Two Westerosi Discuss Halloween - Closed

[onlyvengeance]

WHO: Catelyn Stark, Jaime Lannister
WHERE: that same cafe, I do think it was in Nonah
WHEN: now is good, actually
WHAT: two Westerosi discuss Halloween
WARNINGS: none that I know of, but it’s Game of Thrones ppl, so sensitive things might come up, beware

[ There are children in costume scattered throughout the city today; some of the merchants are handing out candy early. Catelyn is watching this all with a touch of bemusement. The kids are cute, but the whole custom is a little odd to her. And she has discovered that she isn’t too fond of pumpkin spice, at least not in coffee. So today she is sticking to spearmint tea, something familiar. And apparently the gods have seen fit to send another reminder of home, though not one that brings up happy memories, in the form of Jaime Lannister. Still, she can be polite, if he is. When she speaks her tone is measured and calm,]

Good afternoon, ser.

[See, not Kingslayer or Oathbreaker. It’s...progress, ok?]

Comments

[uncledad]

By the Gods, Lady Stark.

[Jaime doesn't have a particular love for the cafe. Quite the opposite. But it is conveniently located, right on his way when he is about various errands, and so he is here, today--and of course, Catelyn Stark is also here.]

If I didn't know better, I would guess that it is me you are fond of.

[A joke. It's kind of like progress, for its part. Jaime is dressed for this world, and what passes for chill in Nonah. In fact it is not very chilly at all, which suits him well.]

Don't worry. I know that you aren't.

[onlyvengeance]

[The look she turns on him is faintly pained. This is his sense of humor? But she supposes she should count it progress that he attempts it at all. He is a puzzling man, and while she does find him... intriguing is one word, infuriating is another, and better. She is not fooled by his pretty exterior. ]

I would say that I am as fond of you as you are of me.

[She counteroffers, arching a brow and waving a hand at the seat opposite. ]

The gods seem to delight in tossing us into each other's paths. I remember you bringing a message to my father at Riverrun when we were both barely more than children. Lysa only had eyes for you, and you were a shadow to my uncle, demanding tales of battle. Do you remember?

[There is a certain fondness in her tone, and sadness in her eyes. Those children had no idea what lay ahead for them. ]

[uncledad]

I do.

[He sits, rather more easily than the first time they had met in this very place. He is better with his one hand than he was then, after months of practice. Maiming had still been rather new to him. Now he knows better what he is doing.

It helps, that the gods of this place have gifted him with the ghost hand. It comes and goes, but Jaime is better with it, too, than he was. It is not manifested here and now, but it could be, should he call upon it. Already he feels the phantom tingling in his stump, fingers unseen like smoke.]

The Blackfish was known as a great knight. The opportunity to hear his tales was not one to be taken lightly. War has always interested me more than women. I remember, too, that I did not like Riverrun very well. It felt damp.

[onlyvengeance]

[ A moment’s sorrow twists her heart, thinking of her uncle. He had always been her safe place when the hurts of childhood made themselves known, and as she had gotten older, he had wise counsel to share. She hoped that he escaped the fate that befell both her and Robb, but she hasn’t had the heart to ask any who might know. Instead she sips her drink, to buy herself a moment.]

I suppose it was. It was not named Riverrun for no reason. Still, it was home and one forgives home many imperfections. What of Casterly Rock? Do you really keep lions caged beneath the rock itself or was that another tale the peasants carry?

[uncledad]

Oh, yes. The Lannisters would not lie about something so grand as kept lions. They were my grandfather's expense. Half toothless and doddering by the time Cersei and I were born--but no less fearsome. We used to sneak beneath the Rock and dare each other to put our arms through the bars of their cages. Whoever could keep their arm there longest was the winner.

[And Cersei was as brave as Jaime. He sees her now, in his mind's eye, her hair burnished gold in the torchlight and her eyes green and glimmering. The most beautiful thing he has ever seen, then and now. How he wishes Cersei were here. How glad he is, that she is not.]

And then they died. But it was no matter. The true lions of Lannister House live above the catacombs.

[But with Father dead, and Joffrey, and Myrcella--there's few enough lions left these days. If Jaime believes all that he is told anyways.]

I suppose Riverrun had its share of fish in its halls. Thus the smell.

[onlyvengeance]

[ She twitches, ever so slightly, and for a moment, she too wishes for something that is not there. Though she is not wishing for his sister, thank all the gods. No, she remembers him in chains and a rock in her hand. The crack it made, and the impact juddering up her arm. He needs a few more like that. Perhaps some sense or manners will get knocked in along the way as well. She wonders what strange powers the gods of this place have given him, as they have given her. If it was a true fight this time, who would be the winner? All these thoughts tumble through her mind like stones in a stream, and when she speaks her tone is flinty. ]

I recall a cell and chains were your last accommodations, and they quite suited you.

[ After all, she had worn no chains and bent her head to none, at the last. Could he say the same? ]

[uncledad]

[The rattling of chains is not a song Jaime loves so well. The chains he wore in the Stark camp were chains that he carried south with him, with the Maid of Tarth his keeper. And then the chains that he wore at the amusement of the Flayed Men, the chain around his neck with his own hand hanging putrid beneath his nose.

Jaime's smile has a touch of flint to it this time.]

And here I thought I looked more handsome in gold.

[He is wearing crimson today, a bright bloom of color beneath the black of his suitcoat. It is cut well on him. Even in strange and foreign lands, a Lannister must look the part.]

In the end, I was lucky enough to have my own colors returned to me. [Lucky. Not the word that he would have used. And he speaks of what he does not know, too. Others have said that he returned to the Red Keep. For Jaime, it was wool and a cloak of dull heavy cotton.] But I wonder what all the northmen did with their Stark banners.

[onlyvengeance]

[it is a statement meant to wound, and it does. She feels it, a deep twist of pain, and it flickers in her gaze. But she rallies, as best she can.]
This night is a night for ghosts to walk, according to the natives. Perhaps you will see. But then, some of us are not quite so dead as perhaps we were.

[uncledad]

Your husband's bastard tells me that the dead of Westeros will all soon walk among us. They'll raise an army and march on the Wall, and all the Seven Kingdoms.

[He puts his chin in his hand, deep in mock thought.]

Will you be among them?

[onlyvengeance]

[ she lets any hint of any emotion save the hunger for vengeance drain from her gaze, her expression as unforgiving as a northern winter, and though she does not know it, she is the very image of her afterlife, if it can be called that. The spirit of vengeance that Berric Dondarrion breathed a spark of life into.]

I pray to the gods that I am.