Open Log - I feel like I should be cackling

[inferiority_complex]

Who: Chris Halliwell and you (OPEN)
When: August till event
Where: Solvunn and Horizon
What: Witchy shit
Warnings: weird ass ingredients. Beware of pigs feet.

Will match prose or brackets. Plot with me over at caletara

Comments

Solvunn - Open

[inferiority_complex]

Chris had a condundrum. He could continue trying to gather ingredients for potions since he had been completely kidnapped without any witch supplies, or he could make due with what he had been able to come up with, see if he can make substitutions and hope the potion actually did what it was supposed to.

Not wanting to rely strictly on his own magical abilities, he decided on potion making. Which lead to his next problem. What kind of a potion to make? Chris had no idea what kind of problems or monsters here were likely, and to top it all off, he was relying on his own memory. While he had started reconstructing the Halliwell Book of Shadows in his domain, it was far from finished. Also, that book was huge. And memory? Was imperfect.

Maybe he needed to come up with a memory potion later. That was a good idea actually. But not going to help his current problem.

Chris had lined up the ingredients he had come up with, consisting of a variety of herbs, roots, animal organs or body parts, along with a soup pot he really hoped no one was planning on using any time soon. He'd wash it, he promised.

"What do you think? I probably can make a sleeping potion--there's enough variability with those, a stun potion--those are similar enough to sleep. I might be able to do an explosive but I'm missing a bird feather. Or, smoke bomb." Chris winced a little, unsure. " I don't think I quite have enough for acid or poisons yet without finding a Walmart nearby."

[tedandroses]

Teddy's been gathering herbs to make into a pest deterrent for the luthier's poor garden, which has long since turned from paying off a guitar into a stubborn pet project. The guy has the worst case of black thumb (plus what Teddy would call ADHD) that they've ever seen, but he's, at least, willing to assiduously listen while Teddy gives tips, and he seems to be if anything eager to talk to them about music, so.

It's not exactly hard to notice the tall -- guy, Teddy sort of assumes, although it's a bad habit -- collecting ingredients nearby. They've both sort of acknowledged each other and gone about their business; they're both still clearly sort of observing each other obliquely. (It's about 50% is he new or do I just not know him, and also what the fuck...? and about 50% which year is that haircut screaming, right now)

She startles a little, even so, when he says What do you think? Teddy's still not a hundred percent sure if he's talking to her or not, but she blinks at the list, wandering closer to eye the very esoteric stuff and the ...very normal stockpot. "If we had a Walmart nearby," she says with a lifted eyebrow, "you could just buy a gun. And poisons exist all on their own. I promise." She tips her head a little toward the woods. There's plenty in there not recommended for internal use, so to speak.

"...Are you uh, liable to need explosives or acid any time soon?" A smoke bomb actually sounds kind of cool. It's more the wide range from vandalism to defense or possibly a riot to murder that's slightly concerning.

[inferiority_complex]

Chris had fully intended on having a pleasant, civil conversation. A completely normal conversation, like one would who was just randomly preparing to brew potions in the middle of a weird ass commune they'd been kidnapped post-death. Completely normal. That is until the weirdo in front of him told him he could buy a gun at Walmart. He was quite sure the look on his face was almost comical.

A demon attacking he could have handled. Killer dragonflies swarming? Sure. Buying a gun at Walmart? Nah. "What the hell? Where the fuck do you live that you can buy a gun at Walmart? Ginger, you can buy ginger at Walmart. Cinnamon sticks. Maybe some mason jars if you get there in time. But a gun? No, you can't buy a gun at Walmart." Seriously, he was busy talking about making explosive potions and this person wanted to buy a gun instead? "I think I'll stick to the thing I know how to use. But if you find a rogue gun store that pops up and happens to stock cinnamon sticks and bagel bites, let me know."

Chris was giving Teddy such a look. "Why don't you tell me what I might need here. I'm still getting a feel for this place. Either way, I think I'd like to be prepared."

He paused, sighing and just lowering his gaze to the ground. He hadn't heard that sound very many time, but enough that he knew what it was. That lovely dentists drill sound that was ringing in his ears indicating a new charge. Wow. That was some really good reception. He hadn't thought it worked all the way over in another world. It made him wish he had his iphone with him too. See how many bars he could get. Either way, clearly there was a reason. They were linked. That was what he'd always been taught. Stuff happens for a reason. Whoever this person was, they were clearly connected.

And so, Chris actually relaxed, lost a bit of the edge he'd been holding, and started viewing Teddy in a new light. A charge. Huh. He wasn't sure what was more concerning. The fact that he had a charge or the fact that his charge could buy a gun at a Walmart.

"Uh, I'm Chris." For some reason 'meet your new whitelighter' didn't just roll off the tongue. Go figure. Now did he tell them the truth or just....coincidentally keep arriving in the same place as them? How long could he pull that off before it was considered stalking?

[tedandroses]

The guy with the hair and the explosive potions goes from looking indecisive and slightly grumpy to absolutely boggled. Teddy almost laughs aloud. And it would just be funny -- they are, in fact, aware there are states with the sort of firearm restrictions that make it impossible to sell guns like that -- but where the fuck do you live that you can buy a gun at Walmart is the kind of statement that feels like it has you goddamn hick all but tacked onto the end.

"I live the fuck in West Virginia, when I'm not here," she answers extremely dryly. "And yeeeaah...? Ginger, cinnamon -- don't buy your spices at Walmart, though, for one thing it's fake cinnamon and for another, you might as well just drive around with a fuck you, local business sign -- cases of canning supplies," -- yeah okay, those actually are probably best bought at Walmart, unless there's a good hardware store near him. "Clothes, toys, electronics. Bagel bites. And. Guns. Which is what I know."

Teddy levels that Look back at him. They're increasingly aware that he's also about 2/3 their height even sitting down, but they tend to give off a bit of a presence when they're -- well, usually when they're on stage, but also when they're being ranty, so. Probably not as tiny seeming as usual.

He feels a little bad, though, when the guy snarks about needing to be prepared. Okay, fair, appearing here out of nowhere isn't exactly...fun. Teddy sighs and scrubs his face, taking a long breath. When he looks up, the other man's looking at the ground, and Teddy frowns a little, dropping to a sit across from him. He hadn't expected both of them to feel shitty, or chill out, or whatever exactly is happening here.

"You're brand fucking new, aren't you." Teddy makes a face. "Look...I'm sorry. I was --" They sigh. "It just -- it seemed funny, like. Going to all this trouble to make a...potion, that I assume only works once per? If they're anything like potions in video games? Without even knowing what you might use it on? ...But I know appearing here out of nowhere is really...really weird."

Teddy sets her herbs, which she's still kind of holding, down next to her and contemplates. "The thing is, this place...I don't reckon you'd get your time's worth out of most of those. Don't get me wrong, the crazy shit just keeps going, but the last thing that happened, explosives would have...mostly caused more problems..." Teddy makes a little yikes face as she tries to imagine explosives inside an enclosed bunker. "If you can just keep vials of backup potions on your shelf forever, I guess it could be useful to have a little of everything...?"

"Much of the time we're hanging out, helping the locals with stuff and getting ...food, shelter, whatever else we need in return. Waiting for the next crazy shit. If you've got a good potion for fixing things, or, I don't know, healing, that's going to get you further than any of these. Though..." Teddy tips their head. "Sleep could be good. That's got a lot of applications."

They ruffle their hair and hold out a hand, with a slightly apologetic little smile. They're not sure what they think, and comments about where they live tend to make them wary, but they also would like to be the kind of person who reserves judgement.
"I'm Teddy."

[inferiority_complex]

"You can buy guns at Walmart in West Virginia?" Chris was still actually incredulous by this. Like, he thought of West Virginia and, well, he didn't think Walmart and guns? "I wouldn't actually by spices at Walmart, my mom a chef and would literally kill me." Like, Piper might actually try and blow him up. Chris was pretty sure being lazy and picking up cloves at Walmart was a death sentence in the Manor. But you know, in a pinch? Piper never had to know what her son had done in the future.

As for Teddy? Chris is used to being yelled at by a woman about Teddy's height who could also blow you up, so Teddy and their stage presence? Yeah, he was accustomed to being mildly intimidated by smaller people. And being intimidated by his charge? ....yeah that was also normal. He shifted to sit down on the ground as they started to talk, rather than continue to like, tower over them. He shifted his limbs, trying to figure out what to do with them.

"Okay, so sleep potions. I can do that. There's no potion for fixing stuff but I got a spell that'll do it easy." And then he twitched. "Yeah, I can't heal. Healing is....big." And you were assigned the only freaking whitelighter in existence that hadn't figured it out yet. The whitelighter who let their fianceé get impaled by his own psychotic brother and still couldn't muster up enough love to trigger his ability to heal. Therapy. He needed lots and lots of therapy.

"Alright Teddy, so I got kidnapped and sent to like, farm country? Where we give offerings to weird god monsters and farm?" Wait, was there a plant growth spell or potion in the book? It was one of those things he just normally....skipped over. Because who cared. But....obviously there were Warren witches who existed before modern grocery stores. There had to be spells and potions in the book that would help. If he could remember. Or through just trial and error?

"Potions and magical ingredients don't really have an expiration date--and if I make a big enough batch, I can make more than one vial. I suppose I could just make a bunch and see what ends up being useful? And wait, tell me what happened last time? You made this face...." He was remembering that look she had about the explosives.

"So what do you do here for fun then?" He was going to make a cow tipping joke and thought better of it. So instead, he looked up at them, leaning against a tree to brace himself, and tilted his head a bit. Trying to get a grip on his link with Teddy, to separate his feelings from theirs and now that the buzzing was going away since he was acknowledging the link, maybe it would be a little easier. "And you don't need to apologize, you're fine. I suppose I came on a little strong too."

[tedandroses]

Teddy can’t help a little huff of laughter. They think they could probably really shock him with how many laws there aren’t on the topic in both West Virginia and Kentucky. But they also know that horrified tone and they’re - in his eyes, anyway - probably slandering their home state quite enough already.

“That’s what I said,” Teddy replies easily, eyes amused. “Though you wouldn’t really want to. Can’t throw a stone back home without hitting a sporting goods place or a Gun & Pawn, a real gunsmith if you’re in the right place, and any one of those can get you something better and more reliable than whatever crappy mass produced hunting rifles Walmart stocks.”

Not that she has opinions or anything...

She has to assume he’s joking about literally kill, though her eyebrow lifts, curious at that tidbit of information. Mom’s a chef, son makes potions. That’s one way of riffing on a family skill…

“Damn, video games lying to me again!” Teddy forges past the momentary awkwardness Chris seems to have around not being able to do that. They have pretty good healers in Solvunn, so no new magic fixall isn’t the end of the world; they just don’t have something they already didn’t have. They explain, “You know, in RPGs and shit, the healing potions are the first ones they give you? Just toting around 17 vials of whatever, downing them every five minutes. But.” They shrug, smiling. “I guess games also imply you could make a proximity-triggered bomb out of gunpowder, scissors and a tin can, or just light rubbing alcohol on fire and have a functional Molotov cocktail, so…”

“You’re not wrong about the farming and gods. I’m not sure I would call them monsters…” Though, aren’t gods and monsters kind of the same? There are some that are certainly monstrous; in that alternate future, a thing they aren’t going to mention to someone this new, Teddy herself had had times of being pretty crazy looking — and scarily empowered.

Teddy nods at Chris’s thinking-out-loud instead; that had been exactly their thought. Why not just make some of everything in case, if it stays good?

“Last time. So, a little while ago there were some…pretty wild environmental things going on that may or may not have had to do with the gods and the other two countries here, who are at war — anyway: we had to go underground in kind of — a bunker, while things blew over. Which was its own problem…” Teddy doesn’t want to recap the whole thing when he’s asking one question, and waves a hand.

“But that’s why I made the face. Explosives in a contained underground space. Unless you’re trying to break rock apart — and for that matter, even if you are, and you know what you’re doing — that’s a quick way to set a fire or collapse the ceiling or accidentally end up with toxic fumes, and it still wouldn’t have helped get rid of much of the problem.”

“And…fun. I mean. The war’s made things a little …fraught? but it mainly depends on what you normally do for fun? I’m a musician, back home, and I can still do that here; my friend Eddie and I jam sometimes.

“There are taverns and inns where people gather. Play music and drink and dance and tell stories. Like any kind of bar, really, just…less bass.” Teddy shrugs and mulls a little. One good aspect of having the biggest place she’d lived — and that only as a little kid - be the very outskirts of Pikeville, KY is that she’s used to entertaining herself without cable Internet and fairly shitty cell service and with a lot of things a good hour or more drive away.

(Granted, sometimes that entertainment was more or less legal, or wise, especially as a teen, but her desire to do stupid shit is a lot lower these days and besides, trespassing and drug use mostly aren’t things you can get arrested for in Solvunn.)

“You know, the stuff people have done for hundreds of years. Oh: There’s also the Horizon — has anyone shown you yet?”

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie is a mainstay throughout the commune, and it’s not surprising to find him anywhere and everywhere at any given time of day, helping with small tasks and entertaining locals with wild stories he’s thought up on the fly. He’s in the middle of telling a group of children a story about a dragon who hoards soup spoons instead of treasure—but he spies Chris, lining up what can only be potion ingredients, he cuts his story short and hurries over to him. He’s not going to pass up the opportunity to live his best Gandalf life.

The Walmart comment stops him in his tracks, though, and gets a clearly judgmental look. ]

Wow. Way to throw a wrench in my sense of whimsy, dude.

[ He crouches down beside his fellow Summoned, picks up an ingredient, gives it a whiff, and grimaces. ]

What if I found you a bird feather?

[inferiority_complex]

[Chris spots Eddie, hurrying over to him like he just opened up a penny candy store. He opened his mouth to make a remark about it, and then remembered not everyone grew up doing this and it was probably pretty damn cool to people who didn't get blown up by demons every week. So he put his judgement away. For now. Until Eddie took offense to occult shopping at Walmart.]

Is Chinatown better? We don't have that either. But if you get me that bird feather, then, we can make an explosive potion.

[Chris actually grinned. Yes, he really did want that potion. Something that mimicked his mothers power? Yes please. It was one of the potions he knew by heart, brought about by losing your mother when you were young and this was just a fucked up way to keep her close by.]

Of all the potions, that's the one you'd like to do? Good choice. But where are you going to find a bird feather? Just go up to one and ask nicely?

[satanicpanics]

I’m from middle-of-nowhere Indiana, dude. We didn't have a Chinatown. I guess we didn't have a Walmart either, but…you didn't have to tell me you could just buy this shit at the grocery store.

[ Eddie is an odd sort of bird. No, he didn’t grow up with demons and mixing potions and spells, but it’s something he’s been wildly into since he read Earthsea as a kid. Chris has given him a lot to think about in terms of his own mortality—thing he’d definitely rather not think about at all, but he’s willing to risk a little discomfort if it means helping out with a real and genuine potion. ]

Uh…not exactly, but hold that thought.

[ Grinning broadly, he hops back to his feet and takes off at a sprint, disappearing somewhere further into the settlement. He’s gone for several minutes, to the point it’s questionable if he’ll even return at all, but when he does, he has two white feathers clutched in his hand. He presents them to Chris by dipping into a deep, theatrical bow. ]

The family I stay with keeps chickens, so assuming mostly flightless birds count? Consider your shopping list completed—plus extra.

[inferiority_complex]

If it helps you can't buy all this stuff at a grocery store. Like dried toad powder or pixie wings. Not sure how my suppliers actually gets pixie wings since I'm guessing they didn't just ask nicely, but personally I try not to think about it too much.

[Unlike most of his family, Chris had a more neutral alignment. Especially compared to his very lawful good mother. Feel free to dissect him Eddie to your D&D heart's content. And unlike Eddie, Chris grew up with this stuff, not just reading it in books. It was a little less cool to him when the monsters in the books actually came to kill you. But he totally understood how this was cool to people.

His eyebrows shot up when Eddie ran off and just waited patiently for a few minutes, wondering if he should just start the potion. And then he scampered back, proudly holding aloft chicken feathers. Chris totally should have thought of that. Duh.]

That's perfect actually.

[He gave Eddie a look, smiling.]

You really want to make that explosive potion don't you.

[satanicpanics]

I wanna make something. I just happened to know where to get you your bird feathers. And to be totally honest with you? Sleeping potion sounded kind of boring without a hungry dragon to throw it at.

[ He’s clearly excited by the prospect of helping with an explosive potion, though. He lays the feathers down alongside Chris’s other ingredients, and without even being invited, takes a seat beside him.

This is a two person job now. ]

Alright, what next?

[respiting]

You doing this for any particular reason? Or ...

[ Rocket's a nosy creature by nature; it's a part of his personality, he likes to know what's what and who's who, especially as someone who's been hanging around Solvunn now for longer than he's really ever been in one place. He might give no mind to more than half of 'em in the end, but he still likes to know.

Which is what's got him hanging around where Chris is, arms crossed over his chest, looking towards the smorgasbord of ingredients and kitchenware. He's pretty sure Himeka's gonna be using that soup pot for a seasonal stew in the upcoming mingle but ... eh. A pot's a pot as far as he's concerned, no matter what disgusting shit it might be used for at the moment. ]

What the hell is a wall shop gonna do for you?

[inferiority_complex]

Holy crap, a talking raccoon.

[Chris looked at the ingredients he had set up, eyebrows quirking upward, taking in the racoon who was totally a figment of his imagination. Honestly though, he thought his subconscious would come up with something different. Maybe a family member. A demon. Why a talking raccoon? Brains were weird.]

I'm high. I'm totally high. Something in here is hallucinogenic. Holy fucking crap. Sure, I'll just talk to my hallucination. This is great. Does my hallucination know where to find powdered toad, burdock root or anise? Cloves or bay leaves? Maybe some glass bottles?

[He looked over the ingredients he had set up again, various animal organs and body parts he had liberated from the animal, or asked nicely to take, roots and herbs and anything else he'd been able to scrounge up without an actual occult shop, Walmart or basic civilization nearby. He held up a root.] Maybe this isn't parsnip?

[respiting]

[ It's a damned good thing Rocket now understands his own genetic heritage, and more than that, has accepted it — that being the Procyon lotor or more commonly referred to: raccoon — or this guy wouldn't get another word out past his big-eyed face before Rocket leapt up onto the nearest surface to launch himself at him and claw said eyeballs right out.

As it is, Rocket remains exactly where he's seated, arms still crossed and looking thoroughly unimpressed while the humie goes through his meltdown. ]

Yeah, sure, you're absolutely high.

[ Why not play along, right? ]

And I'm a freakin' figment of your imagination. Better yet, I'm your fairy godparent, here to watch over you as you try to cook something that smells like the underside of Drax's feet. Do you even know what you're doing?

[inferiority_complex]

Of course I know what I'm doing. My own hallucination questioning my skills. Freaking figures my own brain is actively against me. This is great. I bet this will be an interesting session with Crane.

[Chris leaned over to smell the steaming, bubbling pot of rather colorful liquid and then wrinkled his nose.] Okay, yeah, it does smell pretty bad. You'd think someone would have made potions smell better by now.

[He looked again at the raccoon.] Okay, brain. I've seen fairies. They don't look like you. So....change into an actual fairy. What's with the raccoon anyway?

Horizon - Open

[inferiority_complex]

Chris was working on his domain. It was pretty empty so far, and while he had a very good idea of what he wanted where, as far as he was concerned, that all could wait. Right now he needed to reconstruct the Halliwell Book of Shadows. From memory. And given there were literally hundreds of pages in that book from over 300 years of witches? Yeah, that was going to take time. So the first thing he had done is construct the attic. Or part of the attic. Really just where the bookstand held the Book. And Chris was working away, trying to recall spells and potions and information on magical creatures, creating pages in the book or sometimes choosing to write them by hand.

"I really hope I'm remembering this correctly."

[theladyofwinterfell]

Sansa isn't the best at crafting domains in Horizon and it has taken her a long time to get a facsimile of her favorite bits of Winterfell there. There must be someone near her working on their own domain, however, because she can hear them and they are close enough that she can walk over to them.

"Memory is a tricky thing, I think. Nostalgia paints things either black or golden depending on how you experienced it. What are you trying to remember, exactly?" This man's domain is quite different than her own.

[inferiority_complex]

Chris looked up from his writing, the old green book open to a page and he paused mid stanza. Honestly, he didn't expect her to be beautiful. Maybe he should have but it took him a bit by surprise. He stepped out from behind the book, wishing he could just download the contents of his brain to the book like downloading a video from the internet. Looking around, he thought maybe he should have remade more of the attic, it looked half finished, disjointed. Especially to someone who had spent so much time up there. But Chris had a mission. Book first, attic later.

"Spells. My family has a book of them, and magical information. But since I was taken here without it, I'm trying to record it here from memory. And you know, if I don't remember it correctly, things might explode. Or turn invisible or something. Ingredients and wording kind of has to be right. I'm Chris, by the way."

[theladyofwinterfell]

"Sansa," she offers in kind. It feels strange to offer just her name with no title attached to it but she offers it that way here more often than not. There are some who know her true position - Nikolai chief among them - but it isn't always suitable for a first introduction. People are far more casual here.

"I never saw magic until I came here. I suppose that is a bit of a lie - Red Priests and Priestesses can invoke it and there are dragons, of course, but people did not perform magic the way they can here. I certainly wasn't capable of it."

She peers at the book and sees that it is quite old. "Is there anything I could do to help? I imagine I cannot, considering I do not know the spells in your book."

[inferiority_complex]

Chris, meanwhile, was used to hiding his identity; whether it was from the demons and Underworld he was infiltrating, from his own family or those who would recognize the Halliwell name, he was used to playing it down. So here, where it didn't matter? It was just no different.

As for dragons? Chris and his absolutely terrible poker face outright twitched a that word, salt in an open wound at just how big the gap was in power between him and his brother. The one who could literally magic a dragon out of the freaking television as a toddler, to Chris, who was so far below that they were practically in another dimension. Yeah, he was completely fine with it, really. So he side-stepped the dragon thing, maybe they'd unpack that festering wound later.

" Well I can't ask you to remember the spells and information in here but, you can help, sure. I want to test out what I have in here so far and make sure its right. Before I waste physical ingredients." There was no Walmart or occult store in Solvunn sadly.

Chris flipped through a couple pages back to something he had already filled in. A potion. "There's nothing stopping us from trying to create it here and see if it works right? If you'd really like to help that is." Yes Sansa, he was going to make you chop ginger and pigs feet if you wanted.

"You want to thumb through it?" Call him paranoid. It was okay, multiple people had. Plus if she really wasn't that familiar with magic, maybe she'd learn something. If the Book didn't electrocute her.

Sansa

[inferiority_complex]

Chris got to Nocwich early so he could do a little poking around of his own. He had busied himself looking at spices and crystals and anything that might be remotely magical that he could use. Or was super duper cheap because he just got here and was freaking poor. Then he stocked up on some snacks because orbing was the whitelighter-witch equivalent of going to the gym and running cardio. He stuffed a donut in his mouth while he waited for Sansa's call, tracking her getting closer and closer.

He wasn't too shabby at this whitelighter stuff, now that he was actually practicing. And having to tune out all his other charges. With Nebula currently on mute, his eyelids half closed in concentration, letting Sansa tell him where she was, feeling that connection. And then she called. Great.

Orbing in front of her in a sparkle of blue and white lights, Chris materialized and hoped his new charge didn't pass out.

"Hey," he said, as one does when they just teleport in from nowhere. "Want a donut?" He held one out.

[theladyofwinterfell]

Sansa is not used to the concept of a person merely appearing in front of her when she speaks their name but Chris had assured her that was the way it worked and, well, it has. It's a bit disorienting, seeing the lights coalesce into an actual person but once they have, she takes a moment to get her bearings.

"Oh...well, I suppose I'll have a little," she says. Sansa has never been one to eat terribly much except when she'd come to the Wall starved and cold but she has always had a terrible sweet tooth.

"It really works then, doesn't it? Your magic? I said your name and you showed right up."

[inferiority_complex]

Chris has been around other whitelighters and witches for so long that he's forgotten just how weird and crazy it is for lights to form into the shape of a person. The fact that it's probably super weird for regular people hasn't really crossed his mind. So, not really getting the disoriented, weird vibe from Sansa, he just shrugs and hands her the donut, munching on his own. As for eating, well Sansa. Chris was raised by a chef. Food was her love language. He was going to feed you.

"It really works. It actually is just that simple. You say my name and I just hear you. I'll know if you're in trouble too. Even if you can't call for me. I might not be able to get to you in Thorne though."

And that, that was the problem. Chris wasn't sure he trusted Sansa's brother enough to contact him if he felt anything wrong with Sansa. At least not without meeting and thoroughly interrogating him first. Maybe with a crystal cage if he could find the right crystals. Electrocuting Sansa's brother. She probably wouldn't like that.

She didn't have to know.

"Is there anyone I can contact if I can't get to you and you need help?" ......please don't say your brother.

[theladyofwinterfell]

"Jon," Sansa says. "Though if I am in trouble, likely Jon is with me. You could also trust Nikolai Lantsov or Thancred Waters. Annabeth Chase is also someone you could ask," Sansa says. "But Jon Snow, my brother, is the person who knows the most about me and keeps me safe. If you fear I am being harmed, contact Jon. He can get to me."

Jon has never failed her, after all.

"Jon has protected me for years. He went to war for me, to protect me. There is no one you can trust more than him."

[inferiority_complex]

Chris was really, really trying not to twitch. He just inhaled and exhaled in a manner he hoped didn't come across as super annoyed but it probably was.

"I'm not putting your safety in the hands of someone I haven't met yet. " It wasn't that he didn't trust your judgement Sansa. Chris didn't trust anyone. He hated this. He hated this so much. "Alright. It's probably time I meet your brother then. I can probably reach out to the others individually, if you trust them. But if you trust your brother that much? I'd like to meet him."

Mostly because his family tree was completely dysfunctional, he assumed everyone elses was equally fucked up. Trust wasn't a concept he was real familiar with.