sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

WHO: Jon Snow
WHERE: Along the road; Margaery's home
WHEN: 9 September
OPEN TO: All - feel free to find him along the road in the village or at the inn dropping off the game he's killed.
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Open

Jon had spent the last several weeks with a certain routine: he awoke early and took to the woods when the animals were still grazing and hunted what he could. He never shot the first animal he saw because, in theory, if there were enough to be eating, he would see another and be able to take it instead. If he never saw another, it would be a good thing he hadn't taken the first. That had been one of the many lessons he'd learned from his lord father and he'd carried it with him to the Wall and now to this place.

Afterward, he would check his snares to see if anything small had wandered into the traps. He'd gotten lucky with rabbits, of late, and while the pelts were small, he still skinned them and saved them in hopes that there was something they could make from them. He knew that winter would come to this place eventually and none of the clothing that their captors had given them had seemed especially warm to Jon. There was no fur on any of them; how would they keep warm during the winter with no fur to line their collars or wrists?

After the work of the day was done, he would take his kills to the inn to be cooked and would spend much of the rest of the day surveying his own home for repairs. There had been a leaky roof that he'd had to patch with little in the way of supplies and Jon hoped that the ground wouldn't quake again and cause actual damage to the building itself. He had no tools to fix it and, truthfully, these homes were nothing like anything he'd seen in Westeros. He knew how to thatch a castle roof, yes, but these homes had something else entirely.

Come mid afternoon, he found himself wanting to check on the Lady Margaery. She had her own house some distance along the road away from his own and if she needed repairs, he imagined she'd be less suited to complete them than he was. It was with that purpose in mind that he headed out along the road, head bent, to see if there was something he might do for her.

It was an offer made of kindness, he told himself. Nothing more and nothing less.

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"Yes, Lady Kate," Jon said, giving her a smile in return. She's a lovely woman, Kate, and very kind. Jon always felt welcomed when she was around even if they'd never had a chance to truly sit and talk for anything more than a brief exchange of words.

"I've done well today. We'll be able to eat fine if you're up to helping me cook all of these."

Lady, he calls her, as if she's not poor, as if she's common as dirt. But he doesn't call her simply 'Kate', so she can handle a 'Lady' here and there. Even though she's not. Not one of those delicate, pampered flowers.

She'll correct him, one of these days. But she's trying to learn when to sheathe her tongue. When to press points. And...

And he's not being overly familiar. That's the important thing.

"Now, then, when am I not?" She teases. "I've even still got all the volunteers."

They'll eat. If she has anything to do with it, everyone will eat.

"Do you have time for me to borrow, Mr Snow?"

"I have ample time. Is there something you need my assistance with?" Jon wasn't certain why she showed him such deference in her speech, as if he was something more than simply the Bastard of Winterfell, but it felt nice. One of the things about this place was that everyone seemed to be on equal footing; his contributions were needed and his skills were appreciated.

"I never mind helping out, when the need arises. Simply point me where to go and I will be happy to help."

Kate would argue that it's not deference, but the everyday respect that every man and woman should be expected to have. Everyday courtesy. Then again, she would also argue that being illegitimate is no reason for people to look down on one, either. One of her sisters was so. Two more sisters had children with men not their husbands - are having, in the case of Maggie.

The sheer lack of deference in Kate's nature by be seen, in fact, should anyone call Jon a bastard. He's a polite young man who works hard. That's all she needs to know.

"I know, Mr Snow. You're someone I can rely on to turn up on time, with whatever it is in hand," she says and then hesitates. "I've had an idea, but don't know if it's possible.

Is it possible for you to catch live rabbits and bring them here? You see, I'm worried about the populations here. Us and them. If we could breed rabbits, then we don't have to hunt them. Although we'd also need somewhere to keep 'em, but. That's why I'm askin' you first. Can you think of a way?"

"I could rig a snare, I think," Jon said, mulling it over. "It would have to be a bit different than the normal ones, since I wouldn't want to kill it and only trap it. I will have to work on something and see if it works."

He paused for a moment. "I wouldn't want to make a mistake and give the poor creature a death that wasn't clean. That's cruel."

"No, I'm very much in agreement with you," she says, firmly. It's not an empty phrase. She's too much of a farmer, who has had to spend too much time in the bush and catching possums and the like for food, to stand needlessly messy deaths.

It's disrespectful.

It means the meat isn't as good, too, which is a consideration. But more than that, she abhors cruelty to those who've given their life so that she and hers might continue to survive.

"If it doesn't work, it... It'll be a shame, but it doesn't work, then it doesn't work. But our situation is precarious enough I think it's worth a try, if doable."

"I'll work on it," Jon assured her. "And if I can manage to get something working that allows me to catch them easily, I'll bring them to you. I assume you want matched pairs, yes?"

A pair would be necessary to breed them and Jon was uncertain just how many rabbits she'd like for him to catch; too many and they'd have trouble feeding them.

"Matched pairs, yes. Two, four rabbits. No more, I want t'see how this works first, and all goes well, we can breed them for the meat and the skins."

She's conscious of the food problem. Achingly conscious, trying to do sums conscious. It's always a balance, when farming. Food enough for everyone, food enough to get more food later.

At least animals can eat what humans can't.

"I'll bring them to you as soon as I'm able, Lady Kate," Jon promised. True to his word, a few days later, there were four rabbits left at the inn in a makeshift cage for Lady Kate's use.

Jon had brought them along with the game in hopes that he could help alleviate her worries about the food situation, at least for a while.

[Wrap?]

[Wrap!]

The rabbits are greeted with relief. Kate's been far from the only one worried about the sustainability of hunting, of the food supply. She'd even discussed rabbits with Mr Cougar, as a possibility. She'll head over to his house in a moment: he already has the chicken coop, it'll be a useful temporary shelter for the rabbits until they build something more extensive.

In a moment.

She kneels down, and whispers soft nothings to the rabbits for a moment. Thank yous, for all they won't understand it. She hopes the gentleness in her tone will calm them, at least a little.

The plan is to breed them, to kill, of course it is. The humans need to live. But as she'd agreed with Jon Snow, it's not done to be cruel.