Who: Ser Jaime Lannister & OTA What: Confused Kingslayer defeated by modern appliances Where: Complex Lobby When: Early Evening 29th June Rating: Medium. He often has inappropriate thoughts about his twin sister. Status: In Progress
Jaime Lannister had finally ventured from his room. Tired and irritated and holding his now decidedly less than white cloak in his hands. He'd need to find their washer women, or at the very least somewhere he could clean it. He'd been happy to see that at least bathing hadn't changed though the tubs had gotten smaller. He'd done what he could to get used to this new world but found to no great surprise Tyrion was adapting much faster. Perhaps his brother would prefer it here, away from those that insulted him. Jaime however in spite of how hated and feared he knew himself to be in Westros missed the lands he knew. He'd found he hadn't slept well since he'd been in this godsforsaken city. Perhaps it was that he'd inadvertantly become an Oathbreaker again, though not through his own fault, being pushed away from guarding the second king that he'd sworn to, or perhaps it was being so far from his sister. His Cersei. Oh she'd get by, she'd focus on the children he'd had to ignore most of their lives for fear of their parentage being uncovered but they'd had a mothers love, more than that. Selfishly though, Jaime just missed her, the feel of her, the sense of wholeness he felt when he was with the other half of himself. She'd have dealt with the witch swiftly. Jaime doubted she was as instinctively wary of fire magic as he'd become in those last few months at Aerys' court. The Mad King cackling, laughing insanely as the Starks burned. Father and brother to the man he'd brought to account not too long ago. The Lord of Winterfell, what trouble would he cause in Jaime's absence. No plots, he supposed. He could be grateful at least that Ned was far too Northern for all of that.
In place of Stark though there were men here of such values. Willing to risk the lives of innocents to save a witch and Jaime had found himself powerless to stop them being so foolish. It wasn't a feeling he liked, that helplessness. That weakness in the face of flawed decisions. He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock much as the white cloak he'd been wearing when he'd arrived in this hell told otherwise.
They were fools, these people who would so easily trust evil. For only evil came from magic like that. And as he'd so often done, Jaime Lannister dreamed, and these new fools joined others more familiar in the Kingslayer's dreams. Kingsguard that named him oathbreaker, the Mad King, his command to 'Burn them all' Cersei asking him to come back to her, Catelyn Stark accusing and cold, the Stark Boy with such fear in his eyes. He'd been just ten. Not even a man yet. Perhaps it was hypocritical of Jaime to criticise the witch when there were those would would say he'd done worse if they knew the truth of his past. But he'd had his reasons, he'd always had his reasons. He even had honour much as the Kingdoms would say otherwise.
How could he sleep when such thoughts spun in his head every time he tried.
He'd finally reached the lobby and stood for a few moments in a basic green tunic and trousers he'd managed to wash in the bath and dry on the little balcony provided. But his cloak would require more than that, a way to keep it white. And he didn't know where to begin.
Should he leave the complex? Venture further?
Would anyone even help him or had the revilement of his name carried even to this new world.