revivalproject | Calibrations Waiting Room Mingle

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Calibrations Waiting Room Mingle

WHO: ALL HE ROWS
WHERE: The Secret Tunnel, which has become the Calibrations Waiting Room (or was it always...?)
WHAT: Mingle log for literally anything you'd like to take place in the waiting room between sleep cycles during the event
WHEN: June 3 - July 10
WARNINGS: Please mark individual threads with warnings

For those that have heeded Ga Re's warning, the door within the secret tunnel - which looks suspiciously like the hatch to one of your shuttles - is wide open, waiting for you. You walk through... and the door behind you disappears. You’re now standing in a cavernous, cold, white waiting room. There are hallways leading off the main corridor with names above each. One of them has your name and will draw you toward it, inevitably.

And on the wall, in pink, running letters is written this single greeting:

‘Welcome to Calibrations’.

The secret tunnel has become a large waiting room with chairs, tables, and the same food dispensers available in the shuttles. There are also communal bathrooms - one for each gender - with several toilet stalls and shower stalls in each, including basic shampoo and soap dispensers, like you might find in a hotel. The water isn’t hot, so hopefully you don’t mind lukewarm showers. Somehow, at least, it never goes cold.

Branching off the main waiting room room are the labeled hallways. At the end of each short hallway is a door, with the same character’s name written on them. Anyone can enter any room, regardless of the name written on it. Everyone has their own room, though of course people can share. Each room has a simple bed (approximately queen-sized) and a set of drawers.

You can opt to spend time in your room or in the larger, common waiting room. (And if you do, you can thread it out here!) But every 16 hours, you'll feel a compulsion: You need to sleep. Right now. You find yourself going into your room (or someone else's, if you really want). But you’re drawn to the bed. You can’t help but lie down. And then, you fall asleep.

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That didn't work. It wasn't supposed to remind Sansa of how good she was at being alone without her husband, and Tony didn't want to encourage that misery by commiserating with the experience of being alone in a crowd. That wasn't part of him that he would share as readily as Sansa did, anyway; he was the life of the party, of course, and always happy to be there, and he was trying his best to still be that for Sansa but he was really failing her so far.

"That's over, too," he pointed out, giving James a pointed pat. "You're stuck with a partner in crime for the next eighteen years at least, he's going to stick it out, I'd put money on it." And she didn't get to choose to be alone when he was around, but Tony reserved that point to a cautious glare as he licked his lip between his teeth.

"I am blessed to have him with me for the next part of my life," Sansa agrees. "And so I won't ever be alone again. I kind of like that, honestly. It's quite a bit safer here than in Westeros and I don't fear for his life or anything. I think I'll just have time to enjoy him being small."

Sansa's smile softens as she looks at James tucked into Tony's arms. "I think I might cry if he gets any bigger."

"You know, I think if you squeeze them enough they stop growing. Like a bonsai tree," Tony suggested wisely, eyes squinted in a knowing frown and nodding sagely. "Or," he offered, "you keep handing him to bigger and bigger guys, you won't even notice the difference. Let Steve hold him, he'll be a month old until you're thirty." He tried to give a flex without jostling James too much, but even without the baby in his arms it wouldn't have had nearly the effect he was going for, trying to emulate Cap.

"Very true. Steve makes everyone look small," Sansa says, laughing at the image. "I'm the tallest woman I've ever met and he makes me feel small. I've never felt small."

She's always thought herself a bit of a giant, truly, and while she's blessed with the height and long limbs of House Stark, it looks better on a man than a woman.

"Really?" Tony asked with a surprised grin. "I mean, I'm glad you haven't felt small-- Maybe I've got a flawed data pool, the women around me are usually..." Tony rolled his eyes and tipped his head back with a smile, his own religious experience to thank whatever forces brought people like Jen Walters and Carol Danvers into his sphere, and he knew he lived in exceptional circumstances. So did Sansa, he realized; if the place she came from was winter all of the time, her people were probably naturally small, like people that lived near the arctic circle. "Even my assistant, she's about your height, but I know she's really frustrated with me when she wears these heels," he continued, freeing one hand from under James to demonstrate a generous few inch height and flashed that appreciative grin again even as he continued, "to remind me who's really running the company."

"Ah, no. There's even men shorter than I am but...there's one woman taller than me. She's my sworn sword, Brienne. She's taller than some men and broader too. She wanted to be a knight but no knight would knight her because she was a woman. She eventually became one, though, and now she guards my brother in the south."

Sansa taps her lips, thinking for a moment. "The only man taller than I am that I've known was a fearsome one called The Hound. His face was scarred and he wore a hound shaped helm into the field. He wasn't a nice man but he was a good man, under it. He kept me safe when I was around him. My horrible second husband was shorter than I was and all my brothers were. My sister is much shorter, probably only to the height of my shoulder. Of course, if you wanted to kill people without being seen I imagine being small would help."

"So, you might have nothing to worry about," Tony concluded, which was about the time James decided he was getting tired of all of Tony's gesturing and gave a whine of irritation, making Tony lay a hand along his front to hush, "Hey, I'm talking about you, pipe down. He's going to turn out to be a little guy anyway, if all of his uncles are. Do you think he might be like Tyrion? That's genetic, isn't it? How soon could you tell?"

"He's not. I'd already know," Sansa says. "Dwarves have larger heads and smaller limbs," she explains. "At least that's what Tyrion told me. His parents and siblings were of average size so I imagine that it doesn't run strongly in his family, necessarily."

Some families do have quite a bit of it, she imagines, but from what she knows of House Lannister, it doesn't.

"But he'll likely be shorter than I am. I think my brother Bran might have been taller than me, if he'd not had his back broken."

That could have been a more dangerous question than it turned out to be, and the clench in Tony's gut when he realized he was playing with fire eased considerably when Sansa easily spoke about her husband without another immediate thread of being alone. How Sansa handled her grief must have been complex, and her brother's broken back was only a reminder of that for Tony-- they hadn't had a conversation yet where he wasn't discovering some tragedy laced through Sansa's life. He didn't have to push her at all to find out where her pain was, it was everywhere.

"Here," he instructed, shifting for her to take her baby back as he started to wiggle more, not about to be the one holding the fussy baby if he could help it, then rolling to his feet as he pulled her hair out of the way for her to pull out the braid she had been trying to lay over the back of her chair. "How'd the big gal get to be a knight?" he asked as he fingercombed the strands back away from her face.

"Another knight, the Kingslayer - he knighted her. He died in the battle for King's Landing not long after but it only takes a knight to make a knight so it stands. The first woman knight in all of history, I think. Of course, I'm the first Queen in the North."

She gratefully accepts James back while she talks, holding him close to her and rocking him back and forth. He's a little fussy but she doesn't mind it. She hardly ever minds it.

"Women are just as important as men. I don't know why having a cock between your legs makes a person more important."

So, Tony was going to have to find a knight-- and he knew a few of those, but it hadn't worked out for him so far. Not even helping them slay a dragon. Distracted by his knighting fantasies, Tony let out a startled laugh, not expecting Sansa to phrase her frustration quite like that at all.

"Not more important, no. Just smarter, and more capable and reasonable. If you had one, you'd understand," he said, giving up on Sansa's hair to slide back a cautious step with a smirk and avoid any incoming damage he might have inspired her to lay on is very important organ.

Sansa arches her brow. "Funny, I could kick you between your legs and have you howling for half an hour. Besides, giving birth is more painful than anything you men have to endure. I wouldn't dare say I am less reasonable and capable than a man. I'm a queen."

It's playful, but only just. "So it's best to remember one's place when talking to the Queen in the North. I yield to no one any longer. No man will ever have rights to my bed again unless I permit him so. And that is the only thing you have that I don't."

When reminded of his place, Tony placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head as reverently as he could manage with his fangy grin, more respect in the cautious tilt of his hips away from a direct blow, but without any further arguments for his dick's right to a hierarchy. He only looked skeptical at her confidence that he only had one thing that she didn't, pouting and tipping his head back and forth as he considered this like he was trying to be as diplomatic as possible before countering, "I also have a pretty severe substance abuse problem." Among his other most aspirational traits; Sansa should have been envious.

"Drink is something you should stay away from. Men who stink of wine don't get a lot of women," Sansa says sagely. "Or other men, for that matter. I would hope that's your vice and not brothels, though. That's a harder addiction to cure."

Sansa unfortunately knows more than she wants about those. "In all seriousness, you should take care of yourself. You only get gifted one body. It's one thing if it's taken from you and used against your will but don't do anything to hurt yourself. There's people who'd rather see you happy and healthy."

"Yeah, somehow that wasn't one of the problems..." Tony muttered, smile lopsided and eyes narrowed in scrutiny for that being Sansa's first reaction, and daring to inch closer again. He didn't really need anyone else telling him the threats of 'drink', he had thoroughly explored them and had the chip to prove it, though there were enough long nights here that he knew would have ended with him calling Hellrung if he were on Earth just to hear the same thing from him. That her first concern was his love life might have been because they were talking about what was between anyone's legs, but he still replied, "The women, you mean," with a grin about the people who wanted to see him happy and healthy. "Don't worry, I have plenty of far more destructive habits to distract from it, I'll be cozy six feet under before anyone has to worry about my happiness. Did you notice how deep this tunnel was? Uncanny."

Sansa rolls her eyes but it's more playful than anything else. Sometimes she doesn't know what's true and what's false with Tony but he does seem to have good intentions unlike other men she's known.

"You can't tell me you couldn't have any woman you wanted any hour of the day or night. You could easily have that vice, I think, even if it wasn't a vice in the traditional sense. Some people just don't like to be lonely."

Sansa goes quiet for a moment. "I'm always alone now - or I will be."

That was much more astute than it should have been for someone who usually seemed to be doing Tony the favour of not really listening to him, but Tony's myriad of less traditional vices were much more difficult to talk about without the practice and structure of a recovery program behind him, and he was starting to suspect that was a more personal story for her, too. That would have been safe enough territory to pursue as Tony combed Sansa's hair back through his fingers again, only to find himself stopping once more with the length twisted in one hand to chastise, "I thought we solved this problem. You've got James now, whatever you think of anyone else in this place, you can't be alone. And, not for nothing, but I have it on pretty good authority that some people around here would take offense to that."

"I know. I just never thought this place would widow me. I thought these Agrii were good. I thought since they blessed me with James that they were happy to give us things and not take from us. I never trusted the Atroma, before, but these Agrii I trusted. They spoke as children to us and asked our help. They took my son's father from me."

Sansa swallows thickly, trying not to cry. She isn't crying. The old Sansa would have but the Queen in the North is not going to cry when she needs to be a mother and a woman who can do things alone.

"I trusted when I shouldn't have. I thought I wasn't that little girl any longer."

Emergency, it was happening, alert. "Hey," Tony dissuaded the tearful tone creeping into Sansa's voice, bowing over the back of her chair to follow his hands down her arms to wrap together over James and mutter closer, "hey, hey." That was about as good as he had, more comfortable giving her hand a reassuring pat and pressing a kiss to her hair than trying to offer any platitudes. Instead, he said, "Don't start crying or you'll get it all over him, that's not fair, he's got enough of that." He really didn't have anything nice to say about the trust anyone put in the Agrii to do good by them. The creatures had kidnapped them to put them to work in an alien dimension, and that was the most charitable version of events here.

"I won't cry," Sansa huffs. "I'm the Queen in the North, the Winter Queen, the Queen Who Stood. What use am I going to be if I cry like a little girl who's skinned her knee playing?"

Sansa's tears have all dried up - at least she hopes they have. If they haven't, she doesn't want everyone in this godsforsaken cave to see her broken down and miserable.

"I'm a Stark. We don't cry."

Sansa hadn't exactly skinned her knee; crying, Tony thought, was a pretty reasonable response in her situation-- hell, any of them could use a good cry at this point just from being trapped down here, without the extra baggage. He just wasn't the one to do it in front of, because he would definitely make it worse. Apologetic for making her get defensive about it, he leaned away again, leaving just one hand on her shoulder, and it tensed and gave a firm pat before he was tucking both into his pockets when he confirmed, "Made of iron," to her back.

"Steel," Sansa corrects softly. "I went from Porcelain, to Ivory, to Steel. There's more steel in me than most people, I think. I've had a difficult life. It's not been without joy, no, but I've borne a lot of loss for someone as young as I am."

She exhales softly. "I'm sorry, Tony. I shouldn't be...if I had a place to mourn quietly and privately, I would. I just have no place to be alone. I have to do it in front of everyone here and I hate it."

Resenting the vulnerability that came with the mourning was a very familiar feeling, and Tony did understand what Sansa was struggling to protect, so that left him at quite a loss for what he could do to help; if it were him, he would just want to be left alone with a bottle to meditate on. And Sansa's correction, steel instead of iron, didn't make him any less tense, biting down on his lip as he watched the curve of her shoulder how she held James and wondering how much of that she was going to be impressing onto him, and how much Tony could stand to watch.

"We're all falling apart down here, don't worry about it," he muttered, trying to indicate that she wasn't alone in trying to keep up appearances, but without anyone else to point out how shaken they actually looked under any level of scrutiny-- scrutiny most of them weren't turning on each other in their focus to hold it together.

"I want to bury myself into my bed and not leave it for days. I can't do that but I want to, terribly. I don't want to have to wear the mask here and have it slip over and over again. I want to have my time and come away so I don't have to pretend any longer. I know how to mourn. You do it quickly and quietly," she says.

"I'm a queen and a mother. I don't have time to mourn. I have to be me if for no other reason than James. I have to be me again."

She looks over at Tony and cuts her eyes slyly. "And don't you give me the line about me being allowed to have feelings. I know I'm allowed. I just want to have them in private. Say something funny about me so I can be annoyed at it."

They were going in circles, and would continue to until Sansa wasn't so close to this loss, both temporally and physically, and there wasn't much Tony could do about either of those proximities--he had tried plenty already, and they were still stuck here. The invitation to break the cycle was welcome, but Tony was feeling lifeless and discouraged, and he dropped his arms limply, eyes up to search the ceiling for help being a more familiar jackass.

"You'd probably have a real ugly cry, anyway. Absolutely atrocious. All blotchy, snot everywhere," he suggested, gesturing for the general state of her face, then dropping his arms again, apologetic. "It has to be natural, you know, now you've got me thinking about it and I feel like I have to apologize to everyone here, I'm not enjoying the self-reflection, that's what the drink was supposed to put a stop to."

Calibrations Waiting Room Mingle

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