spherememing | May/June Test Drive Meme

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May/June Test Drive Meme

All you need is love.

So the Sphere heard that some of you guys are lonely. It doesn’t want you to be lonely so it has decided that even though it’s not really February the people within its confines and connected to them deserve to have a sort of Valentine’s Day anyway. Celebrating love (all sorts of love, definitely not merely the romantic sort) is on display. Think pink and red and white and loads of hearts and rainbows.

all you need is some kind of love.

In the middle of the merchant dome, some of the stalls pushed aside a large pink and white stripped tent is set up. Inside is a series of small tables, each set up with numbers and two seats each. When people go in and register to receive the number, they are given three initial options. Option one is romantic dating with further subcategories based on gender preferences (if any) and orientation. The second option is for friendship. The Sphere wants you to make friends! A third option only open to the adults within the Sphere is for hooking up and no strings attached sex. That is also sectioned by orientation and preferences.

Each option you pick allows people to talk for five minutes before people move onto the next person. At each station is the option for ice breaker cards. Think would you rather or describe your perfect date (date date or a friendship date. Whichever you’re working on.) Should players wish it, there are various unnamed NPCs around for people to chat up, hook up with or whatever. Go a little bit nuts with it.

it's all for a good cause

John put a post up that calls for the option to sign up for (or to be signed up by someone else) for a date that’s auctioned off. She somehow managed to convince Max to host said auction (but don’t ask how. You don’t want to know what she had on him) so he is your MC for the night.

The gala takes place in the same tent as the speed dating, but it’s been made over to look rather gala like. There’s fairy lights and silk on the tables and an open bar with circulating free champagne. And everything else of course. As always with the sphere there’s food in abundance, things that typically one might think of in a romantic context: strawberries and oysters and chocolate and finger foods. It’s that sort of party. None of it has any effect though. Too many people imbibing for that.

There’s a small band playing for people who are interested in dancing, and various NPCs are currently using it. It’s a good party, lively and inviting.

i get by with a little help from my friends.

So, you know how the people within the Sphere tend to force festivals on you? Well, a big part of those is always food and gifts. These particular foods and gifts tend to come in the form of small valentine’s cakes or candy, or flowers for those not inclined for food. The flowers are yellow however, because this isn’t about love. This is about friendship. There’s signs for free hugs, and random people have been hired to go about telling folks that so and so is their friend. Even if they’re not. But they’ll still follow you down the street and spout things like poetry and cheers in the honor of epic friendships. Even if they’re not really all that epic--the friendships or the poetry.

let's go to the movies, let's go see the stars

Some people may remember a few months ago when Alex badgered Max into letting them have an open area movie screening. This time she didn’t need to do it! In the middle of the rec dome, a large screen has been set up, and there’s space for people to have blankets or chairs from home set up in front of the screen. Various vendors have set up carts or stalls here and there, selling the sort of foods that one would expect at the movies (popcorn, homemade candies, soda, juice, wine and beer, nachos and that sort of thing) along with some that one may not expect: (full curry dinners, burgers, basically a bit like a food truck festival. If you can imagine it it’s there.)

Before the movie, there’s cartoons running, some familiar, and some not, and this is an event that people have seemed to have taken to well. Children run around here taken with the idea for the movie, and it’s a fun, summery festive sort of atmosphere with a community vibe, despite the wine and beer for sale.

we're heckling! it's good to be heckling again!

The movie is a buddy movie double feature, and both of them are rated R, but there’s no one checking IDs so go nuts. The movies that are being shown are Hot Fuzz and The Heat because that’s just what buddy comedies happen to be. But movies aren’t to everyone’s taste and there are some people who have taken this to go full on commentary about them. Do you join in or shush them? It’s entirely up to you!

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She feels rather than sees him first — as impossible and strange as it might sound — coming out of the shadows of the street and walking towards her. She can sense her legs wanting to give out, too, but she wills herself to be strong, and her hands tighten around the stems of the flowers she'd been given. She doesn't even realize a few of them have thorns.

If the Red Wedding had been their only obstacle, she wouldn't have hesitated at the sight of him, despite the pain and the grief of losing their child, of losing him; of course he was lost, they'd all been lost, she lay there dying with the realization that they had been completely, utterly betrayed. But the other, smaller betrayals are so much harder for her to process. So she just stands there, staring back at him even as he calls her name and looking like she wants to bolt.

She manages to hold her ground for a moment longer, at least, and with an incline of her head, she greets him, "Your Grace."

Edited 2020-09-15 04:10 (UTC)

It's formal in a way that sets off warning bells. They hadn't been married for long, but he knew her well enough to understand her mood. She never spoke to him as king first, never. He can only assume that her coldness is in response to what happened in the Twins, the anguish, the pain and all of it stemming from his foolishness and trust in men that betrayed them.

He doesn't step closer, now afraid that she will bolt and once she turned a corner, she would be gone for good. Better that she be alive and angry with him than the specter he had seen so often in the night. The last image of her as she bled to death on the floor. "When did you arrive?" And was she truly here? Could he let himself believe it?

The longer though she stands apart from him, the more worry gnaws at him. "You're angry with me?"

"Not long," she answers, hanging her head. She looks at the flowers in her hands; how did she end up with so many? she feels the same about her arrival, about their separation, about what happened at Lord Edmure's wedding, about that incident in the tavern. How long has it been? How did she get here? Where was she?

It's only when he asks if she's angry that she peers back up at him, his worry echoed on her own features. She never did like seeing him upset. She'd promised to be patient and understanding and kind and true, and to be a good wife to him. "I..." She falters, because is it even anger she feels? She doesn't know. There's so much she doesn't know. She's not even sure she knows him anymore.

She looks away, unable to meet his eyes. But she knows they're blue, and it will break her heart even more if she lets herself drown in them again. "The Mother has been merciful and kind." She glances at his face, then away again. "I am glad to see that you are... well."

She was the epitome of kindness and gentleness. It was what he'd been imagining during the long nights when sleep would not come and drink had not yet helped him fall into the void of darkness. He wanted her arms, her soft presence and that smell that had drawn him in at the height of his grief. He had given in that night, but it was one that he treasured and held to, even at the moment of death.

She didn't look at him, she still kept at a distance, less formal but still not his wife. "Do I look it?" He highly doubted it. He never slept, not without drink and not without a companion who staved off the nightmares. Sansa had taken him to task, and while he had tried to do better for her, he hadn't exactly recovered. "You...how are you? Are your..." were her injuries still there? He couldn't ask and he feared looking.

He finally reached for, touching her arm as his eyes welled with tears. He was choking with grief. "Do you blame me?" He feared her answer, trembled at the possibility but he couldn't keep from asking.

She doesn't answer him, still doesn't look at him — until he touches her. And in that moment everything fades away and nothing else matters, for how could she possibly ignore the tears in his eyes and the grief that's weighing so heavily on him just like his crown? Then for him to ask, of all things, if she blamed him—

She moves her flowers to one hand and reaches up to run her fingers gently through his hair; is it just her, or is it longer and more unkempt than she remembers? She smooths the curls the best she can before she cups the side of his face, her thumb brushing across his cheek. "You look like you have not been taking care of yourself," she chides, but it's gentle. She's always gentle with him. Even if she could feel her heart twisting from what she'd discovered earlier today. But she'd promised his lady mother that she would be patient and understanding, and she'd promised their gods that she would be a good and true wife. She hasn't forgotten. "But you are alive, and for that I am grateful."

She could feel her own eyes stinging with tears, but she fights to hold her ground yet again. In this moment, at least, it is she that he needs. "None of it was your fault." Except perhaps putting her honor over his and marrying her. Has he finally realized the mistake he's made? "Do not blame yourself, Robb. For I do not."

That gentle chiding is so in character for her. He had heard so many different arguments and reprimands from Sansa, but it was the soft worries of Jeyne that shook him. He hadn't wanted her to see him like this or even have a glimpse at how far he'd fallen in his despair, the sort of man that he had become. Anything to help protect his mind at night, to keep out the shadows, the guilt and the memories. He could imagine the toll it had taken on him and how he looked now. "Are you?" He stared at her, the tears falling slowly, as surely and freely as when his father died. "I want to believe it."

She said it wasn't his fault, but it was in the end. He didn't regret the woman he married or that choice, but he knew it was foolish to trust Roose Bolton as much as Theon. One betrayal after another lead to the utter destruction of his army and his family. First the King who lost the North and then the King who lost his head. "I've needed you, Jeyne. I prayed..." what few prayers he could, though he feared seeing her as much as he feared seeing her disappointment.

His arms wrap around her, pulling her close to him as he surrendered to the emotions. He didn't think of how he managed to survive since his arrival here or the choices he made, his thoughts were solely on her and the life they had before all of this. "I didn't think I would see you again."

Is she? Alive? "I did not think I was," she admits quietly after a moment. She remembers waking up and finding herself alone, without any of the injuries she'd thought she sustained. She would've shrugged it off as some terrible dream — until she realized she was holding the crown he'd made for her and that she couldn't feel anything in her belly, and she'd cried and howled like a wolf as people she didn't know tried to explain things to her. Until they finally left her alone. She's not sure how long she just... lay there.

But now he's crying, and it hurts her more than anything. She wipes away his tears, still gentle and kind and understanding. Her feelings can wait. Her pain can wait. He needs her. "I'm here, Robb," she murmurs into his shoulder as they embrace, clutching the front of his shirt. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner..." As if she had any say in the matter.

He shook his head even as the rest of him trembled in her arms. He had cried enough in his time here, but it hadn't any flavor of relief and hope. Seeing Jeyne restored a measure for him. Where he had thought of simply descending and letting him rot in his misery, there was no such path next to Jeyne. Just for himself, he couldn't pull himself onto his feet. With her, there was a need to be strong, a need to be the man she wanted and believed in. Being a drunk couldn't be possible anymore. He could't simply be a king, he had to be her husband and partner. That was enough for a piece of hope. "Memories sometimes are played out for everyone to see here. They showed me that day...what happened to you. You have been all around me but you weren't here."

If she had been here sooner, she would have been disgusted with him. She still could be. Things she might learn or hear would hurt her, but there was at least a way forward. He had been trying to be better, more for Sansa than anyone. He wasn't a complete wreck yet. "Let us go somewhere private. I can take you to the room I was assigned."

She pulls back enough to look up at him, frowning. Memories are played out for everyone to see? "That's... cruel," she says, aghast. It's cruel to do that to anyone, for memories are such private things, but for Robb to have been subjected to that after all that he's been through? Haven't the gods — his and hers, the old and the new — made him suffer enough?

You weren't here. She knows he doesn't mean it that way, but in her head it almost sounds like an accusation. He'd thought her dead, and she knew very well what he was like when he despaired. Does she blame him? She's not sure, only that she wants to be angry but she can't bring herself to be. He's not entirely blameless, after all. The Freys had betrayed him because he'd married her, and he'd married her because she'd... given him cause to spend that night with her.

She doesn't let go or pry herself out of his embrace, but she does look away. "Will your Lady be alright with that?" she asks very quietly.

He feels his stomach drop at the question, his throat restricting even more, removing what chance he had to catch his breath after this surprise. He hadn't been looking at her when she asked it, ready to lead her home, perhaps he should be grateful for that. The expression on his face was stricken and aghast. How did she know about Eponine already?! He could guess, given how the girl had little to hide...not that he had been reserved of late either. It had unsettled him a bit how attached she was to him and how quickly, but she hadn't said the word "love" or "boyfriend" in his presence, so he was unaware of how far it had gone. He had been distant of late, still disturbed by his fight with Sansa and his guilt. Apparently she was right to reprimand him. He put his foot in it now.

He finally turned back to look at Jeyne, understanding now her earlier reservation and formality. He doesn't let go of her arm though, afraid of seeing her slip back and away from him. He had seen how his mother responded to the thought of her husband straying, no doubt Jeyne was attempting to do the same. Support, but hurt and resentment beneath the surface.

"It-" he sighs, remembering this conversation with Sansa. "I was asked before if she was my lady and I told my sister the same as I will tell you, no one is replacing Jeyne." He was emphatic with it, giving her arm a squeeze. "I will tell you whatever you want to know, but not here. My dome will at least be private."

What else does she need to know? The girl loves him. The girl calls him her King, her boyfriend, hers. The tavern is something they own together, a keep of their own within this strange place. What more must she hear? Why should she let him carry her away when he's already had another in his arms all this time? Why should she allow herself to fall for his pain and his grief, knowing full well that she can't stand it, that she can't ignore it?

The answer comes to her just as quickly as her anger and her messy feelings rise to the surface: because she is his wife. I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days. She is here, somehow. She is not at the end of her days. And because she is here, she must still be the wife she has sworn herself she would be.

She looks back up at his face at that squeeze to her arm. She purses her lips together, and then she asks, very quietly, because she can't wait for them to get back to his place and find the girl waiting there for him, "Do you blame me, Robb?" Is that why you strayed?

He looks at her in horror, his face turning pale at the mere suggestion that someone could or would blame her. "Seven Hells, Jeyne. How could I blame you for this? It was my fault, my blind naivety and my ignorant trust that put us in this position. If it weren't for me, you might have made a better marriage and..." he swallowed, feeling that sickness in his stomach again, "had many children. Because of me, you lost your life and we lost our child. Because of me my men and my mother are dead. There is no one else at fault. I trusted Roose Bolton, I trusted Walder Frey. I'm the fool, I'm the cause of your misery."

It was the source of his pain, the cause of his nightmares, that biting guilt that never strayed and stayed close. He had sought comfort from it, sought some way to stave it off in the night and vices had been the best solution at the time. Now, he understood his sister's warnings and saw how rash he was. Yet again, he put his foot in it.

"I have become something not worthy of you." He murmured, looking away from her in shame. It was easier to stare at the ground than the hurt in her eyes. "I'm no king and I'm no son worthy of my father. What I became here was my attempt to make the nights pass without hearing the screams or seeing you on the ground... I sought oblivion, not happiness."

It's... that night at the Crag all over again, only it's so many times worse because of everything that they've been through together by now. His grief, his pain, swallowing him whole; she can't let him drown, she can't let him fall into that void. Not again. Never again, as she'd quietly sworn to herself and to their gods when they'd married. He was her sword, and she was his shield.

"Stop it," she says, her voice thick with emotion despite it being so deathly quiet, and she lifts her hands to cup both sides of his face, dropping the flowers she'd been holding. They don't matter. Nothing, no one else matters. She knows that there are far too many people around them, that they should take this conversation to someplace more private, but these are things he needs to her. She can't let him walk away still smothered by his grief. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault." Tears are welling in her eyes now, and she knows she won't be able to hold her ground for long. She never could, not with him. She loved him far too much. "You were honorable and true, and they betrayed you for it." What is it they say about good men? Ned Stark had been a good man, and they'd killed him, too.

"I'm here now." Will it make a difference? Does it matter? She doesn't know. "And I am glad. I thought of you to the very end, my love. How happy you made me, even in the little time we had together. You are my King, Robb Stark, now and always, and I love you."

He can feel some looking at them, casting them a glance as they pass. Tears and grief seemed to attract attention, but so far, there was no one close enough to hear their conversation. As soon as her hands were on his cheeks, he forgot all the rest. He was held by her kindness and warmth, just as he had been during that night when they first lay together. He heaved a sigh, letting the weight of his mistakes drop for a moment, needing to simply be surrounded by the woman he loved. Others might have wondered if it was simply honor that pushed her to marry him, but in truth, he needed her. He needed her comfort, love and the peace she brought him. "I should have seen- I should have known."

They were the feeble protests that existed in his mind, no matter how often he reminded himself that even his father was betrayed. His guilt would not relinquish its hold, even with Jeyne present. "You are my queen, my wife. I love you, do you remember? I told you the night you shared you were with child. I love you."

She's here, as she said. The nightmares might increase or abate, he couldn't say. Everything hadn't become easier, as much as he hated to admit it. His guilt felt even closer and sharper than before, simply looking at her and her flat stomach. "I fear I have disappointed you in the end."

"You could not have." Her retort is gentle, but there's steel in it, too. She'd proven herself to be far more resilient than anyone had expected, and she'd learned a lot from watching and spending time with Lady Catelyn, too. "They had fooled us all." Perhaps if she had been more political-minded, she would've been able to help him, but even then it wasn't her place to question his men's loyalty, either. "It was only when I heard..." she trails off, stopping herself. She doesn't need to remind him of that wretched song, and what it had meant.

Be patient. Be understanding. It's all she can do in the face of his grief, and she will do this for him, every day and every night, for as long as he would have her. Gently, she brushes his tears away, ignoring her own. "Aye, my love, I remember." She smiles. "I have only died, Robb. I have not forgotten." Well, there's some grim sense of humor she hadn't been aware she had.

"You could never disappoint me," she tells him quietly. Perhaps love has blinded her that she could see no wrong in anything he does, but it is what it is. Noticing the glances now being thrown their way, however, she feels compelled to accept his earlier offer for a private conversation. "Shall we speak further in your quarters?"

He nodded, grateful that she seemed to forgive him and care for him still, despite everything. It left him reeling, as though he had drank something strong. It was a better feeling than ale had left him of late, and perhaps for once, he felt a measure of peace, despite all that had happened. He reached for her hand, pulling her close again. His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as he buried his face in her hair. Just a moment more, a moment more before he turned away to lead her to his rooms, risking the chance that she might disappear again.

His sphere wasn't overly decorated. So far, it had served his purpose. It wasn't as if he slept there at night. He only visited, dressing and eating there before leaving. It wasn't a home to him, not that any place in this world was home. At least until now. With Jeyne, that might change. The one factor he had been missing, aside from his mother, was his wife.

It was at least clean. He could say that much. "I know this place is strange. I wish I could explain it better to you. I still have no sense of where we are or why we're here. For some time, I thought I was in one of the Seven Hells."

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May/June Test Drive Meme

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