Hello, it's Gwenaëlle - I have a new job with a very generous employer, and I can't think of a better way to celebrate getting money than spending it. Do you want to come help me make regrettable decisions with my disposable income?
I'm going to be the personal assistant for Ambassador Baelish in Maurtia Falls - I've been doing project coordination as a freelancer, he offered me something more permanent. I've sort of not been convinced about signing up onto ImPort business, like, what do you do if the person running it isn't here tomorrow? But an ambassadorial office will still exist if he isn't the ambassador.
( subsequent people will probably want their own staff, but she'd have an opportunity to prove she's worth keeping, and a stepping stone to something else if she preferred. thinking ahead. )
[ On Dany's side of things, there's an inaudible record screech. It isn't exactly ill-feelings for Baelish personally that has her heart sink, but immediately, what was a rather straightforward friendship is made political. As if she does not have this conflict enough with Jorah.
Finally; ]
Knowing Lord Baelish, if he'll find loftier climbs than his current office, he'll take it.
[ It doesn't take a psychic to detect a slightly off tone in Dany's voice. ]
He's well spoken, he's made genuine strides in bettering the city he represents. He's generous in his dealings, and he treats his employees and allies with care, so long as they remain so aligned. Those of my world who know him better characterise such traits as facets that serve to obscure an ambitious and cunning nature, wholly self-serving, but so describes most politicians.
It isn't truly a question of like. He is easy to like. But his acquaintanceship to me does have its complications.
More or less all of the successful ones, ( of politicians. an observation rather than an endorsement. more of a verbal pause than anything else at all; something to say while she's processing the rest. )
I don't want to make things more complicated for you.
Rather, I fear I may make things complicated for you. This place attracts more and more of our people with each moon, and brings with it our own alliances and feuds, petty and otherwise.
I seek civility with him, it just may not always be so.
[ And she can't completely say that that rests entirely with Lord Baelish. Not if he considers her use to be that of compliance, always. ]
I'm very good at simplifying situations for myself, when I need to be. Persuasive.
( gwen you can't solve all problems with mind control. but when they haven't even come up yet, she can definitely fantasize about doing so. especially when no one else knows -
just alfie. she's also good at complicating situations for herself. )
( k n i g h t c o m m a n d e r. these old timey people, with their old timey things. (no her melodramatically mouthing that at her own mirror has more to do with trying to apply such a stately title to such a jon snow than it does struggling with knight as a thing.) )
He's not a great fan. I believe his exact words were that he wants absolutely nothing to do with him but has his ( dramatic pause, lowering of tone, )own reasons for behaving otherwise.
[ She can't help it. She makes a small noise, a nearly laugh. The thought of Jon Snow contriving to play allies with Baelish on the down-low is cute. ]
No doubt his reasons are important and noble.
[ She teases, but she hopes it doesn't run too deeply beyond an aversion to Kingslanding politics. Things are complicated enough as it is. ]
Have you met any others, from our world? I could enlighten you, if you like. But perhaps over champagne.
[ Because if Gwen shows up for drinks one day with Jaime Lannister as her date, Daenerys will lose her mind. ]
shopping happens first. shopping happens extensively, handing over credit cards without looking and spending hours sitting in a variety of boutiques where they are brought glasses of wine and various things in their size by ingratiating salespeople almost certainly working on commission. photos are taken of things they've tried on - dresses are swapped and swapped back and swapped again, indecisive as to whose colouring it suits better. gwen actually seems to walk better in heels the more wine she's had, and she's not struggling in them sober.
it's a very successful outing, and when they get back to dany's place it's laden down with bags of celebratory loot and with a case of the giggles over she can't actually remember what except it seemed so amazing to have announced loudly in the back of the cab they took. )
Oh my God,
( stepping out of her heels, )
--let's absolutely drink more, that's a great idea.
[ Daenerys is still wearing one of the items that she left with; a short, silver-sequinned dress that ends at the knee, with the sort of light-weight drapery that Westerosi women wound find scandalously sluttish, but have you seen some of Daenerys' dresses?
Her standards run more liberal.
She is already bare foot, herself, setting low-heeled shoes down with her bags, giving a laugh. She's slightly too full of champagne and spender's euphoria to feel visibly sad when she thinks that Gwen reminds her of Tyrion, in some ways, and the thought is tossed aside like she tosses her hair, en route to kitchen in her open plan apartment. ]
I promised champagne, [ she insists, as she opens the fridge and ducks to retrieve the bottle ] and gossip, I think.
You did, ( pointing at her with the hand still holding some of the bags, meandering optimistically for the nearest sofa she can collapse onto with them. she mostly remembers what she bought. some of it will end up being a pleasant surprise later on when she has absolutely no memory of picking it out or trying it on. )
About your, what's the word. "Westerosi"? Is that right?
[ Champagne, glasses, a pair captured in the tangle of her fingers as she heads back towards company, feet bare and dress glittery and hair down. With all the glass she's managing, Daenerys doesn't flop down, but does seem glad to be off her feet once she's sitting, setting things out on the low table between them.
Your very fine self. Ambassador Baelish. Jon Snow, who said there are others? ( it lilts up, like it's almost a question. ) I feel like he talked about relatives, it was a while ago. I do remember he said he wants to impress you.
( she takes this opportunity to bat her lashes at dany. is she impressed.
- it's not very impressive, but the level of comfort involved is in itself not an insignificant thing. possibly a bit premature, in fact; gwen attaches swiftly and sinks her claws in deep, by several layers of nature, and daenerys has not sufficiently discouraged this to avoid being treated with such ease. it's hard to do, to be fair, like you pet a cat once and suddenly the thing is headbutting you every time you go by.
cats don't come with champagne and couture, though, so there are perks to a version even with as smart a mouth as gwen's. )
[ The look that gets is long and cynical as Daenerys pours herself alcohol she does not need, but nevertheless picks up with her as she leans back, tucking her feet under her bum and pitching her mind towards Jon Snow. Squinting a little as she thinks, and drinks in a dainty sip. ]
The last name 'Snow' is what they give children born out of wedlock in the North, [ she says, after a moment. ] He's the illegitimate son of a man named Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North. He isn't here, but one of his daughters is. Sansa Stark. Young, [ she adds, ] but no one stays very young.
[ What she knows of Sansa is a loose collection of distanced information, and certainly not hers to give. ]
The Starks, [ she says, asserting the direction of the conversation ] are one of many noble families that make up the tapestry of Westeros. One of the grander, older ones, that which we call the Great Houses. And one of those that fought as rebels against my own House. Lord Eddard was among the main players of the War of the Usurper.
I did say, [ she says, pointing past her glass ] about complicated.
( on the one hand, gwen's first, passing thought at the observation of sansa stark is no girl stays young, does she, but that isn't entirely the case. this twenty-four year old woman who'd never lived anywhere but school or with family until last year, whose father was paying the rent on that apartment and had veto power over where she chose to live, who's never had to work for a more compelling reason than disliking idleness before taking the position that had given daenerys such pause earlier. who's never not had the option of running home to daddy if everything goes tits up.
some girls actually get to be young for quite some fucking time, even as they age decades past their due in other ways. that's complicated, too, but mercifully it is less immediately relevant and she points back at daenerys with her own glass; ) You did say.
( ruminatively; ) I feel like I shouldn't tell Jon my parents weren't married. I've definitely come off the better of that arrangement. No one gave me a funny name.
It isn't my intention to gossip as to Jon Snow's birthright, or lack of it, [ Dany insists, gently. ] I know what it is, too, to not know your own mother.
[ A swig of champagne breaks up the moment. To give a skeletal structure to a friend of the myriads of tensions that divide the Westerosi, without bringing her anger into the conversation. To not blacken the afternoon, or have the champagne turn sour in their mouths.
If Tyrion were still here, he would have done a fine job. ]
But his father lived to be the Hand of the Usurper King, Robert Baratheon, until he was executed for treason against the Lannister House, married into the ruling family, participants too of the rebellion. Baratheon and his Lannister queen ruled over the Seven Kingdoms for as long as I was alive, while my brother and I lived across the ocean in exile. So, [ she says, like punctuation ] you'll have to forgive that many of those who come from my world will be enemies, until proven otherwise.
Jon has proven that, [ she says, ] and Lord Baelish, for all that our politics come with sharp edges. Sansa Stark is not her father, either.
Mothers are always complicated. ( a close-mouthed smile, and with it no desire to pursue the topic any further than offhand cracks. birthrights. it'd have gone a lot less well for her if she'd been born a few centuries earlier, that's all -
but they are still too sober for gwen to want to talk about anyone's mother.
enemies, though. not much safer territory, really - not always different territory, in her experience - but more pressingly relevant as the westerosi population grows and as gwen seems to insist on finding herself in their midst, intentionally or otherwise. best to know which way the wind blows, and who to avoid...
who from her world might come here, she wonders. somehow it doesn't feel like a promising notion. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voicemail.
Let me know! Ciao.
voice.
no subject
( subsequent people will probably want their own staff, but she'd have an opportunity to prove she's worth keeping, and a stepping stone to something else if she preferred. thinking ahead. )
no subject
Finally; ]
Knowing Lord Baelish, if he'll find loftier climbs than his current office, he'll take it.
[ It doesn't take a psychic to detect a slightly off tone in Dany's voice. ]
no subject
( there's a hesitation. )
You don't like him either.
no subject
He's well spoken, he's made genuine strides in bettering the city he represents. He's generous in his dealings, and he treats his employees and allies with care, so long as they remain so aligned. Those of my world who know him better characterise such traits as facets that serve to obscure an ambitious and cunning nature, wholly self-serving, but so describes most politicians.
It isn't truly a question of like. He is easy to like. But his acquaintanceship to me does have its complications.
no subject
I don't want to make things more complicated for you.
no subject
I seek civility with him, it just may not always be so.
[ And she can't completely say that that rests entirely with Lord Baelish. Not if he considers her use to be that of compliance, always. ]
no subject
I'm very good at simplifying situations for myself, when I need to be. Persuasive.
( gwen you can't solve all problems with mind control. but when they haven't even come up yet, she can definitely fantasize about doing so. especially when no one else knows -
just alfie. she's also good at complicating situations for herself. )
no subject
[ :)? ]
And I've no scruples in spending your hard earned salary.
no subject
no subject
[ But wait. ]
You said 'either'.
no subject
( or: gwen is easily won over with promises of champagne. it's one of those two things.
- and then, oh, right. )
Jon was less diplomatic than you.
no subject
Oh? I didn't know that the Knight Commander harboured such ill-will.
no subject
He's not a great fan. I believe his exact words were that he wants absolutely nothing to do with him but has his ( dramatic pause, lowering of tone, ) own reasons for behaving otherwise.
And he was terse about it. You know. Boys.
no subject
No doubt his reasons are important and noble.
[ She teases, but she hopes it doesn't run too deeply beyond an aversion to Kingslanding politics. Things are complicated enough as it is. ]
Have you met any others, from our world? I could enlighten you, if you like. But perhaps over champagne.
[ Because if Gwen shows up for drinks one day with Jaime Lannister as her date, Daenerys will lose her mind. ]
action.
shopping happens first. shopping happens extensively, handing over credit cards without looking and spending hours sitting in a variety of boutiques where they are brought glasses of wine and various things in their size by ingratiating salespeople almost certainly working on commission. photos are taken of things they've tried on - dresses are swapped and swapped back and swapped again, indecisive as to whose colouring it suits better. gwen actually seems to walk better in heels the more wine she's had, and she's not struggling in them sober.
it's a very successful outing, and when they get back to dany's place it's laden down with bags of celebratory loot and with a case of the giggles over she can't actually remember what except it seemed so amazing to have announced loudly in the back of the cab they took. )
Oh my God,
( stepping out of her heels, )
--let's absolutely drink more, that's a great idea.
no subject
Her standards run more liberal.
She is already bare foot, herself, setting low-heeled shoes down with her bags, giving a laugh. She's slightly too full of champagne and spender's euphoria to feel visibly sad when she thinks that Gwen reminds her of Tyrion, in some ways, and the thought is tossed aside like she tosses her hair, en route to kitchen in her open plan apartment. ]
I promised champagne, [ she insists, as she opens the fridge and ducks to retrieve the bottle ] and gossip, I think.
no subject
About your, what's the word. "Westerosi"? Is that right?
no subject
[ Champagne, glasses, a pair captured in the tangle of her fingers as she heads back towards company, feet bare and dress glittery and hair down. With all the glass she's managing, Daenerys doesn't flop down, but does seem glad to be off her feet once she's sitting, setting things out on the low table between them.
Clink, clink. ]
Who all have you run into?
no subject
( she takes this opportunity to bat her lashes at dany. is she impressed.
- it's not very impressive, but the level of comfort involved is in itself not an insignificant thing. possibly a bit premature, in fact; gwen attaches swiftly and sinks her claws in deep, by several layers of nature, and daenerys has not sufficiently discouraged this to avoid being treated with such ease. it's hard to do, to be fair, like you pet a cat once and suddenly the thing is headbutting you every time you go by.
cats don't come with champagne and couture, though, so there are perks to a version even with as smart a mouth as gwen's. )
no subject
The last name 'Snow' is what they give children born out of wedlock in the North, [ she says, after a moment. ] He's the illegitimate son of a man named Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North. He isn't here, but one of his daughters is. Sansa Stark. Young, [ she adds, ] but no one stays very young.
[ What she knows of Sansa is a loose collection of distanced information, and certainly not hers to give. ]
The Starks, [ she says, asserting the direction of the conversation ] are one of many noble families that make up the tapestry of Westeros. One of the grander, older ones, that which we call the Great Houses. And one of those that fought as rebels against my own House. Lord Eddard was among the main players of the War of the Usurper.
I did say, [ she says, pointing past her glass ] about complicated.
no subject
some girls actually get to be young for quite some fucking time, even as they age decades past their due in other ways. that's complicated, too, but mercifully it is less immediately relevant and she points back at daenerys with her own glass; ) You did say.
( ruminatively; ) I feel like I shouldn't tell Jon my parents weren't married. I've definitely come off the better of that arrangement. No one gave me a funny name.
( did they not, gwenaëlle clothilde. )
no subject
[ A swig of champagne breaks up the moment. To give a skeletal structure to a friend of the myriads of tensions that divide the Westerosi, without bringing her anger into the conversation. To not blacken the afternoon, or have the champagne turn sour in their mouths.
If Tyrion were still here, he would have done a fine job. ]
But his father lived to be the Hand of the Usurper King, Robert Baratheon, until he was executed for treason against the Lannister House, married into the ruling family, participants too of the rebellion. Baratheon and his Lannister queen ruled over the Seven Kingdoms for as long as I was alive, while my brother and I lived across the ocean in exile. So, [ she says, like punctuation ] you'll have to forgive that many of those who come from my world will be enemies, until proven otherwise.
Jon has proven that, [ she says, ] and Lord Baelish, for all that our politics come with sharp edges. Sansa Stark is not her father, either.
no subject
but they are still too sober for gwen to want to talk about anyone's mother.
enemies, though. not much safer territory, really - not always different territory, in her experience - but more pressingly relevant as the westerosi population grows and as gwen seems to insist on finding herself in their midst, intentionally or otherwise. best to know which way the wind blows, and who to avoid...
who from her world might come here, she wonders. somehow it doesn't feel like a promising notion. )
Jon mentioned a Jorah Mormont, as well?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)