Through the woods we ran [February catchall]

[ulfur]

Who: Ned Stark and open
When: February
What: monster-hunting, horse-racing, drinking, and other wholesome family activities
Where: Gazin, Vasari forest, various towns
Warning(s): drinking, will update as needed



Ned Stark is no stranger to winter. He revels in the coldest months, the blankets of snow that fall and the fierce winds that whip at his face. It does nothing to keep him from roaming the countryside, exploring alone or with companions. Everywhere he goes, the grey dun stallion he has bought comes with him. Ned had considered other names than the one the horse had come with, but he found none better suited to the sleek, intuitive creature than Pantheon, and so Pantheon he remained.

During the deepest months of winter, it has become harder and harder to find resources to gather and sell, animals and monsters to hunt. Ned takes up what work he can find. Saving every penny, living off the land when he can. He wants a piece of property that he and Lyanna can call their own. If their purpose here is to be any significant length of time, he wants a home they can always come back to.

And so every time he rides through Gazin, he keeps an ear out for any land for sale, perhaps one with a house already built that could be added on to. It can be well outside the city, somewhere affordable but with good land for planting and perhaps raising their own livestock.

And every so often in his adventures, he crosses paths with someone who turns an ordinary day into a memorable one.

[OOC: starters below or snag him anywhere that suits.]

Comments

Juliel

[ulfur]

It is a fine afternoon, sunny and crisp, the snow cleared from the roads. Ned has taken his time riding into town, breathing in the perfection of the winter's day. On the outskirts of Gazin, coming from the other direction, there is another horse and rider. As they approach, Ned recognizes the face and figure of the woman seated so finely in the saddle. He smiles.

"Juliel," he calls, a hand raised in greeting. It has been a while, but he had memorized her features by firelight more than a few times. "I see you've acquired some transportation for yourself. What a beauty." Is he talking about the horse or the rider? From his shy grin, it's hard to tell.

[bowvahkiin]

She had managed to save up enough to finally buy the horse she had her eye on. The moment the reins were passed to her and the deal was struck, she was eager to steer Night Mother towards the open fields. That familiar companionship and trust that was so essential linked them, letting her feel as if a vice was removed from her lungs. Yes, this was how it was supposed to be for her.

She was so absorbed in testing the horse's speed that she nearly missed Ned. She slowed Night Mother, pulling round to circle Ned, not wanting to come to a complete stop. "She's a fierce creature, which is all the better. The stable hand tried to warn me she bit him a few times, as though that was a deterrent. Fury and speed tend to go together."

[ulfur]

The speed had caught his eye, and the fierce fine lines of the horse, and the perfect seat of its rider. Ned is struck. Pantheon, beneath him, gives a little snort and pulls at the reins to face the newcomer, not wanting this strange black mare to be behind him. He, too, senses the bite in her.

Ned gives him the turn, which lets both of them take in the sight of lady and horse together. "You make a fine pair," he comments. "Both fierce creatures." Something about it reminds him of Lyanna, the finest horsewoman he knew back home. Except that his feelings for Juliel, the admiration that shines in his eyes, are not very brotherly right now.

"Are you sure you can handle so much ferocity?" It is a tease, almost a challenge.

[bowvahkiin]

"I think I can manage." She gave Night Mother a pat, looking down at the creature with pride. It would be strange to have a horse that was only docile and gentle. Where was the fun in that? The chance to race, to explore without fear, that would be taken away by a quiet horse.

"Ferocity means she's faster than any other horse in this land." Which she would be glad to prove. She had to laugh, "You flatter me. I like to think that I can match anything given to me." Though Ned, she wasn't sure she would call him "fierce." He was a wolf without a doubt, that much was clear.

"How about a race?"

[zichen]

He is practicing riding on a horse - a mare that matches him well with a coat of black - however he is far more accustomed to walking on foot! Feeling something alive beneath him, carrying him is a strange experience. Thankfully his mare is gentle and she listens to his guidance well. Xue Yang had found a good match for him.

Zichen brings her to a halt when he sees Ned, rubbing a hand over her neck to dispel any anxiety. Perhaps he is also comforting himself. She does have a soft coat.

"Greetings." he isn't a loud or boisterous man - far from it. Song Zichen is a thoughtful and quiet (unless he is provoked into a rage) man who rarely (if ever) raises his voice. His sword (Fuxue) rests against his back and his robes are that of a Cultivator (should Ned have encountered Cultivators before). He is wearing a cloak too with a hood lined with fur to stave off the cold weather.

"Where are you going? I could get you there faster."

Before Xue Yang, he would have never offered. The thought of another touching him had sent him into a panic. But he can control his fear now and give aid without hesitation.

[ulfur]

The quiet impresses Ned, who was known among the Stark set as the quiet wolf, more than any more bombastic manner. He turns to look at the man who approaches and the equally gentle step of the mare he rides. Ned has never seen a Cultivator before, but the fur-trimmed cloak reminds him of home.

He reins in Pantheon, the spirited grey dun he rides with practiced grace, and comes to stand before both horse and rider. The young man from the North nods at the newcomer. "Greetings. I ride east, to seek more fortune near the Oren Trench."

Grey eyes narrow at the man. Not in suspicion, but curiosity. "Faster? How? We are both on horseback, and Pantheon here is fast." He rubs his own horse's neck. The stallion is more slender than the war horses back home, but he supports Ned's muscled weight just fine and moves far faster than the Westerosi destriers Ned has always ridden.

Arya

[ulfur]

The rewards were too tempting to pass up. Alchemists' shops offering gold for basilisk teeth, eyes, venom. And the best prize of all, basilisk eggs, which were worth ten times the other components combined, for a basilisk raised in captivity could be domesticated and bred to guard its master's treasures. They were highly sought after, exceedingly rare, and excruciatingly dangerous to come by.

Naturally, Ned had done his research. Learned all he could about the creatures, from books and stories the locals told. Analyzed the best strategies. Acquired all the theories and necessary tools for hunting. And, finally, struck off for the caves by the edge of the mountains to the east, where the creatures were rumored to be returning, nesting for early spring.

Pantheon's snorts are the first clue. The jagged bits of stone by the road, forming shapes too deliberate to be natural, are the second. And the scorched earth near the entrance to this particular cave makes the third. After a week of riding along the edge of the trench, investigating cave after cave, this is a victory. Pantheon is not very enthusiastic about being tied up half a mile from the sight, but he submits to it, and Ned is reasonably sure that is far enough away. If he has to, he can sprint for four minutes to him.

He is prepared. His full leather armor, silver-tipped spear, mirror, lantern, shield, and a satchel of various gear including a bottle of weasel musk he'd caught and brought himself to the tanner to acquire. Taking a deep breath, he slides into the cave's entrance and pads into the darkness.

[ylgr]

Lyanna likes Gazin. Yes, arriving there was strange, but there is a freedom here that she could never have in Westeros. Even with Rhaegar, there hadn't been this sort of freedom. And she has her brother beside her again. Gods, she's missed him. So very much. She should have told him, should have let him know what she was doing before running away with Rhaegar. She knows that now. But she knew he wouldn't approve, she was betrothed to one of his dearest friends, even though she hadn't wanted that (their father had, though, and that was all that mattered). She'd been caught up in the romance of it all, caught up in her love for Rhaegar, and she hadn't thought. She'd been rash. Impulsive.

But she knows better, now.

She knows that sooner or later, they will probably return home and she'll once more be parted from him. So she is enjoying being together with her favourite brother again. For however long it might last.

And she is enjoying the freedom she has. Being able to come and go where she wishes, when she wishes. See who she wishes. Kiss who she wishes. (She loves Rhaegar, yes, but they're not yet married. And he isn't here. She's alone, a world away from the man she loves. Why shouldn't she enjoy what has always been denied her while she can? Somewhere where it's safe. Where nothing will come of it. Where it won't harm her family's name.) Able to drink, and fight, and ride as she wishes

And ride she does. They've earned gold enough to afford horses for the both of them, and the moment she saw her she'd fallen in love. Known that she was the horse for her. A horse as spirited as she. She named the mare Sona. It means snow in Valyrian, and it just… suits. Both the horse and Lyanna herself. She rides as often as she can. Hunting, doing odd jobs, gathering resources to sell, doing what she can to earn gold towards the Stark homestead, here in this world. A second Winterfell.

She's cantering through the forest when she spots a familiar horse and rider, and, grinning, she nudges Sona into a gallop to catch up with her brother.