thekittenqueen: ([Margaery] Thoughtful (Concerned))
Mαɾɠαҽɾყ Tყɾҽʅʅ ([personal profile] thekittenqueen) wrote in [community profile] sixthiterationlogs2017-08-03 01:45 pm

"What lies beyond? What lay before? Is anything certain in life?"

WHO: Margaery Tyrell
WHERE: The Specimen Room
WHEN: Aug 16 - 29
WARNINGS: None I can think of.

White hot blinding light tore through Margaery's mind, jolting her out of bed and onto the floor. She pressed her hands to her eyes, trying to shut out the pain as flashes of images danced before her. The sweet images she had seen were gone, replaced by confusion and strange sights that turned her stomach. Her body seemed to spasm, the sounds of the forest clear and sharp against her ears. She was there, she could swear it. The warmth of the day surrounded her as the sun licked at her skin. She could feel Gilbert at her side, his barks echoing off the trees.

Flashes of green, brown and blue passed before, racing quickly as she followed a path. The route was obscured, but she felt certain she had seen it before. It was only when she came at the canyon wall that everything became a bit more clear. A quick succession of images passed, still but clearer than before. There was a cave in the wall, standing wide enough for someone to pass through. There was a strange room with glass walls. There was something resting behind them, but it was too bright to tell. As she tried to get a better look, everything disappeared and she was returned to her room, curled on the floor as she clutched her head. Despite the pain, one thought remained fixed in her consciousness:

There was something in the woods.


It was a ways to the canyon and there was a chance that she could get lost along the way, knowing how often the forest changed. She packed several supplies she might need, including food that could last her for several days, if rationed right. Gilbert would be at her side, big enough now to protect her against any creatures she might come across.

For extra measure, she left word with Sansa where she was going. Robb would worry and dislike her exploring the woods, but perhaps coming from Sansa, the news would be taken better? She left a note for Ned as well, asking him to tend to the animals and her garden while she was gone. There was no telling how long it would take.

Fear wasn't something she felt until she was much deeper in the woods and sounds seemed to be dulled by the brush. Each twig snap and rustle of the bushes left her unnerved. More than once, she thought there was someone at her heels, but brushed it aside as paranoia. Yet when the sun began to set, she became more than certain there was someone else nearby. Grabbing a fallen branch, she turned, holding herself ready in case something emerged, fangs and claws bared.

"Who's there?" She called out, Gilbert growling at her side. "Come out."
theintercessor: (hiding; scarf)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-03 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Little had guided Jude to the northern corner of the canyon but his hand on the wall, keeping him at its edge as he counted steps between landmarks. It's different today--or he'd simply miscounted, misremembered the last time he walked between one cave mouth and the next. He hasn't ventured far inside after the quake, less afraid of being trapped than chased back out, judging from the warnings left at the inn.

Cave-ins he understands; swarms of insects not so much.

The growling of a dog does more to put him at ease than alarm him, letting him answer the sudden voice easily. At the dip of the sun in the sky, he'd abandoned his trek along the wall, pointing himself in from it in hopes of finding either the village or the river. "Don't worry," he says, lifting the fronds of a fern out of his path as he comes into sight, "I'm not a badger, just out for a walk."
theintercessor: (come closer)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-06 03:51 pm (UTC)(link)
"I was counting steps," he says, and in the light going gold before it dives for the horizon, his eyes hood even as his hair lightens, falling in his face. The guarded posture narrows for curiosity, watching her pick her way immediately away from him.

It isn't strange to be questioned and forgotten, something more interesting than the answer catching someone's eye, but she's standing at a hole in the wall like she's been seeking it.

Jude shares a look with the dog, then checks how much of the sun is still above the trees. He doesn't know about her, but he hasn't brought a light. "If you're keen on going in," he says, following her over like it's a given to accompany her, "best get it done before the sun goes down."
theintercessor: (intrigued)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-10 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
"What," is his eloquent reply: there's time for little else before she's going, as dead set as she must have been on the trek out. That she's hardly dressed to explore a cave matches with the ridiculous string of words, reminds him of--mom, honestly.

You can say a crazy thing with all the conviction of it being true. You just have to believe it.

She seems ready to believe it all the way to the back of the tunnel. Jude only spares a final glance back to the trees--measuring the sun lowering behind the canopy, confirming that there is no one else out here. There's only him to follow, and make sure she gets back home when whatever this is winds down.

There's enough ambient light to follow her without running up her back, and he hovers with the dog between their shins. "Why would there be a room back here," he asks. "And why would you know about it?"
theintercessor: (facepalm)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-10 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
It's a lot to be confronted with at once, at the end of a long day in the sun, wandering the edges of the canyon. Already at the wane of his physical strength, the mental fortitude to deal with--visions; courtly, accented ladies; florescent lighting--

It just isn't there. Jude had followed out of rising concern. A woman alone in the woods, dusk approaching, talking about lights and vials in the walls. He'd gone into the dark tunnel expecting to coax her back from a dead end, or cover her escape from a cloud of bats or strange insects, the kinds of things reported on the board at the inn.

There's little on the board that sounds like this.

Reaching a hand up to the glass, for a moment Jude just stares at the harsh silhouette of it. It's been a month or more since he even saw this kind of light, and it's difficult to hold in his gaze. His pinky taps most visibly against the barrier, a matching throb in his throat, at his temple. There's a nauseating moment where the world just blurs white and whines, but he swallows and makes a fist, trying to force it back.

He's just tired. The world is not ending. Neither of them is crazy.

When the room comes into focus through the light, equipment sitting dim at the center and the cabinets holding counsel around it, he parses the color behind all the hard, glassy shines. "The others are full of blood," he says, mouth gone dry.
theintercessor: (dreaming)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-11 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
Her questions aren't just questions--they're requests, needs. She needs him to keep the focus he's found, even as the things he sees beg him to look away, not think about it. She needs him to think, identify, name the world behind the glass, even when his throat is closing.

This isn't the first time this place has been hard, or confusing, but it's the most overwhelmed he's been since the cave fell in on him. Since he came choking up out of the fountain. There's a rushing in his ears like the tunnel is flooding around them, that eventually fades back into the sound of her voice.

"It's," he starts, pausing to suck in a breath through his teeth. He turns toward her, feeling better putting a shoulder to the wall, even as he has to look back inside and inspect it. "I don't know what it means, but it looks like some kind of lab. Like a place they do tests, and that's--blood and hair. From people, and animals." The seeds don't mean much to him, except in the context of everything else. "That's some kind of computer in the middle, I guess, but it looks shut off. I don't get why it has lights when everywhere else here is dead."

Lifting a hand, he has to shield part of his face from them, the glare seeming to increase the longer he looks at it. Instead, he looks to the parts of the cavern wall that the glass disappears into. "It doesn't look like there's any way in, from this side."
theintercessor: (hiding; scarf)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-11 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
I don't want to go in there.

It's more than a thought: it's in his guts, it's hollowing his breastbone. Looking at that back door feels like staring down a leap from a waterfall, the dark of the lake barely reflecting the sun on the water below. The fear goes so deep he has to assume it means his very survival, maybe both of theirs. But there's no expressing it. Not to a woman, not to a stranger, not at his age. If he wasn't going to show fear at twelve he won't show it now.

"Why's it even here now," he asks instead, but the new line of inquiry doesn't assauge the panic. Looking at the way the glass sits behind the jagged edges of the rock wall, he could guess that the quakes shook it loose--but why the glass at all, if it had stone, if the rest of the walls are white and molded like something constructed? When he looks at the floor, the harsh light spilling out and casting long shadows back from their feet, there isn't enough rubble to imply some kind of shed-skin, some kind of accident. This is active, this has intent. All of this place has intent.

For a moment, the sharpness of that admission meets the sharpness of the light, and the moment Jude has been avoiding is upon him. They cut his strings: his nose fills with the smell of old coins and is replaced with damp stone, as every muscle in his body goes slack and there isn't time to make a noise before he pitches over. He hits the glass once and doesn't even bounce off, can't even put up a hand to stop it as he slides noisily against it, the whole thing taking his weight and making an ugly warble as it deposits him neatly on the ground.

There are long moments where the warble is all he can hear, the whine of lights that may or may not be audible to his ears. His vision is bright, then dark, the bright again, and his body is exactly where it was dumped. When control of it is returned, he uses it to find Margaery, giving her a look more stricken than any before.

He'd rather go through a hundred mysterious doors in a hundred caves, than be seen in a fit.
theintercessor: (facepalm)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-14 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)
For a moment he tries to flinch out of her grasp, but that's as telling as the look, as pitching over in the first place. Taking a breath, he gets his hands on the cave floor, gently shaking his head in the face of her worry, and hides behind the fall of his hair.

His mouth tastes like pennies, and he scrapes the roof once with his tongue before answering. "It's not--I'm fine. It wasn't them." That he can be sure of: he's fallen like that several times over the last eight years, but he can't imagine telling her that. Embarrassing as the lie is, it's easier for both of them if he just says, "I fainted, a little. Got light-headed, the harsh lights bother me."

Looking to the side, they're knelt right at the glass. It isn't what he wants to focus on to ground himself, so he looks back down at their knees, hands flat to the stone, Margaery's hand on his shoulder. When he feels closer to even, he asks: "You saw this, before coming here?"
theintercessor: (hiding; scarf)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-18 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
People faint for lack of water or food, for a rush of blood from the head--Jude takes the flask and drinks, but it's only another thing to ground himself with. He'd prefer passing out, to what it really is--still in his body, still awake, but completely out of control.

He is fine, though: his hand grips the flask, his mouth swallows the water. Once control returns, it returns in full, and it stays for weeks or months at a time before it happens again.

All he can do is keep his gaze low, avoiding the lights. Minimizing stress is beyond him, sitting in their glare, trying to understand how this woman could see a thing before it happens, and have it be something this ugly and strange. "What exactly did you see," he asks, wondering if there's more besides. Wondering if there really is a way to the door, and what they might find behind it. "Anything that we don't see here, now? Anything more?"
theintercessor: (intrigued)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-22 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
She wants to go--he wants to go, he's glad of the darkening woods as an excuse, less glad of his infirmity held alongside it. "I won't collapse again," he promises, though it's never been one he could keep. It also doesn't tend to happen multiple times a day--at worst, he might catch sight of something that isn't really there, and it's a relief to hear her list the things in the room. They're real. He doesn't want them to be, but--they're real.

Putting a hand to the glass, he stands up, and he makes himself look through it one last time. Beyond the glare of the lights. He takes in the number of coolers, counting them from one side of the door, then the other. The shape of the door, the placement of the equipment.

People will want to know, and if he can't tell them enough, they'll want to be shown. The more he looks now, the less he'll have to look later. "Tomorrow," he says, "when it's light again--we can put together a picture. From this and your vision. We can show the others."
theintercessor: (dreaming)

[personal profile] theintercessor 2017-08-25 04:15 pm (UTC)(link)
She had a point: they would have to wait out the dark to make it all the way back. Alone he might press on, ignoring or ignorant of the changing trees, stubborn and uncaring of how long it took, or where he had to go before the world would let him find the lights of the village again. But if she wanted to stop, he wouldn't leave her to fend for herself.

"I was just following the western wall," he says, shrugging off the simple solution. Anyone would think of that. "If this doesn't change, it'll still be along it tomorrow."

He hopes it doesn't change: if there's no proof of it when they return, no proof of her vision, they'll both look crazy. Jude will feel crazy, if this is the kind of thing he sees once and can never explain to anyone else.

When he steps away from the glass, his feet are steady beneath him, and he sighs once. One more look back at the room, just in case. "If we're needing daylight to set up a camp, we better go while we still have some."