Jon Snow (jon_snow) wrote in antecedents, @ 2010-09-02 14:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | jon snow, lord john grey |
Reflexively, Jon squinted as one of the first rays of daylight just so happened to pass by every other nearby object so as to land directly on his shut eyes. Awakening from sleep, he cleared his blurry vision with a couple blinks, but had to shade his still partially-shut eyes when the light filtered through the dusty window was practically blinding at this hour. Morning already... When was the last time he hadn't awoken to the sound of the camp's hustle and bustle? Or Sam giving his side a shake, telling him to come along with him while it was still early so that they would have the best pick of what to break their fast with? Those who got to the cook fire first got the juiciest rashers of bacon; if you were late, runny eggs were your best bet, or maybe just porridge. He wondered if he'd make it for first call-- it must of been pretty early yet if it was still so quiet, right? He turned his head away from the light, allowing his vision to clear...
...And found where it was he'd spent the night. Not in his tent, in the snow field of Skirling Pass, but in some unknown person's cabin, with someone who had said the year was 1756. He saw the man in question was still asleep in the same spot on the couch, although he'd obviously shifted a lot in the middle of the night to find some degree of comfort. The plans he had just made in his head to start how he did any other ordinary day in his life faded away, replaced with the understanding he simply had to deal with the new situation before him now, as obtuse as it was. Still, it was difficult to believe it all hadn't been some sort of strange dream.
He rose from his chair after a minute of silence to recall all that had happened; Ghost awoke, attentive, as soon as Jon left his spot. Crossing to the other side of the room, he approached the sleeping man as he shrugged his cloak back over his shoulders. Once again he removed his glove, checking the blond's temperature with his palm. Last night's heat was absent. His face looked better too, the faint blush of fever almost entirely gone. It occurred to Jon that he hadn't really seen the man's face in the darkness last night, not as he could now, his palm still lying on his forehead, having brushed aside the hair there to do so. Yes, this was the definitely the face of a lord, handsome and unhardened. Jon was glad his injury hadn't been any worse than it was, for if he'd failed to be of assistance to such a man, the repercussions would undoubtedly of been worse. Oh, not in terms punishment -- obviously, he was not his ward; he had no sworn responsibility to him -- but in terms of what obligations this man most likely had to return to himself. Good that he was well and would be able to do so.
Removing his hand, Jon glanced around the room which he could now see much better in the daylight. Nothing in the living room looked too out of place to the young man greatly displaced from his time, beyond a general sense of the style of it being quite foreign. Most of it was wood. There were several rustic oak bookshelves, a black walnut table (the one he'd set the candle and the bowl down upon); even the couch Grey lay upon was made of cedar log, with some kind of faux sheepskin blanket thrown over it's cushions. The rug beneath his feet was a beige color, the frame of it consisting of an alternating print of trout and bear. There was some strange object hanging from the ceiling with a little string attached to it... but Jon wasn't that curious about it just yet. Rather than wanting to take the opportunity to explore this stranger's home, another opportunity called to him.
Walking out the back, Ghost followed right behind him, the door closing behind the two. It looked like it was going to be a nice day, a light breeze in the air. How long had it been since he'd seen a sky without clouds? Since the sun had been that warm upon him? Now that it was light, he could truly appreciate how green it was here. Not a flake of snow anywhere to be seen. It wasn't that Jon didn't like the cold weather-- where he lived, it even snowed in the summer, just not as harshly as it did in the colder months-- but a change was appreciated. After all, now that the Long Winter had set in, which was bound to last even longer than the preceding summer (and it had lasted ten years) he should enjoy it while he could.
Arriving at the lake he'd walked to the previous night to fetch some water, he went about removing his clothes near some of the large rocks close to the shore. The last time the water had been warm enough to go swimming-- that is, not frozen-- had been some time last year, maybe a year and a half. And he hadn't even had the chance to bathe indoors since they'd set out from the Wall some weeks ago. He began by tugging off his boots, and so followed every other garment he wore. There wasn't a reason for him to think twice about it; there weren't any women around.
Once he'd stripped down, he quickly waded into the water, eager to swim. It was still plenty cold, but hot water was a rare luxury, and besides, a man should be able to stand-- even to prefer! - cold to warm water. Cold water was virile. At that moment, Jon did enjoy it; it was refreshing, and brought with it the feeling of getting clean. As soon as he'd reached chest-high waters, he submerged his head to get it wet; when he stood up again, his hair covered his face, making the world before him a dark brown blur. He pushed it back and behind his ears, which stuck out a little, but they were usually concealed by the thickness of his hair. Running his fingers through it's length a couple times, he paused and picked a little bug out of it. The down side to sporting anything but close-cropped hair in his time, but because he lived in cold regions, it killed off almost all traces of lice; after he'd repeated this practice a couple more times, he'd removed the last stragglers. He wondered if they'd come with him all the way from the road to Castle Black.
It was then he heard the sound of a splash from behind, his direwolf coming after him. He turned around, and a grin broke out on his face to see the animal paddling out towards him, keeping it's fluffy white head above water as best it could. For as intimidating as Ghost looked to his enemies and strangers alike, moments like this displayed the side only Jon got to see. And it was these times, when the wolf was more like a pup, that the mature Jon was more like a boy.
"Oh, you wanted a bath too...?" he asked with a smile in his voice as the massive wolf swam towards him. He gave the albino fur atop his head a scratch with both hands when he managed to come all the way out (for an animal with as much raw muscle as his had, swimming was also easier for it than for an average wolf). "Water's nice, huh?" he asked, seeing the pleased expression on the animal's face, mouth slightly ajar as it's breath came in pants while Jon scratched him. He suddenly cringed when he flexed his sword hand in that way, causing a bolt of pain to shoot up from his burnt hand. The scars of the burns covered most of his right hand, ugly pink skin puckering among the points of his knuckles, over the cracks on his palms, all the way up to his wrist. It was lucky he hadn't lost the hand, but it would hurt now and then for the rest of his life, and would never to be quite as flexible as the left one. Lost some dexterity, but saved a man's life... a sufficient trade off, as he saw it.
Ghost had noticed the flicker of pain on his master's face, and pushed his head against the hand he was flexing now. A smile returned to Jon's face at what was unspoken. It was most likely due to that he had Ghost with him that he was able to adjust to what was going on as well as he was for the time being. Less like a pet, and more like a fourth brother to him. Without a real home to his name, only a place where he'd sworn to live at until the end of his days, he could know comfort if he still had this one with him. More thoughts would come later, like the ones that had struck him when he'd awoke, and the worries he'd harbored the night before, but for now he could deal with things as they came. He splashed some water on the direwolf then, who sneezed in response, and with a laugh Jon swam further out, making Ghost chase after him.
After a bit of play, the direwolf headed back to shore, shaking it's body several times to get dry. The morning sun would take care of the rest. "You must be hungry," Jon said from where he was still standing in the water, recalling that the animal had been interrupted from making a kill earlier by whatever it was that drew them here. He gave his 'okay' for Ghost to leave him for awhile to go hunt, when the direwolf had obviously felt more need to keep a protective eye on Jon in these unknown surroundings. "Just look out for those things we saw last night, alright...?" Ghost had come out the best of those who'd tried to take on those lions, but even so, Jon didn't think he could handle one of them on his own.
He watched as the direwolf started to walk away, but paused to look over his shoulder, as if waiting to see if the other would follow. Jon made a shooing gesture. "I'd just slow you down," he commented with some humor. Seeing his master had now given him complete permission to leave, Ghost started off towards a gathering of trees not too far from the lake. Jon resumed swimming about the lake after that; he didn't have it in mind to linger in this spot for too long, but the sun had only now passed the horizon line, so he believed he should at least have another half hour to himself.