Meals are one thing, Stiles. Food stores to sustain a populous of a city that will not fight for her, where the soldiers of her enemy are welcomed to live? [Jon shakes his head, chewing.] Might be we will not even be able to look to her for such things: it would not surprise me if she tells us to find such elsewhere. She has her own people to feed, and winter is coming.
[You people was clearly 'you and Sansa and your weird words'.]
Winter always comes, but I'm pretty sure this place doesn't have the whole ten year winter thing like your world does. Most worlds, mine included, just have winter for a few months. Every year. Then there's three other seasons. This place has been following along with that pace pretty closely.
But... you're right about the other part. So... maybe we'll just take it anyway. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?
Aye, but Winter's not the only thing we must ward against, even if it is queerly short. A siege is what worries me.
[Oh my gods Stiles no.] It's not my experience that monarchs are especially forgiving. Asking permission is more like to keep your head on your shoulders than the other way around.
[Okay Jon would not necessarily be opposed to kissing the royal ass because wow BUT STILL.] We should absolutely not do that. [POINTING HIS PIZZA AT RYIA.] Tell him we should not do that. [His gargoyle seems far more reasonable than he does tbh!]
[The gargoyle in question looked crosseyed at the pizza suddenly pointed at her, mouth bulging and a string of cheese leading from it to the piece in her hands (which, by the way, was bigger than her).]
Ffllooogmanllongleh.
[Stiles tried not to laugh, watching as the little feline face gave a satisfied nod, as if what she'd said had been understandable, then a small clawed hand shoved a piece of pineapple into her already full mouth and the squelching sounds of open-mouthed chewing began.]
[Jon keeps a relatively straight face... until the pineapple. Then he loses it with a snort and, not laughter precisely, but a slight shake to his shoulders that probably gives him away anyway.]
She intended to scold you, I'm sure. [Don't break his heart, Ryia!] Besides, I don't think you can carry enough supplies for the whole of Cothromach in those skinny arms of yours.
Oh ye of little fa-- hey, my arms aren't that skinny. Just because I don't have over-muscled arms of ridiculousness doesn't mean I can't be useful. That's what the carpet's for. Duh.
[So rude, Jon. He was hurt. Wounded. Offended. He was going to join Ryia in face-shoving and take a huge bite of his pizza. The pair of them looked just like a master and familiar should; both with bulging cheeks and grease-smeared lips and look of utter cheese-filled contentment as they chewed.]
[Jon sighs and plants his elbow on the table and his chin on that hand, watching the two dorks go to town on their pizza. Even Mormont's old bird is being fairly reasonable off in the corner. He missed.... bro-time, while he's been busy with trying to organize and prepare Cothromach's guard.]
Can you get that thing through the mirrors with you? And it seems to me you might rouse suspicion if you go gallivanting through the larder with a carpet piled high with food.
[Come to Stiles for all your bro-time needs, Jon. That's what he's here for. Well, that and the fact that he's a kick ass mage now. You know you love it.]
Um, yeah. I just need a big mirror. Maybe. I don't know. I still have to figure out how this port spell works. Maybe I just touch it and BAM, I'm where the other mirror is. Or I have to walk through it. Either way, it folds up, dude.
As for the piled high carpet... I'll just cover it with a blanket.
It's science stuff. Not magic or anything. When we can actually get to the Station and this whole... siege thing is over, I'll show you about germs and biology. It's actually pretty handy and probably something you should know.
[He knows that look, Jon. He gets it from everyone.]
If someone rebuilds it by then, you mean? [It's not completely leveled, but whatever. He finally takes a look around them, picking up another slice. Meaty, this time!] So what have you busied yourself with, these last few days?
Someone better. Otherwise I'm going to start throwing fur-potions around at some of the people that screwed it up.
[He needs his porn nachos, man.
But the question had him sighing and reaching for the wine again.]
Mostly trying to not freak out over Malia making her way here with your brother. Then there was the, ah... reunion. And my dad's here, so... God, I don't know. It's all just so surreal right now. I'm mostly trying to stay off my dad's shit-radar.
"Shit-radar?" [Gods, does he even want an explanation for that?] I told your father you were doing well with your magics. [Omg don't make him a liar bro.]
Probably not. There's a bunch of, ah, weird stuff that's come up at home. I told you about some of it, with the werewolves and all that. And we're all smack dab in the middle.
[And as far as his dad was concerned, everyone was a kanima.]
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[You people was clearly 'you and Sansa and your weird words'.]
Winter always comes, but I'm pretty sure this place doesn't have the whole ten year winter thing like your world does. Most worlds, mine included, just have winter for a few months. Every year. Then there's three other seasons. This place has been following along with that pace pretty closely.
But... you're right about the other part. So... maybe we'll just take it anyway. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?
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[Oh my gods Stiles no.] It's not my experience that monarchs are especially forgiving. Asking permission is more like to keep your head on your shoulders than the other way around.
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[Yes, Jon. Join him on the dark side...]
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Ffllooogmanllongleh.
[Stiles tried not to laugh, watching as the little feline face gave a satisfied nod, as if what she'd said had been understandable, then a small clawed hand shoved a piece of pineapple into her already full mouth and the squelching sounds of open-mouthed chewing began.]
You heard her, Jon. Fllogmanlongleh.
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She intended to scold you, I'm sure. [Don't break his heart, Ryia!] Besides, I don't think you can carry enough supplies for the whole of Cothromach in those skinny arms of yours.
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[So rude, Jon. He was hurt. Wounded. Offended. He was going to join Ryia in face-shoving and take a huge bite of his pizza. The pair of them looked just like a master and familiar should; both with bulging cheeks and grease-smeared lips and look of utter cheese-filled contentment as they chewed.]
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Can you get that thing through the mirrors with you? And it seems to me you might rouse suspicion if you go gallivanting through the larder with a carpet piled high with food.
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Um, yeah. I just need a big mirror. Maybe. I don't know. I still have to figure out how this port spell works. Maybe I just touch it and BAM, I'm where the other mirror is. Or I have to walk through it. Either way, it folds up, dude.
As for the piled high carpet... I'll just cover it with a blanket.
[Because that wasn't suspicious at all, amirite?]
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That might look even worse.
Somehow.
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[Oops. Someone needed a napkin. He put his pizza down and looked over for... ooh, wine.]
Hey, you mind sharing germs or should I find cups?
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[Wiping his mouth, because rude, he took a sip and put the stopper back in, nose wrinkling at the bite of the wine.]
Germs are like... tiny microscopic things that get you sick. It's why we have antibiotics and-- you probably have no idea what I'm talking about.
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[He knows that look, Jon. He gets it from everyone.]
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[He needs his
pornnachos, man.But the question had him sighing and reaching for the wine again.]
Mostly trying to not freak out over Malia making her way here with your brother. Then there was the, ah... reunion. And my dad's here, so... God, I don't know. It's all just so surreal right now. I'm mostly trying to stay off my dad's shit-radar.
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[Jon. JON. Why'd you have to talk about his magics, Jon.]
That... was probably a bad idea. He's not really cool with the whole 'my son is now a wizard' thing.
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You didn't. Probably. He wouldn't have liked it when he found out anyway, so that's not on you, Jon.
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[And as far as his dad was concerned, everyone was a kanima.]