agogelogs | [OPEN] The Glass Spider Had Blue Eyes Almost Like A Human's

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[OPEN] The Glass Spider Had Blue Eyes Almost Like A Human's

WHO? Jon Snow, Ghost, and... maybe you?
WHAT? Spider-time Training, Fish Exploration, Direwolf Meet and Greets, Birch Story Grind Sessions, etc.
WHEN? Backdated into late March and forward-dated up to the launch of the Jhashch Mission in mid-April.
ANYTHING ELSE? This network post. Also, everything is OTA whether or not I marked it OTA, unless it's very specifically marked closed.

[For those who haven't met him: Jon is of middling height, slender and well-muscled, with longish, curling black hair and warm dark eyes, sometimes lively and sometimes sad. He speaks with a broad and pronounced Northern accent, which in real-world terms sounds like an English accent from Yorkshire or thereabouts.]

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"You look charming all the time. I'll do what I can to teach you, but I'm no dancing master."

He has been, in effect, a master-at-arms by default, and he's not bad at teaching if his student is willing to listen. Dancing and fighting are very different, but teaching them is less so than it might seem at first glance. It may be possible to get her to a point where she can acquit herself well.

"I danced when I was a boy, but I didn't really want to." An offhand comment, and he follows it with a delicate poke to her midsection, almost a tickle. "Might be that someone makes me want to dance."

The start of a smile. She would rather reach up and tug him down to kiss him properly for that comment. Charming all the time. Her king is the charming one, and he doesn't even realize it.

"You need to be light on your feet for dancing and fighting, I imagine?" It's enough to ease her ire, drawing her back into a more amicable state. "That's how I felt whenever I watched my armies."

Unconsciously, she fidgets under his poke. Lifting her chin, meeting his gaze, glitter and all, she lifts her brows. "Should I be grateful that someone inspires you enough to teach me?"

"You do. Or at least... aware of what you're doing, until it's second nature to you. You want to fall when you're swinging a sword even less than you want to dance. Although now..." He pauses, frowns at her for a moment. "Now it seems like they're almost the same thing, if you can be killed for putting a foot wrong in the dance."

He doesn't say that it reminds him of stories of the Mad King... doesn't attach it to any Targaryen at all.

When she raises her brows, he replies, "It's not about gratitude. Or -- I'm as grateful to her." A long moment while he holds her gaze, and he sees something roll into his peripheral vision.

"But we'd better get back to dancing before there's more glitter. Take my arm -- just wrap your hand lightly, no need to hold it tight."

"Mistakes will occur." She doubts Grothia would allow someone so ill prepared to attend this sort of mission. "It's how one recovers, I imagine, that would also dictate how the Day-Ones react. You are a king. You are the Warden of the North. All of the positions you've held speak of strength and power. Emulate those."

She meets that gaze, her eyes warm and soft. But soon the moment is broken, and she's doing as he suggests, curling her fingers around his arm, grip light, as she steps closer to him. More glitter falls.

"Viserys never had reason to teach me." Suffice it to say, she doubts he ever learned. "Nor were there many reasons for the Dothraki to follow a formal dance."

"It's strange to have them think I'm low, but to have to act like I think I'm high." He says this conversationally, without too much dubiousness. "Couldn't do that growing up. It seems like the opposite of knowing your place.

"Now take three quick steps. Stay light on your feet. Start with this one." The one he's tapping forward so she can emulate it.

"You know perfectly well your place." That she has no doubt, and so it's spoken with confidence and no hint of waiver in her voice. "We couldn't do many things growing up."

She understands him, the necessity of remaining near invisible, knowing your place. Glancing down, watching his foot, she looks back up and attempts to follow his instruction.

"The point, however, is that you have authority and power. Embrace it, if nothing more than for the people you fight to protect."

He shakes his head slowly.

"I know I do. I also know that they don't really exist here. -- Keep your step light: this looks like walking, but it isn't.

"I did more growing up than you could have." The fact that he's trying to teach her to dance is a demonstration of it. "And I can't say that I think it's bad that I'm not in command here. It's -- "

He doesn't finish the sentence, opting instead to do a few little bouncing steps. It's a relief.

"It does exist." The heel of her boot scuffs on the floor, and she huffs in annoyance; still, she moves as if she hadn't just stumbled and failed to follow his instructions. "Our people need us, even here. And there are those here who need people like us."

The bouncing steps earn him a furrowed brow. This is ridiculous. But she still tries, not lifting her feet as high as they should--as high as he demonstrates.

"...Even if we're not in command." A strange concept, but ruling in and of itself was difficult. Here, she can enjoy her time with him. "We've unique experiences which proffer us advantages."

"Advantages? -- Get those feet up. From what I remember seeing, your leg should be almost straight. But not quite straight."

He holds his leg out to demonstrate what he means.

"When we went to Mal Tepe, I didn't fight. A lot of people got hurt."

"Yes, advantages." She huffs, but does as he demonstrates, determined not to be 'consumed' again. At least she's showing a willingness to learn from him? "Such as on the battlefield, in politics, as authority figures. Inspiring others. You don't believe yourself valuable for these things?"

It took her time to accept this, but she's seen the way some turn to her, as if they'd been cast adrift until she'd caught their hand.

"People might've died, had you not been there at all."

"People died anyway," he points out flatly, though he takes her meaning. He doesn't know how much his own bearing or ability to speak and to press a point helped them with Ataturk. Maybe a little, maybe not at all -- he wasn't the only one there, and the Turk had mostly listened to them soberly, giving away little. Jon doesn't know which element made the strongest impression.

"It's not that I don't think there may be some value in it, or that I'm not concerned with the morale of my men, it's that I'm not sure that sort of thing has happened here."

He steps lightly onto the opposite foot, putting his weight only on the ball of it. "Like this, next."

"How many additional deaths did you prevent?" Her look is flat and unamused. A touch impatient as well. Any of them could die at any second. When Base collided onto this... creature, they could have died. The risk is everywhere they turn. The goal, however, is to try and reduce the number of casualties.

Onto the ball of her foot she goes: tentative as she watches him, then leaning into the step. The droid stays back, seemingly contented with whatever progress this might be considered.

She, on the other hand, wonders. Is this what their life will be like back in Westeros? Him teaching her the steps to dance while they discuss problems in the realm and attempt to find solutions? She looks up to him, eyes darting back and forth as she takes in his features, trying her hardest to ignore the swell of want, the sudden and odd breathlessness the thought creates.

"Even one person makes a difference."

"I don't know. As a group? Maybe all those men at Lone Pine." But whether or not I really contributed to that, I can't say. He doesn't press the point.

He watches her move, and it pleases him to see her picking up the steps... maybe more easily then she thought it might. He smiles a little. But when her expression turns strange and her eyes dart back and forth across his face, he gives her a questioning look.

"One person can make a difference. For good or ill." But doesn't that depend on who they are? It's harder for a farmer's son to make a difference than it is for a great lord or a king, because the decisions of the high commonly affect so many people.

He's modest, she'd give him that. Near infuriatingly so, to the point where she wants to bicker and shove at him to get a true answer. It wouldn't do any good, though, and this has more to do with her than him. It would take time and patience, but even with both, she doubts he would ever truly abandon his humbleness.

"In our case, for good." She shakes her head at him. "I was thinking about Westeros. Wondering if this is what we'd do after the war. I never imagined my lover teaching me how to dance."

That brings his smile back a little.

"If we get out of this as well as we hope, there may not be more dancing for me to teach you -- I don't know as much as I might. I danced as a boy, but I was always trying not to. Always sitting in the corner and watching and thinking about how dancing wasn't for me."

He almost says, Maybe Sansa will teach you more, but another thought comes on the heels of that: he doesn't think his sister is much for dancing anymore. The lions ripped that away from her.

It doesn't occur to him that Daenerys won't remember these dances he's teaching her... that he'll have to teach her all over again.

"But... this is what we'll do, if we can. Even if it isn't dancing."

There's so much to overcome between now and then.

"No?" Teasing now, she says, "You'll have to learn a few more steps, then."

She can relate, at least. Dancing was far from her mind for the longest time. Even when she became queen, there were no events to warrant a dance... there was ruling, trying to keep her city at peace whilst so many fought to overthrow her.

He's right, of course, in pointing out that there are a number of factors which act as a barrier to their success. She thinks she's right in looking ahead to the future.

"What else will we do?" Trying to win that smile back. "If not dancing or finally taking a bath."

As he demonstrates the next step, he's too focused on it to respond to most of what she's saying, but he hears her... and then the last thing she says reminds him of something.

"A bath? I meant to tell you, I found a room last night where I think you can have a proper bath."

She follows, maintaining that lighter hold on him despite some of the movements briefly prompting her fingers to tighten on his arm.

"You did?" That has her looking up, steps momentarily forgotten. There's clear yearning in her eyes at the idea of a bath--particularly with her decorated in so much glitter. "Where?"

"I'll take you to it later."

When you finish learning this dance, and you're good and tired, he means. Strange that they can fight a war through dancing.

"It's too bad we didn't have such a thing when we were training for Gallipoli. It had been a long time since I'd been so tired."

She wrinkles her nose at him, her look near mutinous. It's only with a huff that she relents and falls back into focusing on their task. Step after step--soon, the first few moves she's struggled with become automatic. An occasional stumble, versus one guaranteed. Then, her hold on him lightens, until it's something necessary for the posture, not for her balance.

"I imagine we might've drowned if we had baths. Some days I was so exhausted, I would fall asleep standing up in the shower."

"The walls must have held you up," he says, darkly. The stalls really are extraordinarily small and cramped.

"Tomorrow, we should leave here and go find a meadow to train in. No droids. You can learn at your own speed."

Well, he hopes there won't be any droids. He wonders how the fish would feel if it were covered in glitter, and if it would be able to bring itself to complain. And there's a twofold reason to go out: Ghost can hunt some of the deer, and if he brings one down, it will be a better meal for him than he's had in the confines of base. Sometimes Jon feels sharp hunger when he's nearby, even if the wolf has just been fed.

"They had. Unfortunately for me, my lover was elsewhere." A quick glance up at him from beneath her lashes. "Likely a good thing, I can hardly imagine it was a flattering look."

The meadow sounds pleasant and clean. Peaceful and far, far away from outraged yelling and stupid droids.

"Have you seen very much out there yet?" Her smile grows softer. "I met these creatures called Dragokeets. Such little sweetlings."

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[OPEN] The Glass Spider Had Blue Eyes Almost Like A Human's

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"groce couple vibes" -- elizabeth

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