sixthiterationlogs | [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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

[MINGLE] Color Coordination: The Announcement

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject