edge_of_forever | (no subject)

Sansa, by and large, mostly kept to herself. She spent more time than was really necessary in the observation room, just sitting on the couch as she watched the universe spin by, trying not to think of how her life had changed. She was Sansa now - she had been since she'd run into Sandor and Jaime Lannister, and she had no choice.

Alayne Stone was gone, now. The smiling, somewhat wary-but-eager-to-please natural born daughter of Petyr Baelish was retired, put away with the girl who loved King Joffrey, with the girl who had left Winterfell years ago. What was left was Sansa - something she was trying to figure out, who this girl was. She was stronger, she knew. Proud, but not to a fault. Very aware of her family and her obligations, and that she would need to get them back - but also patient, because there was nothing she could do here.

She had told Klaus - he had stopped by, and she knew she owed him an explanation, but that made her realise that Alistair deserved one as well. The fact that she could not find him - she had been looking for days, but she could not find him and he was her neighbor is why she was no longer keeping to herself. He was her friend, and he was just... gone.

Sansa wore a simple gown, one that she could get dressed in on her own; she had banished the shorter skirts to the back of her closet, because she knew that there were people here that knew her, and even if she liked them, even if Klaus said they were normal, they were anything but.

"Excuse me," she said to the first person she saw as she walked through the concourse. "I'm looking for someone. Have you seen a man called Alistair, anywhere?"

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There is something almost tragic in the way Sansa speaks, and Zoe finds herself frowning slightly. She can't quite put her finger on what it is that bothers her and touches her, but there is something.

"Maybe you could message everybody, ask if anybody's seen him?" she offers, because it's the easiest, quickest solution she can think of.

"Message?" Her brows furrow, and she does not know what the other girl means, that much is clear. "You mean- I suppose I could write notes, but speaking to everyone seems to work just as well." She has no idea the girl is talking about the piece of plastic that Sansa largely ignores, that she has left abandoned on her dresser to gather dust.

"No, on the comm," Zoe answers, and pulls hers out of her purse to show Sansa. "You don't have one?"

"Oh. That. I... don't... use it. I have one, just-" She seemed awkward where she hadn't before, because the fact that just didn't use it - Klaus had made it sound easy, but she hated it.

She felt uncomfortable that it was not, in fact, easy.

"You don't know how to work it?" Zoe tried and guessed, because she didn't understand the sudden awkwardness there. It was just a comm device, like a mini-tablet of some sort.

"I do not like it," she said quietly, her voice low. "It is- it seems like magic."

She eyed the other girl, her brows furrowed, waiting for her reaction - if she would think her simple, just because she did not like their 'comms'.

"You come from a world without technology?" Zoe tried and guessed, again. That sounded like what a princess in a fairy tale would say about modern technology, after all, and Sansa spoke like she was right out of one.

"With less technology," she said, sharper than she means to, but she knows that she sounds backwards in saying it, that she comes from a place that makes no sense here and where they see holograms and hallucinations, she sees spells and enchantments because it's the only solution that makes sense to her. She knows now that it is technology, that her food is somehow created and transported by some sort of machines, but the words used to explain it make no sense to her, and it might as well be magic.

"Less technology," Zoe repeats, placating. She can imagine what it feels like to Sansa, or try to, anyway. Being in this world she doesn't understand, that most others did. None of their situations were ideal, but at least Zoe was at home with tablets and computers. "I could teach you, if you like?"