(no subject)

[lastchanceforhonor]

Sansa did not know what to do with herself. It was a problem that she hadn't anticipated, because she had not expected her reaction when she'd been talking to Steve. Too many emotions, when he'd told her that Tyrion was either gone or close to it; and then she had started crying without even meaning to, and Sansa was not so much of a weeping woman. Not any longer. Not since Robb had been killed.

She did not wish to go back to her rooms, to the reminder that she was by and large alone here; she did not wish to see anyone, to have Klaus ask after Star, to have to put on a front for anyone, to be anyone. To be Alayne or Sansa - not her own self, but the polite, gathered woman who was both quiet and carried with her a certain gravitas. No, she just wanted to be Sansa, but she did not know if she knew who Sansa was, any long. How to be herself.

She was sitting in one of the fourth floor meeting areas, and she was largely staring at nothing - just trying to sort through her own thoughts and emotions, her eyes red-rimmed from where she'd randomly burst into tears. Her hands were knit in her lap, rubbing her hands in an entirely nervous gesture-- the skin reddened, and she was thankful that she was alone until she heard footsteps, pushing herself abruptly to her feet, reaching up to smooth her hair before Peeta rounded the corner into the alcove.

When she realised it was him, she exhaled slowly, and smiled, and she looked normal, because even when she was lost (especially, perhaps) she could pull up how she should be, and act very, very well.

Comments

[notjustapiece]

Peeta had hoped to find a quiet place to work on his drawing without any distraction and is almost disappointed that this room didn't seem to be empty. When he sees that it's Sansa, though, he manages a smile in spite of that disappointment; if he has to have company, she is good company.

"Hi. Do you mind if I join you for a little while? I wanted to practice portraits again and it's easier to draw things I'm not used to if it's quiet and I can concentrate."

[lastchanceforhonor]

"Oh, I can leave you to your work," she said with a small smile, taking a step back as if she was getting out of the way. "You're an artist?" She'd never known anyone who was - not for art's sake, even though the courts in King's Landing had portrait painters and the like. "My- I didn't know if you knew, but Klaus is an artist as well." My friend,, she had been going to say, but as she'd told Steve, things seemed to have changed considerably between them.

[notjustapiece]

"Klaus has been teaching me how to do my figures better," Peeta says, brightening a little at the mention. "He's a lot better at people than I am. I'm much better at landscapes." He's been doing portraits of Lady Grantham but he thinks that Sansa might be a better subject sometime. It wouldn't hurt to ask, anyway.

"You could stay, though, and pose for me so I can practice?"

[lastchanceforhonor]

"Oh? Have you done any while you have been here? I would love to see them." Sansa smiled politely, and was about to excuse herself before he asked her to stay, so he could draw her portrait. She paused for only a moment too long before her smile widened just a tad. "Of course I will. It's not as if there are so many other pressing concerns." She moved back to the seats, and then paused before she sat, wondering how long they would be here, just how long she'd have to keep up the facade. "Where would you like me to sit?"

She pressed her palms against her thighs, rubbing them up and down on her skirt for only a moment, for they itched, the still-red scar prickling more and more at her as a reminder, even if her movements were controlled enough not to be considered odd.

[notjustapiece]

"Anywhere that's comfortable for you," Peeta says, giving her a reassuring smile. "I really would rather it look sort of natural, you know? So just pretend like I'm not drawing you and we're just talking like we usually would."

Posed portraits have their place, yes, but that's just not what Peeta wants to do. He's always had more of an appreciation for the natural and the artfully messy, so he'd rather draw Sansa and catch her in a moment that's real than something posed and Capitol-esque.

[lastchanceforhonor]

Sansa settled herself in one of the overstuffed chairs, her back straight, her posture still perfect as her hands folded into her lap. "Is this alright?" She smiled again in a bit of apology that she had to keep asking, and then reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "It's good that you have a hobby - I have embroidery," she said, glancing down at the bag that was still by the base of the chair. She had expected to actually use it before she ran into Steve, but now it was the last thing on her mind. "Did you and-" She paused, taking only a moment to wrack her brain for Katniss' name before continuing. "-Katniss, did you make it through alright? With all of the monsters and attacks and everything."

[notjustapiece]

"Yes. It's...kind of what we're used to," Peeta admits, sketching rough lines of Sansa's profile to start the portrait.

"I don't think anyone should be used to that but that's similar to what they did to us in the Capitol, so I didn't panic or anything."

[lastchanceforhonor]

She's careful not to move, and she flexes her fingers in her lap, the palm of her hand still itching. "They say that monsters are real," she admits. "They said that, at home. That there were monsters beyond the Wall." She paused. "The White Walkers. My brother-" And it's the first time she's ever really called Jon her brother, but he's all she has left, and even though she doesn't know if he'd forgive the things she'd said in the past she's got to cling to the smallest amounts of hope. "My brother is there. On the Wall, to protect Westeros from the things beyond it."

She doesn't know why she's still talking, babbling more like, but she is. "He's called Jon," she said quietly. "Jon Snow." And she wonders then, if Jon hated her for it -- how cruel she had been.

[notjustapiece]

"I had brothers," Peeta says, and it's strange how those memories have seemed to fade. He's never really felt close to his family other than his father and now that he's been to the Capitol twice, he doesn't really feel a connection with District 12 anymore. Not the way Katniss does.

"My family didn't think I would survive, you know. My mother thought I was weak. Guess I proved her wrong, ending up here?"

[lastchanceforhonor]

Sansa looked up, and she nodded just slightly. "I did, too. And a sister. It's- It's just Jon, now." Her brows furrowed as she tried to find the right words. "I think you're a survivor," she said after a moment. "You're strong. Solid. Your family was wrong, Peeta."

She smiled, small and tired-looking. "My family-- They were good. My father was the King's Hand, and I was-" And she looked away.

"You did prove her wrong," she said again, with a small nod. "And I'm glad you're here."

[notjustapiece]

"I'm glad you're here too."

There's something that bothers him about what she started to say and didn't so Peeta tips his head and works on shading in the rough outline he's started of her face and shoulders. "So what were you? Your father was the King's Hand and you were...?"

[lastchanceforhonor]

She doesn't move, and she doesn't hesitate, but her words are flat and she just sounds so incredibly tired; she's so wrung out from the last years that she can't even sound socially congenial about it any longer. "I was to marry the Prince," she said simply. "My family are good people. Grounded. They were-" She paused, using the past tense without thinking. "They were fair - before he was Hand, my father had been the Warden of the North for longer than I'd been alive. The Lord of Winterfell. I was... young," she said even though that's not the problem; youth was not the issue, for Arya had been younger than Sansa was.

"Naive," she corrected, quietly, still looking out at nothing, her eyes flicking back to Peeta, even though she did not move. "And selfish."

[notjustapiece]

"Circumstances change people," Peeta says generously. "And if you've never been tested, why would you be anything but naive and selfish? I'm sure I was too, even if it wasn't in the same ways."

He's always had a big heart, true, but before the Capitol, he used to trust and love easier than he did now. Trusting had gotten him into trouble.

[lastchanceforhonor]

She shook her head. "My sister- My sister was never like that. I just- I thought that things happened the way little girls dreamed, and that's a lie." She looked away, then corrected her gaze back to where it had been since he was drawing her. "Did you draw back home as well?" She was trying to change the subject, but given that she knew almost nothing about Peeta it was more difficult than she'd expected.

[notjustapiece]

"Sometimes. I used to decorate cakes in my father's bakery," Peeta explains. "And uh...when I got sent to the Games, I painted myself up so I looked like rocks and leaves and nobody could find me. I'm just now learning how to do faces and things other than flowers. It's kind of a learning curve."

Steep one, yes, but rewarding. "Did you draw? Or did you do something else?"

[lastchanceforhonor]

Sansa's brows rose. "Your father was a baker?" She smiled, even though she wondered if he would be friends with Arya, if she would have been so shallow the way she had with Mikah, the butcher's boy who Joffrey had killed. "And what Games? I mean, what sort of games would have you painting yourself?" She asked her questions just as he asked his, and she flushed at her interruption, looking down at her hands for a moment. "I can draw, but I do not like to. The same can be said for playing the mandolin. I like to embroider, and I suppose I can passably sing." She shrugged a shoulder, in a universal sort of dismissal, for she was not used to talking about her own skills.

[notjustapiece]

"Where I'm from, children are pledged as tributes to the Capitol and have to fight in the Games. It's always best to be able to hide for as long as possible," Peeta explains carefully. It's something he doesn't mind talking about to the extent that it's made him who he is but it's always a little unpleasant to bring up those memories.

"I came from one of them when I showed up here."

[lastchanceforhonor]

Her face twisted into a frown. "That's awful," she said, shaking her head. "That you have to fight for sport." She hadn't liked it when Joffrey made seasoned knights do it, but children? "Are you... alright?" She didn't know what else to ask with that, how else to approach it. "I mean, you're obviously here, but- You and Katniss, you're both alright?"

[notjustapiece]

"Katniss has experience. She's a hunter," Peeta explains, a smile touching his lips at the mention of her. He's always thought Katniss was this fierce, amazing person and a lot stronger than he ever had to be.

"I was just lucky. I'm not good at fighting the way she is, I'm better with people. We work better together than we do apart."

[lastchanceforhonor]

Sansa nodded with a small smile. "It's good that you have her, then." She kept her hands folded in her lap. "And I think you're likely better than you realise. You have a good sort of air about you. Something- You are very capable." She smiled, and rubbed at the scar on her hand again without thinking about it. "And that you're not alone, that's good, too."

[notjustapiece]

"Maybe you won't be for long," Peeta says, hopeful on that front. "Maybe one of your brothers will show? There has to be someone you want to be here and I hope that person shows up."

He thinks it's probably good that one of the things the Capitol has never been able to destroy in him is his faith in people, his faith that some people can still be good.

[lastchanceforhonor]

"My brothers-" She looks at nothing, because to focus on something would make her really think about where she is. "Jon is not really my brother, and the rest of them are dead." That is twice that she's brought it up, now, and she's unable to stop the way it sinks her heart down to her stomach. "All of them, so I am alone." She flexes her hand, rubbing that scar again because she cannot help it.

"But yes, perhaps someone I know." She says it sweetly, because she is not going to make Peeta think of her as a victim - to show weakness is to invite hurts, and Sansa has become very good at donning her armor made of pleasantries.

[notjustapiece]

Peeta isn't really sure what to say to that so, instead, he turns his drawing so that she might be able to see it. It's nowhere near finished, but there's enough there that she can see his progress and make out the lines.

"Do you like it? I could finish it for you and let you have it, if you wanted."

[lastchanceforhonor]

It's clear from his face (and his lack of response) that she has overstepped, and she cannot stop the embarrassed flush that races up her cheeks. "It's lovely," she said, even though it was barely finished. She believed in his talent, but this was far less than that - this was Sansa attempting to follow along his change of subject. Suffice to say, she would not make the mistake of being overly friendly again. "You are very talented, like I said. If you would want me to have it, I gladly would - although you do not have to give it to me if you do not wish to!"

[notjustapiece]

Peeta softens his voice a little. "I want you to have it, Sansa, because I like doing nice things for my friends. It doens't do me any good just collecting dust and it's something pretty that might make you happy. That's more than enough to make my decision for me."

Maybe he's overstepping a little, calling her a friend, but Peeta likes her and feels strangely protective of her, even if she might not need it or ask for it.

[lastchanceforhonor]

She opened her mouth and closed it, then nodded once. "If you wish me to have it, I would be happy to keep it." She nodded once, as if it that meant it was settled. "I will have something from you, then, no matter what." She smiled at that, even if it was a bit of an odd smile; she had nothing really from Sandor, and even though she'd want nothing from Jaime and Tyrion, she had nothing from either. "I will treasure it, Peeta."