farsickness | (no subject)

WHO: Jon Snow and ota
WHEN: end of August
WHAT: Jon goes exploring
WHERE: the forest around Gazin
NOTES: n/a

[Ramblin' Man]

It has been some time since Jon has had the opportunity to just enjoy the feeling and solitude of vast open spaces. First in the areas around Winterfell, and then later north of the Wall. The first time he'd felt truly at home was beyond the Wall, though that had been more because of the people than because of the landscape itself.

He has some time now, and the arrangements have been made. Originally he had planned to do some exploring with another person, one he hasn't seen around in days. Just because she's gone doesn't mean the original plan doesn't stand, though. So here he is, with the supplies he needs for camping away from home for a couple of days. Those supplies consist mainly of himself, his horse, a bedroll, a water skin, a knife, and his sword (he's heard stories). Some food can be hunted or trapped, the rest is tucked in his pack. Firewood can also be gathered.

At the end of the first day, once it starts growing dark, anyone else out and about in the area around Gazin might find themselves drawn to his fire (and the meat roasting over it), or perhaps someone might stumble upon man, horse, and fire purely by accident. However it is that he's found, come along and make yourself welcome.

[Oh Wyvern, What Big wings You Have]

He starts out again early the next morning, with no particular goal in mind. He's cautious, because he has heard about various creatures living in the area, but as it happens, he's not cautious enough. He's just packing up after taking a midday break to stretch his legs and allow both himself and the horse a chance to eat something when he looks up and finds himself face-to-face with a wyvern. It's a smaller one, by his guess not fully grown, which could mean that it's less of a threat but also means that its mother could be around somewhere, and running across her is a scenario he'd rather avoid.

He draws his sword, quietly, and grips it in his right hand. Then, for reasons he doesn't fully know, he extends his left hand in the direction of the wyvern, which is simply standing watching him.

There they stand, neither making a move, at a seeming impasse.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The smell of cooked meat called to her after a long day of work. Her back and arms ached, made all the worse by the heavy scent of food. Her mouth watered and her stomach gurgled painfully. With tired feet, she collapsed next to his fire, grinning at Jon with anticipation. "Share a bit of fire and meat with me?" It had been a few days since she had last seen him, but it wasn't a surprise to see he was faring well enough.

Jon was the reason she had survived this place so long.

Edited 2020-08-25 23:48 (UTC)

He's not that surprised to see her out here, and he doesn't mind the company. It's nice to have someone to talk to who isn't his horse. At least he won't be concerned to hear Daenerys talk back.

"There's more than I can eat, and he won't eat any. You're welcome to it."

"It has been some time since I have enjoyed something cooked over an open flame out in the wilderness." It was like traveling with the Khalasar again or sitting happily with Drogon, eating the horse meat he had roasted. It was actually charming that Jon didn't mind doing something something so far from majesty. Her husband wouldn't do this, Daario might, but it was pleasant to see Jon would be the same.

"Most nobles I know hate camping this way."

"I'm not most nobles." Because of his status as a bastard, for one thing, but also he's been getting the impression that things work differently in the North than they do in the more southern kingdoms. "It's not uncommon for the men of the Watch to camp like this. I've done it more times than I can count."

"I have heard of the Watch, but I can't imagine what it was truly like. The stories were of an honorable institution. Ser Jorah's father, I heard was leading them. Did you have the chance to meet him?"

"I've heard those same stories." Those stories, some of them told by his uncle, had been a factor in his choice to join the Watch. "It used to be an honorable institution. Now it's mostly a place to send criminals, rapers, bastards, unwanted or inconvenient sons. The Watch was created for a purpose, and over the years that purpose was forgotten, even by the brothers of the Watch. So it became something less noble, even if the stories still treated it that way."

He leans forward to add some wood to the fire. "Jeor Mormont. He was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. I was his steward."

It was something to file away in her mind, something that could be addressed when she took the Iron Throne. It wouldn't do to have such an honorable institution, one with such a rich history, run with limited hands and limited supplies. They took no part in politics, but it didn't mean she couldn't see to their needs. "What purpose was it?" She knew a little about Westeros History, but likely not as much as he knew.

"Were you? What was he like?"