[All the video shows is the skin of someone's palm. There can be tapping noises heard from the Forge, however, and soon enough the screen is uncovered to show a handsome young man, staring curiously at the device.]
This is certainly not what I expected from death. [He glances around the room, then, and shrugs.]It's much better than I expected, to
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Magic is the most apt of descriptions for it.
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[There's a pause. It's easy enough to match Robb with the Starks he knows, and he brightens just a little.]
Lord Stark, is it not?
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[ robb's tone is deceptively mild. ]
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[He pauses, then, and nods.] I am Renly Baratheon. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do not let my brother tell you otherwise.
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A strange sort of guilt takes him. Though he knew it shouldn't. Time and time again, he had gone over that night in his mind. His hands were clean. Any number of men could attest to it.
He can manage only one word. ]
Renly.
[ If there are truly such things as Gods, they are cruel by nature. ]
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Stannis.
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Still, he tries to keep his voice as even as possible when he speaks. ]
It has been near two years since... [ your death ] I saw you last.
[ It was impossible. All of this was.
Yet here they were. ]
How?
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I do not know. The last thing I remember is -- well.
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...You're dead?
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[ She doesn't really believe in them, but that's the only explanation she's got. ]
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I am sorry, have I startled you?
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[...]
About... erm.
[ D: ]
...This isn't the afterlife.
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You are a Stark, are you not?
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Lord Renly Baratheon. And here I'd taken you to be a corpse.
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