( startled? startled her how? Steve gets being startled. he even gets being scared by things that don't seem like they should be scary until they happen. what is scary about holding hands, though? because it's not like he grabbed her. she offered and he accepted. there's a puzzle piece missing, like somebody knocked it off the table on accident, and it doesn't matter how long he sits here chewing on it. he can't figure it out.
the scrape of Brienne's chair on the ground is like nails on a chalkboard. and speaking of being startled by things that don't seem like they should be scary, Steve flinches despite himself, even if he bolts up too. like they're in the middle of an emergency and he's already trying to follow Brienne's lead without being told. but... it's fine. the castle is as normal as it gets. terrible food and all. she's standing up because ... well he doesn't know why, but it isn't because she spotted a chainsaw murderer across the room and needs to make a break for it, at least.
he forces himself to relax. his brain chugs through processing her words, belatedly, because it was too busy being freaked out at nothing to do it in a timely fashion. Brienne will see when they click because his attention sharpens to really see her again. ) Wait, like... now? What about your food?
( dry, almost like she's making a joke? does brienne do that? look: she's a giant scary lady and the food is all rotten, steve. nobody is going to touch her shit, bro.
she leads him not very far: only to the first empty room she can find. she perches on a settee with little grace for a standard-sized woman but with the care and delicacy of someone who has probably broken a chair or two with the sheer magnitude of her weight.
brienne waits for steve to settle, whether that means sitting as well or not before she nods, like she's telling herself to get on with it. she's only got so much time left, and if anyone has earned her candor, steve has. )
I am not easy to look upon. Even before my disfigurement.
( she changes, now, suddenly: like she's doffed armor to reveal the person beneath the knight. where before she might avoid eye contact or hunch or try to diminish herself, now she is only brienne: a young girl who left home on her own to join a war for love. )
I know my customs are confusing to you, to those of you who hail each other with cool and are we good. Your Quentin of Ohio, he... he understood when I told him there are ghosts in my past.
( perhaps it will register with steve, too. she's learning that he isn't just a well-intentioned young man for her to project onto, finally. )
It is difficult for men to understand, I know. Ugly girls are not spared the expectations of their sex. And armor doesn't protect against all threats.
( that is not what he means, unfortunately. Steve looks guiltily at the mostly eaten rotten food, and hopes that none of the townies notice who left it behind. well... maybe they'll just assume he did it. he is on everybody's shit list for food hoarding. hopefully they'll just go ahead and hate him for food wasting, too, because he does not want Brienne to start getting half portions and rotten bottom of the barrel scraps. because trust, it is not a great time!
he can't force himself to eat it, though, and surely not quick enough to keep up with Brienne. because she clears out like a bat out of hell, and it is hard to keep up with her double sized strides even when she's not in a hurry. Steve feels like he has to jog after her like an excitable dog to keep up.
Steve feels on edge, and it just gets worse as they duck through too-long too-cold halls. when Brienne finally stops, he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he sits on the hearth of the fireplace, right there on the floor like a boyscout that got too cold on a hike. he hangs his arms over his knees and tries to listen. he has ye olde knight lady translator pulled up in his brain because he gets the sense he really has to Hear This, because it's Serious.
it's good that he holds off on talking. it is super uncomfortable to have a girl point out she's not pretty, and... well, it's true, Brienne is not a looker. in fact her face is quite scary. Steve feels guilty for thinking it because she's most certainly one of the nicer castle inhabitants he's met, but he also can't NOT think it, because what the hell even HAPPENED to her face? and expectations of their sex makes him think. marriage. learning to... embroider?? ride a horse with their legs both on the same side. look, he does NOT know what ye olden ladies are expected to do. he is a modern (read: 1986) boy through and through.
Quentin is a sharper tack, in a lot of ways. maybe Steve's view of a medieval high fantasy world is too romantic. maybe his world view of the world in general is too romantic. because it takes way too long for it to click. he genuinely needs all his puzzle pieces, including some really dusty ones in the back. like rolling his eyes at locker room talk about how Marcy Stevens had to put out, because otherwise nobody would ask her out at all. ) You mean... ( he says, and then stops saying, because ... he's not sure what to say, exactly, and specifics aren't the point anyway. he looks at Brienne, and then feels bad, and looks away. ) Oh.
( not exactly heartfelt or eloquent, but... there's a sad little lightbulb that went off there, yeah. )
( it isn't new for her to see the look in steve's eyes as he regards her and then hurries to look away like he's done something wrong by even observing her objectively. as if she hadn't learned to stare hard at her own reflection and accept it as it is.
and yet it always stings. but a familiar sting is oft easier to bear than that of the unknown. it is kindness that she fears and mistrusts. brienne doesn't know what to do with such a neutral response, because it strays closer to kindness than mockery. steve is a kind man, she thinks, if not a bit of a mess.
she shifts, the settee beneath her groaning as if to remind her that she does not fit. her hands fold neatly in her lap. )
You were kinder than I expected. Your actions match your words.
( which is... not fair to him, only rare in her experience. for all his cultural habits and expectations, hers will outmatch them: men are often cruel, and ignorant, and unwilling to change. they never take her seriously, and often she must prove herself with deed over word (and often those deeds terminate in their hating and fearing her even more). but he had not protested her or cellar accompanying him to the pit. she had waited for the mockery and laughter from him and quentin after he assuredly learned of her behavior when she and the latter danced together. he's even mostly stopped flinching when she moves too quickly.
no, steve is not that kind of man.
the fact of the matter is she would not be telling him any of this under normal circumstances. but it would sit wrong with her, not to try. not when she has made the decision she has. )
You are all strange in your way. It is difficult, at times, for me to bear the informality.
( when was the last time she was touched so kindly, in the expression of friendship and solidarity? brienne cannot say. )
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Date: 2026-02-15 07:42 am (UTC)the scrape of Brienne's chair on the ground is like nails on a chalkboard. and speaking of being startled by things that don't seem like they should be scary, Steve flinches despite himself, even if he bolts up too. like they're in the middle of an emergency and he's already trying to follow Brienne's lead without being told. but... it's fine. the castle is as normal as it gets. terrible food and all. she's standing up because ... well he doesn't know why, but it isn't because she spotted a chainsaw murderer across the room and needs to make a break for it, at least.
he forces himself to relax. his brain chugs through processing her words, belatedly, because it was too busy being freaked out at nothing to do it in a timely fashion. Brienne will see when they click because his attention sharpens to really see her again. ) Wait, like... now? What about your food?
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Date: 2026-02-16 03:20 pm (UTC)( dry, almost like she's making a joke? does brienne do that? look: she's a giant scary lady and the food is all rotten, steve. nobody is going to touch her shit, bro.
she leads him not very far: only to the first empty room she can find. she perches on a settee with little grace for a standard-sized woman but with the care and delicacy of someone who has probably broken a chair or two with the sheer magnitude of her weight.
brienne waits for steve to settle, whether that means sitting as well or not before she nods, like she's telling herself to get on with it. she's only got so much time left, and if anyone has earned her candor, steve has. )
I am not easy to look upon. Even before my disfigurement.
( she changes, now, suddenly: like she's doffed armor to reveal the person beneath the knight. where before she might avoid eye contact or hunch or try to diminish herself, now she is only brienne: a young girl who left home on her own to join a war for love. )
I know my customs are confusing to you, to those of you who hail each other with cool and are we good. Your Quentin of Ohio, he... he understood when I told him there are ghosts in my past.
( perhaps it will register with steve, too. she's learning that he isn't just a well-intentioned young man for her to project onto, finally. )
It is difficult for men to understand, I know. Ugly girls are not spared the expectations of their sex. And armor doesn't protect against all threats.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-19 05:13 am (UTC)he can't force himself to eat it, though, and surely not quick enough to keep up with Brienne. because she clears out like a bat out of hell, and it is hard to keep up with her double sized strides even when she's not in a hurry. Steve feels like he has to jog after her like an excitable dog to keep up.
Steve feels on edge, and it just gets worse as they duck through too-long too-cold halls. when Brienne finally stops, he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he sits on the hearth of the fireplace, right there on the floor like a boyscout that got too cold on a hike. he hangs his arms over his knees and tries to listen. he has ye olde knight lady translator pulled up in his brain because he gets the sense he really has to Hear This, because it's Serious.
it's good that he holds off on talking. it is super uncomfortable to have a girl point out she's not pretty, and... well, it's true, Brienne is not a looker. in fact her face is quite scary. Steve feels guilty for thinking it because she's most certainly one of the nicer castle inhabitants he's met, but he also can't NOT think it, because what the hell even HAPPENED to her face? and expectations of their sex makes him think. marriage. learning to... embroider?? ride a horse with their legs both on the same side. look, he does NOT know what ye olden ladies are expected to do. he is a modern (read: 1986) boy through and through.
Quentin is a sharper tack, in a lot of ways. maybe Steve's view of a medieval high fantasy world is too romantic. maybe his world view of the world in general is too romantic. because it takes way too long for it to click. he genuinely needs all his puzzle pieces, including some really dusty ones in the back. like rolling his eyes at locker room talk about how Marcy Stevens had to put out, because otherwise nobody would ask her out at all. ) You mean... ( he says, and then stops saying, because ... he's not sure what to say, exactly, and specifics aren't the point anyway. he looks at Brienne, and then feels bad, and looks away. ) Oh.
( not exactly heartfelt or eloquent, but... there's a sad little lightbulb that went off there, yeah. )
no subject
Date: 2026-02-19 02:17 pm (UTC)and yet it always stings. but a familiar sting is oft easier to bear than that of the unknown. it is kindness that she fears and mistrusts. brienne doesn't know what to do with such a neutral response, because it strays closer to kindness than mockery. steve is a kind man, she thinks, if not a bit of a mess.
she shifts, the settee beneath her groaning as if to remind her that she does not fit. her hands fold neatly in her lap. )
You were kinder than I expected. Your actions match your words.
( which is... not fair to him, only rare in her experience. for all his cultural habits and expectations, hers will outmatch them: men are often cruel, and ignorant, and unwilling to change. they never take her seriously, and often she must prove herself with deed over word (and often those deeds terminate in their hating and fearing her even more). but he had not protested her or cellar accompanying him to the pit. she had waited for the mockery and laughter from him and quentin after he assuredly learned of her behavior when she and the latter danced together. he's even mostly stopped flinching when she moves too quickly.
no, steve is not that kind of man.
the fact of the matter is she would not be telling him any of this under normal circumstances. but it would sit wrong with her, not to try. not when she has made the decision she has. )
You are all strange in your way. It is difficult, at times, for me to bear the informality.
( when was the last time she was touched so kindly, in the expression of friendship and solidarity? brienne cannot say. )