laography | the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

[ the facts were these: wishing on stars was for children.

that's what bran's older brothers would have said. no one wishes on stars, because they have to work hard for the things they want, and nothing just falls into your lap. their country was at war, and had been for a long time, and bran's soldier older brothers--both of them, even if jon was a half brother--had gone off to fight the good fight for the faction his father also supported. bran had wanted to be a soldier too, someday, but all of that changed when he fell.

he didn't mean to fall, either. bran never fell--he'd always been an adventurer, an explorer, and now here he was, a broken boy with a wheeled cart that carried him. bitter and angry, bran stares up at the stars overhead late one night, and the stupid, crazy idea he gets makes him feel like as small as rickon again.

but he stares up at the stars and then clasps his fingers together. please, please, please, he starts, ducking his head down, help me, I can't help myself anymore.

there's silence, and of course there is. dead silence and the stupid desperation of a stupid child. bran scowls as his hands break and he turns his gaze away, and that's when something darts across the sky and starts to fall. bran doesn't notice it. in fact, he rolls his chair inside, pushing through the main hall of the castle belonging to his family, to his room on the first floor (instead of the attic, the top floor library room he'd turned into his own sanctuary) and hoists himself into bed with a series of pulleys, feeling not just stupid, but defeated. real life, childish wishes? none of it matters at all. he's hopeless. useless. bran the broken.

he falls asleep thinking of that, and then, he dreams.

bran dreams of a comet, a silver streak across the sky. he dreams of an explosion, and in his dreams, bran walks to the edge of the sight, where there's a crater, smoking in what would be maybe a mile or two outside of the stark keep. ]

[ For as long as there have been men, there have been wishes. And for as long as they had looked at the sky, there were wishes on stars. Jojen isn't a very old star, compared to many of the others that surround him-- Meera, who had been shot from the sky, had been his sister star and was far older than he was, comparatively, and he misses her sorely-- but there have been enough wishes since he started to shine that he's used to hearing them.

But there's one voice that's always stood out to him, and he can never really explain why except that there's a connection there. He was meant to hear Bran Stark's wishes, childish or no. There wasn't much he could do about them, save for wish him luck and watch over him, but he listened all the same.

When he was pushed out of that tower by one of the Stark's supposed allies, he'd spitefully wished that he could've fallen out of the sky and onto the Lannisters in revenge for the young Stark boy. After he'd woken up from his coma, he'd wished that he had done it. Watching him struggle with his life, unable to climb like he once had, tucked away on the ground where he barely belonged.

The wishes that come in the following months are the ones that Jojen hates the most. But he listens to them all the same, and files each of them away even though he knows Bran thinks he's looking into a vacuum. And he watches as he returns to the Stark castle, and knows that there's nothing for it.

So, he falls.

As he lays there in the crater, he knows he's dreaming-- you can't exactly stand at the lip of a crater and look down on yourself any other way, after all. The vision comes to him easily, but he also knows that he's not alone. So Jojen walks easily around the crater, steps sure and careful as he looks down at the bright light below in the pit created from his landing, until he comes upon Bran. ]

[ bran likes his dreams, for as strange as they are. he doesn't often get to do things like he's doing right now, jogging up to the edge of the massive crater. the light coming from it is a brilliant white, and he has to put his forearm over his eyes and squint at first, until the glow starts to fade.

he has to wonder what he's come upon--a meteor, maybe, or a comet, but his heart says a star, and bran tries to shove that feeling down, because how often does a falling star land so close to home? how often are bran's wishes really, really granted?

they aren't. they just aren't.

so he's wary, but distracted. it's when bran's considering climbing into the crater to look at whatever's below that he hears a footsteps, and he turns quickly to the side to be met with--a person. his mouth opens and he closes it, taking him in; he's maybe about bran's age, with curly blonde hair and dark, intelligent looking green eyes. this is the first time he's dreamed of someone that he didn't know, at least in such stunning clarity, and he looks him up and down again, brow furrowing. ]

Who are you?

[ They haven't been.

But they will be.

Jojen observes Bran rather calmly as he draws closer, balanced just at the edge of the crater. He's sure that when he wakes up he's going to be very sore, but he certainly hopes that it'll be sooner rather than later. He's not sure who might've seen him landing, and he'd prefer to keep it between himself and Bran if he can. Maybe that's why they're dreamsharing, or maybe that's just part of the connection that he knows is there.

He doesn't question it, doesn't see a reason to. So he just offers Bran a quiet sort of amusement, cocking his head and standing before him. It's strange to not be shining, but he guesses it was a price to pay for forcing his fall. Not many become shooting stars out of their own volition, not unless it's very, very important.

Bran Stark is very, very important. ] My name is Jojen, and I've come a very long way to meet you, Bran.

[ jojen? the name doesn't sound at all familiar. bran stares at him for a second longer, mouth just a little open, and glances back down at the crater. he's not stupid, and he murmurs--] That was you.

[ and it isn't a question, either. the person in front of him--jojen--has this kind of ethereal look about him, beautiful in a way that couldn't quite be earthly. he's not sure how to put it into words, and it leads to a hundred other questions; where he came from, why he arrived here. but there was one more that was far more important than the rest.

bran hadn't been having such odd dreams for long. they colored his nights since the fall, dreams of a wolf, of a crow. sometimes it feels like bran's being pulled in two directions at once, and there has to be something important about this, something he doesn't yet understand.

he looks a little guarded, but it's his dream. his dream can't hurt him. ]...Why are you in my dreams? What are you?

[ Considering the frequency with which Meera had to listen to him talk about Bran, Jojen is glad to see that his sharp wit is just as present now as it was when he'd watched over him. A quirk of a smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, and he simply inclines his head in the slightest nod.

He comes a little closer to him, but respects the guarded look on his face rather than stepping too far into Bran's space. When he stops again, he looks down into the crater again, hardly bothered by the glow that's left behind there. It's faded, and he has a feeling that means he's going to be waking up soon, but for now he has Bran's company and questions.

So he looks back at him, studies him thoughtfully. Closer now than he's ever been to him, he can see the smattering of freckles across his nose, the brown of his eyes dark as oak, the keen but saddened look to him. Dreams are one thing, but he can only sleep for so long before he must return to reality.

And that's why he's here. To change the world that Bran has found himself in. ] Your brothers may say that wishing on stars is a childish thing to do, but they don't realize that we can hear you from so far away.

[ bran's brow furrows as he looks at him, head cocking a little, because that's...impossible. isn't it? bran's only ever wished on one thing since the fall, and that would be the stars up above--it clicks quickly enough, because it makes sense. a glowing being falling from the sky could only be a star, and this star was a person.

(a kind of handsome person, but that was beyond the point.)

for a moment, he feels almost bashful, silly, because the star--Jojen--had heard his most childish inner thoughts a thousand times, and bran resists the urge to duck back and hide his head. that's not what his brothers would ever do, and besides, the urge to be shy is overcome by a powerful curiosity. ] Why've you fallen, then? Stars don't just fall out of the sky into someone's dreams.

[ he doesn't even entertain the notion that this is just a foolish dream, because it isn't. bran just knows. ]

[ There's something endeared in Jojen's expression at Bran's reaction. He's a shy, quiet boy and he's seen it time and time again. Perhaps he should apologizing for watching over him, but he doesn't see any harm in it when he's simply been trying to do what he can from so far away. But now, he's here. And he's here for Bran alone, a task at hand that few unlike him could take.

Watching him, he has to wonder if Bran hadn't once been a star, himself. To put it simply, he's beautiful in his youth, with his wide brown eyes and dark, curly hair. He's a Stark, through and through, but Jojen thinks he stands out amongst them. (A bias, perhaps.) ]

No, not usually. We enjoy our position in the sky, overlooking everything, so we don't frequently fall of our own choice. But I found something very important to fall for-- you.

[ his cheeks take on a faint flush as bran takes that one in. for all it was worth, it sounded like one of theon's cheesy pick up lines, but cheesy pick up lines don't come from people who glow. every bit of his story checks out, as absurd as it sounds at first, and bran swallows down what basically feel like butterflies deep in the back of his throat, trying to maintain that Stark cool confidence that robb always had.

but some of the tension leaks out of his shoulders, replaced with some kind of curiosity, and bran loosens his fists. ] You want me to believe that you--fell out of the sky, for me?

[ the skepticism is strong in this one. ] I haven't done anything worth falling for.

[ Offering him a squinted, slant of a smile in response to the flush that colors his cheeks, the way that he seems to relax a little more, Jojen nods his head at the question. Because it's true, he did fall for him. Even when Meera had been shot from the sky he'd stayed up there, trying to find her from his position high above. But after watching over Bran for so long, he's found that he can't simply sit idly by now. ]

I would not lie, and I think you know that. [ He regards him with a keen interest, and the smile fades just the slightest bit in response to his skepticism. Not that he's surprised, but regardless.

Reaching out, he touches two fingers to his chest, where his heart beats in his breast. ] I fell because of this, and what's in store for you.

[ he almost feels chided and bran shuts his mouth again, watching as the person--the star--jojen reaches forward and presses his fingers to his chest. it's all a very surreal experience, and he doesn't break eye contact as he tries to compartmentalize everything that's happening, tries to find a way to explain, or at least understand. ]

I can't help you. [ it's a fact of life, and he knows it. ] I can't--I can't even come find you. If you've been watching me, you would know that too.

[ because he's useless outside of his dreams. ]

I'm here to rectify that, Bran. [ Touch lingering for a moment longer, he drops his hand as his moss-green eyes scan Bran's face in quiet contemplation. It twists something in his chest as he takes in that hopelessness, but he remembers when he smiled more often. Before he was pushed from that tower.

But that memory just encourages him further. ]

I fell to help you. To heal you. [ And he says it with such a serious face, focus solely on the boy in front of him. ]

[ for a moment, all bran can do is just stare.

sure, he must be magical. as a star, that has to come with some kind of magic. but to heal bran? he's a broken, useless thing, a bird with no wings, left for dead. bran survived--he did that much--but to walk again would be foolish.

and yet.

his gaze hardens and bran's mouth curls into a frown. he thinks he might be waking up soon, if he can tell by the pull at the edge of his conscious, and he eventually asks-- ] Where are you?

[ Jojen wants to ask him if he remembers asking for help, even if he never voiced it aloud. A wish is a wish, and stars will always hear every wish that's made under them. Help me, I can't help myself anymore, he'd pleaded, and he'd been heard. Of course, there are very few stars that would willingly fall for mankind. But Jojen's always been considered an oddity.

The way Bran's expression hardens, he tilts his head the slightest bit while he watches him, waiting. He can't just demand that he quickly make a decision, although there is a great deal of time against them.

With the question, he looks off into the distance, where he knows Bran is still asleep. ] There's a clearing, not far from the keep. I think you'll know it when you see it.

[ Then, he turns to face him again, reaching out to tap his finger gently between the furrow of his brows. Time to wake up, Bran. ]

[ bran awakens with a gasp, his brown eyes snapping wide awake as he sits up, looking around the room. hodor, concerned as he is, comes dashing into the rooms, but bran doesn't even notice, occupied by the sound of his heart thudding in his ears. that was by far the clearest dream bran had ever had, and he knew that it wasn't simply a dream. it couldn't be.

so he'd pulled himself up with the pulley in his room and asked hodor to take him out to the clearing, half believing and half skeptic.

and as they come upon the clearing, bran has to swallow his heart in this throat, because even from a distance, he can see the crater--it's real, and he wants to scream and yell, half out of delight and half to wake him again. urging hodor on, bran makes it to the crater and looks over the edge, hodor's confused face appearing over the edge as well. ] Jojen!

[ As Bran awakens, so too does Jojen. But his is with a grimace, as he moves to sit up from where he's been laying in the pit of the crater. His everything aches, but he tries to turn his focus outwards instead of on himself. The ache will go before too long, and he just shifts so that he can get his long legs under him. Smoothing a hand through his disheveled hair, he tries to keep his balance as he starts to move around.

It gets the feeling back into his limbs, thankfully, although his head still aches. He doesn't know if this is because of his crash landing or because of his dream, but all the same he pushes it away as best he can so that he can climb out when the time comes.

But then he hears movement, and looks up. There's Bran, with Hodor, and he offers him a crooked, squinty grin. ] Ah, there you are.

[ unbelievable, just, unbelievable. the boy from his dreams, the star is literally right there. bran stares down at him with big huge wide eyes, mouth open like he can't even believe what's happening. (he can't.) when is bran's luck ever this real?

it isn't. ] Hodor--come on, we have to help him.

[ hodor agrees with him ("hodor") and clambers over the edge of the crater, sliding down the side with a lot of ease for a man of his size; bran practically climbs up his shoulders to make sure he can see him better, and he tries to stem all of his wild curiosity, his childish excitement. ] Are you alright?

[ Taking a step back so that Hodor won't wind up landing on him, should he trip, Jojen works on dusting himself off. His white clothes are a little scuffed up, to be honest, and he stands out like a... well, like a star in the night. That won't do, he can't exactly risk drawing more attention to himself than he probably already has. ]

Rather rough landing, but I do think I'll live. [ He lifts his gaze up from accessing himself to Bran and his giant friend, coming closer to him and bringing a hand up to pat Hodor on the shoulder. ] Good job, Hodor. Thank you.

the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

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wow I will regret writing this when I look at it tomorrow.

Hush it's perfect.

MYEH

Shoosh.

Nope I regret those tags now that I've slept.

That's gonna be me with this one. Also hush it was fine.

But cutie baby.

nope that was awful LMF

BUT BABY ANGEL

;__;

;A;

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