001 ][ One of these days the sky's gonna break

[littledhampir]

WHO: Rose Hathaway
WHERE: Fountain. ???. Inn
WHEN: 16th - 19th
OPEN TO: Open To All: As for arrival things, happy to play either the actual coming through the fountain or if you’d prefer to handwave that and have had your character take in a drowned rat for a night? I’m down.
WARNINGS: Detailed below because there’s potentially quite a few...

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A NOTE

The following may contain references to suicide, death, kidnapping, drugs (in the pseudo sense), biting/blood drinking and other hideous things you’d expect when referring to a character who has been held against her will by a stalker/vampire. Most of this isn’t likely to be openly discussed, but could still come up in the body of a tag. If you’re canon blind and are curious enough to want a little context as to what Rose was doing before arriving in 6I. You can check this out. Just be aware it contains… all the aforementioned trigger warnings.

Fountain

November 16th

( And everything will escape, and I'll know )

???

November 17th

The light that attempted to tease her eyelids open was Rose’s only proof that she hadn’t dreamt her escape. The painful ache of every muscle in her body, further proof she hadn’t dreamt what had led to it. Fragments of memory tried to push their way to the forefront of her mind but the unfamiliarity of the bed she found herself in was a welcome and comforting change. She wanted desperately to cling to that illusion of safety, even if that made her an idiot. The only thing that mattered was that she’d escaped. That she’d ended it once and for all. That she was no longer the personal chew toy of her murderous ex.

Like trying to return to a dream after consciousness began to creep in, the more Rose tried to suppress those memories, the easier they came back to her, flashes of unfamiliar faces taunting her as the warmth of the bed became a point of concern. She’d been wet, waterlogged hair and clothes plastered to her skin, the weight of a backpack threatening to drag her into an icy grave.

“Stay back!” The sound of footsteps drawing near, interrupted her spiral of thoughts, Rose gritting her teeth against the throbbing pain of her ankle as she bolted upright and pushed herself back against the headboard, instinctively reaching for the first thing she could get her hands on.

“I’m armed.”

Words that would have been menacing if not for the fact that her weapon appeared to be a pillow.

The Inn

November 18th & 19th

Having spent most of her life in the mountains of Montana, you’d think Rose wouldn’t have an aversion to the cold, but after arriving in a fountain in the middle of an ice storm, exploring this place while e that was still raging outside, was the last thing on her mind. If she were smart, she’d be taking the time to rest her ankle and allow herself to recover but smart just wasn’t a word that many people would apply to the brunette in question.

Exploring the Inn was something she could manage, even if she was struggling with putting one foot in front of the other and she can be found snooping through various parts of the place, even areas she probably shouldn’t be. Rose is not the most social in circumstances such as these; in a foreign place with a bunch of strangers she’s not sure she can trust and while she needs help in understanding her situation, she’s really not big on the whole, asking for help thing. She’s not even good at the whole, letting people help her thing either so that’s hardly a shock.

She is a new face and despite the dark cloud that comes with feeling uncomfortable and unsure of this place, she at least manages not to look like she’s about to start a fight with somebody. Unless of course, she catches you staring at the wounds on her neck.

[the dire wolf collects his due while the boys sing 'round the fire]

[learned_to_die]

WHO: Eddard Stark
WHERE: Around the village
WHEN: November 16, the beginning of the ice storm
OPEN TO: OTA!
WARNINGS: Will update as needed

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The steadily dropping temperatures has filled Ned with a certain vigor, one he has not felt for quite some time. He has yet to experience a winter within the village, and while he has come to expect short and fleeting seasons here, unlike the seasons of Westeros, he cannot deny anticipating the frigid temperatures with which he's so intimately familiar. He will therefore enjoy the impending winter as deeply as he is able, for long as he is able.

It is in the early morning hours, when the village is still cloaked in darkness, that Ned is stirred awake by the sounds of rain pelting the roof of the cabin. No, it must be something harder than rain, given the noise and percussion of the sound; perhaps ice? He thinks to check on the others but, as he always is, he is concerned with being too overbearing and too meddling with their lives. None of them are children any longer, and though he does not anticipate having his usefulness wear out with them, he does not need to treat them as though they were still the children running around the yard at Winterfell.

He attempts to find slumber again but finds it impossible with the noise. He goes to the window to glance outside and, indeed, it seems as though ice is falling and crashing against all that lay on the earth. He busies himself until first light, donning the Westerosi outfit he'd received as a gift some time ago, as well as the heavier of the two fur-lined cloaks he'd also received as gifts. Quietly, he slips out of the house and out into what feels like a transformed world.

The village he knew as of the night prior has been turned into a wintry, sparkling land reminiscent of the North - the trees cocooned in layers of ice, the rain and ice falling from above. There is a particular smell in the air that always follows these colder, more frigid conditions, and if he closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nostrils, he can almost convince himself that he's been transported back to the Godswood.

The thought of it reminds him of the small Weirwood sapling just south of the cabin and, after checking on it, he decides that perhaps he should build some sort of shelter for it, to protect it from the dagger-like ice.

He can be seen wandering about the village, checking the inventory at the Inn, trying to figure out a way to shield the small, white-barked tree from nature's harsher elements.