faderift | seeking knowledge [open]

WHO: Sansa Stark
WHAT: Settling in
WHEN: 11 Harvestmere - the end of the month
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: Feel free to find her around in another place that her log text doesn't mention, just let me know. Some implied mention of abuse/sexual assault in the Tyrion-Sansa thread but nothing explicit.

Sansa has settled into this place, so much as one can settle into a place where she's dropped from the sky. It's not a terrible one, really, and once she'd been brought to the keep called Skyhold, she'd felt a little better about things. She spends quite a lot of time in the keep. There's great libraries full of books and papers and letters and all of them have information about the place she's landed herself in; Sansa spends most of her days educating herself on the place she's wound up and reads for hours and hours until her eyes are tired and the candles have burned low.

The nights are a bit different. She has stuck close to Lord Tyrion since he's the only person she knows from Westeros, and they have found lodging close to one another. It makes her feel a bit safer, all told, and she just wants to keep close to him for the time being. If he minds it, he hasn't said anything to her, and she's happy to go on as they have.

Currently, she's curled up in a chair in one corner of the keep, one of the journals in her hands. She's trying to learn all about the politics of this place but the names and places keep running together and she doesn't know if she'll ever keep them straight. She wants, desperately, to learn them so she feels like she has a purpose but she knows it won't happen in just a few weeks or even a few moons.

"You have to be patient, Sansa," she mutters, diving back into her work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

In the evenings, Sansa often has a silent companion, settled a few chairs away to give no illusion of intention, and equally steeped in his own reading. Like her, Cade is a standoffish and serious sort, who naturally enjoys the solitude of being here with the security of having someone nearby who he knows for certain isn't going to stare or snicker or ask him awful questions.
Besides, he never saw her before recently, and he sees by the shard on her hand that she isn't from around here. That's probably good. That means she doesn't know who he is, which means she's safe to be around, at least for now.

Perhaps periodically their eyes will meet by accident, or one will sneeze and startle the other. If they ever happen to look at each other at the same time, Sansa receives a look of mild surprise followed by the barest of acknowledging smiles before Cade minds his own business again.

After a few evenings of silent companionship, Sansa finally looks to him and decides it is only polite to ask his name and give her own in exchange. That is what a lady does, after all, and she is still a lady.

"My name is Sansa," she offers sweetly, giving him a little smile. "Since we haven't spoken or anything."

In some circles he would argue he's still a gentleman, but that remains to be proven.
Cade is actually a little startled when the girl speaks, and he looks up, putting his thumb on the pave to mark his place. "Oh," he says, caught a bit off-guard, "...um. Cade. Cade Harimann."

"My pleasure," Sansa says, giving him a little smile.

"You must forgive me for not having spoken before now. I've been so busy reading. I want to learn everything I can about Thedas so I might make it a home - even if it's just a temporary one."

Cade seems surprised by the apology. "You don't..." he begins, but just shakes his head-- he'd probably do the same thing. And has before. "...there's nothing to forgive," he concludes awkwardly.
"You, um... where are you from?"

"The Seven Kingdoms," Sansa says gently. He seems to be stammering a bit and she doesn't want to make him more nervous or shy. She gives him a gentle smile, trying to encourage him to talk.

"It's in Westeros. It's not a part of Thedas. I came through one of the Rifts?"

Her answer seems to yield some suspicion in Cade, who watches her uncertainly-- is she making fun of him? "...seven?" he repeats, disbelieving, and shakes his head pensively. "That's so many."

"There used to be many petty kings," Sansa explains. "Hundreds of years ago, long before I was born. Each region had its own king and its own vassals and then the dragonkings came from across the Narrow Sea and united them all together."

It sounds like a lovely story, told that way, but Sansa knows it's all in the telling. It can be told quite differently by other parties, especially those who lost quite a bit - like House Gardener, which is no more.

"And you're from..." he tries to parse this. "...all seven?" She said she's from the Seven Kingdoms, after all, not one among seven. "Sorry," he says quickly, ducking his head with a slight coloring of his cheeks, "I... I haven't met many rifters."

"It's all right," Sansa assures him. "They're just united now, the Seven Kingdoms," she explains.

"I come from the North, the largest of the Seven. House Stark has always held the North."

"Oh."
So she's a noble. So is he, a little bit, though she's probably more of one. "I'm from Starkhaven," he says stupidly-- funny how the names are similar, despite being worlds apart. "...I suppose we have Starks here too." He purses his lips and thinks a moment. "...a haven of them."

Sansa laughs lightly and gives him a broad smile, eager to hear of these Starks from Thedas to see if they are any different than the Starks from her home.

"Oh? Tell me about them, then, the Starks of Starkhaven."

It's at this moment that Cade realizes he has never actually met a Stark of Starkhaven. And isn't even sure if they... are a thing.
He stares at her for a moment, then goes a bit red, looking aside. "...I... don't know," he murmurs, "...perhaps they lived a long time ago." That's probably not what a rifter far from home wants to hear. He glances apologetically back to her.

"It's all right. I was just wondering if they might be anything like my family, is all," Sansa says gently.

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, I swear it to you."

"Sorry," he says nonetheless, shaking his head, his face still gradually reddening. Sansa is visibly quite young, a fact that isn't lost on Cade and with which he's not entirely comfortable, but she comports herself as a woman. If he's going to make an awkward fool of himself, he's at least glad it isn't with a child.
"I know," he mumbles, beginning to back away, "it's... it's all right." He gestures vaguely to one of the nearby shelves. "Um... lots of histories over on that one. I should. Be going. My Lady." He sketches a small bow to her and turns to rapidly take his leave.

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