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song_of_ice) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
theianlogs2017-09-10 12:46 pm
song_of_ice) wrote in theianlogs2017-09-10 12:46 pm
[Open] The Long Night is Coming
Who: Jon Snow and YOU!
When: 9/09
Where: Around
What: Settling in, combating monsters, etc.
Warnings: Violence and bloodshed
Main Street
Home. It wasn't a concept Jon had much experience with, even Winterfell had not exactly been home to him. A bastard had no rights or claims, he had no place in the world. Yet this place claimed to have been his, that he was a part of this place and his other life nothing more than fantasy. It didn't sit well with him, the dismissal of his life, experiences and struggles.
It was why he wandered the street with a harsh expression on his face, looking over every building with distaste and suspicion. It was all some form of magic, a kind that he hadn't experienced before. So long as he didn't lose his identity or memories, this place would not fully hold and own him.
If you pass him, it is easy hear his mantra, mumbled under his breath. A reminder for something he might one day forget. You might even make out the words: "Jon Snow...Winterfell...Warden...the North..."
Open to Housemates in 1002
He visits the room that apparently belonged to him, sparse and bare like his own in Winterfell. The fur coverlets are familiar, as is the wooden bed itself. It looks like it was pulled from home, but that couldn't be possible. It was some illusion, all of this was. How else was he to accept what was happening? It wasn't real. He had to believe that or go mad.
Finding nothing to explain this strangeness, Jon returned to the common room. It wasn't like anything he had seen before, but there was apparently food, though it was cold and kept in some sort of box. There was no hearth to cook the meat, only a stove top with weird dials upon it and no place to stock wood or light a match.
He glanced between the meat and the stove in confusion, about ready to kick the thing into compliance. "How am I supposed to cook?"
Monster Mash - Open
He may know nothing about this world, his apparent home, but he knows monsters and creatures that lurk in the dark. Large hulking beasts and wiry creatures with claws loom closer, swarming the solitary human on the street. It's obvious they smell prey and alone, Jon appears defenseless, but whatever brought him here saw fit to keep Longclaw at his side.
Sword in hand, he manages to cut through several monsters, ducking and weaving out of the way of teeth and claws. These are not the Others, but they are no less a threat and he had not yet lost the desire to continue on. Some fight, some purpose would keep him going and fighting these creatures provided it.
The sight of a figure just out the corner of his eye is enough to divert his attention. He turns to glance toward the person standing nearby. Before he can return his focus to the spider like creature he is fighting, it manages to catch his arm with its claws. He gives a cry of pain, but carefully turns to place himself between the person and the monster.
"Go! Run!"
When: 9/09
Where: Around
What: Settling in, combating monsters, etc.
Warnings: Violence and bloodshed
Main Street
Home. It wasn't a concept Jon had much experience with, even Winterfell had not exactly been home to him. A bastard had no rights or claims, he had no place in the world. Yet this place claimed to have been his, that he was a part of this place and his other life nothing more than fantasy. It didn't sit well with him, the dismissal of his life, experiences and struggles.
It was why he wandered the street with a harsh expression on his face, looking over every building with distaste and suspicion. It was all some form of magic, a kind that he hadn't experienced before. So long as he didn't lose his identity or memories, this place would not fully hold and own him.
If you pass him, it is easy hear his mantra, mumbled under his breath. A reminder for something he might one day forget. You might even make out the words: "Jon Snow...Winterfell...Warden...the North..."
Open to Housemates in 1002
He visits the room that apparently belonged to him, sparse and bare like his own in Winterfell. The fur coverlets are familiar, as is the wooden bed itself. It looks like it was pulled from home, but that couldn't be possible. It was some illusion, all of this was. How else was he to accept what was happening? It wasn't real. He had to believe that or go mad.
Finding nothing to explain this strangeness, Jon returned to the common room. It wasn't like anything he had seen before, but there was apparently food, though it was cold and kept in some sort of box. There was no hearth to cook the meat, only a stove top with weird dials upon it and no place to stock wood or light a match.
He glanced between the meat and the stove in confusion, about ready to kick the thing into compliance. "How am I supposed to cook?"
Monster Mash - Open
He may know nothing about this world, his apparent home, but he knows monsters and creatures that lurk in the dark. Large hulking beasts and wiry creatures with claws loom closer, swarming the solitary human on the street. It's obvious they smell prey and alone, Jon appears defenseless, but whatever brought him here saw fit to keep Longclaw at his side.
Sword in hand, he manages to cut through several monsters, ducking and weaving out of the way of teeth and claws. These are not the Others, but they are no less a threat and he had not yet lost the desire to continue on. Some fight, some purpose would keep him going and fighting these creatures provided it.
The sight of a figure just out the corner of his eye is enough to divert his attention. He turns to glance toward the person standing nearby. Before he can return his focus to the spider like creature he is fighting, it manages to catch his arm with its claws. He gives a cry of pain, but carefully turns to place himself between the person and the monster.
"Go! Run!"