owl to Sansa Stark, quite strongly warded

[charlesmacaulay]

Sansa,

I don't believe we've met, and I wish I could be writing under happier circumstances. It's about a mutual friend: Susan Sto Helit. She's unwell, to say the least. I was thinking it might do her some good to see you. Do you have some time free?

Charles Macaulay
Ravenclaw

Comments

[callmewednesday]

(( This tag will take them 'backstage'; then Wednesday will step back and watch, as it were, and Susan and Sansa can tag back and forth? ))

"Luck is my department." Wednesday finished his array of runes without flourish or fanfare, a workmanlike job. "In the old country, they used to talk about lucky men a certain way. Some men had it and some men didn't." There was, too, the king's luck, a special variety that could rub off onto his chosen. Wednesday didn't feel inclined to explain how that might be analogous. Instead he said merely, "I've got weird luck." Wyrd. "It may work in your favor. You don't know about safety belts, do you? No sense in buckling yours, I suppose."

The car started with a hiccup and a roar.

"You may, however, wish to brace yourself," said Mr. Wednesday, mildly.

And with that, he drove them backstage.

The passage itself was smoother in a car than on a broom, Wednesday reflected as the world broke gently and they broke gently through it. It yielded like the skin on the surface of water. His luck held: Susan hadn't gone anywhere.

"There she is," he said, pointing through the windshield, and the car rattled to a halt.

He reached over the seat to grab his broom before letting himself out of the car. He crunched over the sand to Sansa's side of the car and held her door open for her. It would be awkward for her to manage climbing out with that sword in her hand. Wednesday was patient. He did not offer to assist.

"Let's go say hello to our friend." And he led her toward the apparition that Susan had become.

[castleinthesnow]

(works for me!)

Bracing herself had been a good idea, but Sansa rather wished she'd kept her eyes closed. Not that the passage wherever they'd gone had exactly been distressing... except that it had been. Things had rippled, and while they'd gone smooth again, things felt wrong somehow.

Even so, she was grateful that Wednesday didn't offer her a hand down from the car - it would have started things entirely the wrong way if she'd needed help. In the end, Sansa moved the sword outside the car, then hopped out rather than trying to climb. It seemed to work out; she landed on her feet without stabbing anything, and it was possible that her skirts swirled around her ankles in appropriately theatrical fashion.

She followed Wednesday to... yes, it was Susan. Recognizably Susan somehow, but even wronger than the world around them. Not human, not even a little, even not moving, not speaking, not even looking in their direction.

Gods. She's the Stranger. She is. Oh gods. The Stranger's image in the septs was always vague, humanlike without being human, uncomfortable to behold. Susan was several leagues past 'uncomfortable to behold', but Sansa made herself keep walking, only stopping when she was about ten feet away - close enough to speak, far enough to be wary.

[usethepoker]

Susan was Not Happy.

She'd been furious to begin with, in the cold, strange way that came with being what she currently was, but when Wednesday had abruptly left her that fury had spiked into a rage so intense it was a frozen, palpable thing. He'd tricked her--tricked her as though he were human, lying like they all did in the end.

She hadn't gone looking for him--she knew better than that. Her strange sense of location, her ability to find anyone, anywhere, failed to locate him, which meant he was no longer anywhere in this odd wasted realm. And then quite suddenly he'd returned, in some kind of car this time, with a half-grown girl at his side. Susan didn't immediately recognize Sansa--she was too busy focusing all that deadly rage on Wednesday.

YOU LEFT ME, she said, compelled to point out the obvious. Her face--paler than ever, pale as a frozen corpse--was nearly expressionless, but there was a hatred in the fathomless darkness that was her eyes. YOU TRICKED ME.

Before he could respond, her attention turned to Sansa. Sansa--she knew Sansa, and she also knew the sword the girl held.

SOMEONE'S BEEN SNOOPING, she said, those dreadful eyes flicking from the sword to Sansa's face, and back again. WERE YOU PLANNING TO DO SOMETHING WITH THAT, SANSA?

[castleinthesnow]

The Voice was not something Sansa had even heard hints of before, not once in her whole life. She had been around powerful people, heard orders given that made kingdoms, or least whole rooms, shake. She had seen death and murder so many times that it hardly registered, but the Voice reached into her mind and shook it.

She felt obscurely that she should be cringing, or apologizing, or doing anything but what she was doing - retreating inside herself and just standing like a stone statue, reacting externally to the Voice as little as a corpse would. Inside, of course, was Much Less Calm. Talk to Susan, talk to Susan, ignore the Stranger.... "I don't know how to use a sword. I'm sure I'd cut my own fool feet off."

[usethepoker]

Ryder, had he been there, would have felt partially vindicated. Sansa had gotten the chance to speak, as he was sure she would--even scary and damned evil, Susan was indeed still in there.

THEN WHY DO YOU HAVE IT? Susan asked, looking for a moment from Sansa to Wednesday. SOMEONE MUST HAVE THOUGHT IT A GOOD IDEA TO GIVE IT TO YOU. Idiots, whoever they were, whether it be Wednesday or some other fool. Nobody on Earth ought to be capable of using Death's own weapon against her.

She stepped forward, the dry, rocky soil crunching beneath her boots. Sansa was actually taller than her, so Susan was looking up a little at the girl. Her hands on the scythe were as terribly white as her face, but she made no move to use it. WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE, SANSA?

[castleinthesnow]

"I don't know." It was true enough. They'd said 'talk!' and 'be there!' and 'not ship's doctors' which didn't make much sense, really, but they'd neglected to provide more direction. They hadn't known, but still! "Why did you?"

[usethepoker]

Again her eyes flicked to Wednesday. I WAS TOLD, she said, THAT THIS WAS A SHORTCUT. I CLEARLY WAS NOT TOLD THE TRUTH.

She stopped quite close to Sansa, watching her with unblinking eyes. She could feel the girl's warmth even at a distance, hear the pounding rush of blood as it passed through her veins. Sansa was so very human--as alive as alive could be, and so very, very mortal. There were so many ways for a human to die; they were such fragile creatures, and the thought that she herself was, at least most of the time, one of them did not enter Susan's head.

Logic--even Susan's warped logic--dictated that she ought to cut Sansa down where she stood, but for now something stayed her hand. Even with that sword--and who in the name of all hells had thought giving her that thing was a good idea?--Sansa had no real defense against something like the entity that Susan currently was. YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE, she said--but then, where should the girl be? Back at Hogwarts, while Susan went out and destroyed London? There was something wrong with this picture, though she only half-registered the thought. I SHOULDN'T BE HERE.

She reached out a pale hand to touch Sansa's face, but stopped just short of actual contact. I WOULDN'T BE HERE, IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOUR KIND.

[castleinthesnow]

Sansa froze further, if it was possible, hardly even twitching. It was the terrible choice of survival instinct granted to small furry animals and also to Sansa. Her mind, which was more resilient than most thanks to the simple expedient of not having broken yet, whirred along, trying to work out the meaning behind Susan's words.

My kind. People? People, yes. She wouldn't be here if not for people? Well, obviously! Her parents had been people. But if it was obvious, it was probably wrong. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for yours," she said finally, trying to ignore the not-Susan hand so close to her face. "A shortcut to where?"

[usethepoker]

Her people...yes. Gods, demons, the motley assortment of inhumans at Hogwarts. Susan still wasn't certain why they'd brought Sansa here--what they'd hoped to accomplish, or if they'd been thinking at all.

TO LONDON, she said. THE FIRST STOP OF MANY, I THINK.

She finally did touch Sansa's cheek, and even now part of her marveled at how warm the girl's skin was, especially in comparison to her own at present. Her hands were as cold as her grandfather's, and she reached to push back a strand of dark red hair. Sansa was human, but she--contrary to what she might assert--was little more than a child. A child who, Susan knew, had seen far too many horrible things, though probably nothing more horrible than Susan herself currently was. HOW IS IT THAT SOME OF YOU ARE SO HARMLESS, AND OTHERS SO THOUGHTLESSLY CRUEL? 'Harmless' was hardly the right word, but Susan's vocabulary was not that of ordinary-Susan at the moment. AND HOW IS IT SO HARD TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE, UNTIL IT'S TOO LATE? For that matter, was there really a difference? Or were they all the same, in the end--all the sort of creatures she wanted very much to destroy right now?

Yes, even when almost hopelessly evil, Susan could run into a philosophical conundrum. It was just a gift of hers, apparently.

[castleinthesnow]

"Do you think I'm harmless?" Sansa asked, a little surprise creeping into her tone despite the blankly numb terror that had seized up her body but left her mind more or less free. As long as she kept that focused, she wouldn't dissolve into a girl-shaped pool of tears. "We can't even tell the difference until it's too late, you know. What happened?"

[usethepoker]

IF YOU MEAN, DO I THINK YOU'D USE THAT SWORD, THEN NO, YOU'RE NOT HARMLESS. Physical harm had nothing to do with it. BUT...YOU WOULD NOT DO WHAT SOME WOULD. NEITHER ON PURPOSE NOR, I SUSPECT, BY ACCIDENT.

It was a seemingly nonsensical statement. Lacking most of her humanity, Susan had also lost a great deal of her normal eloquence. Her next words really didn't clarify much, either--they were as strange and alien as the landscape around them.YOU WOULDN'T DO WHAT HE DID. YOU ACTUALLY THINK. Sansa, who was so convinced she was stupid, when really she was a child who was almost too thoughtful. Sansa, who had seen more horrible things than half of Hogwarts's denizens combined. YOU HAVE TO THINK, DON'T YOU? YOU CAN'T JUST...BLITHELY ABANDON ANYTHING.

[castleinthesnow]

"Blithely?" Sansa asked, then through a herculean effort tilted her head thoughtfully. "I abandoned King's Landing quickly enough, and my lord husband to the mercies of a sister who thought he'd killed her child. I had a larger hand in that than he did. I can abandon things very quickly, when I have to."

It was almost certainly not what Susan was talking about, but as long as Susan was talking and thinking she was... less threatening, somehow. The presence of that scythe receded a little. Of course, that only made a tiny, morbid part of Sansa's mind wonder whether this place still counted as Hogwarts grounds for the no-kill policy. Probably not.

[usethepoker]

Susan regarded her closely. WERE YOU IN DANGER, THEN? she asked. WOULD THEY HAVE KILLED YOU, HAD YOU STAYED? The parallel between Sansa and Stephen was faulty--very faulty. Sansa had been a child then, whatever she might say, a child who had undoubtedly already witnessed too many terrible things. Susan didn't know the details of Sansa's life, but she had enough of an idea to guess just what sort of people had been around the girl.

Sansa was meeting her goal, at least; Susan was, for the moment anyway, distracted. Distracted, and thinking, which had been Ryder's goal--make her stop. Make her think. Make that part of her that was still Susan wake up and realize what she was doing.

[castleinthesnow]

Sansa thought about it. She'd been terrified at the time, of course, terrified and eager to go home, but now that she thought about it.... "I thought I was, but I don't really think so. They needed me alive, if they wanted a chance to claim the North for themselves at any point." Tyrion would have been executed, and she would have been married off to some other Lannister who would not have hesitated or been gentle to her. But she would have lived. "Mostly, I wanted to go home." Even if there was no home left to go back to.

[usethepoker]

Susan looked at the scythe, and at the sky, and at Sansa. BUT YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE, she said. YOU THOUGHT. YOU DIDN'T DROP SOMEONE WITHOUT A CARE, NEVER THINKING OF THE CONSEQUENCES IT MIGHT HAVE FOR THEM. Again she looked at the scythe, at the blade that was only visible if you tilted it a certain way. OR FOR EVERYONE ELSE.

[castleinthesnow]

"My lord husband would certainly disagree with you." And her father, but Sansa didn't want to talk about her father. She'd never dropped him, precisely, but she had betrayed him - the traitor's blood coming out, perhaps. Not that Eddard Stark had ever truly been a traitor.

She carefully did not look at the scythe. "Do you think you're the only person who has ever lost someone?" she demanded. "Is that what this is about?"