all i can taste is champagne when it hits the brain like cocaine ( closed-ish )

[became]

CHARACTERS: neal caffrey + empathy link partners
LOCATION: all over the place, october 11- november 7th.
WARNINGS: tbd. potential blanket 'here be triggering shit' to start off safe.
SUMMARY: stage two and three links, to be back and forward-dated as needed.
NOTES: closed-ish, but if we haven't plotted a link yet and you'd like to my plotting post will be open the whole run.


[ individual starters below, separated by stage. ]

Comments

BEIN' A RENEGADE AND SETTING THIS TODAY FOR ONCE OH SHIT SON

[became]

[ he can't say he's ever felt jealous of robb stark before. vaguely, and in general terms— his sanity is intact, for example— maybe a bit, but he's never considered comparing their lives and finding his own lacking.

there's a mix of painful, raw longing for a man he's never met and petty, bitter jealousy behind his pleasant mask when he knocks on robb's door. ]

Stark.

[ if he concentrates he's almost sure he can feel robb behind the door, and he breathes a small sigh of relief. trying to track someone down on a ship this size and suffering while he does isn't exactly an appealing prospect. ]

flips this tag

[northerner]

[ robb doesn't crave any sort of familiarity with neal caffrey. he's a difficult man, one that robb can't quite define, but when he knocks on robb's door, robb has to sigh, and at least thank the gods that they've already found each other, that this need not be painless. ]

Come. I was about to come seek you out myself.

[ it's not quite the truth, but it's not wholly a lie either. ]

Sit with me, Neal Caffrey.

[ he doesn't know if he wishes to discuss what he saw. it's unexpected, though robb's aware that his grasp of neal's world is tenuous at best. but it's not the sort of life he'd thought would deliver a man like neal, and robb isn't sure how best to handle that. ]

ilu tho

[became]

[ neal's never been fantastic at responding to jealousy with grace in the best of circumstances. feeling connected to robb is almost as bad as envying him, and it makes him petty. ]

If you're going to be king, you need to learn to lie a little better. You would have tracked me down, but at the last possible second.

[ he takes a seat, trying his hardest to pull up the handless lannister's mannerisms in his memory so he can slouch into them; even if the link might ruin the game, he can't help trying to get under robb's skin the way his memories dug under neal's. ]

I should have brought wine.

[northerner]

You sound like Petyr Baelish.

[ that tone robb uses? it's a clue that this is not a flattering comparison. ]

Aye, you should have. But there's a lack of good wine aboard this ship, so you're hardly to be faulted for that.

[ returning neal's barbs is probably a bad move, but robb is just irritated enough that it seems like a great way to spend the duration of this link. ]

[became]

I want to point out I'm prettier than he was, but thank you for the rest of it.

[ the bow he sketches out is both showy and entirely disrespectful, but his tone is all lavish gratitude. sincere sounding gratitude, just to be that much more irritating. ]

See, that was better. [ it's clear that's about to be taken as another jibe, and neal rolls his eyes. ] No, I'm serious. I like well-crafted things, and insults count. [ he can't help but laugh a little, shake his head. ] You managed to imply this place is awful and be condescending about my ability to find good wine regardless while not really saying any of that— nicely done.

[ wait for it. ]

We'll make a king out of you yet.

[northerner]

[ it's not the first time robb's thought neal would do well at king's landing. he would have found favor quickly, but it's not necessarily a good thing. it just is, it's robb taking the measure of him and understanding who he is speaking to. that's important. he's better at remembering that here than he was in westeros. ]

What do you know of kings, Neal Caffrey?

[ more than robb, possibly. ]

[became]

I've been a prince before, does that count?

[ he huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. ]

But that's not what you're asking. What do I know of kings, Robb Stark? [ he purposefully copies robb's wording, denies him his title and meets his eyes squarely on, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. ( by now it's not just needling robb— there's enough of peter in him to make neal feel somehow... not obligated, but the arrogance looks different than it did once. ) ] We have a saying in my world— an excellent soldier makes for a poor civilian. The same thing tends to go for kings.

[northerner]

[ there's something to be said for a man who doesn't flinch away from meeting robb's gaze. he's seen it before, the way a gaze will slide away, evasive. neal's a liar, among other things, but he never looks away.

though neither had the kingslayer or his twin or the imp. ]

Did you see anything of my namesake?

[ robb's tone isn't sad, not really. he didn't know robert baratheon well enough to mourn him. ]

In his case, that saying holds true enough.

[ a good soldier, but after dwelling aboard this ship long enough, robb didn't think he'd been suited for it, for the crown. something tightens in robb's face, proud and impassive. ]

I'm not like him.

[became]

I— [ neal pauses reflectively, combing through the memories to try and piece together who might be— ] Yes, but not directly. [ he can't help the quiet laugh— renly and stannis had been about as different as night and day, and his personal bet the trend continued on in the dead king was obviously a good one. ] So that's the third Baratheon brother, then.

[ he'll never use any of this— the politics of westeros still feel fairytale removed, something glowing and perfect and fascinating, although the shine is tarnished some by experiencing it firsthand— but he can't help slotting it all together anyway, turning the alliances he's seen around in his mind and re-examining them with the ones he's seen now. ]

I didn't say you were.

[ he arches one brow, inclining his head in acknowledgement of the point even as he continues on— ] But you're still too much of a soldier. You need better liars who won't lie to you, or to learn to lie better yourself. [ a beat ] Both would be the smarter option.