strangetrip | And then there were none

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And then there were none - OTA

She was gone. Sansa was gone.

It wasn't unusual for Snow White not to see Sansa for a day or two. Sansa kept to herself much of the time, shy of many of the inn’s inhabitants. But she would find Snow, would talk to Snow, and it would always bring light and warmth to Snow’s day to see her. She didn’t understand why. She didn’t need to know, so long as she could have this.

Yesterday had been just about the most magical day in her life. She'd found Sansa building a castle in the snow, and they'd worked quietly together on this tiny model of a castle called Winterfell. Snow had finally worked up her nerve and kissed her after those last touches were made. It had been terrifying. It had been achingly sweet. But it had not been bad. Neither of them knew what it meant, and yet...

And then today she just knew something was different. Something was wrong. She had gone to Sansa’s room. Then to the desk.

She didn’t cry. Or scream, or rage. Instead she calmly and quietly collected four glass bottles from the bar and took them out to a fence along the road.

She had four bullets left in Rose Red. Two had been used in Songrun, and she had been saving the rest until Percy could make her more. She lined up the bottles on the fence, and stepped back as far as she thought she could manage.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

She dropped the gun and went down on her knees in the grass, staring at nothing.

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River hadn't really known Sansa, she'd been aware of her but she hadn't spoken to her. But sitting there next to Snow, she did know her. And she missed her. She wanted her back and she was angry that she had gone.

"You are not alone," she said finally. Not that she expected it to ease the pain but for River alone was almost worse than anything else. Alone reminded her of the Academy.

Snow nodded. She knew. She still had Mama and Kash and Vex (and Vax) and Molly and River and Dyson--when he had gotten onto that list she really couldn't say--and yet it still felt like all of her guts had fallen out and been replaced with ice water.

"Fuck everything," she whispered.

"We can try, but I do not believe Simon would approve." Simon could be a prude, and she was his baby sister.

Unsure whether that was a joke or in earnest, Snow only turned her head away and said nothing. In the former case she lacked the anger, in the latter case she lacked the context, and in either, she lacked any words.

It was entirely possible that it had been both a joke and in earnest. River didn't really know herself.

"I am unsure how to help," Snow could hit her, but somehow River wasn't sure that would be effective.

"I don't either," Snow admitted. Comfort in general was a strange concept that few had ever bothered with. She didn't know what helped or made things worse, not until it was happening. "But... thank you for trying."

So far she hadn't done much to be thanked for, but she understood that people often thanked others for the desire to help.

"Inara would have brought chocolate."

Distraction. Snow immediately latched onto the obvious question. "Who's Inara?"

"Friend. Companion." Though she knew Snow wouldn't understand the connotations of that word it was still true in the other sense. "She brushes my hair sometimes."

Snow didn't smile, or at least her face didn't. But there was a faint flicker of something that wanted to be amusement underneath the weight of the sadness. "You let her?"

"It helps people to let them take care," River said after a moments reflection. "I is comforting to believe they are doing what I cannot for myself."

She could of course, but then she also frequently didn't.

Snow nodded her understanding. When it came to the basics of taking care of herself, she was perfectly capable. But Regina still often insisted on doing things for her, something Snow enjoyed and something that always seemed to make Regina feel better. "Mama brushes my hair sometimes even though I already do that." Her hair was the closest Snow came to vanity. In general she didn't care about her appearance, but if she didn't care at all she'd hack it all off.

"Sometimes I forget," because remembering to do all the things people did every day like brushing her hair was hard. She got distracted too easily.

"But Sam does not offer to brush it for me." Usually he would just hand her a hair brush.

Snow was trying to picture Sam brushing anybody's hair. "Hair ain't important anyway."

"Inara may not agree," but River didn't consider it important in general. "But it is her trade to care about things like that."

"Why?" Away from the topic of Sansa, it was significantly easier for Snow to accept the give and take, the flow of talking to River. It just was.

And as long as you didn't ask about the Academy or what had been done to her, River was willing to talk about anything.

"She is a companion." A pause while she tried to come up with a better descriptor for what that was than the one Mal would have used. Whore was technically accurate but not right. "For the right price."

Innuendo was not Snow White's strong point, but there weren't many things women only offered for a price. "She's a prostitute?"

"She would not agree with the term, but the intent is similar." Companions were more like courtesans than mere prostitutes. Entertainers, therapists, it was hard to explain.

"A companion is highly trained, and can be choosy about patrons. They offer more than sex. Inara brushes hair and calls me mei mei." Which River thought was probably similar to what she provided her customers. "But she does not charge me."

Snow's experience of men was limited, but part of that had been that no man actually paid a woman just for her company. Of course, her personal experience had been that they didn't even pay if they wanted to fuck you, but maybe it was different when you were high class. "Oh."

"Any man who assaults a companion will be dealt with harshly." River rubbed a hand over her eyes, invasion was just as bad be it sexual or some other form, and she'd experienced it through others and herself in different forms.

"Or woman. Companions do not have a gender preference when selecting clients."

"That'd be nice," Snow mumbled. Half-breed bitches didn't get that kind of protection. Then again, from what Sansa had told her, highborn ladies didn't either if they were in disgrace and God if she'd gone back there, Snow didn't think she could take that.

If she was a companion where River was from her heritage wouldn't have any impact on her protection.

"My social status did not protect me either." A pause and then because she had met Sansa and liked her. "She is strong. Stronger than the ones who will try to hurt her. If she went back."

There was no point in fretting about it, regardless. She didn't know. She'd probably never know. "Maybe it don't matter who you are," Snow mused. "Maybe it's just the woman part."

"History would seem to bear that out." She agreed, and then she swore in Chinese, whatever else it sounded like it was very obviously swearing.

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