abraxaslogs | I Need My Space

WHO: Jon Snow and Clarke Griffin (although honestly, you’re welcome to tag in for Jon too if you want)
WHEN: Mid-September (but any time between then and the October event is fine)
WHERE: Jon’s little cabin in the extradimensional woods (Horizon!)
WHAT: Meet and greet
WARNINGS: He’s a Game of Thrones character. Nice enough guy, but the canon itself involves basically every possible content warning, and once in a while those terrible things come up in discussions because they happened to his family members. The link shows the layout of his room, and is pretty tame, but still shouldn’t be clicked if the canon bothers you: it contains Jon/Daenerys content later on.

The good thing about the Horizon is that it’s not on fire.

Today is not a day for exploring. Being in the woods, under the trees and the sky, something like Ghost running at his side: that is a comfort, as it has always been. But some days he only wants a home. The cabin here is a hunting cabin on the outside, but inside, it’s his chambers at Winterfell, a bed and a desk and a wooden chair and a chest and a roaring fire, stone walls and slate floors, mead to share. No need to worry about where the mead comes from or where the servants are to cook a meal, because it isn’t real.

It feels real enough here now, with his feet on a wooden stool and a pewter cup on his hand, and Ghost asleep on the hearth. He likes the silence. Sometimes he fills it with bird-song, but not today.

He decides, after a certain point, that it would be pleasant to stretch his legs, or to look at the moon, so he stands and goes to the door and steps outside, and when he does, he sees that he isn’t alone.

“Lost your way?” he asks the newcomer. His voice is mild, low, not dangerous: he knows the temptation to wander into other people’s worlds.

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The skeleton, now that he had his memories, was beside himself with curiosity. He wanted to see everything the Horizon had to offer but his eyes just weren't big enough. Jack finds himself outside a humble cabin, staring upwards at an unfamiliar sky. It is the third different sky he's come across just this visit.

A voice pulls him from his thoughts and he turns, his long legs standing apart in the underbrush, making him seem like some kind of wrong deer.

"No, I'm not lost," Jack answers pleasantly enough. He can't be lost if he isn't going anywhere in particular.

Seven hells.

Jon is stiff, a little like a deer himself, when he sees the man in the bushes. A taller man than him, though not so tall as a giant - but looking thoroughly like a wight.

Would there be a wight in the Horizon? If there was, would it speak to him so politely? Wouldn’t its eyes be blue?

He frowns, then he remembers: he had seen something a little like this in Nocwich, and he had started then, too, but it had been nothing to trouble himself over.

So it is that he remains wary, but replies, calmly enough, “I like to walk about in the Horizon too. See what I can see. Back at home, I never left the North, but there is more in the world, and I have seen little and less of it.” A pause. “What is there in your world?”

"Yes, exactly!" Jack pipes up with enthusiasm. He closes the gap between them with only a few steps and soon is standing before Jon grinning death's grin. "I'm still new to all this and I don't know if I'll be able to see it all if I'm here a hundred years!"

Though he hoped he wouldn't be staying here that long. In a way, he sort of envied his self that was set loose in this place with no memories. No one to worry over. But he knows that's selfish and he squashes the feeling down.

"I can show you, if you like!" Naturally, he'd carved out his Domain to look as close to home as possible, a few feature landmarks moved closer together as they stood out in his mind's eye. "It's autumn."

He is still wary, but a wight wouldn't be here, and if it was, he could banish it... unless, somehow, the nightmares have returned. He does not think that a nightmare would show such enthusiasm, though, or be so friendly. What wight has ever been so delighted?

"You can show me -- later." He pauses, shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else." Then, "I'm glad you're not. This is the woods near my home, though it's been long years since I saw them in autumn. Good hunting weather in those days."

"Oh, well let me introduce myself." He brought a hand to his chest. "I'm Jack--Skellington. Pumpkin King and Ambassador of Halloween."

That's a nice new title he gave himself. He tilted his head as he watched Jon, curious about his clothes, about the way he spoke, just generally everything about him. It was still something to talk face to face with humans and have them not drop dead at the sight of him.

"And what's your name?"

Pumpkin king, that makes a kind of sense, in that he's heard of pumpkins before. Halloween does not. Still, Jon nods in acknowledgment.

"Jon Snow. Well, I suppose I'm a king of winter. It's what they used to call the kings in the North, long time since, but none of that matters here."

After a moment's hesitation, he moves towards the door, then opens it in a way that makes an invitation clear.

"Rest your feet, Skellington, and tell me of your Halloween. I've never heard of it."

A king of winter? Jack notes that down mentally. Perhaps this man knew Sandyclaws. The skeleton followed, ducking his head through the door. At once he was looking at everything. He'd never been invited into a human's home before--even if it was a home away from home. It was a special and private place and Jack elected himself to be on his best behavior.

No scaring today!

"Thank you, sir. Your home is impressive!" He admired the fire for a beat. "Halloween is a celebration where I come from--it's the most important time of year."

Coming back into the cabin, Jon moves to offer his visitor a chair -- then realizes there isn't one. A moment later, a second chair appears by the fire. Ghost opens his garnet eyes, sleepy, then lifts his huge white head, then lowers his chin to his great paws again.

"It's a little part of my true home, and this is Ghost." A beat, and he adds, "What sort of celebration is your Halloween?"

He still hasn't yet figured out what pumpkins and walking skeletons have to do with each other.

[OOC: bleeeeh sorry I've been slow, very busy and not feeling too great! But I cannot let this cutest of all threads go.]

_{[OOC: i refuse to let it die either! stuff's just been crazy]}

"It's a time for celebrating--and for being scared. Ghosts and witches and ghouls come out at this time of year and scare people. It's fun!" Jack remembered himself and laughed a laugh that sounded like a creaky door. "If you're a skeleton. It's what we do. There's pumpkin carving and corn mazes, people have invented so many wonderful things to do when the leaves change. But Halloween night is the night when almost anything is possible!"

Here, he held up his long bony fingers in a claw-like display.

"So watch out."

Clarke's out for a walk, but it's more scouting than pleasure since this place is strange enough that she felt it best to get some feel for where the boundaries between safe and unsafe territories are. She stiffens slightly at the inquiry, and looks the man who'd spoken up and down warily. There was no threat in his voice, but he looks like the kind of person who's used to a fight. He could've been a Grounder if he were from her Earth.

"Just out for a walk. It looked peaceful over here; I can go if I'm not welcome."

He watches the young woman for a moment, then shrugs.

"You're not unwelcome. These woods are peaceful, but they're full of wolves." In theory; less so in practice. He feels a presence at his side. Ghost has padded silently out the door to join him.

One wolf, in practice.

"I'm Jon Snow. Thorne."

Clarke takes in the large white wolf with some wariness, though he doesn't seem primed to attack.

"Clarke Griffin. Solvunn, I suppose, formerly of Earth. Are all wolves as big as him where you're from?"

She's reminded of the large feral gorilla that had nearly killed Lexa in early days on the ground. As far as security systems go, a forest full of wolves of any size isn't a bad one.

He glances down at Ghost and half-smiles. For his part, Ghost behaves as Jon wishes him to behave, because he is not here in truth, but sometimes it's pleasant to pretend he is. So, for the moment, Ghost shows nothing but benign interest, and keeps to Jon's side.

"Him? No, he's a direwolf." A beat, and he adds, "An older cousin of the wolves in the wolfswood. The only ones living south of the Wall for the last two hundred years belonged to my father's family -- the direwolf is their sigil. Ordinary wolves are nowhere near his size."

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