dig them up, let's finish what we started

[debt_unpaid]

Jaime sat staring into the flames long after they'd consumed Cersei's letter. Outside, fat flakes drifted silently down, coating Riverrun in a fine dusting of white, and he sat there watching the fire burn itself out until the distant sounding of the bell from the sept roused him. The empty feeling in the pit of his stomach must mean he was hungry, he decided— time to call for some food, and plan his next move.

Going to the door, he made an abortive gesture at the handle with his right hand before remembering and reaching with his left instead. But as he yanked it open, the snap of irritation dissolved as he discovered the cool stone and blue tapestries of the Tullys' halls were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he found himself looking at a smooth, cream-colored wall, and a floor covered with a strange and hideous carpet. The room was bright, but as he stepped through he could see no windows to let in the sun; the light seemed, incredibly, to be coming from the ceiling, yet there were no torches in evidence.

Stunned by curiosity, Jaime found himself through the door before he'd considered the wisdom of it, turning down the hall and following where it led, concern gnawing at his insides with greater intensity as he walked. Suddenly the hallway opened up into a grand entrance hall, where he stood thunderstruck at the sight of a bright summer sun pouring through the windows.

Wherever he was, it was far from the wintry bluster of Riverrun— which meant someone owed him an explanation, now.

[Find the Kingslayer in the gallery, foyer, arboretum, or wandering the first floor of the hotel. Please read his profile for info on his exit point, appearance, etc.]

Comments

[tooktheblack]

Jon journeyed to Westeros every once in a while but he never ventured far; only enough to assure himself that the world he called home still stood but not far enough to encounter anyone who might think he should be dead or, worse, a deserter from the Watch.

It had been a long time since he felt the need to draw his sword but seeing the Kingslayer in his path was enough to make him grip the pommel of Longclaw more tightly than he had in ages.

"How did you get here?" Jon demanded, watching him warily.

[debt_unpaid]

Drawn up short, Jaime went still, feeling the absurd urge to hide his metal hand behind the folds of his cloak. But he stayed as he was, arms loose at his sides, a blank expression on his face as he stared Snow down.

"I might ask the same of you," he said. "I'm more interested in where 'here' is, if I'm being honest. A refuge for deserters, perhaps?"

His smug smile was intended to infuriate, and Snow's darkening expression said he'd succeeded. A mean sort of pleasure, but it was satisfying to know that at least some of his hits could still find their mark.

[tooktheblack]

It was a fair assessment, on the face. There was no reason for the Kingslayer to believe that Jon wasn't a deserter from the Watch and, in many ways, he was. He had been on the island and now in the Nexus for years and it had been a while since he had been on the Wall. Still, his watch was not ended until his death.

"Hardly. There is a way to Westeros from here. You just came through it, I assume. Presumably someone could find me if I had deserted."

[debt_unpaid]

"You've a strange notion of what qualifies as desertion," Jaime observed. If leaving the Wall didn't count, then what did? "Though I suppose it's easier done now you won't be forcing your own father to take your head if you're caught." A lot of things got easier once your father wasn't around to punish you, as it turned out.

He didn't wait to hear if Snow had a retort to that; the boy had mentioned a way back to Westeros, which was all Jaime cared to hear. "If there's a way back, I'll thank you to take me there."

[tooktheblack]

"Door's carved with a Seven-Pointed star," Jon said, clipped and cold. The Kingslayer had killed his brother, even if he hadn't struck the blow himself, and it was a Lannister who had organized his death.

"You are welcome to utilize it whenever you wish. I'll show it to you now." The sooner he was out of his sight, the better.

"No others came with you?"

[debt_unpaid]

Snow couldn't have been clearer in his dislike if he'd come out and spat in Jaime's face. Only the knowledge that he had no high ground against the boy's rage kept him from mocking it.

He didn't mind mocking that hint of paranoia, though. He brought his hand up and pretended to count on his fingers. "Well, besides my sister, my uncle, the High Septon, the Grand Maester, a chorus of minstrels and a traveling circus, hardly anyone at all." Snow's glower was almost enough to make him laugh out loud. "No sense of humour, Snow? I suppose it would take some time to thaw out."

Which begged the question of how long it had been since the boy flew down off the Wall— but Jaime wasn't sure he cared. If going home was truly as easy as Snow claimed, this would soon be nothing but a strange memory.

[tooktheblack]

"I'm from the North. We do not laugh often," Jon said, though he feared it was more petulant than serious. He had always been a bit prickly about his dour demeanor and hearing it from a Lannister just made it worse.

It was strange, though, that he had gotten on well with Tyrion in spite of his family. Perhaps not all lions were the same. "Perhaps they laugh too much in the West."

[not_lost]

Maybe by now Fiona should be used to this shit. When she adds it all up, she's been coming to the Nexus for what's got to be close to two years, and she's learned on a multitude of very clear, very intimate levels that there's no such thing as "normal" in the hotel. Still, it's fucking weird for a girl from the Southside to look up and see some kind of medieval knight traipsing down the hall, white cloak and all.

She'd popped into the library to find something to read in the bath—A copy of People or a trashy romance—and here was the trashy romance cover boy himself, as out of place in the cool, pristine halls of the hotel gallery as she was herself.

Pausing, she tugged the earbud free from one ear and motioned the guy's way with her rolled up copy of In Touch.

"Nice cape you got there. Looks like it's a pain in the ass to keep clean, though."

[debt_unpaid]

Jaime snorted a laugh without much humor in it. "You have no idea." He remembered telling Brienne it was the cloak that had ruined him; there were still days he wanted to burn it and have done with the whole charade.

But more important than thoughts of his ruined honor was the question of where in the seven hells he was. The girl was dressed very strangely— like a man, in breeches and a shirt that fit her none too well, but she didn't seem to find herself out of place. If anything, she was looking at him as if he were the aberration.

"Perhaps you'd be so kind as to tell me where I am," he suggested, after they spent a moment staring at each other in increasing awkwardness.

[not_lost]

"Oh good," Fiona answers, pulling a face of pained sympathy—For them both. "This should be fun."

It isn't that she's never had to explain the hotel to anyone before, but this isn't exactly the sort of situation where a gift basket and quick tour will get the thing done. She likes meeting new people behind the safety of the Smoking Room's bar; by the time they make it there, they've gone through the rough stuff with someone else and are just grateful to have a drink.

And this guy, god. If he didn't just come from a ren faire, he probably won't even know what electricity is.

"You're at the Nexus hotel. It's in an alternate dimension from wherever you just were, which I know sounds crazy, but, you know." She motions helplessly with her magazine. "It is what it is. Welcome."

[debt_unpaid]

Jaime's eyebrows rose fractionally as he listened, and he took a long pause to try and make sense of what she'd said. Frustration niggled at him; he'd had quite enough of being out of his depth for one lifetime. Forcing his jaw to unclench, he said slowly, "I've never considered myself dim-witted, but I have to admit I understood very little of that."

He glanced out the window, then back to her face. "It's plain I'm no longer at Riverrun. Are you saying this place isn't in Westeros at all?"

[not_lost]

"That's what I'm saying," Fiona answers, having no idea what or where Westeros or River's Run are. Someplace with knights and ladies and probably a lack of indoor plumbing, she's guessing.

"Magic?" she tries with a vague motion the guy's way. "Do you have magic where you come from? That's what brought you here. Magic doors. They're kind of assholes, so I hope you weren't in the middle of anything important. Saving damsels or...whatever you do."

[debt_unpaid]

He could tell he was being talked down to— magic doors, indeed— but the comment about damsels startled him into a laugh before he could bristle, a real laugh that took a few seconds to subside down to a smirk. "My damsel-saving days, if they ever existed, are squarely behind me," he said, giving a demonstrative wave of his metal hand. "Mostly now it's traveling round the country visiting people who hate me, and an ungodly amount of paperwork. It's not interesting, but I will be missed."

He glanced at the door as if Riverrun would suddenly appear on the other side of it. If wishing could make it so... With another little shake of his head, he made himself think practically. "How do I get back? And what do I do while I'm trapped here?"

[not_lost]

"You try other doors, and where you want to go is either on the other side or not," Fiona replies. She doesn't think that it's really sunk in yet, the whole being trapped in a place where he's an anachronism thing, but it's a relief that the guy can laugh, and is trying, for the time being, to take this crazy shit in stride.

"Me, I just expect a door to lead home, and it usually works. I did get stuck here for a month once, though. I used to know a girl who used a special knock." Personally, she thinks that trick was less about the knock and more about focus, but whatever worked. "You have to be careful, though, because I wasn't kidding when I said they're assholes. They'll take you someplace you definitely don't want to be if you don't watch yourself. The good news is the food and rooms here are free. I won't pretend that this is the most happening place to hang out, but there are things to keep a person busy." She holds up the magazine in her hand in demonstration.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Milady de Winter would be the first to point out that no one owed this one-handed man anything. But then again, she wasn't asked.

While she wasn't clad in one of her more elaborate gowns, she still hadn't adapted to the modern dress that women here wore.

She did, though, recognize the look of one who was not used to this place and that confusion inherent to it. "It isn't as bad as it may seem," she offered after a moment spent observing.

[debt_unpaid]

Jaime turned from the bookshelf he'd been inspecting, regarding the woman for a moment. She was dressed in a fashion far more familiar than that sported by the serving-women he'd passed in the hall, yet he felt sure she was not Westerosi. Still, he trod carefully.

"I admit it's not my favorite room to pass the time in," he said, his tone drawing the line between wry and merely bland. "But it's only a library. It could be much, much worse."

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Yes, it could. Milady's smile was a little brittle, but there nonetheless. "Do you not like libraries, monsieur?" she asked. "Perhaps it is that you cannot read?"

The question was asked innocently enough, though she suspected the answer and wondered how he'd respond.

[debt_unpaid]

Jaime forced himself to smile as though she'd said something charming rather than insulting. "Oh, I was taught to read in spite of all my efforts to avoid it. But after twenty-five years, I'm still at a loss as to why anyone would want to."

Of course, that was far less true since losing his hand. But he wasn't going to say so to a stranger's face.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Not that Milady could argue with that. She wasn't much for reading, either. "And yet, here we are." Because she could not deny that she was indeed in a library. She would blame boredom, however, and restlessness.

[debt_unpaid]

It was exactly the kind of empty remark he'd have expected from Littlefinger or Varys, which was an unflattering enough comparison to make him decide he'd fall back on courtesy as a means of alienation. It was one of Cersei's favorite tactics, and while he'd never quite mastered it, apparently there was no time like the present to begin.

"If my presence disturbs you, you need only say so," he said with a politely insincere smile. "I've only just arrived, and thankfully, it seems there's much more to explore here than just the library."

[knowthyexits]

There are times when Sarah has been cautious of the hotel, but never more so than when she picks out a new face. She's catalogued the entrances, exits, the staff of the hotel, and those that are more infrequent, but seeing someone knew amongst them is cause for concern. She finds herself now in the path of one of them and ducks her head down as she approaches, mumbling an 'excuse me' that's meant to be heard and not noticed as she tries to worm her way past him in the hallway.

[debt_unpaid]

The woman's clothes caught his eye— like some others he'd seen, she was dressed like a man in breeches and boots, but hers were drab, all brown and grey. Did all the women of this place seek to make themselves ugly? It was beyond Jaime's comprehension.

Then his eyes flicked idly over her face, and he froze as if poleaxed, blurting her name. Gods, she was barely recognizable— her clothes, her hair, who could have done this to her?

She kept walking, pretending not to hear, and his hand shot out— his real hand, thank the gods she'd passed to the left of him— his palm pressing against the curve of her forearm as he stepped into her path, seeking her eyes with his. "Cersei," he said again, confusion turning to alarm at the utter lack of recognition on her face. "What's happened to you?"

[knowthyexits]

No one has been this forward with Sarah in months. Most people know better. When she's grabbed, she turns her chin defiantly upwards, staring at the man and assessing the danger of the situation. She shifts in the grasp, testing it, and thinks it doesn't feel like metal, so she might be somewhat safe.

Still, he's calling her a name she doesn't recognize. "Sarah," she bites out, but doesn't fight his grasp -- not yet, she has to wait for the opportune moment. "My name is Sarah."

[debt_unpaid]

The voice was different enough to make Jaime realize he'd made a misstep somewhere— Cersei's face, but not her voice, and there was more muscle under his palm than Cersei had ever had— but he couldn't make himself let go. His eyes were lying to him, or his ears were, or something else had happened that, like everything else about this place, defied explanation.

"You're wearing my sister's face," he said, the words measured and even and forced out through his teeth like they physically pained him. Certainly the sharp ache under his ribs was something to be concerned about. "Where did you come from?"

[knowthyexits]

Or the sister could be wearing Sarah's, but that's not something she feels is going to be received well. She keeps her eyes on him sharply, constantly watching for signs of danger. She's been in this situation before, but family causes people to do strange, odd things, and she doesn't want to be off guard. "Los Angeles," is her terse reply, cautiously stepping out of his range. "Who's your sister?"