, or the pellets used with slingshots. It does seem more convenient for hunting, with its slim construction, and she supposes the rolled metal fused with the wooden stock would make it sturdier than a staff or a longbow - but how would it make a noise?

Sansa puzzles over it with a deep frown. "I'm certain you know your weapon best," Sansa remarks, failing to keep her doubt out of her voice. "But how would it make a noise? It's so... thin."

[maintiensledroit]

"That is an excellent logical conclusion, Lyanna." From anyone else, those words might sound patronizing or sarcastic, but not from him: Fraser is always sincere and he is no less now, complimenting her. It's clear she's never seen a firearm before, and so her words, while ignorant, are proof of a lively mind beneath, one that questions, one that pieces together bits of knowledge to make a new whole. He knows plenty of adults lacking the ability to do either.

Fraser shifts the rifle off his shoulder and into his hands, running a gloved finger along the stock to the barrel and back again as he goes on. "It is thin, but the power doesn't come from this casing itself. What makes the projectiles go is a tiny, controlled explosion, inside it."

He taps gently. "That releases energy, which then propels the bullet through the barrel at high speeds."

community hall

[weavered]

She cautiously watches one of the newcomers as she sits and reads. She's been wary since learning that everyone around her was human (or more everyone), but this one in particular catches her interest with the company she keeps. She eyes the creature that lays at her feet. It looked trained, something that she had not anticipated after the encounter with the wild beast. It was large, dangerous looking, but seemingly a loyal companion to the human.

She had come to the hall to see if there was something warmer she could wear to stave off the cold. She holds a few, much larger items in her arms as she carefully approaches, curious to what it is, curious to what she's reading...

"Might I ask what you are reading?" She decides for the easier opening to this conversation, keeping her distance all the same.

[hopefully this works! Let me know if i need to change anything.]

lmk if this is okay also!

[clothed]

The person—

Oh. Sansa is taken aback, just a little, by the appearance of the person that's speaking to her. A mask, perhaps? They're wearing something that seems to have two tapered points, almost like horns or carapaces, and a flowing red shift. Truthfully, their appearance is unsettling, but Sansa's pleased to find herself only confused instead of disturbed.

She politely sets the book down and looks at where their eyes must be. "A book about... babysitting." Sansa understands very few things about the story, which seems to be a fiction, but she's nonetheless entertained by the antics of the children featured in it. "Why are you carrying so many things?"

→ extramuralise

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

If this place neighbours that of my home then he will be. North of the Wall, in Castle Black. Do you know of it?

[ if he does, then she might still be within the bolton's reach; a problem, certainly, but she has better chances with lady by her side, just a little. if he doesn't, if the lieutenant john irving has never heard of the north or the seven kingdoms of westeros—then she may be safe yet.

but that presents a different problem. ]

Please, let me help.

[ there's some desperation in her voice in asking his permission. how easily men's tempers change, after all, and sansa's fingers are numbed by pain by now, if not the ice.

she doesn't mean to be uncharitable or to be disrespectful in her thinking of him. they've only just met, and her suspiciousness is unfounded, even if her reasons for it are justified. sansa frets about behind him, unsure of where to place herself. lady, in sympathy, whines beside her. ]

You say you're from an army. Your queen. May I ask under whose banner, or noble house?

[extramuralise]

No, I'm afraid not, [ Irving shakes his head regretfully. ] Would that be Swiss, then? Or perhaps... Austrian?

[ Certainly not British, at any rate, or as far as he can tell, although granted he's no great expert on their vast and varied castles either.

Irving does, however, cringe faintly then at his own question, hoping not to have offended her as he so very easily could have by guessing wrong. He meets her gaze hesitantly, preemptively apologetic for any missteps. ]

Er-- y-yes, yes, of course, [ he goes on quickly, agreeably, submitting easily to the insistence of his presumed betters. ] I-if you happen to find anything that will burn most efficiently... such as dry paper, or else small scraps of wood. Anything really.

[ Because surely the warmth of a fire will help them with their injuries as much as anything else could, if his suspicions of frostbite are indeed grounded... and even if they're not, can it hurt? Being warm?

He clears his throat, hesitating again before answering her question. ]

Great Britain, Miss Lyanna. Under Queen Victoria.

→ thering

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

"I... no, I haven't."

Her future, up until very recently, would've meant bearing Ramsay's violence until she either died or provided him with an heir. Until then, until the mercy of death finally turns itself upon her, thinking about the future only makes Sansa feel sick. She keeps what little hope she has smothered underneath her, only because to let it fly free might mean having its wings clipped all over again.

Too many disappointments in the last five years. Too many deaths and betrayals for a girl to endure.

"When you say medical training, would that mean some knowledge of women's courses?" She puts her roll back down on her little plate, keeps herself from tearing it up into crumbs. Food is precious, especially during winter; she wouldn't want to waste anything over something so silly as a shaking hand, or a nervous mood. "I don't mean to be so forward, but I thought I should ask."

With a small, frustrated sigh Sansa turns to look back at the table and the tools laid out upon it. Healer's devices. Sharp points. Steel and cloth and the rust-laden stench of crusting blood.

"I'm being silly, I'm sorry. I'm bellyaching over my troubles and I've just met you." With sincere concern, Sansa asks, "Does the food agree with you?"

sorry I have been travelling all of May

[thering]

"'Women's courses'? Can't say I am familiar with the terminology..." He tips his head to one side a bit and his eyebrows furrow as he tries to turn the words over in his head and figure out what they mean.

"The food is fine, but. I should rather like to hear about what's bothering you, little miss." He's lived it rough for a long time, moving around on horseback and sleeping in the wilderness. Used to going without and honestly, hasn't needed to eat to survive the last hundred and thirty years, although it is a rather sinfully indulgent guilty pleasure that he partakes in from time to time.

He appreciates her concern though, and should like to return it in kind. Might be he doesn't know exactly where she's come from or how she's feeling but it doesn't mean they can't give anything a shot. He's done given a lifetime of pain and suffering to those around him. It is time to do better for a change.

→ dreamaturgy

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

[ there's a paved road, basalt-black and sand-rough; sansa would marvel over it if she and lady were not running parallel to it, staying off it just in case it's watched by people she's not quite ready to meet.

running was never her strong suit. the man told them to run, and so they did, sansa and lady, running in the same general direction with no idea where it might lead. it's only when sansa crashes over a raised tree root and falls face first into the snow that she's stopped, the pull of the earth seemingly pulling her into it too. lady comes up to her, wet snout and hot breath on her cheek; she stays frozen for longer than a heartbeat before forcing herself back to her feet.

no sound. no crunch underfoot of some big animal echoing in the dead, cold air. the distant rattle of someone breathing, the sound of it carrying thanks to the wind.

lady hears it first, ears pricking up towards the sound. nudges at sansa, cautious then insistent. they break through the brush with careful steps and the man is there in the middle of the road, alive, uninjured by sansa's estimation, though he looks very much harrassed. ]

Ser? Are you all right?

→ meadqueen

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

"And that is his true name? Little?" She imagines him to be a large man, then; oftentimes such names bear themselves the opposite of what they mean, but only for learned men. Smart and clever men. The Imp. Littlefinger. And sometimes names are a warning; the Hound, the Mountain, Kingslayer. "I might like to meet him, if it would be possible. I'm sure he's a busy man."

And the door is glass itself, too. Sansa stares at it for a good moment, running gloved fingers over the metal bar handle and the cool glass; how is the bar so straight, and the glass so clear? Save for small scuffs and frozen smudges, the glass is perfect.

When she looks to Lady Randvi again, her eyes are wide with true wonder. "The wind won't crack this door? Or the cold?" It would be warmer inside, truly, but Sansa's fascinated beyond words.

[meadqueen]

“I believe so but in truth, I am not certain. My people do not use surnames the way most here do, and many of the titles used here are unfamiliar to me.” Things like Doctor, Constable, or Lieutenant.

“I don't know Little well, myself.” The man has always struck her as a bit of a coward, but then isn't he a Saxon? “But he's often here at the hall when he's in Milton. Perhaps you will see him today.”

She returns her attention to the door. Sometimes it's easy to forget the wonder of all things once you've become accustomed to them. “As I understand, the glass is treated in a way that makes it more resistant to breaking.”

→ lasttoolong

[clothed]

[ moved from here. ]

A large bowl — easy enough to fetch, and Sansa brings a smaller one too, fills it quick with clean water. Lady noses along the blood on the floor, though thankfully not licking at it. Sansa nudges her to sit at attention within her and the man's line of sight instead, more for the man's comfort than her own.

Anything else the man asks to bring to him, Sansa gets for him to the best of her ability. When the tasks run slow, she goes to find something to clean the floor with, hiking her skirts by a handful and tucking the swath into her belt to keep it from catching the stains on the floor.

Eventually, and sooner than even Sansa thinks is polite, her curiosity gets to her. "Have you hunted something like this before?"

[lasttoolong]

It's not nice or clean work, but the girl doesn't seem to shrink from it and she's quiet enough, so Logan lets her stay. He keeps one eye on the direwolf, but when she goes to sit and stays there, he relaxes enough to ignore her and goes about the business of skinning and dressing the big cat's carcass.

"Couple times," he says, not unwilling to make conversation while he's got his hands occupied. It at least keeps his mind off worrying about his lack of healing factor, or the weirdness of the fog outside.

"Sometimes you gotta hunt them before they decide to hunt you. But when it's desperate, like this, anything goes. No sense leaving meat where it can't be used." He glances up at her, then over at the wolf, before returning his attention to his work. "So how'd that happen?"

[readytosee]

Darling is looking for some reading material as well. Preferably nonfiction, something maybe about the history of the town? He'd like to push his research on this place forward as much as possible, but it's been tricky to get things going.

He sees a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment his chest feels tight at the thought of who it might be -- but no, no. It's the girl he'd met right after he'd woken up here. And her wolf. Or, direwolf, if he's remembering correctly. So he abandons his search for now, wandering his way over with a pleasant smile.

"Hello again, Lyanna. And -- Lady, of course," he says, nodding in greeting to both girl and direwolf. "How are you settling in?"

[clothed]

Casper Darling — Sansa brightens as she turns her face up to look at the man. Seeing him in the light of day adds a livelier colour to his face, and she finds she much likes it better this way, with the sunlight catching on the frame of curious glasses, the faint silver in his hair.

"Ser Darling," Sansa greets, and as proper she stands to meet him, Lady sitting up just a bit straighter but otherwise staying on the floor where she's comfortably curled up. "I hope you won't mind my calling you Ser, I still don't quite know what honours are commonly used here."

She offers him the seat from across her, conveniently empty now that the morning chores have been done. Looking back in the direction Casper Darling had come from, Sansa asks, "Did you come to read as well? I've been reading as much as I can, myself."

Community Center

[lilredvamp]

With the weird fog, Jessica had to suspend her weekly travels from Lakeside to Milton. It’s hard to see in this fog at night. And lately the fog had started to become unforgiving. It gave her pain she hadn’t felt since she was alive.

But that’s neither here nor there. She’s here to give what few deliveries she had, sleep away the day, and get up in the evening and return back to Lakeside and stay there for the foreseeable future.

By the time she arrived at the community center people were getting ready to eat dinner. Jessica groaned. Ever since she turned vampire she hated the smell of dead flesh, especially when it’s being cooked. Human food just looked so bad to Jessica. It’s so awkward as she’s not exactly out of the coffin for everyone, so it becomes a song and dance routine.

Jessica sits down on the furthest end of the table with a grubby book for company. It’s about a boy who got tired of the suburban life and ran off to the woods to live a wild boy. A little bit on the nose but better than nothing. Before she settles in, she sees a girl with red hair. For a wild moment, she thought she saw her little sister Eden. The same red color, the polite face, and the blue eyes. “Eden?” Jessica blurts out.

Then Jessica realizes her mistake almost instantly. Her little sister have the same shade of red and blue eyes, but she’s smaller and far more innocent, despite the pain their father gave them.

That, and Eden wouldn’t certainly never have a wolf sleeping near her ankles.

[clothed]

It's Lady who notices first, turning her head towards the noise and pulling Sansa's attention to her along. She almost asks out loud what the matter is, but force of habit has her following Lady's gaze first. Realization dawns, and the fleeting look of recognition - and shock, perhaps? - that gives away to seeming disappointment on the stranger's face tells Sansa a little of what has just happened.

She approaches first, keeping her body language polite and her gestures small. They both have the same red of hair, the striking colour standing out against the interiors, and they're both long of bone, with sharp features. If Sansa were less informed, she would think the stranger a cousin on her mother's side. Perhaps a Tully by way of Uncle Brynden, or a bastard by Uncle Edmure, though Sansa recalls no daughters by them.

"We have hot soup," she remarks first, half-turning to where the kitchen is. "I'm sorry if I've reminded you of someone. I'm Lyanna."