video; un: ironborn

[reek]

I’ll not congratulate anyone for the beginnings of this cure.

[ Oh, look, it's that guy who pisses everyone off. The corner of his mouth quirks into a cruel smirk, but his teeth are clenched too tightly and his eyes burn too fiercely for any proper smile. It’s a struggle for him to remain as guarded as he would prefer, and there are cracks in his armor: he’s clearly angry and upset. ]

My sister was among the ill. Was. I have been informed that she has since returned to the pods—still uncured.

[ He tries to keep his tone even and cold, void of emotion, but his voice breaks ever so slightly. He and Asha weren’t close, not like he’s known siblings should be, but it’s a deep cut to be abandoned again, and it hurts to know that one of the few people he felt he could trust in this place is gone. Clearing his throat, he continues.]

Which leads me to the question at hand. What reason do I, or the worried, or any of the ailing, have to trust the maesters here? Healers--whatever name you may know them by. Months, this has gone on, to the point where someone is gone and remains unhealed.

[ He knows better than to critique those who have done nothing but help, but his anger is directionless otherwise, so he chuckles cruelly, and that cheshire smirk widens. ]

They’ve been all but useless.

Comments

[enarms]

Your sister's fucked off and you're ranting about sub-standard doctoring on the network.

[ you didn't have to say a word ]

Drop it on people who haven't been running themselves ragged trying to find a way to help your sister and everyone else dying of a sickness that came out of nowhere. Maybe try blaming the people who set off the bomb and started this whole sodding thing, there's an idea.

But I don't know who the hell you think is going to deliver you your miracle cure if you're writing off everyone working on it now. You? If you can, great, by all means. If not, Theon, then fuck off. It's about as bad as it can get. We don't have time for your grief.

[reek]

[ Well, that silences him for a moment. He doesn't like being so easy to read. It makes him feel weak and exposed, and he’s felt that way far too often as of late. His walls have begun to crumble, despite how desperately he tries to rebuild them. So he does his best to ignore John's words almost completely, because he's heard it all before. Instead, he focuses on one particular thing. ]

One of the men I share my rooms with is meant to be in his grave right now, and he knows it.

[ That is an entirely other can of worms, particularly when you consider Theon’s role in all of it. He laughs, and it's just a little too much on edge to be normal. ]

Is that not a miracle cure, maester? The men of my world cannot cure a man of his death.

[enarms]

Then she's in the best place she could be, isn't she. Up in stasis, where the miracles happen.

[reek]

[ That doesn't help. In fact, the look he gives John could probably kill a man. ]

And she's still not been cured. A minor miracle than none of you seem capable of performing.

[enarms]

Oh, pick a new record. I heard you the first seventeen times.

[reek]

Then leave me be.

[ HE DOESN'T LIKE YOU, JOHN.

AT ALL.

Actually, you're alright, he's just very upset. ]

[enarms]

Oh, sorry, you didn't want people to respond to your public attack of the medical effort? Got it.

[ shut up, Theon, you child. he'll leave you to your fits when your fits aren't scattering shitty sprinkles on top of a shitty sundae. ]

You don't have to trust us, your trust or lack thereof isn't going to help or hinder the search for a cure. And if that lack of trust means you'd rather suffer without our help next time you're hurt, that's your prerogative. There's your answer. What was that supposed to achieve?

[reek]

[ He feels as though he's back in Winterfell, as it was at the very end. He couldn't trust anyone then either. He was alone and abandoned, hopeless and helpless and friendless. He knows he's dug this hole for himself, just as he did back then, but he refused to run then, and he refuses to back down now. ]

I don't know.

[ He practically snarls, teeth bared in what might be a stubborn attempt at a grin. ]

What do you believe I meant to achieve, maester?

[ He literally doesn't know, but trying to turn the conversation makes him sound so much more clever and mysterious than genuinely admitting that he doesn't know what he was trying to achieve. ]

[enarms]

I don't think you really want me to answer that question.

[ in fact, he knows he doesn't want him to answer that question. so John'll do him a favour and leave it at that - at least until Theon decides he wants to press it. ]

[reek]

[ It may not seem like it, but that's a double-edged sword of a statement. Oftentimes, Theon would rather die than be made a fool of. He's made quite the fool of himself now, of course, which is where the other edge comes in: he's far too stubborn to back down. And he's already backed into a corner anyway, so....may as well. ]

I've asked it, haven't I?

[enarms]

I think you wanted to get a bit of power back.

[reek]

You think so?

[ He responds with a harsh laugh. Although Theon doesn't know what he hoped to accomplish beyond simply being angry, in a way, John isn't wrong. Theon has never held a great deal of power, but he always wished for others to be just as miserable as he is. If he can drag others down to his level of misery with mere words, is that not power of some sort? ]

You know nothing.

[enarms]

[ a sniff of derision, laughter kept silent. ]

Yeah, alright.

Hope you get what you came for. I've got patients to see to.

[ which is to say Fuck This and Fuck You ]

[reek]

I'm sure you do.

[ Theon doesn't silence his laughter. He chuckles once more, cruelly. ]

Though, for how much longer?

[enarms]

[ the look Theon gets from John is absolutely fucking foul - but he's not going to be goaded. the feed cuts. ]