[ He doesn't knock but they both know he doesn't have to. How long had Aberdeen been on that ship and how many people, all told, knew that about her? Spock, the other Order members, Holmes; but beyond that? Just Robb Stark. The boy the North made king.
The boy plus wolf, apparently, the later a heavier footfall down the carpeted length of the corridor. (Aberdeen and Maggie get paid well enough, but neither of their temperaments are suited to extravagance. And so, the accomodations are modest — clean enough, in a decent part of town — but also Spartan in a sense. The hallway reflects that.) Moving through her apartment, she opens a window in the kitchen, the one above the countertop that leads out onto the fire escape, the one Aberdeen likes to sit out on and smoke during the evenings. Motherfucker, Aberdeen's prussian blue, takes that as a cue to leave and so the feline does, noisily, mrowling the entire way down to the street.
For a long moment there is no answer but finally the door unbolts, opening just a crack. ]
[ robb couldn't look more out of place if he tried. grey wind is whining, ears flattened against his head and teeth bared, only quieting when robb twists his hand into his scruff and murmurs softly. there's the rattle of swordhilt against armor when he moves, and he's suddenly self-conscious, suddenly aware of just how displaced he is, standing here in fur and plate, the muddied hem of his cloak dragging along her floor. ]
I know.
[ vaguely affronted, though that is easily overwhelmed by the confusion on his face. he looks less a king and more a lost boy in this moment, a boy left somewhere strange and overwhelming and baffling.
[ Aberdeen feels something like sentiment begin to wheedle at her senses as she stands there in the doorway staring at Robb, the ugly light from the hallway drawing harsh line after harsh line across her features. It's something defensive, territorial even, like she's offended to see him again in the first place. Space had been space and the Tranquility was neutral ground, but this was her apartment, her time and her world. He didn't belong here and they both knew it, and yet—
The silver ring threaded near the corner of her mouth moves, catching the light, when Aberdeen wets her lips. Stepping back, the door swinging upon as she does, Aberdeen declares (her voice as matter-of-fact as ever): ] If Grey Wind eats my cat, I'm shooting him.
[ the urge to laugh surprises him. this is hardly the sort of matter that should be laughed at, in all honesty. he's far from anything familiar, sent to a place he does not yet know how to escape. but she startles a bark of laughter out of him, a surprise snort from grey wind, and such should be considered a victory, for how often does the young wolf laugh so openly? ]
He prefers deer.
[ though where a deer could be found in such a place, robb doesn't know. there is too much stone and metal outside. if this is a castle, it must be a strange one. it must be a massive one, for he'd not see its walls beyond the towering structures overhead. ]
I'M GLAD THEY'RE TOGETHER AGAIN. AND AWKWARD. s-so so awkward. ;;;
[ She should consider it a victory and, though nothing of the sort shows in her expression, privately she does. There'll be days ahead when he'll worry and rail, when Grey Wind overturns her things and she raises her voice — but those days aren't now and success is measured in both the large and the small. So long as the balance stays in the black, well— Aberdeen supposes she can work with that.
A tip of her head, so subtle as to be missed, her hands typing out some unknown exchange along the edge of the door. Two floors down, a couple starts having sex. Three doors over, a frustated man is beating his dog. And right here, the very last vestige of Robb Stark's laugh is fading from his face. Aberdeen watches it go through her lashes.
She tells him: ] Grey Wind can have the spare office for now. [ Maggie would have to be told and dealt with, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. As for Robb, Aberdeen is just as direct, shutting the door behind him. ]
Your clothes. Take them off.
ALWAYS AWKWARD gosh abs he can't just take his clothes off!!
[ perhaps it has been too long, perhaps he has forgotten her ways. she says, take your clothes off and robb freezes, uncertain and flustered. grey wind gives a huff, more amused than a direwolf has any right to sound, and turns with a flick of his tail into the room given over for his use. entitled as a king, the wolf of robb stark. if only robb could manage to follow his example, then maybe all would have turned out different.
but they'll never know, will they? ]
I've nothing else.
[ which is the point, really. this is all he has left of home. these clothes, the ones that had survived space and terror and all manner of horrors, they're all he has left of westoros. to strip them from his body would be to sever the last of this connection, the connection he's become so removed from.
robb's loathe to do so, wishes to cling on tightly to the last link he has left even if he knows it might not be possible. ]
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RETURNS TO THIS MOTHERFUCKING THREAD A MONTH LATE
The boy plus wolf, apparently, the later a heavier footfall down the carpeted length of the corridor. (Aberdeen and Maggie get paid well enough, but neither of their temperaments are suited to extravagance. And so, the accomodations are modest — clean enough, in a decent part of town — but also Spartan in a sense. The hallway reflects that.) Moving through her apartment, she opens a window in the kitchen, the one above the countertop that leads out onto the fire escape, the one Aberdeen likes to sit out on and smoke during the evenings. Motherfucker, Aberdeen's prussian blue, takes that as a cue to leave and so the feline does, noisily, mrowling the entire way down to the street.
For a long moment there is no answer but finally the door unbolts, opening just a crack. ]
This isn't Westeros.
[ Obviously. Otherwise: why are you here? ]
OMG MY NIGHT IS MADE.
I know.
[ vaguely affronted, though that is easily overwhelmed by the confusion on his face. he looks less a king and more a lost boy in this moment, a boy left somewhere strange and overwhelming and baffling.
it's not a very dignified moment. ]
I'm not sure how to get back.
:'3 I MISSED HER FACE IN HIS FACE
The silver ring threaded near the corner of her mouth moves, catching the light, when Aberdeen wets her lips. Stepping back, the door swinging upon as she does, Aberdeen declares (her voice as matter-of-fact as ever): ] If Grey Wind eats my cat, I'm shooting him.
THEIR FACES SHOULD NEVER BE SEPERATED.
He prefers deer.
[ though where a deer could be found in such a place, robb doesn't know. there is too much stone and metal outside. if this is a castle, it must be a strange one. it must be a massive one, for he'd not see its walls beyond the towering structures overhead. ]
I'M GLAD THEY'RE TOGETHER AGAIN. AND AWKWARD. s-so so awkward. ;;;
A tip of her head, so subtle as to be missed, her hands typing out some unknown exchange along the edge of the door. Two floors down, a couple starts having sex. Three doors over, a frustated man is beating his dog. And right here, the very last vestige of Robb Stark's laugh is fading from his face. Aberdeen watches it go through her lashes.
She tells him: ] Grey Wind can have the spare office for now. [ Maggie would have to be told and dealt with, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. As for Robb, Aberdeen is just as direct, shutting the door behind him. ]
Your clothes. Take them off.
ALWAYS AWKWARD gosh abs he can't just take his clothes off!!
but they'll never know, will they? ]
I've nothing else.
[ which is the point, really. this is all he has left of home. these clothes, the ones that had survived space and terror and all manner of horrors, they're all he has left of westoros. to strip them from his body would be to sever the last of this connection, the connection he's become so removed from.
robb's loathe to do so, wishes to cling on tightly to the last link he has left even if he knows it might not be possible. ]