InsaneJournal

WHO: Ned's bastard Jon Snow, Ghost, and Quinn.
WHAT: New arrival!
WHEN: Late afternoon.
WHERE: In a quiet downtown area.
RATING: PG to start.



Blinding white and bitter cold had been all that Jon had known for some time upon his journey beyond the Wall alongside his brothers. His fingers had frozen stiff, even beneath the fabric of his gloves, and every waking inch of him ached in such a way that Jon worried he'd never feel the satisfying warmth of a fire again. Yet he continued on, saddled upon his horse, teeth grit tight and dark eyes fixed clear on the direction in which he and the others traveled, hope of finding some welcome sign of his Uncle carrying him on. The evidence as to the fate of the others who had departed with his Uncle were far from in his favor, what with Uncle Benjen's party having been found ravaged, cold, and dead, but Jon could do no less than hope for something more. Though, deep down in his gut, he knew that he would have greatly preferred that his Uncle be dead and gone than that horrifying creature that he faced at Castle Black, so pale and empty, yet undeniably vicious all at once. The dead, fully resurrected -- and so, finally, a part of all the wild tales he'd heard as a child about the happenings of the Wall had come true. Notably, it was a truth that he could have done without. As far as Jon Snow was concerned, after setting that thing aflame at Castle Black, that particular story would have been better off remaining as such.

But it hadn't.

Jon shuddered and, without a moment to debate on the matter, he knew that it was the memory of what he had witnessed that night that had brought on the action, not the unbearable cold he was battling now. He reached up to adjust the dark furs around his neck, tightening it a bit more as he blinked snow from his eyes.

One of the men to his right muttered something against the cruel howl of snowy wind that surrounded them, but the words came out inaudible. Curious, Jon turned his head, but found that his companions were no longer attempting to guide their horses through the deep trenches of snow that they had set themselves upon. Instead, there was a path made of dark rock, traveling upward along the range of area expanded ahead. Strange looking houses spread out beyond it, split between unusually built towers of stone and glass that Jon had never witnessed before in his entire life. To make the sudden view all the more unusual, Jon found that there wasn't a single trace of snow anywhere.

Jon turned to look to his right. More of the same, with no sign of the scouts that he had traveled outward with. He gripped at the reigns of his horse tightly, bringing the creature to a halt so that he could fully process as to what in the seven hells had happened.

This wasn't right. This was not where he was supposed to be. Surely, this was not what lay beyond the Wall?

A low growl erupted from behind him and Jon turned on his saddle to look at his albino direwolf, who had been loyally following Jon along with the scouts. "Quiet, Ghost," Jon muttered, legs swinging off the side of his horse so that he could better take in all that was happening.

He was doing well to avoid panic. He was a member of the Night's Watch now and there was no use in shouting and screaming, was there? Jon Snow was no coward. Then again, he was no fool either, and he certainly wasn't about to walk into whatever this place was, with all his companions save Ghost missing, without being attentively wary. A hand was quick to find his sword. Jon didn't unsheathe Longclaw, but he gripped it tightly, prepared to turn about and face whatever creature responsible that he may well find, should it choose to attack him.