(Untitled)

[accusedjonah]

DATE: December 1st, night [backdated]
CHARACTER(S): Jonathan Hollom and OPEN
SUMMARY: The wagons are circled, watches are being kept, and one man is greatly disturbed.
LOCATION: Around the campfire.
WARNINGS: Sad, sad little mouse inside.
FORMAT: Whichever.

Comments

[accusedjonah]

"No."

The suddenness of the words took him as much by surprise as they had when he had spoken to Jon. His eyes widened, and he finally looked at her. Pale and distant as he looked, her words seemed to have shaken him back into some kind of animation, seemed to have sparked some life back into his eyes.

"No. Nothing like that, Miss Sansa. Never anything like that." Inwardly, he swore. And prayed. And did something of a combination. God in Heaven, he had not meant to upset her. Selfish and foolish, speaking so freely. Burdening her with his woe and merely adding to her hardships. "No, I swear it. I could never be angry with you, Miss Sansa, nor could you do anything wrong. I swear it."

He looked at her, light eyes worried, self-reproachful, and sincere.

"I-- I only meant... If something happens to me here. If..." If I die. "If something will not let me be at your side. If it becomes impossible for me to keep my promise to you. I have gotten Mister Pullings's word that you will not be without a protector."

He had meant to reassure her, yet he had only upset her, and he felt the pain of that. Another thing he could not do right.

ugh this thread ;__;

[practiced]

'If....if...'

Only then did Sansa understand Hollom's words and see the implication - bold-faced and desperate - for what it was. Without so much as a moment's pause she shook her head once and then again. A dozen things, brash and impulsive, looked to crawl their way out of her gut and onto her tongue but Sansa beat them back with a swallow, her chin lifting in miserable defiance of that sentiment, of that 'if'.

"You cannot die," she then said, though the words were foolishness. Who was she to command a man to survive - she was no one, just a bird and a helpless one at that, looking to nest in other men's honor in the hopes that it would keep her safe amidst storms. Had it been as simple as a forceful word Sansa would have demanded her father live while she declared that Joffrey Baratheon die die die.

Sansa blinked at Hollom and her eyes repeated what her mouth had already spoken.

You cannot die, I'm in need of you, she thought. Not a guardian or a protector but you, Jonathan Hollom. I gave to you a shred of hope, that is what an oath bears when it is sworn. You cannot give it back. It will die with you.

Both so so sad and so broken ;__;

[accusedjonah]

Propriety was forgotten. For a moment, she was his sister. She joined Hope and Faith and Constance and dear Charity and was his sister. He put a hand to her cheek, even though it shook slightly, and leaned in close, stopping himself shy of fully embracing her.

"Then I won't." He laughed, a quiet, strained sound, but his eyes held her gaze. "Not until you say otherwise." Foolish, foolish promise to make. But if she needed it-- if she wanted it... he would offer it. "I--" The words threatened to choke him, but he would force them out. She deserved to know. Yet he could not tell her. Could not burden her more than he already had. "I shall do as you command. Live and die by your word."

I've nothing else in this world. I am good for nothing else. But if I can set you to any kind of ease, I shall do it with every breath I possess.

they have had to deal with so much tragedy ;__;

[practiced]

His forwardness startled Sansa, though it did not shock nor repulse her. If anything it filled her with momentary fear, for she suddenly imagined shipman Hollom as Ser Dontos or perhaps the Hound, and Sansa half expected him to demand a kiss from her in exchange of his service. But there was no wine upon his breath nor blade clutched between his fingers; he would not ploy her with unwanted slovenly kisses nor make her sing for her life.

He is not so selfish nor craven as that, she then thought and stilled whatever fear beat in her breast. He had proven nothing but kind to her, had only given and never taken. With this new oath, he reminded Sansa of that; silently she chastised herself for comparing him to the supposed knights of King's Landing, however briefly. She remembered his words, words he had offered to Sansa during their first few days in this strange place:

'Always treat every woman as I would have a stranger treat my sisters', he had said and so the hand upon her cheek became not a threat but a kindness. An warmly-meant obeisance.

Sansa bowed in receipt of it, feeling oddly humbled, and lowered her gaze as she spoke.

"Then live. That is your charge, shipman Hollom."

But live in hope. She did not speak those words.

[accusedjonah]

"Then I shall hold to it."

He had remembered himself by now and carefully drew back his hand, inwardly scolding himself. He had no cause to act so, to touch her as freely as he did. She was certainly generous not to have slapped him for having gotten so close. As far as he was concerned, she would have been well within her rights to do such a thing.

Hollom ducked his head slightly. He was binding his fate to her word and swearing himself to her, and she had no idea that she might only be saddled with a curse. But if she came to harm because of it... Well, he already knew that his life was forfeit. Not only could he not bear the thought, but Jon Snow had made it clear that he would abide no such thing.

...That was the sort of protector she deserved.

"I offer my apologies, Miss Sansa, if my earlier words upset you. That was not my intention."

[practiced]

Sansa heard the words but did not feel satisfaction at them. Something malingered in the back of her mind, as if she could see some further truth hidden behind Hollom's promise, a weight pressing down onto the root of his tongue, threatening to choke him. He had given her hope when she found herself lost and that was how he appeared to her now - misguided or blind or perhaps wounded, stranded within himself where not even her most earnest entreatments could reach him. If only she had a way to offer hope in return.

Sansa shook her head; again, a pardon.

"We find ourselves amidst trying times. Our hearts and our minds are vexed with the ill fortune that has been set upon us. In that, you are blameless."

[accusedjonah]

"In that, you are blameless."

The words made Hollom's hands shake briefly. He bowed his head and shook it slowly. Finally, he raised his head, pale eyes coming to meet her. His gaze was muted, distant.

"I'm not, Miss Sansa." He swallowed hard. "Blameless. For this misfortune. I'm... not."

He had been told for so long that he brought bad luck upon others, had tried to find it in his faith to deny it, had seen more and more come, had been set upon by others for things such as this being his fault... that now he simply accepted that it was.

[practiced]

Sansa did not understand, not in the way that Hollom intended. He was a man so beset by guilt and inadequacy that there were times when she had to remind herself that he was not half as guilty as he made himself out to be. Blame clung to him in his mind's eye and that perception of himself threatened to color the gaze of those around him, though Sansa fought succumbing to such thoughts. Her brow pinched in confusion again and when she believed she had devised his meaning she held a hand to her mouth to hold back a tiny gasp.

"-was it you, shipman Hollom?" she asked. Sansa felt afraid because if the answer were 'yes', she would have no choice but to tell her brothers and then reprimand would possibly follow. "The one who fired the first shot and set the snakes to anger and the others to panic?"

He was such a fearful man - Sansa could believe the possibility.

[accusedjonah]

"No." He could claim few skills, but he was a steady hand with a gun. He knew what ought to be shot at and what to leave alone and what to wait for to be in just the right spot and what that spot was. "No, I was on watch, well away from where the shooting began."

But he would have to explain, and he braced himself against it.

"Wh--where I'm from... We... There's a kind of man. He's called a Jonah." The word stung to say, but he knew that was because it was true. "A Jonah... is bad luck. They cause it, wherever they go, whatever they do. If... If a ship suffers badly... You can be sure that a Jonah is on board."

He sighed and finished, "And as long as a Jonah is around, misfortune will continue to strike."