sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Color Coordination: The Announcement

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[MINGLE] Color Coordination: The Announcement

WHERE: 6I Inn
WHEN: Morning, 18 April
OPEN TO: ALL - This is a mingle post
NOTES: Details may be found here

In the often-bustling front room of the inn there sits a large, old-style chalboard on a wooden stand. Chalk is a precious commodity, but limestone can be found easily, and both sides of the board are often covered with notes and notices from villagers.

This morning, the board has been wiped clean and a much different message has appeared on its worn gray surface:

Jude Sullivan and Francis Mulcahy have been exposed to toxic spores and will slowly drown if a counter-agent is not procured.

A yellow lichen is needed. It only grows on a small stand of trees in marshland two days to the southeast. There is no other antidote.

The following people have coordinates for the lichen loaded into their wrist devices. Only they may retrieve it, and only if they work together. If anyone else attempts this, the expedition will fail.

Peggy Carter
Beverly Crusher
Jean-Luc Picard
Owen Prichard
Margaery Tyrell
Mark Watney

Hurry. Soon it will be too late.

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"You're not going." This was said at her shoulder, and in a low, dangerous tone as Robb's hand fell between Margaery's shoulder blades. "I don't care what these Observers say, if the plant is out there, someone else can find it just as easily as you. I'll go instead, or Jon."

He meant to sound as if the matter were settled, but the waver in his voice betrayed him. He'd seen how badly off Jude had been, and that had been days ago. They hadn't been truly punished by the Observers yet, but he recalled Lyanna's fear of it that night when they'd sat together at the dinner, how worried something so insignificant as switching seats had made her. They both had understood the way in which seemingly minor choices could ripple out and harm everyone around them. And this risk? It was so much bigger, and the instructions clearly explicit.

This was too much to discuss in front of everyone. Already she felt that she was bordering on the precipice of vulnerability, allowing others to get a sense of her fear and hesitation. The moment his hand was placed against her back, she found the strength to move again and gave his arm a tug, pulling him to the edge of the room.

She could breathe easier with this space. No one was surrounding her, pressing in closer and watching her face, seeing signs of her weakness. There was no warning about any of this, no glimmer of a vision. Since they had arrived in this new village, she hadn't had a hint of what was to come. It was strange how such a painful and difficult ability had become a crutch for her. Now, she felt smaller and more fragile than before. It wasn't something that sat well with her.

"You can't go in my place. We don't have a choice with this." And if Jude and Francis were truly sick, they couldn't ignore the orders. Their lives were at risk. "I think I have to go, Robb."

"I do have a choice," Robb sharply asserted, his voice raised before he caught himself, glancing swiftly at the other people in the room before looking back to Margaery. "If the intent is to find the plant and bring it back quickly, it should make no difference if someone goes in your stead," he added more quietly. "I cannot let you go alone. Surely you must see that. We've no idea what's out there."

But would they punish her if she failed to obey? Would they punish him, or someone completely unattached to either of them? Robb squeezed his eyes closed, his face going pinched.

"It's absurd, Margaery."

"It's not my choice," she offered. No one had noticed them, despite Robb's sharp tone and her inelegant escape from the crowd. Her hands held firmly to his arm, keeping herself steady as her thoughts raced ahead of her, whirring back to life. There was a trap, she knew it deep in her gut, but couldn't see or figure out what form it would take. "They set the rules and we have to play by them. If we don't, someone will get hurt."

The room felt so warm, everything closing in around her as the crowd seemed to grow. "There will be others with me. I'm not going alone." Her head felt light as she let out a deep breath, trying to reconcile herself to the idea. "If you go or follow me, the Observers said the expedition will fail. Jude and Francis could die."

But he was right and she wasn't about to ignore that. "It is absurd. It's frustrating and infuriating. They are toying with us again and we have no way to fight back."

She was correct, of course. The disadvantage was entirely their own; how much they were willing to risk was now a matter of degrees. Margaery could go as instructed and there was the possibility of she would return relatively unscathed. Or she could stay, and there was the possibility that Jude and the Father would die, drowning without any water. Generally, Margaery was better at cutting to the truth of a thing, but that didn't make the swallowing of it any more comfortable.

He reached for her, pulling her small body in against his own, one hand at her back, the other protectively against her dark hair.

"How am I supposed to let you do this?" he whispered fiercely against her ear.

She pressed her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, shutting her eyes and barring her fears from her mind. Nothing would make this better, no empty reassurances or insistence that she would be safe among the others in her group. She couldn't tell him how to let her go and part of her wished that he wouldn't, that he would keep her in his arms and refuse to let her disappear into the woods.

But that wasn't practical and there was no alternative, not if they wanted to save two lives. She could joke and tell him to accept it as another time that she doesn't listen to him, but the words didn't come. Her heart felt empty of such light hearted attempts.

"I don't know. We can't trust the Observers, but trust me. Trust that I will be safe. I will come back to you."

What other choice was there? None that his conscience would ever allow. Drawing a long breath, Robb straightened and took a firm hold of Margaery's hand. "Come with me," he said, and pulled her gently from the room, out the front door of the inn and toward the house he now shared with only his father.

"You need to be prepared. I'm going to give you one of my knives, and I'm going to show you how to use it," he said, face gravely set as he looked to her. "It won't be much of a lesson, but you're smart enough to remember it if the moment comes you need to."

She wasn't about to object. While she had a small idea of how to protect herself, a few tips picked up over the years, it wasn't enough for her to feel safe in the woods. "I have a blade." It had been picked out of the items left behind by the other villagers. The machete was a bit unwieldy though, Robb's knife would at least be simpler and easier to learn from.

"You will have to look after my animals and Loras." She murmured, though she knew he would do that without her prompting. For as brave as she was trying to be, there was still a moment where she wanted to pause and ask him to reassure her that she would be safe. "I have the best teacher," she said instead. "I will learn quickly."

"Everything here will be all right," Robb promised her, his hand squeezing against Margaery's as he led her down the path. "There are plenty enough people here even beside me who will make sure everything is well sorted. Now you need to focus on yourself, and making sure that you return able to take care of your animals and all of that again."

There was nothing about this he liked. Even as they continued on their way to the house, moving forward with what was necessarily the best and only plan, everything within him wanted to rebel at the very notion of what they were doing. But their hands were tied.

"It seems we have very little time, but I want you to at least know how to properly hold a knife and where to use it," he said as they made their way up the porch and into the cool shadows of the house.

It seemed silly to worry about, given what she was facing, but it was easier to think of the things she was leaving behind than what she might encounter. Her chores, her work, it was order in the face of the unknown. Better to hide behind that than let her panic take hold again. "I will need to pack some food and a blanket. It will be colder at night." And she was never one for the cold.

He was keeping his cool at least. The more faith he displayed, the better she felt about the entire thing. It wasn't a trip that she was looking forward to or would enjoy, but it was easier to hold to the idea that she would return, so long as he held it as well.

"I know where to stick a blade, Robb." She managed a smile and a nervous laugh, squeezing his hand in reply. She rubbed her arms as they made their way to the house, suddenly feeling the cold as the sun disappeared from her view. "Why do you think they chose me?"

"Do you?" Robb asked, not chastising precisely, but unconvinced. "I don't know why they've chosen you for this mission, Margaery. You're tenacious and intelligent enough to match anyone here. Whatever the reason, I aim to make certain that if you find yourself cornered and there's no tree to climb, you know to strike here," he said, lifting her hand and jabbing it toward his throat, "and not here." He shifted her hand to his chest.

"The breast bone is here, do you feel it? Very difficult to get through. Most knives will glance off. And an animal can last a long time with a gut wound." He motioned to his abdomen. "But if you cut its throat, it will be a messy business but you will live to tell the tale."

She thought she did, but clearly she was out of her depth. She knew he was demonstrating for her benefit, but even this was difficult for her. Simply pressing her hand to his breast bone was enough to remind her of what happened to him. Talking of death and blood was overwhelming, increasing her anxiety and already stoked fears. She pressed a kiss to his chest, pulling her thoughts back to the present, attempting to hold onto her sanity.

Her hands clutched his tighter. "I have never killed anyone before." For all of the things she had done, she had never actively sought to take someone's life. Even Cersei's. All she had planned was to banish the woman, but that had been an underestimation of her abilities. Death was a different realm, one that she never willingly crossed into. She wasn't certain if she actually could.

She was shaken, that much was clear, but Robb couldn't let his thoughts slide back to that dark place that had seen him delivered here. Not just now.

He reached a hand to cradle against Margaery's cheek. "And gods willing, you won't ever have to," he said, and then leaned in to press a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead. "I am only telling you all of this so that you are better prepared if the worst should happen," he added as he leaned back again and leveled her with a look. "Stay with the others, particularly anyone who can fight. Don't go off by yourself, not even—" He halted, brow pinching. "Not even to relieve yourself. Let Beverly escort you."

Every touch, every brush of his skin held her together, as though he were a strong thread pulled through her. So long as she remained on her feet and drew breath, she could make herself believe that she would return to this. She leaned into his touch, letting out a soft sigh as he kissed her brow.

Even if she stayed with the others, she knew how easily the forest could shift and change. It was possible that if she fell asleep, she could wake up alone. "I will stay with them." For as much as was in her control. "It should only take a few days. I won't take any unnecessary risks, I won't wander off and I will have a care whatever I do."

There remained an underlying uncertainty to Margaery's voice, but the words themselves were strong, and Robb nodded. "You'll be all right," he said, as much for himself as for her. "If you're careful, you'll be all right."

He pulled her in again, a hand lifting to stroke against her hair. "Would you like to try with an actual blade? To practice?" They had precious little time even for that, but the party could wait an extra few minutes.

Every second was important. It could mean one more lesson that would keep her alive, one more word that would offer her the edge during this journey. But even in knowing that, her body didn't want to move from his arms. He was warm and safe, the last she'd have until she returned from collecting lichen.

Despite herself, she pulled back and nodded, steeling herself as she had that first day she had walked into the Red Keep to betroth herself to Joffery. The likelihood of survival and success would be determined by her ability to cut away from her fears and uncertainty. She had to trust instinct and instinct told her to practice.

"Show me."

"All right," Robb allowed, glad enough that she was open to a bit more practical experience, even if it seemed a flimsy bulwark against what she might face out in the wilderness of this strange place. He stepped quickly to his room and retrieved one of the blades he had there. It wasn't what he might have liked to give her, nothing so fine as what might have come from Mikken's forge, but it was sturdy and had been well-sharpened.

"Here," he said, returning, a leather belt in hand as well. "I've no sheath, but you can carry it closely on your belt," he added, and looped the leather firmly around Margaery's waist. "There are cuts here, do you see?" He pointed to a place where he'd cut two thin, parallel lines in the leather. "It should hold the blade well enough, but have a care it's secure."

Elegance and finesse didn't matter against survival. The blade looked as though it could pierce through anything and she had seen her share of weapons over the years. It would serve at least, though she had no desire to use it. It was a precaution, she had to remind herself. Something to ease his mind and her own.

She nodded, attaching it to the belt before fiddling with it to ensure it was attached. "Like this?" Her eyes met his, seeking a glimmer of approval. She wasn't a warrior and knew that her life had inadequately prepared her for this. Her inability to cope with the winter had made it clear, but she could at least attempt in this case to be the sort of woman that Robb could be proud of.

"That's perfect," Robb promised her with a nod. "Practice drawing it during the journey so that you get used to it. Take time to hold it, get used to the feel of it so that if you do need to use it, you're familiar with the weight of it and how it feels in your hand, all right?" There would likely be little enough else to do on the long walk ahead of her.

Stepping around behind her, Robb guided Margaery's hand to withdraw the knife from the belt. "Hold it firmly; it can get knocked away easier than it may seem. Like this." He folded his hand over hers over the hilt. "Always hold it so that the blade is facing up and out. If you're holding it this way—" He reached to spin the knife around so that the blade was downward. "One unexpected knock and you could end up injuring yourself, do you see?"

She nodded, though she wondered if she would remember during the actual hike. There would be so much in her head that it would be easy to forget what she should be doing in favor of what would be making her worry. Still, she would do her best in this case, as it would likely be her only guarantee of survival.

His touch, as always, grounded her. She didn't resist his help, allowing him to ease her hand into the right grip or urge her into a better stance. She followed his instructions and did her best to commit them to memory. "I do." He could at least make thing clear and not over complicate things. "And you said to aim for the neck instead of the chest."

"That's right," said Robb, shifting his hands up to squeeze against Margaery's shoulders. He wanted to sigh in dismay, to pull her in tightly again, but if she was going to face this, she needn't add worry for him into the mix.

"In the end, my love, just do what you can if you must," he continued instead, and pressed a lingering kiss to her hair. "By the gods' grace, you'll need to draw the blade for nothing more than cutting your meat."

Time was ticking, he knew, and he swallowed roughly before spinning her carefully around to face him again. "Send a message each morning and evening, yeah?"

He was holding his fears together as well as she was, barely contained and lingering beneath the surface. She knew they were both trying to be brave for the other, which might be amusing were this any other time. She was no warrior and going into the woods might amount to a death sentence, if she wasn't careful.

She cupped his face between her hands, quickly cementing his features in this moment to memory. She could at least hold this and let it warm her heart during the long, sleepless nights. So long as she kept him in mind, she would fight to return.

"I will," she promised, pressing a kiss to his lips. "It shouldn't take more than a few days. Keep watch for me and look after Loras."

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[MINGLE] Color Coordination: The Announcement

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