[Stiles had to laugh, turning to look at Jon before moving to go get some ingredients.]
You need to come to California some time. Maybe Mexico. Now that is hot. This? Not so much.
[Bringing the ingredients back to the table, he grabbed his staff, angling it juuuust so.]
I have been working on something. Again, for Alayne. She said she missed the snow, so...
[After mumbling a word, the stone in his staff flared and a whirlwind of snow shot up from it, spraying down to land just over Jon and his pup, sprinkling them both with flakes as Stiles smirked at him. Another word and it stopped.]
[Jon glances up suspiciously before the snowflakes start falling, and he has to laugh, short and quiet and a tiny bit full of wonder. It's only been a handful of months, but it still feels like half a lifetime since he last felt snow melting on his skin. Most days on the Wall he'd wanted nothing more than a bit of heat, but the grass is always greener on the other side.
The direwolf pup spends her time trying to lick them out of her fur and catch them in her sharp little mouth, squirming less now than she had been when they first came in.
Jon catches the last few in an outstretched hand as the little display comes to an end, and watches them disappear slowly into tiny droplets of water in his palm. He does look inordinately pleased for a moment - at least, as pleased as he ever looks with the perpetual pout serious and manly expression on his face.]
Well, it's a start.
[Not that he'll, you know, pay Stiles the compliment or anything.]
[Was that a smile? Wow, it had been. Guess there were more people that would like that than Alayne.]
Hey, don't you 'it's a start' me. That wasn't easy to figure out, buddy. But I'm working on something bigger. Like... something that will cover an area. A small cloud or something, like a bigger version of her tree.
[He knows guy-speak, Jon. You may as well just tell him you love him and want to live in a little log cabin in the snow with him.]
[Is Jon envisioning one of the smaller courtyards blanketed in white and snowball fights with his little sisters? Yes he is. If Stiles could get Sansa to laugh and play like she used to with that, might be Jon would relax just a smidgen about the whole... everything.]
How do you learn a spell like that? It just looks to me like waving a staff.
[Alright, so it's not quite a confession of love and desire for snowy log cabin retreats yet, but that's the sort of business a man has to work himself up to, gosh.]
Well, the staff is like... the focal point. It channels what I do. The words are sort of the catalyst, but I have to be able to focus it properly. Otherwise slush. Or bedsheets on fire. If it were just that easy, I'd be able to do everything in the books by now. But there's more to it than that. Which is probably a good thing.
[He'll have you bringing him home a slain bear to cook in no time, Jon-boy. He needs a full season of courting. =|]
[Jon scuffs one of his shoes against the floor as he curls his fingers up under the direwolf's ears again, thoughtful.] Aye, but you will eventually, won't you? [He frowns - it's the sort of thing that's been bothering him since they got back from Reynard's, since Jon has decided he can't just ignore the war and keep to his family anymore.] The King and Queen can make themselves great armies by giving men such gifts, so why do they wait to be asked? What kind of strategy is that?
I hope so. I mean, I don't know how fast I'm supposed to be learning this stuff. Hermione says where she comes from, they have schools. There's no school here, so I'm just doing the best I can. I don't know if that's good enough.
[One thing Jon might pick up on was that for all Stiles' bravado and mouthiness, there was a large part of him that never thought he was good enough. At anything. He was always less than by some degree and it just sat there in his psyche like a lump.
He shrugged at Jon's question.]
No idea. Maybe it's part of the whole boon thing? You have to want it? Imagine giving someone magic who had no use for it or who didn't want it. It's about as effective as giving me a sword. They can give people all the weapons they have, but they can't make us use them.
[Jon shakes his head. He's mostly surprised that they let everyone get away with it, with refusing to fight. They're far easier to appease than any King he's known before, it seems.]
Have you fought for them, then? With your magic? [He knows there was at least one battle just weeks before he arrived.]
[He shrugged, grabbing something and throwing it into the mortar to grind up. A word had the little stub of a candle he used as a cooker lighting and he slid it under a bottle in an iron stand, pouring in something green.]
I didn't sign on to fight for them. I'm not a soldier. I'll use my magic to help myself and my friends and keep us all alive, but I'm not throwing fireballs at people that probably want to be here as little as I do.
[It all seems like Maester's work to Jon, who watches with interest, even as the direwolf pup starts to fall asleep in his hands, her little mangled paw still twitching.]
I'd thought it just some queer dream when they asked me to come. [He'd have refused if he'd known it wasn't, but on some level he's glad he didn't, because his father still has a head here, still lives and breathes and calls him son to other men, with no Lady Catelyn around to protest.] If they want their war fought they ought to find mercenaries or some such with shards, not regular folk like you. [There we go, that'll be the first and probably last time Jon will ever call Stiles any kind of normal.]
You too, huh? I wasn't sleeping well at the time and sort of thought it was just a really vivid hallucination. Next thing I know, bam. Here I am.
[He was touched, Jon. Touched in his warm fuzzy place. Did you want to bring him roses now?]
Hah, yeah, well, it's never the ones that have any experience that get thrust into stuff. At least, that's been my experience. With non-experiencededness. Ess.
Totally true. I'm preaching and you're my choir, buddy boy.
[He added what was in the mortar to the bottle, leaning back as a puff of blue smoke flared up. He was learning. The first time, he'd had his face right in that. Ever snorted magic? Not a pretty experience.]
Just a few more things and this should be ready. I'll put it in a small bowl with some... what, water? Milk? What do baby things eat?
When we found Ghost, I had to suckle him on goat's milk for a time. [He looks down, and tries to judge just how many weeks old this direwolf is.] Might be just the potion would serve, but I'd sooner have a cloth to soak it in to feed her than a bowl.
That's pretty big for a pup. But I can get you a cloth.
[Which he goes to do, also grabbing a container of something else. Something he measures out and adds to the potion that he keeps over the flame for a little longer.]
It'll have to cool for a bit. I had the benefit of giving it cool off time while I flew out to where you were, but fresh from the source, it'll be too hot for it.
[He'd get bored if people didn't come barging into his life. And he'd feel useless. This at least makes him feel like he's doing something.
When a light blue steam starts to waft from the bottle, he blows out the candle. Stoppering it, he shakes it up a bit before moving to uncap it and pour the contents into vials he has set up. He fills each to the top, then looks in and sees enough for another dose.]
Should I put this in something? Milk? I might have milk. I can call for milk. There should be a pixie around here somewhere. Pixie? Pixie!
I don't. Not intentionally. But there's usually one or two flying things in here fussing with my stuff, so I figu-- hey. There you are.
[He dumped a small body out of a bowl he picked up, nudging it and waking it. It yawned sleepily and gave him a look.]
Since you're here without me wanting you here, how about you make yourself useful. I need some milk for this potion [The potion he waggled at it.] so the wolf over there can get healed.
[After a languid stretch that might have involved a rude gesture or two (and some inappropriate scratching), the pixie lifted up in a blur of wings and flew over to Jon and the wolf pup. Male, it wore a kilt-like skirt and had a tiny sword. And a hat. And that's about it.]
Don't gawk. Go be useful.
[The kilt was lifted to show a tiny pale rump aimed at Stiles before it flew off out the door.]
[Jon chokes out a half-laugh at the display, torn between being amused and offended. He'd never quite inspired such gestures from then, being rather more polite than Stiles on the whole.] Might be they'd fit in fine at the Wall, these fairies.
[That's what handmaidens do. Not that Jon ever had one, but Sansa used to, and besides people are much less shy about random nudity in the Seven "what are pajamas?" Kingdoms. He still (carefully) reaches for a cookie, though. Because mmm, cookies.]
She was a boon I think, delivered just this morning... but the Lady Meera, who asked for her, is not in the castle at the moment. [She's out doing dangerous things, gods help her.] I would make a poor "wolfsitter" if I delivered her new pup to her with a limp.
[Huh. They were giving out things like that as boons? He wondered if they might do the same with dragons. The queen had mentioned having dragon eggs...]
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You need to come to California some time. Maybe Mexico. Now that is hot. This? Not so much.
[Bringing the ingredients back to the table, he grabbed his staff, angling it juuuust so.]
I have been working on something. Again, for Alayne. She said she missed the snow, so...
[After mumbling a word, the stone in his staff flared and a whirlwind of snow shot up from it, spraying down to land just over Jon and his pup, sprinkling them both with flakes as Stiles smirked at him. Another word and it stopped.]
No more slush.
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The direwolf pup spends her time trying to lick them out of her fur and catch them in her sharp little mouth, squirming less now than she had been when they first came in.
Jon catches the last few in an outstretched hand as the little display comes to an end, and watches them disappear slowly into tiny droplets of water in his palm. He does look inordinately pleased for a moment - at least, as pleased as he ever looks with the perpetual
poutserious and manly expression on his face.]Well, it's a start.
[Not that he'll, you know, pay Stiles the compliment or anything.]
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Hey, don't you 'it's a start' me. That wasn't easy to figure out, buddy. But I'm working on something bigger. Like... something that will cover an area. A small cloud or something, like a bigger version of her tree.
[He knows guy-speak, Jon. You may as well just tell him you love him and want to live in a little log cabin in the snow with him.]
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How do you learn a spell like that? It just looks to me like waving a staff.
[Alright, so it's not quite a confession of love and desire for snowy log cabin retreats yet, but that's the sort of business a man has to work himself up to, gosh.]
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[He'll have you bringing him home a slain bear to cook in no time, Jon-boy. He needs a full season of courting. =|]
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[One thing Jon might pick up on was that for all Stiles' bravado and mouthiness, there was a large part of him that never thought he was good enough. At anything. He was always less than by some degree and it just sat there in his psyche like a lump.
He shrugged at Jon's question.]
No idea. Maybe it's part of the whole boon thing? You have to want it? Imagine giving someone magic who had no use for it or who didn't want it. It's about as effective as giving me a sword. They can give people all the weapons they have, but they can't make us use them.
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Have you fought for them, then? With your magic? [He knows there was at least one battle just weeks before he arrived.]
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[He shrugged, grabbing something and throwing it into the mortar to grind up. A word had the little stub of a candle he used as a cooker lighting and he slid it under a bottle in an iron stand, pouring in something green.]
I didn't sign on to fight for them. I'm not a soldier. I'll use my magic to help myself and my friends and keep us all alive, but I'm not throwing fireballs at people that probably want to be here as little as I do.
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I'd thought it just some queer dream when they asked me to come. [He'd have refused if he'd known it wasn't, but on some level he's glad he didn't, because his father still has a head here, still lives and breathes and calls him son to other men, with no Lady Catelyn around to protest.] If they want their war fought they ought to find mercenaries or some such with shards, not regular folk like you. [There we go, that'll be the first and probably last time Jon will ever call Stiles any kind of normal.]
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[He was touched, Jon. Touched in his warm fuzzy place. Did you want to bring him roses now?]
Hah, yeah, well, it's never the ones that have any experience that get thrust into stuff. At least, that's been my experience. With non-experiencededness. Ess.
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[He added what was in the mortar to the bottle, leaning back as a puff of blue smoke flared up. He was learning. The first time, he'd had his face right in that. Ever snorted magic? Not a pretty experience.]
Just a few more things and this should be ready. I'll put it in a small bowl with some... what, water? Milk? What do baby things eat?
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[Which he goes to do, also grabbing a container of something else. Something he measures out and adds to the potion that he keeps over the flame for a little longer.]
It'll have to cool for a bit. I had the benefit of giving it cool off time while I flew out to where you were, but fresh from the source, it'll be too hot for it.
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[He gives her a very small, rueful smile.]
Thank you, Stiles. Again. [He should probably stop barging in on the poor guy like this, but... he's not gonna.]
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When a light blue steam starts to waft from the bottle, he blows out the candle. Stoppering it, he shakes it up a bit before moving to uncap it and pour the contents into vials he has set up. He fills each to the top, then looks in and sees enough for another dose.]
Should I put this in something? Milk? I might have milk. I can call for milk. There should be a pixie around here somewhere. Pixie? Pixie!
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[Jon cranes his head around trying to figure out who exactly Stiles is calling to without jostling the pup overly much.]
Why've you got a pixie holed up in here with you?
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[He dumped a small body out of a bowl he picked up, nudging it and waking it. It yawned sleepily and gave him a look.]
Since you're here without me wanting you here, how about you make yourself useful. I need some milk for this potion [The potion he waggled at it.] so the wolf over there can get healed.
[After a languid stretch that might have involved a rude gesture or two (and some inappropriate scratching), the pixie lifted up in a blur of wings and flew over to Jon and the wolf pup. Male, it wore a kilt-like skirt and had a tiny sword. And a hat. And that's about it.]
Don't gawk. Go be useful.
[The kilt was lifted to show a tiny pale rump aimed at Stiles before it flew off out the door.]
Stupid pixies.
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[The rest was lost to mutterings as he started to clean up from his potion making.]
I don't have any pizza, but I've got cookies if you want one.
[He lifted up a lid that covered a plate of cookies (the only way he could keep any without having them all go 'missing')
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Maybe they're only trying to help you change.
[That's what handmaidens do. Not that Jon ever had one, but Sansa used to, and besides people are much less shy about random nudity in the Seven "what are pajamas?" Kingdoms. He still (carefully) reaches for a cookie, though. Because mmm, cookies.]
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[So much line facing. How was he supposed to get changed with eyes watching him? Guess who changed under the blankets now?]
So how come you got stuck with wolfsitting duty?
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[Huh. They were giving out things like that as boons? He wondered if they might do the same with dragons. The queen had mentioned having dragon eggs...]
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