text || un: IAMNEDSTARK

[learned_to_die]

IT APPEARS THAT THIS IS SOME VERSION OF COMMUNICATION, AKIN TO MESSAGES RECEIVED VIA RAVEN. I CANNOT YET UNDERSTAND HOW SUCH THINGS ARE POSSIBLE, NOR CAN I UNDERSTAND HOW I AM EXPECTED TO SO ACCURATELY PRESS MY FINGERS TO SUCH PAINFULLY SMALL LETTERS ON THIS THING CALLED A "KEY BOARD."

[Ned is part of the Old Dads club; he has accidentally turned on his caps lock and has absolutely no idea how to turn it off, nor does he have any social precedent for understanding how hostile this makes him look.]

I AM TOLD THAT I AM IN A CITY CALLED WYVER, A NAME AS FOREIGN TO ME AS THE REST OF THIS IS. THE LOCALS HERE ARE NOT INCREDIBLY FORTHCOMING WITH ASSISTANCE OR INFORMATION, AND AS SUCH, ANYTHING THAT YOU MIGHT OFFER WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED.

THANK YOU FOR WHATEVER YOU MIGHT PROVIDE.

-- EDDARD STARK, LORD OF WINTERFELL, WARDEN OF THE NORTH, HAND OF THE KING

Comments

[learned_to_die]

A GOBLET OF ALE SOUNDS APPEALING. WHERE MIGHT I GO TO FIND YOU AND THIS BEER?

-- LORD EDDARD STARK, LORD OF WINTERFELL, WARDEN OF THE NORTH, HAND OF THE KING

[assholic]

Ye old tavern. There's a bar with a dragon on it near the Western end of town. First round's on me.

[learned_to_die]

YOUR KINDNESS IS DULY NOTED, THANK YOU.

I WILL ATTEMPT TO FIND YOU SHORTLY.

[Ned tucks the communicator away, venturing out into the town to try and locate the tavern Jessica has mentioned. He has his family's ancient sword, Ice, at his hip, and his clothing is that of Westeros - closer to the lighter leathers and linens he'd worn in the warmer King's Landing, as opposed to the heavy furs and pelts he'd worn at home. He feels a bit out of place, wandering about like this, but he doesn't pay it much mind. And, in due time, he locates the tavern marked with a dragon, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts.

As far as he knows, there are no Targaryens here. So strange, to see a dragon pried away from its duties as sigil.

Once inside, he gives his eyes a chance to adjust to the dimmer lighting, glancing about the place - until he realizes he has no idea what this Jessica woman looks like. Hopefully she'll be able to recognize him and his rather confused look.]

[assholic]

[It's everything all together that points the man who walked in as her target. He looked like someone that would not only type in all caps, but who'd sign their name after every goddamn text. The sword was a bit of a giveaway too, and she lifted her hand and waved over at him.]

Yo, Ned. Over here.

[She was at the bar, dressed as she usually was in light and worn blue jeans, black shirt, leather jacket, black boots, and her hair was down. There was rarely variety in her look. She had two beers in front of her, and she signaled to the bartender for two shots.]

[learned_to_die]

[... An interesting way to call his attention, to say the least. He glances about the place to look for familiar faces, good or bad, before making his way over to where Jessica is sitting at the bar. He eyes the stool for a moment before sitting himself down on the one next to her, adjusting the sword at his side which, because of its length, the tip leans out at an angle against the floor behind him.]

Thank you, for offering to meet with me. It is a kind and hospitable gesture.

[assholic]

[The man practically has 'FORMAL' stamped over every inch of his body. She gestures to the beer in front of the stool he took, picking up her own.]

Yeah, sure, hospitable. [Not a word she'd use to describe herself, but-] I'm going to guess you don't get out much...

[learned_to_die]

[Ned blinks, carefully wrapping his fingers around the glass of amber liquid in front of him. His brows stitch together slightly.]

I'm out now, am I not?

[assholic]

That doesn't exactly win your argument of 'much'. Not that I blame you. This is all kind of over my head. But if there's something to drink, I can probably handle it.

[learned_to_die]

Don't I receive some kind of leniency for having only just arrived? [There is mostly light-hearted teasing in Ned's voice.] How long is it that you've found yourself awoken?

[assholic]

Well, if I give you leniency, then I have to give everyone new leniency. That's too much.

[Look at that, she could tease back too.]

Not long. A few days? A week?

[learned_to_die]

Then, as a veteran of some indeterminate amount of time, I will hold you to the utmost standards. Seeing as you're unwilling to give leniency to newcomers, it seems only right.

[assholic]

Yeah, because clearly I'm the one with my shit together.

[She rolled her eyes at him, but there was a half-smile hidden there, and she sipped her beer.]

So, tell me all about this Handsy King thing.

[learned_to_die]

One could easily argue against that but, seeing as you've procured my first beverage, I will not, as they say, bite the hand that feeds.

[He takes a sip of the aforementioned beer and then lets out a quiet laugh.] Not quite the proper term.

Hand of the King .. a Handsy King is a rather different .. entity all together. The Hand is considered the second-most powerful position in all of Westeros, as he acts in the King's stead when the King - or Queen - is otherwise predisposed. The Hand is a member of the small council, listens to those with complaints and makes rulings and judgments with the authority of the King, and so forth.

[assholic]

So... it's like being the assistant manager. To a, what, country? Sounds like too much responsibility. I'll stick with being self employed and non-lenient.

[learned_to_die]

... I .. am unfamiliar with what that title is. Assistant manager?

The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, more specifically. It .. is a great deal of responsibility. [His tone suggests .. it was not what he'd had in mind for his golden years.]

[assholic]

Yeah. Look, see that guy?

[She pointed at the owner of the bar.]

He's the 'boss' of the place. That'd make him the manager. The guy under him who does all the shit he doesn't want to do or who handles stuff when he's not here, that's the Assistant Manager.

[learned_to_die]

[Ned's gaze follows Jessica's finger to a man, fraternizing with some patrons. There's something oddly reminiscent of Robert in him, with his .. large belly and wiry beard.

The explanation has him laughing again, rubbing at his eyebrow with his thumb.]

Aye, sounds like the lot of it. There's another saying, one far more crude and one I detest in almost every way, but it unfortunately rings true: "what the King shits, the Hand wipes." It seems it similar to the Manager and Assistant Manager here.

[assholic]

That's about the sum of it. Sort of fits with the whole 'shit runs downhill' motto that I have yet to see made a lie of.

So, you were the king's ass-wiper. And now you're here.

[learned_to_die]

[He exhales a sigh, tinted with a laugh that doesn't quite blossom into existence, as he glances down into the amber of his ale.] Aye, I suppose that's a way of putting it. Not a very pleasant way, but no less truthful.

[assholic]

I'd be willing to say that's a step upward in the world. You might almost be able to relax. Other than the whole destruction of worlds and all that.

[The last was said a little more quietly, Jessica still wary about pissing off the Orbiters when her sister was stuck upstairs in their control.]

[learned_to_die]

Might I ask you something? It may be forward of me, but I cannot help but be curious.

[assholic]

[He didn't seem the type to proposition her, so judging by the sword and the whole old-timey vibe he had, she had a feeling it was going to be more in line with 'where's your man' than 'show me your titties'.]

Shoot. See? So much leniency.