versusnurture | first ♢ voice

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first ♢ voice

[Abigail's voice quavers, as though she's uncertain of the connection, like someone making their first long-distance call. She starts out firm and then peters out into uncertainty, the tail end of her first sentence almost a question.]

My name is Abigail . . . Hobbs.

I'm not sure how I got here, but I'm here now. [A pause; who to ask for?] I'm looking for Dr. Alana Bloom. She's tall with dark hair. She was supposed to check in with me this morning, but instead I'm here.

Are there - [And here she inserts a little more tremor than necessary into her voice, because she doesn't know what else to do right now - ] Are there letters home? That kind of thing? How does this work? Because I need to talk to my dad.

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Still being written, like most men's.

I hope it's a long story, in that case.

Kind of you, to wish that on a stranger.

[ But it sounds like the songs Sansa sang. Sweet, but hollow. ]

[It's very hollow. Less so than it might have been, had he been less kind to her. But hollow nonetheless.]

We're not strangers anymore.

Still, I know not your face-- nor you mine. I am in the library at present. It is on the fifth level. Have you explored the barge much?

No. I was told it was dangerous right now, so I haven't gone out much.

It has been dangerous of late. The last few inmates to appear have been violent upon arrival. You are a pleasant change.

I can come to you. Are you in your room?

Yeah, I am. It's -

[And she switches to private.]

It's 8-19. Can you find it?

Yes. I shall be dowe shortly.

[ He closes up shop and passes things on to Lara, before hem heads into the bowels of the ship. The eighth floor still throbs with Megamind's music, but Tyrion ignores it. He rarely ventures down so low until his rota for Zero comes up. ]

[ A time later, he is at Abigail's door; he is a small man, he knows, in his vests and his doublet, and the small pistol hidden among the silk, the dagger he wears in his belt more obvious. ]

[When she opens the door and looks down at him, she's more surprised by his dress than his stature; the dagger makes her uncomfortable, but she doesn't let it show. Instead, she looks out of the door to one side, then the other, and steps out into the hall, closing the door behind her.]

You're - Tyrion?

[She stands straight, with dignity, but ready as a rabbit to run.]

Tyrion, of the House Lannister, youngest of it's Lord's trueborn children. I served as Hand of the King of Westeros and Master of Coin on the small council.

And now, I am a warden here. Welcome, Lady Hobbs, to the barge. I hope your stay is short but enlightening.

[It's him. She relaxes.]

I hope so, too. So far it's been - mostly strange.

Where should we go?

I suggest the deck, and work our way back down. You are in the lowest deck of the ship; below it is Zero, where inmates who have harmed others go to be punished and kept separate for a time.

The elevator is this way.

[She wonders if she was put closest to Zero on purpose, but doesn't voice the concern. It seems a little paranoid - not that that means it's invalid.]

[She follows him to the elevator.]

I went to the deck. Just briefly. It's pretty. But weird that that's the only open space.

IT is not. Among the warden access areas-- the pub, the CTS, and others-- there is also the CES. A wild space, half-magical. It creates relatively safe places to be, and enjoy sun and sky.

Have you seen it?

Not yet. I'd like to, though.

I've never been anywhere with - magic before.

I can take you there.

[ And will; down the hall, to the elevator, and up. ]

Thank you.

[She walks just beside and behind him, memorizing the hallways; once they're in the elevator, she looks down at her hands, as though shy.]

So . . . how long have you been here?

Six, seven months or so.

[ Yes. Very much like Sansa. How much the comparison runs deep-- he cannot say. He does not know she donned the mockingbird's cloak, but by the end, he knew something was up. ]

[ Perhaps the same with Abigail Hobbs. ]

Do you know why you are here?

I think I know. But I'm not sure.

[She takes a deep breath, like she's steeling herself.]

I killed someone. I think that must be why.

[ He is the least shocked. ]

It is not uncommon. But fear not, you are in good company. And here, the dead do not stay dead at all. It costs a toll-- pain and weakness-- but the dead do not... stay dead.

[The dead do not stay dead.]

[She isn't supposed to be scared of that? It's terrifying. There are too many dead people she'd die to see alive again, and not in the good way. Eight girls who looked like her. The boy she killed. The man who put blood on her hands in the first place.]

[Her expression remains placid as a lake.]

That's not much of a toll. Death is supposed to be the toll.

We are in a place between worlds, between death and life. So the dead do not stay dead. You are here to win your life back-- to be set upon a safer, wiser path.

So, Gods willing, even you will not stay dead.

Are all wardens wise?

[This seems pretty unlikely to her, Tyrion.]

The better question is do the wisdom that a warden provides match with the inmate's need? My wisdom may not be what you need. But another might have it.

[ The elevator dings; he gsetures for her to come with him. ]

first ♢ voice

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