farsickness | (no subject)

WHO: Jon Snow
WHEN: The first few days of the month
WHAT: Arrival and settling in
WHERE: Around Gazin
WARNINGS: Just blood for now but it's Game of Thrones, who knows what might come up

[Arrival]

This wasn't exactly what Jon had meant when he wished that he could be somewhere else -- he hadn't enjoyed being in the middle of a battle against a seemingly endless army of the dead, but he knew that he had to be. All of Westeros was depending on the outcome.

It had been a throwaway thought in the face of impossible odds, and then here he was, staring at a sign labeled "Gazin." He has never heard of such a place, but then, he's never been outside of Westeros. There must be a lot of places he's never heard of.

What a sight he must make -- sword drawn, his face and armor covered in dirt and sweat and even some blood. His immediate vicinity is deserted. There's no one to give him any answers, or any other indication of where he is or how he got here. There's only one thing for it. He sheathes his sword and heads in the direction indicated by the sign, in search of someone who can provide some answers. Or a stream to wash off the grime. He's not picky.

[Around town]

He's been here long enough to have discovered that in many ways, this place is similar to Westeros. Similar enough that it hadn't taken him long to get used to the place, anyway. He has also discovered that living as far North as he did in Westeros, he had missed out on things, like markets and taverns. Even the life he would have had without Robert Baratheon's meddling wouldn't have been of those sorts of things -- it would have been sheltered for different reasons. But here, freed from all of that, he can live the life he truly wants to live. Whatever that life is.

Right now he's enjoying that freedom and lack of responsibility by wandering through the town, going wherever his feet take him, before ending up in the tavern at the end of the day with a pint of mead. He's not relaxed enough however to go around unarmed; he's got a sword at his hip and a knife tucked into his belt.

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She lifts the knife, testing the weight in her hand. She had managed something like this once or twice before, but she was in a different form then, far from herself. Now, it didn't seem like such an ordeal to handle the blade, even if she doesn't know what she's doing with it.

"You still need to learn how to protect yourself, even if the blade is small and durable." That just went without saying. "I guess any form of protection is better than nothing, even if you don't know what you're doing."

"You could find someone to show you how to use it. It would be less involved than learning how to use a sword." And then she'd be able to protect herself until she learned how to use a sword, if she wanted to do that too.

"I could, though I take it they will want to be paid?" That was how this worked right? She would have to trade for the commodity and knowledge. "Unless you offered to teach me? You seem to know your way around a blade."

"I do." One of the advantages of his childhood. He might have been a bastard, but he was raised in one of the great Houses and given the same instruction as the trueborn children. "I would be glad to teach you."

"Thank you," she offered out his dagger to him. She would have to find one of her own, but first she needed to find a way to earn money. Bartering and trade didn't seem to be the way here. "It will be needed here, I think."

"You're welcome." He takes the knife and returns it to its spot safely tucked into his belt. "It's best to be prepared, whether it's a necessary skill here or not." He knows this place isn't Westeros, but he's not ready to get rid of his caution yet. They know nothing about this place, or who's in charge of it.