(closed) first impression theater

[elfuego]

WHO: Zuko & Sansa
WHEN: During lockdown
WHERE: Sansa's balcony
WHAT: Zuko falls off the roof while batmanning and meets the new arrival to Team Macaluso.
WARNINGS: None yet

The curfew was ridiculous. Zuko didn’t know a good number of the people he traveled with, but he figured they couldn’t have gotten this far being dumb enough to try and kill the most powerful man in the city.

Or maybe some of them were that foolish and brash, and he didn’t know any better.

He hated the not knowing, it ate away at him, until eventually pacing the floor in his room wasn’t enough. Like so many evenings before the stupid curfew, he saw no reason to stay behind and let another weird night in this place go by without him trying to catch a piece of what was going on.

Getting out of his window and onto the roof was as easy as putting on a sweater by that point, and he knew the layout of it well enough that he could move quickly and quietly across it.

Unfortunately, the confidence he had in the knowledge of his surroundings was proven to be somewhat misplaced moments later, as a tile came loose under his feet and Zuko found himself skidding off the side of the roof, his arms circling while he fought to steady himself.

Tipping off the side of the roof he fell a surprisingly (fortunately) short distance, landing hard on his back on the balcony outside another bedroom not far from his own.

Zuko sprung back to his feet, so annoyed with his rotten luck that he forgot himself, and glared up at the roof he had fallen off of instead of making his apologies to the person residing in the room he had landed outside of and cutting a hasty retreat.

Comments

[notsansa]

Having arrived amidst the lockdown, the forced curfew is all she knows of this kingdom so far, and she still fares better than when she had been completely locked up at the Red Keep, always being followed when she did leave. Here she doesn't seem to require an open escort, but Alayne never shakes the feeling that she is being followed; being watched. Given her sudden holy status among the court, she would expect it, and this constantly creates self-imposed restrictions while exploring. She hasn't yet explored the south of the city, too afraid of getting too close to those who might be considered as poor, and certainly not straying anywhere near Vanozza's wing. She might no longer be engaged to a king, but her unique status and the clear divide in the city leaves her paranoid that she could still be captured and used as a bartering chip for the Witches, or worse, assaulted and killed. The red staining her palms leaves her an obvious target if she doesn't remember gloves. Yes, she might one day be a sacrifice... But that's so far in the future that it might as well not be real. She plans to be long gone before such ideas ever come to fruition, as there's only so far Alayne is willing to play her new role.

She had returned long before that evening's quarantine began, eager to catalogue the new things she had seen and learned. There was so much beauty, wonder, and magic here... But Alayne didn't have time to take any enjoyment from it. It was still to new and frightening, and so needed to be treated as cautiously as possible. It's while she's thinking through some of what she had heard and read through the magic of her pendant, that she eagerly settles down to wash the day's grime off. After requesting a basin filled, she settles into her comfortable isolation to rinse off her face and her hands. She'll need to seek out some hair rinse soon, as in the water's reflection she can already see some auburn beginning to glint in the light, underneath the fading chestnut of her hair color. She wonders if the Witches would be pleased if her hair began turning red... Perhaps they would consider it some sort of prophecy, as insane as they seemed. ...Perhaps they would sacrifice her sooner, so maybe that isn't such a good idea. And even if there may not be any Lannisters to hide from here, what if one were to suddenly appear? What if, it was always the plague to Alayne's desires.

These thoughts are interrupted with a startling spot of movement in her peripheral, and a muffled thump of a body falling. Pink water splashes about as Alayne suddenly jerks upright to see a stranger on her balcony. She had left the doors open, finding the cool air to be comforting, but suddenly there is terror and regret. Faint red liquid drips down her fingers onto the bread knife that she instinctively grabs and conceals behind her skirt, her other hand held before her as if the gesture alone would be enough to stop a would-be assassin. In the dim night he stands in, she can't quite make out his face.

She doesn't even think to scream, not trusting that the guards here wouldn't be in on the whole thing. What she does is utter out, nearly a whisper, "What do you want? I have nothing to give." Do not tremble, Alayne. Do not show your fear. But she did tremble, and she cursed herself for it.