http://sansa-stark.livejournal.com/ (
sansa-stark.livejournal.com) wrote in
milliways_bar2006-10-09 11:30 am
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Sansa comes downstairs, in a long dress of black lambswool. A cloak is slung over one arm - someone's planning to go for a walk after breakfast.
She sits at Bar, orders some porridge and milk, and begins eating. As she eats, she watches the crowd. It's such habit that she doesn't notice anything new until her porridge is almost gone.
Sansa sees the Door.
A startled motion tips her glass of milk, which thunks against the bartop and spills its contents onto the floor.
"Oh." If she can speak, this means this isn't a dream. You can't speak the words you want to in dreams. "Oh."
The Door.
For a time, Sansa sits on her stool, motionless. Then she begins wiping away small, stray tears.
She sits at Bar, orders some porridge and milk, and begins eating. As she eats, she watches the crowd. It's such habit that she doesn't notice anything new until her porridge is almost gone.
Sansa sees the Door.
A startled motion tips her glass of milk, which thunks against the bartop and spills its contents onto the floor.
"Oh." If she can speak, this means this isn't a dream. You can't speak the words you want to in dreams. "Oh."
The Door.
For a time, Sansa sits on her stool, motionless. Then she begins wiping away small, stray tears.
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Tilting her head to one side, she clears her throat quietly. "Are you alright, dear?"
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Softly, voice wavering, she says, "I don't know if I am." She wipes at her face once more.
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"Well, want to tell me what's wrong?" she asks, offering a sweet smile. "Maybe, between the two of us, we can figure it out." The girl's polite and quiet. She likes that, but she doesn't like to see people sad. Especially women.
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The smile fades, you see, when Sansa directs her gaze to where it's rarely left.
"The Door. I can see it. Finally see it. I have been kept here all this time and finally, here it is. It-- I--" Sansa returns from her thoughts to the situation, and shoots Gwen a quick glance. Trustworthy? Not? It's hard to tell with a glance. Sansa takes a moment to measure how much she can say.
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"Is this not good? Most people are happy to find their door, from what I hear." As trustworthy as any random person who might ask. She may have spent six-hundred years in hell, but she doesn't have any insidious plans. Not yet, anyway.
And Sansa, being female, is safe even then.
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"My land...the life I left...neither are at their best right now," Sansa murmurs. "I'm worried - no, not just that." There's a pause from the girl. She has to say this right. "Frightened. But by the small things. They could grow to be so big, and grow beyond me."
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She misses the world, as it is these days, but it's not safe for her, she knows that.
"Then you'll need to grow too. Learn to cope and handle them." She sighs, adding, "no, it's not easy. My world was unsafe, during my first lifetime, but things have changed. They're better now. All you can do is try. And survive."
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Just sits down next to her, requests napkins from Bar, and begins silently wiping up the spilled milk.
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The girl just sits on her stool, watching Mal. Sometimes seeing her, sometimes seeing memories of her, sometimes seeing her own memories.
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There's a pause, and then Mal reaches out to try and brush stray tears from Sansa's face.
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Voice soft, low, unassuming.
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Then Sansa looks at her hands. "I could not understand everything. There were so many books, and all of them about Earth, and it was terribly confusing.
"But one thing I did understand is that he is evil."
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Because Snowball is representative of so much of Milliways - the strangeness, the unexpected, and the normal emotions that happen as you live life.
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"Will your home hurt you? Do you want me to come and protect you?"
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Having noticed her face, he picks up his plate and makes his way over.
"...Miss Sansa?"
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"I'm sorry!" she blurts out.
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"...What?"
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She twists the napkin in her hands, unable to keep still. "I'm weeping for reasons I barely understand. And you came over to speak to me. I've interrupted your breakfast!"
These are now the most horrible things in the world.
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He shows her an empty plate, silently thanking his parentage for illusions.
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She sighs, trying to compose herself as she dabs at her face. "I'm just a bird, sir Sam. Please ignore my peeping." Faint smile.
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