thespherelogs | unbowed, unbent, unbroken

Who: Oberyn Martell; OPEN
Where: Touring market and library domes ending up at a bar
What: Arrival/Get settled
When: 05/15 to 05/18
Warnings: Talk of death, will update

Generally, any first-time experiences are always going to be memorable, especially when it's someone's first time in the multiverse; a place that the Dornish prince couldn't even fathom, let alone imagine. And contrary to what most might guess, Oberyn took it rather well, all things considered. In fact, there seems to be a more intense rage in remembering the Mountain sitting on top of him, when everything went dark and he realized his fate. But there is also a great sense of satisfaction in knowing what will become of the murderer. Manticore poison was the deadliest and there was no doubt that the days following would be pure agony before he, too, would die.

All of it was taken in or as best as one could manage without looking overwhelmed. He asks questions of those who look to have answers, though mostly he moves about, looking, watching, trying to learn his new surroundings. He spends a couple of hours at the library, pulling books on topics he's never known to even exist; his trip to the market ending similarly.

It's at a tavern where Oberyn finally begins to relax. The wine was nothing in comparison to what they had back in Dorne, but it was better than nothing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's in the Market that Sansa first sees Oberyn. She recognizes him from afar, having met him during her time in King's Landing, though neither of them had spent any time together. That had been reserved for her husband at the time, Sansa keeping to herself, Margaery, and Shae.

In fact, the last time she'd seen him had been at Joffrey's wedding. She'd heard of the sacrifice he'd made, his attempts to bring the Mountain down. She was sure it was more that which drove him to be Tyrion's champion. All the same, she felt that she owed it to speak to him. Finishing paying for some new beads and threads for her embroidery- her brother had her making something for a girl(!!)(??)- she approached him carefully.

"Prince Oberyn," she said, bowing her head in in greeting. "It's been some time. I should thank you, for taking on the defense of Tyrion- and, by extension, myself."

The sad fact Oberyn knew what the Stark family was becoming was sad to say the least and though there was only the slightest of sympathy, it was more for what the young Sansa Stark had to endure; an unending nightmare that, no doubt, made Sansa feel that she would never awake from.

He notices Sansa before her approach and offers a nonchalant smile in greeting, expression shifting into one of unconcern.

"There is no reason to thank me, Lady Sansa. I had my reasons as I am sure you already knew," Oberyn replies, knowing that many likely knew those reasons. "You look well. It must be a relief to be out of the Lannister's hold."

"Just Sansa, if you don't mind. There are no titles here." Though Theon would call her his Queen or his Lady. They were all equal here.

"All the same. You made a great sacrifice." But he had also gotten his revenge.

"It was, though there are worse monsters than lions outside the gates of the Red Keep." She's in no rush to speak about her second husband, the one who still haunts her every moment. So she pushes past it, moving on to a better topic.

"My brothers, Robb and Jon are both here, as well as Theon Greyjoy, though I do not believe you ever had the pleasure of meeting them."

The fact that Charis actually frequented the tavern might say a lot about her. Actually, it probably did say a lot about her, but she was never one to think too much about things like that. Or anything at all. For better or for worse she'd always been an individual swayed by passions and desires more than logic and thought out plans. Sometimes she liked to blame it on her empathic abilities, but truth be told she'd probably have the same personality type with or without them.

Besides, what else was there to do in this place?

Usually she found herself alone but today there was a new face. Maybe today would be a more exciting day than she thought.

"How's the wine?"

By the time the question is asked of Oberyn, he's almost done the bottle and looking completely resigned. Clearly his expression will convey that he's had better. Much better. Dorne was known for its exceptional wine. Unfortunately, the Dornishman is painfully honest and he needs to make his opinion known.

"Terrible," he answers, lifting one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "But it is better than nothing."

He looks her over boldly before offering a smile in greeting.

"I appreciate the honesty," she responds with a small smirk of her own.

"You'd think with so little going on here they'd at least be able to come up with some good wine." She shrugs a shoulder. "Guess that's asking for too much." There's a certain curiosity in her eyes as she looks him over that she doesn't even bother to hide. "Don't think I've seen you around before. And our underwater prison isn't that big, so usually I can at least recognize someone."

They were both regulars at this tavern, Oberyn indulging in his normal vices (Robb assumed) and Robb, simply trying to cope. Seeing the Dornish Prince was reassuring, if only because it was someone else who was dead as well. The more people he knew, especially from his world, that were like him, the easier it was to accept this new reality. And he wouldn't deny that Oberyn's company made the time pass more quickly.

As was becoming routine, Robb ordered a bottle of red for them and took the seat opposite Oberyn, pouring them both a glass. The night was going to be long and it was better to spend it was amusing company than think and dwell on the past.

"Have you settled in yet?"

Yes, there was something to be said for being in good company, though, perhaps not in the obvious physical way. But then Oberyn wasn't too distraught over his own imminent death. To him, he got his justice (or so he assumed) for the death of his sister and her two children. The Dornishman doesn't even look like he's out in the multiverse for the very first time. He's got wine and the breath in his lungs and doesn't need much else.

For now.

Oberyn lapses into thought, considering how to answer. "That depends on your definition of settling. Getting used to this place? As well as anyone else."

He pauses before drinking.

"Yourself?"

It seemed so much simpler for Oberyn, while Robb lingered and dwelled. He wished he could shake off the memories and the dark feelings, but they seemed permanently latched onto him, like a new second skin, thinner and more brittle than the last. Every day felt like a struggle, as if he weren't standing against the elements but merely surviving minute by minute.

Oberyn was at least a respite from that, even if he was envious how well the man was managing.

"What do you make of this place? I didn't think about my upbringing before, but it feels as if it were completely useless for a place like this. Cooking, cleaning, I was more pampered than I thought."

He shrugged, taking a long drink. "I have found ways to make the nights pass."

[ continued from here. ]

Oberyn knew the reasons why that conversation never took place. All of Westeros would know why that conversation never took place. But then no one would second guess the honourable Ned Stark on who the mother of his bastard son is if it ever came into discussion.

"What happened to your father was very unfortunate." He makes direct eye contact. "About as unfortunate as what happened to my sister and her children."

A considerate pause and a curious raise of his brow.

"Do you believe him to have committed treason, like they say?"

If Oberyn had been hoping to get a reaction of some sort out of Jon at the mention of his sister and her children, it worked. Even with Jon's growing suspicion that Oberyn knows something, the direct statement catches him off guard and there's a look of -- is that guilt? -- as he looks away for a moment. "That was unfortunate," is all he's going to say about it at the moment though.

Then it's his turn to look directly at Oberyn. "Ned Stark was no traitor."

Wanda had come to the market in search of spices and anything else she might be able to find to make dinner interesting. Her time living in the Sphere has been relatively calm and besides studying and training, she's been learning new and interesting ways to prepare meals. She stopped at one of the small portable stands and smiles when she spots a rich red powder for sale. She was fairly sure that it was paprika but she wanted to check. Her mannerisms were light and easy, and after a quick exchange she had the spice in hand and was stepping away from the stand.

Her boots clicked against the pavement before coming to a sudden stop before nearly running into Oberyn.

"Excuse me." Her accent was light, tugging and rounding her words.

She smiled. "I am usually more observant but I was a little distracted." She'd stopped before running into him but they were still very close to clashing.

unbowed, unbent, unbroken

market

Re: market

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Tavern

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For Jon

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Market