revivalproject | when the white winds blow [ota]

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when the white winds blow [ota]

WHO: Sansa Stark
WHERE: around the settlement, hospital, her home
WHAT: THE BABY IS HERE
WHEN: May 6-May 9
WARNINGS: n/a

001. labor

The baby keeps Sansa awake more often than not and today is no exception. She wakes well before dawn and simply starts walking. Walking is the only thing that eases the pain in her back these days and so she makes her way in circuitous loops around and around the livable and workable areas of their settlement. She goes toward the hospital, the agriculture center, back around to where she lives and when she's done it once, she does it again.

The pain gets worse and worse as the day goes on, bad enough that she has to sit for long stretches and just grind her teeth to bear it. She knows her son will be coming soon but she has no idea how soon. She knows her lady mother labored for two days with Rickon, after all, so this might take an age. It's only when she feels that she's relieved herself without trying that she imagines it's time to actually go to see Altair. There's someone near her, thankfully, so she calls out to them.

"Help? I believe I may actually be having my child and I need to get to Altair. Immediately."

002. hospital

Delivering children is a messy, painful experience. Even though she's in good hands with Altair and having Wanda and Tyrion calms her, it's still something she hadn't been prepared for until it had truly started happening. She has an easy labor though, from what she can tell, and when her son comes into the world she thinks everything was worth it. James Kit Lannister comes into the world screaming endlessly and there's no question he's a healthy boy.

Sansa's brow is still damp with sweat and she knows she looks a fright but as soon as the child is clean and swaddled, he's in her arms where she can soothe him and love him. She has some experience with babes, considering she'd been old enough when Rickon had been born to fancy herself a proper little mother, but it's different when it is one's own.

His mouth is full and the wisps of hair on his head are reddish blonde. She has no idea if he'll turn Lannister gold or her own Tully red but he's beautiful all the same. His eyes are dark and Sansa imagines they'll turn blue, as hers are, but there's no telling with a babe this small.

She never wants to let him go.

003. a party

Once she's home and feeling much better, Tyrion plans a party so anyone might come to see her and James and wish them well. It's a small affair, given what little they've found in the way of edible and attractive food, but Sansa is glad for it all the same. To announce it, she announces in a video over the network and the child has a starring role as he fusses in her arms.

I would like to share the arrival of my son, James Lannister, and invite anyone who wishes to come to a small party that Tyrion and I are having. We would love to have you.

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"Just let us know whenever you're all ready to do it. We'll be right over," Cal promises.

"...even with the means to do things like this, sometimes we take it for granted. I've never really had any pictures or things either, so it'd be like you said. I just had to remember things, the people I've met, the experiences."

Jedi weren't encouraged to have attachments and many personal possessions, after all. The former seemed difficult to avoid, for surely caring for your fellow Jedi had some attachment involved.

"I have a good memory, at least, but sometimes I find that I forget the timbre of my father's voice or the touch of my mother's hands. I wish we had photographs of them. All I have are my memories and my poor attempts at drawing."

Sansa is a good artist, yes, but nothing would be a perfect rendition of what she's lost. Nothing could be her family again, flesh and blood. She has to settle for poor imitation.

Cal smiles faintly. "You have something though. I don't really remember who my parents were, or what they did, their names or where I was from." He doesn't seem terribly sad about it, but sometimes he can't help but wonder. Seeing Sansa with her newborn child prompts such thoughts, what-if's and what-might-have-been's.

"I was taken in early, to train as a Jedi. I'm not sure if you've heard of them, or the Force." He's not sure how open Altair's been with speaking of such things, but then the Sith was an unusual sort even for the path of the Force he'd chosen.

“I do not know much about them. A whisper, here or there, but nothing more. From what I understand it’s another power, similar to the ones that our friends from New York have?”

Everyone Sansa has met from New York has magic of some sort so she assumes the Force is the same as those powers.

“I am afraid I have no power except to be myself.”

"I've...never heard of this New York place, but it could be possible. The Force is in itself a sort of all-encompassing energy that exists everywhere and in everything. Some just turn out to be more sensitive to it than others, and even fewer can actually tap into it and make use of it."

And yet it had seemed like there had been so many that had been gathered to learn, to become Jedi. That hurt would never go away, the fact that they were perhaps all gone now.

Cal shakes his head a little. "Nothing bad about that. And people can still do a lot as they are. ...back where I'm from, it's definitely unsafe to be known as a Jedi now. I've spent the past five years hiding what I am because things suddenly changed, and for some reason we've been branded as a threat when we'd been fighting as peacekeepers."

"I do know something about being a traitor," Sansa says, laughing softly. "I didn't plan on being branded one, naturally, but I don't think anyone ever does. It just ends up that way in the end when you wind up on the losing side of a battle."

Sansa feels sympathy for him, having had to hide who he was to stay safe because things just changed.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. It's not right."

"Funny thing. Our side was supposedly winning." And then their own armies turned against them without warning. The war seemed to come to an abrupt end, and an Emperor arose in the birth of a Galactic Empire.

"...it isn't. I'm still not sure exactly what happened, why everything just suddenly turned out how it did, but..." Cal shrugs. Things happened, and there's no changing the past. "I would've still been a scrapper working on ships in Bracca, but something happened, and I gave myself a way. I had to...to save a friend." And yet his friend still had died because of it, trying to keep Cal from being discovered by the Empire.

But then those had been the first steps towards the path he now found himself. One of the downsides of being in a place like this just gave him too much time to keep thinking about the things that have happened, wondering if he really was making the right choice, unable to really do anything about it while here.

He shakes his head again, forcing a laugh. "Sorry, I didn't come here to bring down the mood. This is a happy occasion for you all. We came to help celebrate it."

"No, it was interesting," Sansa says. "I like hearing where others come from. However, I know it must be painful to talk about such things so if you'd like to change the subject, we can."

Sansa gives him a little smile. "Would you like to hold James? I'm sure that's what you came here for instead of jabbering at me."

Sansa has been all right with people holding the baby, mostly because everyone here is safe and good.

[

Cal looks thankful at, and then at the offer to have a chance to hold the baby, he blinks. "Ah, I..." He looks a little sheepish at that, glancing at BD-1. The droid beep-boops in a way that could be excitement or encouragement as he scrambles up the padawan's arm and up over his shoulder.

"I've never held a baby before. Walk me through it?" Cal admits, smiling almost shyly at Sansa then.

"Oh, well, it's not terrible. Mostly you support the head in the crook of your elbow," Sansa says, carefully transferring the baby to his arms. "Much of it will come naturally, though. It's as if we know how to take care of one another, in a way, and it's a bit touching."

She smiles a little. "So how is it? Terrifying, comfortable, something in between?"

Following Sansa's instructions is at least pretty easy, and her reassurances make Cal feel more at ease as he finds the baby passed over to him. She's right, it does kind of come naturally. It's like finding out that this is what your arms have been equipped for after all.

"...something in between," he laughs, but he seems to relax enough in how he holds the child, taking the moment to really understand just what an amazing little bundle he has in his arms right now. "Hey there, little guy," he says softly to James, smiling.

"Something in between seems about right," Sansa says warmly. "I was afraid at first but it seems to be coming so naturally to me. It's felt like I always knew what to do and how to be good at it. It's strange. I've been good at many things in my life but they took practice. This seems to just...happen."

It feels strange having her arms free for once so while she's happy to let Cal hold James, she is certainly keeping watch.

"I think it only makes sense for it to come naturally to a mother," Cal quietly observes. Some inherent thing, perhaps not completely dissimilar from the Force, but rather parallel to it regarding things that can't quite be explained, but simply are.

Around his shoulder, BD-1 hoots and beeps at the child. "BeeDee hasn't seen too many people that are smaller than him if not about his size," Cal laughs. "I know there's at least one other child around. I'm not sure if you've seen them- although his guardian isn't very subtle."

After a moment, he looks back at Sansa. "Would you like him back? I don't think I'm the most comfortable thing to rest on, but at least he doesn't seem to mind."

"Oh, I have seen him," Sansa says, thinking of the small green child and his protector. They both cut a striking figure among those who had been marooned on Agra 10 and while she hasn't exchanged words with them, it's hard not to know who they are.

Sansa reaches her hands out to take James back. "I'll take him, if you'd like. I just thought I would give you a chance to hold him if you wanted. I need to find a way to make him some more toys and things - I think that would keep him a little more entertained than what I can do."

The Mandalorian is pretty hard to forget if one's seen him. Cal had only heard of them and their fighting prowess. Yet what had interested him more was how such a warrior had come to find themselves caring for a child, and that of a species Cal had ever only seen two of, only so much older that one might have thought they were always so.

"I appreciate the chance," the padawan says, smiling as he eases the baby back over to his mother's arms. "It's the first time I've gotten to hold a baby. Nice to know I'm not terrible at it." He grins. "What sort of toys would be all right for someone his age?" Toys aren't exactly something he specializes in, but if they could find something or piece something together, he'd happily do so.

"Right now, just soft things that I can sew for him but I'm thinking about later. When he can crawl around a bit, he's going to want things with moving parts. Those are the things I cannot make for him."

Sansa thinks that Tyrion can and, naturally, Tony can, but she wonders if Cal would be able to come up with something.

"He's going to want things more complex than I can make him."

Soft things make sense, not exactly Cal's area of expertise. "Ah, that's right. Tyrion did mention you sewed things."

He wonders what sort of things he could possibly come up with. Jedi didn't exactly provide the younglings with typical methods of entertainment, after all. "I'll keep it in mind and see if we can't come up with anything," he promises.

"Yes, please keep it in mind. I'm willing to trade things for them," Sansa says. "I'm a fair hand with a needle should you ever need something to wear and I don't ever want you to think you're giving without return. I don't work that way."

"Sounds fair enough," Cal nods. "And I don't think having some other things to wear would be a bad idea in general. A definite change from digging through boxes and finding abandoned ponchos, huh BeeDee?"

The little droid emits something of a twitter, perhaps his version of a laugh.

"No one should be finding abandoned anything, unless it's so that I can repurpose it into something proper to wear," Sansa says, laughing softly.

"I am a very fair hand with a needle and we're the better for it because otherwise I don't think the Agrii know how to dress us very well. They try their best, of course, but they don't quite understand us, I don't think."

Cal laughs as well. "Well, maybe not around here. Back on the planets we've explored, that's where a lot of my equipment would come from. Old caches, forgotten storages." Maybe not too different from here.

"Have the Agrii tried providing clothing?" That's the first he's heard of it, although he supposes he shouldn't be surprised.

"They haven't but knowing what I know about them I don't think they'd get it quite right," Sansa says, laughing a bit. "I think they do mean well at least. They leave us charming messages."

He Rows indeed.

"It's best that I make it than wait on them to provide it or wait for a trip to a system so I can buy it."

"Yeah, I think I can see that." They'd try, but it seems that some things just don't quite translate in terms of concept, for some reason.

Cal nods, grinning. "Hey, makes sense to me. And it's something to do."

"It is. Life goes much easier if you have things to fill your days. Though, to be quite honest, I have plenty of those just now. I have a busy schedule," she says.

"Helping one another is something I feel drawn to doing. Perhaps it's because I was a queen or perhaps I just like being here but it's important to me."

The padawan's eyes drift towards the baby at that, his smile quirking. If Sansa hadn't been busy before, he can definitely see how she will be now.

"It only seems natural, I think, offering to help others, help each other, especially under the current circumstances. And roughing it alone when there are people in the same position just doesn't make sense."

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theladyofwinterfell - 2020-05-31 18:01 (UTC) - Expand

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