farsickness | [OPEN] 🌿 And I see winter broken like lace

Lyanna feels a little like she’s come home, with the way Gazin celebrates. Bonfires and snowball fights and food, ale, games... it reminds her a great deal of Winterfell. Although their celebrations usually fell in autumn, before winter had come. A fur cloak around her shoulder as befit a Stark, she throws herself into snowball fights and building the largest snow Winterfell she can manage. In between she’s drinking ale by the fire. Until it’s time to set off again.

Polar bear plunges, hm? Well, if this isn’t something suiting the she-wolf of Winterfell she doesn’t know what is. Fur cloak swirling behind her, she strides over to towards the northern edge of the pond. With a smirk, she takes off the cloak, and almost all she wears, until she’s down to a simple tunic and trousers, boots kicked off.

Then she’s racing forward and leaping into the icy depths.

It’s bracing, and frigid... but she’s from the North, and there’s wolfblood in her, it’s nothing she cannot handle. The surface of the pond goes still for longer, and longer, as she gazes upward towards it beneath the water, holding her breath. Then, when she’s no longer able to, she swims upward, breaking the surface gracefully, grey eyes bright and her laughter filling the air. Once she’s back on land, she tosses wet hair over her shoulder and begins to dress.

Lady of Ice and Snow. She likes the sound of that.

Lyanna can be found at the inn most nights. But especially nights of the feast. It’s fun. Reminds her of home. A plate full of food, she spends more than a little time flirting and challenging people to drinking contests. Usually people who are bigger and broader than she is. It’s more fun that way.

Head tilted back, she downs her ale, before slamming the glass down on the table with a laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and arching an eyebrow in challenge across the table. Her current opponent looks at her blearily. “’m out, curse you,” he mutters, sliding gold across the table to her as the onlookers who had made wagers did the same. Grinning, she gathers her winnings and tucks them in a pouch on her belt. She’s done a little hunting, to earn herself and her brother some coin, but this is by far the more entertaining way to do it.

But for now it’s time for a break in challenges.

Edited 2020-12-15 03:20 (UTC)

Jon is no stranger to winter weather himself, and had been outside enjoying himself all day. Then he, too, had come into the inn for some warmth and some food, the tavern being a better option for the latter than his own quarters above the stables.

He has no interest in being roped into a drinking contest (after the first couple of rounds, he knows better anyway) so he stays well out of the way until it's over, not paying attention to much beyond the fact that it's happening.

Once the challenges end and the crowd around the table disperses, he's able to slip past and go up to the bar for a refill. But on his way back to his own table a stray elbow comes his way and he has no choice but to move sideways. He manages to stop himself just before running into her table and spilling his drink everywhere.

"Pardon me," he says as he looks over...and into a familiar face.

Lyanna looks up as someone almost runs right into her table, catching up her drink and looking up at... Gods, he looks like Brandon. It’s almost uncanny, how the stranger looks as though he could be a Stark. As though he could be family. It’s absurd; the only family she has here is Ned. It takes her a moment, to find her words.

“It’s all right,” she manages, the familiar sound of a Stark accent lacing her words. “It’s crowded tonight. A little jostling and stumbling is expected.” She indicates the empty chair on the other side of table. “You can sit down, if you’d like.”

"I've found that it's like this most nights." As tends to happen when alcohol is available in copious quantities. The addition of food has made the crowd larger and more rowdy. "If not quite this bad."

And when he speaks, she'll discover that he doesn't just look like a Stark. He sounds like one, too.

He pulls out the chair and takes a seat. "It reminds me of some places I've been back home."

His voice cinches it. He is absolutely a Stark, between the looks and the voice. A cousin, maybe? She knows Brandon has fathered his fair share of bastards but it looks like he’s her age, if not older than she is and that would be impossible, she thinks. “It definitely hasn’t been this bad, since I arrived.” Which has been a little bit, now. “But it’s nice.”

She grins at him. “Likewise.” It reminds her a lot of home, honestly. The whole area. Especially now, with the weather. The celebrations. And having Ned here with her, she couldn’t ask for more. She has missed her family so much. And now this... strange potential cousin of hers.

"Sure, if what you want is to fleece them." He's amused though, not scolding her in any way. She reminds him a bit of Arya, if Arya worked with ale mugs instead of daggers. At least this is less lethal.

"Nowhere will ever be quite the same as Winterfell though."

Lyanna is a little insulted, honestly, cousin or not. She’s not fleecing anyone. It’s not her fault that most of them taking her up on her challenge can’t hold their alcohol despite being bigger than her. It’s an honest challenge. “Or maybe I just like crowds,” she retorts, lifting a hand to get the bartender’s attention for another drink.

He all but confirms her theory, or so she thinks, with the mention of her home. Winterfell. There's no way for him to know it, unless he's a blood relation. Or something close. She grins at him because of it (despite the insult), attention turning just briefly away from him to take her drink, and to take a drink of it. “No. Winterfell is... something else.” It’s beautiful, her home, and she misses it fiercely. Even being with Rhaegar doesn’t ease the ache of how she misses it, no matter how much she loves him.

Edited 2021-02-27 17:09 (UTC)

As much as everything reminds her of home, it’s the hot springs that do it the most. Or at least the most consistently. Makes her think of the godswood in Winterfell, and the springs there. So she tends to... be drawn there. Especially on nights when she can’t sleep, with the snow falling silently outside.

She’ll need to find herself a horse, at some point, but for the moment she’s fine on foot, venturing out into the forest until she’s found the hot spring she was looking for. Clothing, cloak, boots, all end up in a messy pile before she finds herself standing at the edge of the pool. She loves Rhaegar, she does... but it hadn’t hit her just how badly she misses home, misses her family, until she’d been brought here. Until she’d seen Ned. She hadn’t realised... hadn’t thought...

Exhaling, a prayer to the old gods in her mind, she slips into the steaming water.

The hot springs had been a place where she often came to relax after the long day, seeking the warmth as she often had as a girl. It wasn't nearly as scalding as she preferred, but it was close enough. There were occasionally other people there as well, the place not entirely private, but she had yet to come across Lyanna. She had heard of the woman even before meeting Jon and Eddard Stark. How could she not, given how linked she was to their family's tragedy? She had wondered what the woman would look like, but most of her curiosity centered on Rhaegar himself.

She can guess the woman in the water is Lyanna, given her strong resemblance to both Eddard Stark and Jon. She is beautiful, as Dany imagined, but not exactly the sort that she imagined a war was waged over. But who could say what that sort of beauty would be like? It was always bigger and greater in the imagination and Lyanna had become more legend than woman after her death.

Dany watched her for a moment, deciding not to slip into the water just yet, mentally preparing herself for this conversation. "You are Lyanna of House Stark? My name is Daenerys. Rhaegar was my brother."

[CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE]

The rider from Lothalian drinks the hot mug the bartender passes him eagerly. It had been a chill journey. As he dethaws, he tells the news from the town.

"The creatures from the wood've been growing bolder. Or hungrier. They've always kept to Vasari, before. We've been driving them back, but we're no hunters. The worst, though, was this week. A dreadful mean boar goring our sheep and poor Shep's boy watching them. It nicked our best archer fierce, he's lucky he won't lose the leg."

The man glances around at those at the tavern. "Would you spread the word? See if anyone could send a hunting party to help?"

Ned meets Lyanna's eyes. He's been on plenty of hunts with his father and brothers. Lyanna, though...

Lyanna listens intently to the rider’s story, making careful note. Something will need to be done about the creatures. The boar, at least. The others might come later. But they need to find the boar. Which means a hunt.

Her brother looks at her and she knows what he’s thinking. She’s already nodding, though, leaning forward. “We can help,” she tells him. “My brother and myself.” Spoken with confidence in the both of them; Ned doesn’t know. Doesn’t know that she had been the Knight of the Laughing Tree at the tourney in Harrenhal. She hasn’t been on many hunts, but she can fight. And she can ride.

And she’ll be with Ned. Two Starks are a force unto themselves.

The Starks were certainly amongst the best-prepared to deal with a wild boar. And Ned will save the precise details of Lyanna's involvement in it for later, when they can speak privately about it, but for now, he just nods at her and turns back to the man.

"We have hunted boar before. They grow huge and savage in our homeland too. We will make sure it troubles you no more."

The rider's face fills with relief. "Thanks be. It's rooted up our gardens and dug up our truffles, and we can precious little afford to give up a harvest like that." Lothalian lived harvest to harvest, as Aella had explained to Ned, and they relied on the more rare commodoties grown in and near the forest to sell and feed their families.

Ned asks him some more particulars about the sightings, where exactly the last one was, who had seen it, how big it was, and the like. When he felt sure he had gotten all he could from the man, they take their leave, and Ned draws Lyanna towards a table in the far corner so that they can talk, with another mug of mulled wine for each of them.

"We will need more than just us," he says. "At least three, if our third is experienced. Your speed will serve well, but we will need a good hand at a spear or bow."

Oh, Lyanna knows. She KNOWS her brother is going to have something to say about her involvement in it and what part she might play, and she is going to have words right back. She’s not being kept out of this hunt. She has every intention of being right alongside him through all of it.

He draws her to a table in the far corner with another mug of mulled wine once they’ve gotten all the information they can from the rider.

“I hope my skill with a sword or a bow will count for something,” she replies. He doesn’t know that she was the Knight of the Laughing Tree... but maybe it’s time he learns. “As well as my speed.” Swords aren’t the best weapon for dealing with boars, but with Ned and another it will be fine. Or she can simply use a bow. “Do you have anyone in mind for our third?”

Ned feels like sighing but wisely does not. This was going to take some delicacy. He knows how Brandon would go about this, and he wants to do it exactly the opposite. Which will take some placating of his fierce sister.

"Certainly they count. I've seen your skill with a bow, and you are the best horsewoman in the North." Ned raises a brow. "You will need to stay mounted, and shooting from horseback is not easy. We can practice along the way."

He doesn't want her near the thing with a sword, much as she would probably like getting a whack in, but no need to mention that unless she insists.

"As for our third...I do, in fact." The other brow goes up. "There is another Stark here who may have experience." This is the strangest part by far to say, even after telling her that night after the tavern. "My...my son. Jon Snow. I think we should ask him to join us."

Oh, she will not be placated. She is going, and she is participating. Whether Ned likes it or not. (Or any of her brothers would.) She knows how her brothers feel about her... wilful, stubborn determination to fight and do the things that they do. As their equal. But Ned is the one who at least indulges her a little. He just might need a little convincing in this.

“If this boar is as dangerous as they’re saying, I don’t know that I want to risk Ice. We don’t know how our horses will react in the situation. It might be safer to be on foot.” If one of their horses startled and threw them, they would be in worse shape than if they started on the ground.

Lyanna looks at him, stunned. She hadn’t expected him to suggest Jon... or for him to say THAT about him. “Your SON?” She is... beyond shocked, and incredulous. This is Ned they’re talking about. He doesn’t... do that. He’s not Brandon, who has no doubt fathered more than his share of bastards. “He reminded me of Brandon.” He LOOKS like Brandon, more than he looks like Ned. But he is definitely a Stark. She just... thought he was her nephew by a different brother. Or something like that. “Are you sure?” She means that as much as ‘are you sure he’s your son?’ as she means ‘are you sure you want us to ask him?’.

[OPEN] 🌿 And I see winter broken like lace

🐺 Lyanna Stark

🐺 Making waves and diving under [Bonfires and Brews]

🐺 Unpredictable fortune [Feasts]

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🐺 Touch the moon up in the sky [Hot Springs]

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🐺 Winter event wildcard

Boar hunt

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