[STARFIRE] A Child's Game

[Astaroth]

OOC THREAD

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A BOY'S FOLLY
​

She looked up at him, eyes wide and grey and lined with smudged kohl, her bottom lip trembling. Tears had left muddled smears down her cheeks.

A single word—his whispered name—hung captured between them in a puff of white mist, her breath given form by the chill, snow-spun air. Steffin. The sound seemed to seize him somewhere deep down inside his chest, resonating through his very bones and rattling against the walls of his wine-drunk skull. His eyes lingered on her breast, glued to the curves beneath her dark dress. His throat tightened.

Like the fool he was, the boy raised a shaking hand to cup her chin and leaned in to press her with a bruising kiss.​

 

[firejay1]

A GIRL'S LESSON​

"Listen carefully, Eister." Her mother, Oletha, told her, while preparing for an excursion with her father. "Men like to be needed and adored, but only when it's most convenient for them. It's alright to push him a bit when you're trying to secure his affections, but once you've secured them, never overstep your bounds. Watch him. If he rejects a kiss or says he's too busy or tired, keep your distance. Doing anything else will only upset him, and he'll quickly tire of you."

Even at age five, Eister was used to her mother's unprompted, and at times unwelcome, lectures, and there wasn't much beyond a mild curiosity in her wide, grey eyes. "But mother, daddy says if you love someone you always want to be with them."

"Love? Has that dolt of a father of yours told you he loves me?" Oletha asked her, lip curling with a cross between amusement and disgust.

"Doesn't he?" Eister asked, uncertainly. She'd always assumed he did because he often said you were supposed to love your family, and her mother was part of their family, but she couldn't recall him ever outright saying those words.

"Well I surely don't know, I've never asked him," was the careless response. Oletha leaned closer to the surface of the mirror and smeared a little red paste on her lips, rubbing them together to spread it evenly. "If you know what's good for you, never ask a man if he loves you. It forces him to think about it, and if he thinks too hard, he might decide he doesn't. Once he gets it into his head that he doesn't love you—whatever that means—he'll look for someone he thinks he does." She eyed Eister. "And with such a plain little thing like you, it won't take much for him to abandon you."

The small child tilted her head with a curious frown. "But daddy says he loves me. Daddy's a man, too, right?" At the very least, she did remember him saying he loved her.

That got a laugh out of her mother, who was now giving her soft, glossy brown hair a last brush. "He's your father, little girl, and an idiot at that. What he thinks of you doesn't matter." She swept from the room and that was the end of that conversation.

 

[firejay1]

Eister was sitting on the bed, taking a advantage of her husband's brief absence to do what she hadn't been able to do when she'd awoken for fear of him finding out - writing in her diary. The small leather tome was nothing too special to look at, and she had kept it in her luggage, so she had some confidence that Steffin hadn't run across it, before, the only problem was making sure he didn't in the years to come. Years.... Eister's face wrinkled into a little pouty grimace at the thought. Married less than six months and already it felt like too long. Days felt as though they dragged by, but a week passed in a snap of an eye. It was exhausting being Eister Stark. Eister Farwynd hadn't felt this harried and anxious. Her father would arrive soon, too, which she knew very well meant she'd have to wear her brightest smiles and feign perfect happiness if she didn't want him to go and murder the Hand of the Queen, not that she didn't already have to do this on a daily basis with her "darling husband."

Heaving a sigh, the girl dropped her head into her diary, not quite sure when she'd stopped writing. She lifted her head slightly and eyed the pages right in front of her nose. She never spent too much time writing, at least, so the entries were short. Her wide, round letters took up a little too much space, and it was almost to her relief at the moment that most people found her handwriting nearly illegible. At least if Steffin found it, he wouldn't be able to read it... she hoped.

It was choking again, this time. I haven't dreamed about being drowned since my first entry, the third time I had the dream. Perhaps it was not a good sign, as I thought it might be. Maybe I should start keeping a tally of the number of burnings and chokings, those seem most common. Nothing special about this one, or if there was, I don't remember it. This time it was hands around my neck, not very inventive. I'd be more scared, but I just can't imagine him actually doing that.... I maybe can IMAGINE it, but he won't.

She had stopped there, unable to think of anything else to say about it. Write it down, put it away, Eister. She told herself. No use thinking too deeply about it, as she had no way of figuring out what any of it meant. For now.

There was a knock at the door, and Eister jumped and squeaked, "Yes!?" She coughed a bit and lowered her voice, trying to sound mature and Lady-like. "Yes, who is it? Steffin?" Pulling up her skirts slightly to give her easier access to movement, she hastily snatched her diary and dumped it back in her trunk. She grabbed some spare papers and scribbled, Dear Levina, in an attempt to rationalize her use of ink at the moment.

"No, my lady. It's just Wynett, here to help you dress for the day."

"Oh, uh- yes, come in." Eister stood, drawing herself up to her full height and standing with her back very straight, as if that could possibly make her five feet of height and lifetime of boyish behavior magically melt into anything close to resembling a stately grace.

The maid bustled into the room. "Now lady, what would you like to wear today? Ooh, you got ink on your hand. Were you writing to the mistress again? Let me help you, that is what I'm here for, after all." She had been Levina's handmaiden, and Eister's least favorite wedding present. She never stopped talking, and clearly still hadn't gotten used to the idea that Eister was "the Lady of Winterfel," rather than her mistress' baby sister.

Eister let her scrub the ink from the side of her palm and managed to calmly spit, "Bring the pretty blue-green gown with the dark trim, if you please, Wynett."

"That green one? Oh, but you look awful in it, M- Lady Eister. Here, let me." The Farwynds of the Lonely Light had always been more lax about "decorum," but Wynett got more and more on Eister's nerves every day that passed. She pressed her teeth together tightly, just barely managing to stop something sour from coming from her mouth, then let it go with a soft breath. I look awful in most of them, anyways. She allowed her sister's annoying handmaiden to dress her and left to look for husband without another word.

 

[Astaroth]

There was nothing in Winterfell or all the North that could have prepared the young Lord Stark for the sight of Blackwater Bay. The first time he'd laid eyes on the deep blue-green waters, the summer sun catching on the waves, he had been rendered mute at the vastness of the Narrow Sea beyond. To think that something as seemingly boundless was called Narrow. Never before had Steffin looked out upon the water and not been able to find land at the other side.

Truth be told, it left him ill at ease, but that was something he chose to keep private from his lady wife.

"I fear this may be our last walk for a while," he told the girl at his side, a slightly rueful grin on his face. "My mother will be expecting much of my attention while she's in King's Landing."

It had become a weekly custom between Steffin and his bride, these last few months, to walk along the southeastern walls overlooking the harbor of Blackwater Rush and the bay itself. The Ironborn had a longing for the sea air in their blood, and it had seemed the perfect way to cheer Eister when she grew subdued and listless in the weeks following their marriage.

There was nothing that Steffin wanted more than to keep a smile on his wife's sweet face. Even with his busy schedule, he managed to find time. The Queen had released him from his duties for the day, and so provided a perfect opportunity to slip away with the Lady Stark as they made their way home.

 

[firejay1]

Eister smiled up at Steffin, but did her best not to seem too pleased about it. "I look forward to finally meeting your lady mother." It was easy to look excited, but not too excited. Less time with Steffin meant less time she had to keep her guard up. But the coming of Steffin's mother presented a whole new set of challenges. Steffin liked his mother, and that made it absolutely imperative that she like Eister, in turn. His favor meant his mother had the power to make her life miserable with no hope of rescue. "My father will also be arriving soon and has expressed his desire to meet you." His desire to meet him and potentially pummel him if he wasn't making her happy. Stupid father.

She slid her hand down from where it rested on the crook of his elbow and twined her fingers around his. "But I'll miss this." She said, quietly, meeting his eyes as if she was talking about time alone with him and not the sight of the water stretching farther than the eye could see. A comforting little taste of home. She reached up to gently grab his lapel and tug him down to meet her for a kiss. He was so damned tall, but thankfully she had a little practice manhandling people taller than her, thanks to the rest of her family. That thought caused a little giggle to slip forth as their lips met.