strangetrip | And then there were none

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nothing took away the grief of losing someone. Not vengeance, not drink, not rage, not forgiveness. He'd tried them all, and the place where his family had been was still empty.

It had been nearly seven years since they'd died.

Whoever Sansa had been to Snow, her pain would not be dismissed in an afternoon, and Percy was loathe to suggest that it should.

"I didn't know Sansa. What is she like?"

"A survivor," Snow said at once, whisper quiet. The rest... she went silent as she thought.

"She's gentle and kind. Shy. She didn't want to get close to many people. She..." Anyone who watched carefully her could tell that she'd been hurt, but Snow didn't feel right sharing it all the same, not in so many words. "We understood each other."

Percy nodded. At first glance, it was incongruous. The nearly feral girl with the gun and the gentle noblewoman, but then, so too was his friendship with Keyleth. It made no sense that his dearest friend would be the awkward, outgoing, earnest druid, nor that hers would be the cynical, broken gunslinger.

The pieces that bound them were not so obvious.

"You were with her yesterday."

Snow nodded, her face softening. "She said... that the snow reminded her of home. That she lived so far north, sometimes even in the summer it would snow at night."

"I'm glad we were able to remind her of home for a time." It was an inane comment, but Percy was aware that what he said barely mattered. Snow simply needed space and time.

Not that it ever grew to hurt less.

"It's not safe for her there," Snow mumbled. "Only if she didn't go back... then she's all alone somewhere." And she had no idea which was worse.

Percy didn't know what to say. He didn't have any comforting words. He had only...

"I have a sister." Present tense. She was not here but she was alive. "When we were...younger, she was left alone, surrounded by enemies. She was just a girl, younger than you. Younger than Sansa. They were...impossibly cruel to her.

"And when the time came, years later, she took her chance and her freedom. They broke her, but not forever."

He looked away, out toward the mountains. "Noblewomen are, in my experience, stronger than they appear."

Snow slugged him.

She didn't entirely know why she'd punched him, only she couldn't listen to any more of this. And she took up her gun and the pouch that had been offered earlier before pushing to her feet. "Thank you for the bullets."

He hadn't seen it coming. Quite literally, as he'd stopped watching her to be caught up in his own memories and guilt for leaving Cassandra behind.

The punch knocked him over, off his heels and onto his ass. He rubbed at his jaw, which was going to bruise he was sure, and nodded. "No problem."

And then there were none - OTA

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject