[ He honestly couldn't agree more with that sentiment. It's half why he's a little anxious about the coat -- something is on the air, and he doesn't like sitting idle or unprepared. ]
Lessons? [ It's a politely thoughtful hum. ]
That's no problem, I can be by shortly. You mentioned before that there's a lamp location, right?
Yes, you can ask the lantern imps for the Rookery.
[hers are all wearing elaborate outfits. she's not sure why he's asking after her lessons, and hopes it's because he's looking for some of his own. a pause.]
I take lessons in magic. It is rare where I come from, and I was not taught to wield it, before.
[ Custom? He blinks slightly at that, but gives a bright, quick "Mn!" before he leaves it at that and goes to collect all the materials before he heads over.
The outfits on her lamp friends are certainly hard to miss, and he blinks for a moment before smiling and giving them a small wave before stepping off and up to her door; like it's customary for him to.
She runs a business but it also looks like a residence; makes sense for a seamstress. Is it polite to knock first? Regardless, he's going to go with that. ]
Hello? Miss Stone? [ He has a large pack strapped to his back, and another smaller bundle under one arm. Stark white hair with a delicate-seeming scar or tattoo carved through the left side of his face and a bright red, beginning with what looks like a pentagram or a star on his forehead. The winged creature clinging to the back of his shoulder is a bit of a stand-out as well, bright gold with a faint sort of glow not unlike the eyes of an omen, and peering forward with an intense sort of curiosity despite not seeming to have eyes.
...and wearing a dark oilskin coat that's in absolutely tatters. The boy, not the omen. It's been amateurly mended what looks like many times, but... it might be more patch and mending than coat in some parts. ]
It's Allen Walker. [ did.... did he tell her his name before? Oh my god. ]
[it's more of a studio than a shop, for now, with only a dressform displaying one of her fashionable black dresses and a credenza with some samples of cloth and her embroidery. she's hung a large filigreed oval mirror where a portrait of minette the batcat once hung (it's now in her back room).
only lady is with her when she opens the door, but the ravens in her eaves chatter amongst themselves. she's smiling, and fashionably dressed. lady has a fancy embroidered collar to match.]
Please come in. Could I get you anything to eat or drink?
[guest right is a habit that she isn't looking to break. her night walker client base tends towards broadway and is generally delighted by her manner of service. she eyes the coat.]
If you like the fit of your coat, I can cut a new one from the pieces.
[ A dog? Wolf? He blinks for a moment, before smiling wider and raising a hand partway to Lady in greeting as he steps inside. Good girl. ]
Ehh? Only if it's not any trouble. [ Though he did obviously brighten at the offer of snacks, but that could also be that he just really appreciates that she's kind enough to offer. ]
And, oh--! Actually... there's something I used to have that I was hoping you might be able to approximate. A uniform. [ And he fishes around in his pocket for a moment, switching the small parcel to under his other arm. He procures a colored sketch on a piece of paper, which he presents her with. ]
Mn! That sounds great, thank you. [ She's so kind. If only he could appreciate the full extent of it since he's oblivious to his own terrible art skills. He tried his best.
It's definitely the offer of snacks that had him though, because he brightens at the mention of biscuits and perks up. Though he's also a little enchanted at Lady's acceptance, giving her a very small scratch between the ears if she'll let him. Definitely a dog person. ]
And oh, no, it's fine...! [ He's quick to reassure, sheepish if she might feel he'd expect so much on her. He's Victorian! He understands the difference...! ]
I was just trying to remember what it looked like myself, honestly. [ Which he -- did not, in all honesty. He combined how he remembered two different uniforms he had. Fuzzy memories are great. ]
[lady accepts his scratches and makes a small happy dog noise. sansa opens the kitchen door and allows him to go through before fetching down a tin of chocolate chip cookies. they seem the most popular with her customers and she gets to keep the iced lemon shortbread for herself. she manages to stack two small plates on top of her tin, and sets them down on a sturdy oak(??) table with rather ornate legs.]
It might help the both of us if you could tell me what each piece is meant to be. I've found there are often pieces to the suits here that I never knew on my own world, and it helps me to learn a little of their function and where they're meant to go.
[she sets down the tin and fetches two glasses, which she fills with water. lady curls up a polite distance away from the table, so as to not be mistaken for begging for food. sansa sets down a glass at each seat, in front of the plate, and opens the tin before she sits down. she smiles again.]
Have you been very busy this month? I was expecting you a little sooner.
[her tone is light again. she herself has been busy training a blood hound.]
[ While she fetches the tin and plates, he takes a moment to set the parcel down on the table to the side and removes large bundle he had strapped to his back, setting it down with a somewhat heavy but soft thmp.
He takes a seat then, peering with a briefly childlike interest into the tin when she opens it to see what it is. Sometimes he still acts like the teenager he technically is. Aaaa, cookies. ]
Ah, yes -- sorry about that. [ He scratches at his cheek for a moment with a gloved hand, his smile lopsided and somewhat apologetic. ] It took me some time to be able to find [ moreover afford ] the sort of materials I was looking for...
[ Speaking of. He pats the larger bundle beside him. ]
It's a special sort of blood-treated cloth. Like the robes they first give us, because I'm usually around beasts and blood pollution a lot. The uniform I had back home... it was similar to that. The material was special, lightweight and more resistant.
[ He smiles, but this time it's softer and a bit more distant. Nostalgic. ] I was an exorcist. Although... not like how most people imagine it.
[ But he moves to take the small parcel he brought with him and slides it over to her. It's wrapped simply and with a soft leather string. ]
Anyway, they also told me you need special tools to be able to work with it properly. The ladies there were very helpful. [ They even helped him figure out how many yards were needed from his terrible sketch and everything...!
When she unwraps it, there's a small wooden chest with engravings on it. Inside are a number of various sewing tools, scissors and needles and bodkins and thimbles, nestled in a deep purple velvet. They're all beautifully cut shimmering white stone. Like the vanity sewing chests of old royalty, but made of paleblood that's exquisitely cut. Leather or velvet interiors and wraps where someone's hands might be, to reduce the potential bleedover effect paleblood can have. ]
I hope you don't mind. I figured you might need a set, since you mentioned you only recently woke up.
[sansa's eyes widen at the sewing kit. even the box is lovely. she reaches out to grasp it. having recently graduated from tiny, lumpy pale bloodstone beads to slightly larger, uniformly shaped paleblood beads she can certainly appreciate the amount of work that went into each piece. and the cost, such that it is. nobody has ever given her a present half as good. her voice wavers a little, and she looks at allen with new eyes.]
This is the loveliest gift anyone's ever given me. I don't know how to thank you.
[she touches each piece reverently.]
I won a sewing kit in the stupid darts festival. But this is...I've never had anything like this.
[her parents wouldn't have known where to get her something like this. littlefinger would, and he hadn't.]
I should tell you my name's not Alayne Stone. It's Sansa Stark. I've been hiding from the people that murdered my family. I haven't told everyone, but I mean to tell my friends first, and I'd like very much for us to be friends. And I truly hope an exorcist isn't some kind of sellsword.
[she should have determined that before she said anything. but this is...this isn't the sort of gift she gets. this is the sort of gift that she gets people. and that...must count for something. and if it doesn't, well, she has to be able to win people over, anyway.]
[ It's fair pay for fair work!!! he'd argue, because honestly as much as he hates spending money and has quite the complex around it... and he did literally bleed for this... a lot... he just couldn't sit easy with the idea of "paying" her just with the cost of materials. It goes entirely against his sense of fairness, especially when she's helping recreate something so precious to him, that uniform that haunts his memories.
He can't even remember all the reasons why... but it's precious. Like it's a part of him.
And he would argue that, even though he's so very touched and a little stunned that it seems to impact her so much -- so... happy, actually, to realize he made someone else happy -- except that she reveals that and his expression drops, stunned Not that... that happened to her and that's her life, although certainly that is horrifying, she doesn't seem all that much older than him, but...
But that she trusted him. ]
...N-no! It isn't! [ He blurts it out first, a little startled mostly just because he's still a bit awed. ] An exorcist--
[ He blinks, pressing his lips together for a moment lightly and composing himself. ]
...being an exorcist meant to cleanse someone's soul of corruption. Someone who had died, but had been brought back and turned into a monster. Something that only grieves what it becomes and lashes out because of it. That's what we existed for. To save them, and let their soul be at peace.
...But I think I'd like to be friends very much as well, Miss Sansa.
[ It's a gentle smile, kind and with his head cocked slightly to the side. Happy, but in a bittersweet sort of way. His eyes are sad, compassionately so, but soft and it's far more "real" than any of the other ways he smiled.
He doesn't have many he does actually call "friend", after all, despite being so very friendly. ]
I hope if there's any way I can help with your situation, you'll let me know.
[ He gives a smile when she laughs, warmed by the situation and feeling a lot more comfortable, before he reaches for one of the cookies as well. Not a delicate nibbler himself, not in the slightest, but when realizing how his host is with hers he catches himself from swallowing it whole in one go. He can show restraint. And table manners. In the right company. He was only slightly raised by wolves.
That said, he manages to talk artfully around it as it dangles from his mouth as he leans forward to indicate the white shoulders on the sketch. ]
Mm, no. They're reinforced shoulders. A little padded, actually. [ They're also meant to help draw more attention, to be identifiable. It's fuzzy. He can't fully grasp the memory, but the coat...
It's supposed to help make the wearer a target. So that others aren't.- ]
There isn't a cape, just a hood. So it can be used in all types of weather and good for staying dry.
[ So tactful. He shakes his head slightly, before breaking off piece of cookie and offering it to his golden orb-like companion perched on his shoulder -- who would seem to grow a rather toothy mouth out of seemingly nowhere and begins munching contentedly (and noisily) on it. ]
Mm, no. The red below on both is a stripe, but that one there is where I want to find a utility belt of sorts. You don't need to worry about it. [ Though--
He holds his gloved right hand up, twisting it around as he considers it. The glove is a bit unfortunately clunky, a thick leather. ]
I go through these normal gloves constantly. I was hoping you might be able to make me a long one for this hand from some of the thinner treated leather I found, that might still give me better movement. Up to the bicep?
I'd rather avoid any sleeves other than those on the coat, but that would still give my arm some protection.
[ Designs... He does hesitate for a moment at that. There is a clear image in his head: a silver rose cross, intricate and scripted. But... at the same time...
At the same time that doesn't feel right. Not for this. And he quite likes the simple but stark contrasting color design. And yet... ]
Very thin and form fitting by that point. [ He makes a shrinking motion with his fingers. Thiiiiis small. ] It isn't really any good if it feels heavy or bulky. As for the other glove...
[ He pauses for a moment, obviously a little torn. But, she needs to know anyway, and she did share her secret with him-- not that this even really is a secret, but it's... something hard-baked into him to try and avoid showing. Just because of too many experiences with it scaring people. ]
A normal length one might be nice. [ He says it with a somewhat sheepish smile, though a small one that's barely a one-sided quirk of his lips. A little nervous, more than anything, as his eyes flicker to the side. ]
If... you can fit it around this? [ He tugs his glove off.
It's a deep blood red, his left hand, with a faint sort of shine as if made of polished stone or leather instead of skin. Distinctly inhuman, with large black nails and plated along the fingers with bony ridging and armor plating like carapace. A gold crystal of some sorts seems to be embedded in the back of his hand, in four delicate points seemingly like a very thin star. Or cross? ]
It can make it hard to find gloves. [ or keep them ]
[he seems nervous of his hand, so sansa takes care not to let any fear or disgust show on her face. fortunately it's not a gaping wound, or anything very unsightly. he might need his nails trimmed, though. she gives him a small, reassuring smile.]
Of course. But if you're suffering from corruption, I have a blood hound that would very much like to help.
[sansa suspected that might be the case, and was afraid he might be hurt by the implication that it wasn't, but she had to tell him about the blood hound regardless. she reaches out to touch it gently.]
I just had to be certain; I'm sure you know that corruption doesn't always look like a hideous wound. Too many of my friends wait until they're half-dead with it to come to us for treatment.
He can count on... exactly that hand, actually, exactly how many people have actually reached out to touch his hand. Not including moments in battle or where it was being studied, that is. So he blinks—
...but does let her. Letting her turn it over if she wanted to see how the plating shifts in order to understand how to best to fit something over it; no trepidation, just watching her with a faint sort of surprise.
It feels quite hard to the touch. None of the give of normal skin. ]
Once someone reaches a certain point in corruption, it can become a viscous kind of cycle. [ He speaks gently and with a softly regretful kind of tone. Sympathetic. ] The more corrupt they become, the harder it is to see their own corruption and the more they want to withdraw from others.
[ Cycles of grief and madness. It's always the same. ]
...It's good you can both be there for your friends.
[sansa does have to measure it for the the glove, so it's good to get a look at it, but mostly she means to put him at his ease. she'll take all his measurements later. she pats it and returns to her cookie with a wry smile.]
Perhaps you can help me kick down their doors. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Lessons? [ It's a politely thoughtful hum. ]
That's no problem, I can be by shortly. You mentioned before that there's a lamp location, right?
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[hers are all wearing elaborate outfits. she's not sure why he's asking after her lessons, and hopes it's because he's looking for some of his own. a pause.]
I take lessons in magic. It is rare where I come from, and I was not taught to wield it, before.
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That's a very useful thing. Good luck!
[ Nope, it's entirely because he's just being friendly. It's just how he is. ]
I'll be by soon.
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Thank you, I wish you luck in your own endeavors. And thank you for your custom.
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The outfits on her lamp friends are certainly hard to miss, and he blinks for a moment before smiling and giving them a small wave before stepping off and up to her door; like it's customary for him to.
She runs a business but it also looks like a residence; makes sense for a seamstress. Is it polite to knock first? Regardless, he's going to go with that. ]
Hello? Miss Stone? [ He has a large pack strapped to his back, and another smaller bundle under one arm. Stark white hair with a delicate-seeming scar or tattoo carved through the left side of his face and a bright red, beginning with what looks like a pentagram or a star on his forehead. The winged creature clinging to the back of his shoulder is a bit of a stand-out as well, bright gold with a faint sort of glow not unlike the eyes of an omen, and peering forward with an intense sort of curiosity despite not seeming to have eyes.
...and wearing a dark oilskin coat that's in absolutely tatters. The boy, not the omen. It's been amateurly mended what looks like many times, but... it might be more patch and mending than coat in some parts. ]
It's Allen Walker. [ did.... did he tell her his name before? Oh my god. ]
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only lady is with her when she opens the door, but the ravens in her eaves chatter amongst themselves. she's smiling, and fashionably dressed. lady has a fancy embroidered collar to match.]
Please come in. Could I get you anything to eat or drink?
[guest right is a habit that she isn't looking to break. her night walker client base tends towards broadway and is generally delighted by her manner of service. she eyes the coat.]
If you like the fit of your coat, I can cut a new one from the pieces.
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Wolf?He blinks for a moment, before smiling wider and raising a hand partway to Lady in greeting as he steps inside. Good girl. ]Ehh? Only if it's not any trouble. [ Though he did obviously brighten at the offer of snacks, but that could also be that he just really appreciates that she's kind enough to offer. ]
And, oh--! Actually... there's something I used to have that I was hoping you might be able to approximate. A uniform. [ And he fishes around in his pocket for a moment, switching the small parcel to under his other arm. He procures a colored sketch on a piece of paper, which he presents her with. ]
Here.
[ It's beautiful. ]
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Would you like me to make you everything in this picture?
[did he...draw his own hair? is he bleeding from the leg?? she smiles.]
Why don't we discuss it in the kitchen, over biscuits?
[she moves gracefully in that direction.]
I can't make the boots, you know.
[her tone is light and teasing. she doesn't seriousy think he'd ask a dressmaker to do a cobbler's job.]
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It's definitely the offer of snacks that had him though, because he brightens at the mention of biscuits and perks up. Though he's also a little enchanted at Lady's acceptance, giving her a very small scratch between the ears if she'll let him. Definitely a dog person. ]
And oh, no, it's fine...! [ He's quick to reassure, sheepish if she might feel he'd expect so much on her. He's Victorian! He understands the difference...! ]
I was just trying to remember what it looked like myself, honestly. [ Which he -- did not, in all honesty. He combined how he remembered two different uniforms he had. Fuzzy memories are great. ]
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It might help the both of us if you could tell me what each piece is meant to be. I've found there are often pieces to the suits here that I never knew on my own world, and it helps me to learn a little of their function and where they're meant to go.
[she sets down the tin and fetches two glasses, which she fills with water. lady curls up a polite distance away from the table, so as to not be mistaken for begging for food. sansa sets down a glass at each seat, in front of the plate, and opens the tin before she sits down. she smiles again.]
Have you been very busy this month? I was expecting you a little sooner.
[her tone is light again. she herself has been busy training a blood hound.]
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He takes a seat then, peering with a briefly childlike interest into the tin when she opens it to see what it is. Sometimes he still acts like the teenager he technically is. Aaaa, cookies. ]
Ah, yes -- sorry about that. [ He scratches at his cheek for a moment with a gloved hand, his smile lopsided and somewhat apologetic. ] It took me some time to be able to find [ moreover afford ] the sort of materials I was looking for...
[ Speaking of. He pats the larger bundle beside him. ]
It's a special sort of blood-treated cloth. Like the robes they first give us, because I'm usually around beasts and blood pollution a lot. The uniform I had back home... it was similar to that. The material was special, lightweight and more resistant.
[ He smiles, but this time it's softer and a bit more distant. Nostalgic. ] I was an exorcist. Although... not like how most people imagine it.
[ But he moves to take the small parcel he brought with him and slides it over to her. It's wrapped simply and with a soft leather string. ]
Anyway, they also told me you need special tools to be able to work with it properly. The ladies there were very helpful. [ They even helped him figure out how many yards were needed from his terrible sketch and everything...!
When she unwraps it, there's a small wooden chest with engravings on it. Inside are a number of various sewing tools, scissors and needles and bodkins and thimbles, nestled in a deep purple velvet. They're all beautifully cut shimmering white stone. Like the vanity sewing chests of old royalty, but made of paleblood that's exquisitely cut. Leather or velvet interiors and wraps where someone's hands might be, to reduce the potential bleedover effect paleblood can have. ]
I hope you don't mind. I figured you might need a set, since you mentioned you only recently woke up.
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This is the loveliest gift anyone's ever given me. I don't know how to thank you.
[she touches each piece reverently.]
I won a sewing kit in the stupid darts festival. But this is...I've never had anything like this.
[her parents wouldn't have known where to get her something like this. littlefinger would, and he hadn't.]
I should tell you my name's not Alayne Stone. It's Sansa Stark. I've been hiding from the people that murdered my family. I haven't told everyone, but I mean to tell my friends first, and I'd like very much for us to be friends. And I truly hope an exorcist isn't some kind of sellsword.
[she should have determined that before she said anything. but this is...this isn't the sort of gift she gets. this is the sort of gift that she gets people. and that...must count for something. and if it doesn't, well, she has to be able to win people over, anyway.]
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He can't even remember all the reasons why... but it's precious. Like it's a part of him.
And he would argue that, even though he's so very touched and a little stunned that it seems to impact her so much -- so... happy, actually, to realize he made someone else happy -- except that she reveals that and his expression drops, stunned Not that... that happened to her and that's her life, although certainly that is horrifying, she doesn't seem all that much older than him, but...
But that she trusted him. ]
...N-no! It isn't! [ He blurts it out first, a little startled mostly just because he's still a bit awed. ] An exorcist--
[ He blinks, pressing his lips together for a moment lightly and composing himself. ]
...being an exorcist meant to cleanse someone's soul of corruption. Someone who had died, but had been brought back and turned into a monster. Something that only grieves what it becomes and lashes out because of it. That's what we existed for. To save them, and let their soul be at peace.
There isn't any pay in that. [ But... ]
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[ It's a gentle smile, kind and with his head cocked slightly to the side. Happy, but in a bittersweet sort of way. His eyes are sad, compassionately so, but soft and it's far more "real" than any of the other ways he smiled.
He doesn't have many he does actually call "friend", after all, despite being so very friendly. ]
I hope if there's any way I can help with your situation, you'll let me know.
[ That's what friends do, isn't it? ]
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I didn't really think it was a kind of sellsword. That's very noble work. I'm glad I can help you with it.
[she takes a cookie onto her plate and breaks off a piece in one practiced motion.]
Can you tell me a little more about your uniform? Are these white pieces decoration, or are they meant to be a little cape?
[she points them out with one non-cookied finger, and delicately nibbles her cookie piece as she waits for him to respond.]
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That said, he manages to talk artfully around it as it dangles from his mouth as he leans forward to indicate the white shoulders on the sketch. ]
Mm, no. They're reinforced shoulders. A little padded, actually. [ They're also meant to help draw more attention, to be identifiable. It's fuzzy. He can't fully grasp the memory, but the coat...
It's supposed to help make the wearer a target. So that others aren't.- ]
There isn't a cape, just a hood. So it can be used in all types of weather and good for staying dry.
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Oh! That's easy. I can put padding anywhere you like.
[She taps the picture's left leg.]
Is that a stripe, there, on the trousers?
[or a...bandage??]
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Mm, no. The red below on both is a stripe, but that one there is where I want to find a utility belt of sorts. You don't need to worry about it. [ Though--
He holds his gloved right hand up, twisting it around as he considers it. The glove is a bit unfortunately clunky, a thick leather. ]
I go through these normal gloves constantly. I was hoping you might be able to make me a long one for this hand from some of the thinner treated leather I found, that might still give me better movement. Up to the bicep?
I'd rather avoid any sleeves other than those on the coat, but that would still give my arm some protection.
[ The one arm, notably. ]
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I can make gloves and belts. Would you like a shorter glove, for your other arm? I can make them different colors, like the picture.
[she glances back down at the picture.]
You might have to tell me if you wanted anything on the belt, though. And--any designs you might like, besides the stripes.
[speaking of which,]
How wide are they meant to be, under your boots?
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At the same time that doesn't feel right. Not for this. And he quite likes the simple but stark contrasting color design. And yet... ]
Very thin and form fitting by that point. [ He makes a shrinking motion with his fingers. Thiiiiis small. ] It isn't really any good if it feels heavy or bulky. As for the other glove...
[ He pauses for a moment, obviously a little torn. But, she needs to know anyway, and she did share her secret with him-- not that this even really is a secret, but it's... something hard-baked into him to try and avoid showing. Just because of too many experiences with it scaring people. ]
A normal length one might be nice. [ He says it with a somewhat sheepish smile, though a small one that's barely a one-sided quirk of his lips. A little nervous, more than anything, as his eyes flicker to the side. ]
If... you can fit it around this? [ He tugs his glove off.
It's a deep blood red, his left hand, with a faint sort of shine as if made of polished stone or leather instead of skin. Distinctly inhuman, with large black nails and plated along the fingers with bony ridging and armor plating like carapace. A gold crystal of some sorts seems to be embedded in the back of his hand, in four delicate points seemingly like a very thin star. Or cross? ]
It can make it hard to find gloves. [ or keep them ]
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Of course. But if you're suffering from corruption, I have a blood hound that would very much like to help.
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No, no. It's okay, thank you. It isn't anything like that. [ The furthest thing from it, despite its appearance.
He really hates its appearance. ]
I was born with it like this.
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I just had to be certain; I'm sure you know that corruption doesn't always look like a hideous wound. Too many of my friends wait until they're half-dead with it to come to us for treatment.
[her own sworn swords........]
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He can count on... exactly that hand, actually, exactly how many people have actually reached out to touch his hand. Not including moments in battle or where it was being studied, that is. So he blinks—
...but does let her. Letting her turn it over if she wanted to see how the plating shifts in order to understand how to best to fit something over it; no trepidation, just watching her with a faint sort of surprise.
It feels quite hard to the touch. None of the give of normal skin. ]
Once someone reaches a certain point in corruption, it can become a viscous kind of cycle. [ He speaks gently and with a softly regretful kind of tone. Sympathetic. ] The more corrupt they become, the harder it is to see their own corruption and the more they want to withdraw from others.
[ Cycles of grief and madness. It's always the same. ]
...It's good you can both be there for your friends.
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Perhaps you can help me kick down their doors. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it.
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