TAKE A LOOK, IT'S IN A BOOK

[stagstrong]

Who: Robert Baratheon and PEOPLE
Where: The LIBRARY
When: The Event! So... lots of days.
Rating: E for EDUCATIONAL
Summary: Robert is hungry... FOR JUSTICE KNOWLEDGE.
The Story:

Robert Baratheon had never cared for books. What could be learned in dusty old text that could not be learned outside, living life to its fullest? And so, he'd never bothered with books. But somehow, it was different now. He was trapped in Wonderland and he was struck with the urge to investigate. And so, when he passed the library, he decided to poke his head in. And then he decided to pick up a book and just take a look at it. Just to see what it was like.

Before he knew it, morning was evening and he was still reading. By Gods was it interesting! Apparently, as he was finding out that apparently in 1946, Chinese stamps were overprinted in sen and for use in Taiwan only. While Robert did not really know what stamps were, who the Chinese were, where Taiwan was, what a sen was, or even the dating system that led to 1946. But by Gods was it fascinating as hell. And when he was done with the book at long last, because he was not a terribly quick reader, he was eager for the next. Sure, he would need to sleep soon and eat, but he had one about mushrooms now and he'd always been interested in mushrooms!

Hadn't he?

In fact, Robert was aware he was actually fairly miserable. He wanted to go out and fight something, fuck something, or drink copious amounts of wine! But He couldn't tear himself away from the books. There were just too many books and he felt like he might die if he didn't read about fungus. The misery was apparent on his face. He looked worn, tired, and listless. His stomach ached from neglecting to eat anything. But he could not tear himself away. Not when he was only just about to find out what a Hypomyces lactifluorum was, which was a mystery that had plagued him ever since he had seen the table of contents.

Comments

[wolfwild]

"And yet they probably don't read about mushrooms. I doubt anyone does. Gods, who would even write a book about it! It sounds like a waste of vellum and ink."

[stagstrong]

"There are many kinds of mushrooms," he said grudgingly. "Though why they give them such strange names is beyond understanding."

[wolfwild]

"The solution is obvious, my lord. If there are so many kinds they must of course have so many names. And no one wants to name their silly little fungi like so: Mushroom the First; Mushroom the Second; Mushroom the Third. And so on and so forth and what have you.

So some maester with too many vows and not enough verve must have gotten carried away. Easily explained."

[stagstrong]

"Agaricus bisporus. What sort of name is that, I ask? It's not even Valyrian."

Not that Robert truly spoke Valyrian. But like many Lords, he'd been tutored in it and he knew enough to recognize some words and have a general sense of the language. Valyrian this was not.

[wolfwild]

"And yet it does sound rather noble, doesn't it? It has a ring to it. Agaricus bis--"

She stopped. There she laid in the surf, her body still half-submerged in the shallowest water. Her hair fanned out across the wet sand. Lyanna watched him -- feet away -- as he read. "How's it said again?"

[stagstrong]

"Agaricus bisporus," he repeated, only not in the same pronunciation as last time, for he seemed to have changed his mind on the vowels in the first word. "But it's no more than a common mushroom! The same sort of things that grow in the Stormlands all the way to the Riverlands."

[wolfwild]

"Bisporus."

Lyanna wrapped her eager voice around the syllables. And then she shrugged against the stand, turning over onto her stomach so she might better observe his intent task. "I don't care much for mushrooms. I don't like the way they feel between my teeth. I imagine slugs and mushrooms have a lot in common, texture-wise."

[stagstrong]

"Slugs and mushrooms, both creatures of rot. I could think of many men who might do better to have them as their sigils. Walder Frey, perhaps." Despite his miserable task, he chuckled lightly at his jest.

[wolfwild]

"And why is that?"

She knew little of Lord Walder Frey. Or of any of the Freys, really. Until so lately with her brother's distant wardship, the North was keen to keep to itself and let the rest of Westeros do as it will. Though she doubted her mere question would drag him too far from his mushrooms and rot. Perhaps she ought to simply leave him behind. The whole affair was growing dull and unchallenging.

[stagstrong]

"The Late Walder Frey, as Lord Tully has come to call him, arrived just as our victory was absolute. He rallied to our side at the Trident, but no doubt the old man would have declared for Rhaegar instead had the battle gone the other way. A slug suits him better for a slimy bastard like him."

[wolfwild]

Prince Rhaegar. Lyanna could not yet reconcile the two opinions. Her own: where the prince was a dashing (but quiet) soul, winning favour with his sad sweet songs and service to the tourney's justice. And the moment he'd handed her the crown of flower--! But then there was Robert's opinion. He who was so convinced that Rhaegar had abducted her -- would abduct her. And that the King would see her family tree pruned for the whole conflict. And Robert himself would go to war.

And that sad sweet prince would die. Oh, would that she could march to their wars and end them with some valiant gesture of her own! Lyanna sighed and pushed herself out of the water. She stood -- dripping in her wet shift -- and crossed back to where she'd left the rest of her clothing in a pile.

"I don't care to hear about the battle. It's stupid."

[stagstrong]

"It was glorious," he objected stubbornly. He turned a page. "It will be the battle that determines the war."

He had more to say, but he seemed to become completely absorbed in the latest page of mushrooms.

[wolfwild]

With her two hands she wrung the seawater out of her shift's bottom half. Squeezing a great crumbled lump of the heavy fabric and splashing the soaked up water to the sand. Any other day, she might have dared to feel modest and shy about the situation -- but today she thrived on risk. And the risk of being seen so poorly dressed was a heady one.

...Plus there was the whole issue of him barely being able to look up from his book. Such a state provided assurances.

"From the way you tell it," she said sadly, "it sounds as though it already has."

[stagstrong]

He was oblivious to her tone. Instead, he seemed to think about it, then nodded.

"Yes. Yes, you're right, it already has."

[wolfwild]

She struggled and fought and eventually the dry dress was made to settle well-enough against the wet skin and shift. The laces were untidily tied. And Lyanna looked at him, shook her head, and decided she was now destined for other better challenges. He would give her no more today.

"Farewell, Lord Robert. Try not to catch a cold or -- or forget to come back inside."

Lyanna lingered. As if she might try once again to move him. Influence him. But no, this game had lots its shine when the war came back into play. So she tucked her sweet-grass crown back onto her head and marched barefoot back to the mansion.

[stagstrong]

He had become absorbed in his reading and only half heard her farewell. Once he did, he looked up and saw her from a distance. Only a brief image before she turned out of sight, but only then did he see how she was soaked and he was stirred by desire not just for her beauty, but also the company he just lost. Growling, he stood up, and stared hard at his book.

He tossed it aside and began to march after her. He made it ten steps before he stopped and he felt himself hit by the stronger hunger for knowledge. For several moments, he fought that desire. He cursed and insulted himself. But in the end, he returned to the sand and he read. Every moment of it, he hated himself for it.