[ —did anyone give her the heads up about being able to communicate via thought-speak in this place? jaime probably should've mentioned that before reaching out. ]
( nearly asleep, brienne had attributed his initial words to some vague dream. but in her dreams he calls her sweet things. he lets her cry on his shoulder. wench inside her own head launches her out of her bed with a loud thud and a series of clanks as her armor rattles and rings in her ears.
she calls out to him with her mouth, ser jaime? as she recovers, rolling and pushing up to her feet with some effort. then she's poking her head out into the hallway and calling out for him again.
( and a good ????? to you too, ser. brienne will proceed to creep through the halls and try to figure out what demon is messing with her head, or who has harmed jaime. )
[ seven hells, he doesn't have time for this! and yet, off he goes, taking a brief detour from his determination to save aemond from himself to locate brienne. ]
[ While he didn't chase her down, Brienne's leaving has chewed at him for hours. Maybe he should let her come to him, but his more impulsive tendencies have yet to be broken. As the night starts to chill, he drifts into her mind unbidden. ]
Hey.
It's me, Quentin, by the way. Just--wanted to check that we're like--good, you know? Are you good?
Okay. Okay, I know ghosts. Lots of people have ghosts. Sometimes, uh. Being put in situations that you aren't comfortable with makes it a little easier for them to catch up to you.
[ PHRASING, but he's already spooked Brienne enough today that instead of laughing, he waits the extra couple of seconds to puzzle it out. Dancing balls. Balls for dances and courts. He's got it. ]
I feel you. When that shit sneaks up on me, it really knocks me for a loop. Look, I know you don't really know me, but if there's anything I can do...
( she has never been on this end of social status, and she must scramble to assume what he means based on what he said earlier, but she sounds incredibly stilted when she replies: )
Yes, Quentin of Ohio. I am... cool. And you are cool.
( starts small. and not exactly exciting. tried and true for the spirit, though. sometime between leaving her quarters and returning, a hearty stockpile of firewood will line the hall outside Brienne's door. an excessive bounty for one room, a wealth she can certainly share if she chooses to. )
( the woods do not bear much bounty in the winter. all the same, Brienne will find a collection of the sparse offerings left in a basket at the spot she favors in the dining hall. )
( the dead world they haunt is cold. humans need for warmth and comfort. while the blanket is more decorative than practical, it will add warmth to Brienne's quarters if she will take it after she finds it at her door. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voice.
Keep an eye on the king and his mother.
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all jaime gets back are traces of, (in this order):
alarm,
confusion,
affection,
embarrassment,
castigation,
and, finally: frustration of some nature. who could say what kind? we'll never know. )
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Brienne. Are you even listening to me, wench?
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she calls out to him with her mouth, ser jaime? as she recovers, rolling and pushing up to her feet with some effort. then she's poking her head out into the hallway and calling out for him again.
seven, she cannot be going mad... )
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Seven Hells, wench, I cannot seek you out and keep track of the prince at the same time.
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( and a good ????? to you too, ser. brienne will proceed to creep through the halls and try to figure out what demon is messing with her head, or who has harmed jaime. )
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[ jaime's voice booms through her head, tinged with worry and a bit of panic of his own. answer him. please. ]
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if only he had a way to explain what's happening and how she isn't going insane... )
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thoughtspeak, evening after the dance
Hey.
It's me, Quentin, by the way. Just--wanted to check that we're like--good, you know? Are you good?
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Seven blessings, Quentin. I am well.
( slow, and stiff, and formal, she is trying very hard to not be too much. )
My apologies. I... regret leaving as I did.
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( oop. a lil sharp. )
Not you, Quentin of Ohio. Only a... ghost. One that crept upon me as I forgot myself for a time.
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This fortress is not unlike my home. Evenfall was also set upon the cliffs.
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( ...phrasing? )
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I feel you. When that shit sneaks up on me, it really knocks me for a loop. Look, I know you don't really know me, but if there's anything I can do...
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( well. )
Eventually.
( is that a little rueful amusement coming through the connection...? )
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Look, I'll leave you alone. I just--wanted to make sure we were cool. We're cool, right?
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Yes, Quentin of Ohio. I am... cool. And you are cool.
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Alright. Good night, Brienne of Tarth. I'll look for you in the morning. Fuckin...stay warm in this shithole.
offerings from the spirit of the forest. 🎁
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