[ There was definitely some sort of mishap, he thinks, although that seems to be an understatement. It was a simple portal - New York to Madrid, switching to a different institute to gather information on a greater demon. No fuss no muss, and it gave him a brief chance to breathe. To be someone other than Sebastian Verlac. To be himself.
What happens is something he's never heard of in his entire life. There's a shift, a pull, and something yanks at him midway through stepping into the shining transportation portal. The sonorous vibrations and wooshing sounds thrumming in his ears intensify, and then--
And then he winds up absolutely soaking wet. The water he lands in might have something to do with that, and he kicks and kicks - combat boots are not very good for this - until he finds his way to the shore of a dock of some kind.
A dock?
By the angel, after he's done coughing up some of the worst lake (ocean?) water he's ever tasted in his entire life, he's going to have a very long talk with whatever Warlock decided to do this. Sometime, between the coughing up a lung and trying to get his bearings, he realizes that people can see him. Normal, every day people. Mundane people. ]
This keeps getting better and better.
[ It's murmured to himself, mostly, as he hoists himself up. Wherever he is - what dimension he's in - it's enough for his powers to be weakened. It's different enough that while there are mundanes here, many of them are giving him strange looks, most likely from the clothing he's wearing. Apparently, loosely knitted sweats and tight jeans aren't de rigeur here.
But more importantly, he has to find a bloody Warlock. He offers a hesitant smile to a child staring at him while holding on to her mother, and tentatively makes his way towards the innermost part of the city.
[ Loras doesn't generally too far from the castle or nearby grounds. Today, he's chosen to accompany Margaery on her weekly rounds, if only because he finds the keep to be stifling. Too much fake smiling, too much pretending. Without his sister or grandmother around to force him into conversation, he just hides away, anyway.
He doesn't stay by her side long. Before much time has passed, Loras takes it upon himself to go for a walk. He's not been down by the docks. He finds the sight of the sea makes him recall Storm's End - even if the waters are much gentler here. He craves a fresher smell than King's Landing has to offer, though, so to the docks it is. The confused gaze of the crowd doesn't go unnoticed. Nor does the very familiar face and Loras, who thinks this is Olyvar, frowns as he walks over to meet him. ]
Shall I ask what sort of mess you've found yourself in, or is it simply to be a new secret among the bunch at King's Landing?
[ There's a smile, amused but full of carefully masked fondness. It's a look that Loras has long since mastered. It fades when he finally takes in "Olyvar's" appearance. Strange clothes, strange markings. Being branded never means anything good in Westeros, and Loras feels a wash of dread. This, coupled with being dumped in the sea, clearly suggests that something untoward has happened, and what happens to a squire, surely always comes back around to the squire's knight. Loras doesn't need whispers or worse when his family is in a precarious state as it is.
He glances around. After some debate, he puts the smile on again, and it puts the nearby gawkers at ease. If Loras Tyrell finds it a jest, then a jest it must be. ]
We'll go back to the castle and find you some dryer clothes, and perhaps we can avoid too much gossip on the way.
[ Sebastian's trained well to keep his face relatively impassive - it comes from being trapped, it comes from having a father like the one he had. It's enough that he's gotten quite good at it. Enough to impersonate someone -- anyone -- that isn't him in New York.
This is different. His invisibility rune is somehow not working, and there's someone who clearly has mistaken him, and so Sebastian does what he does best: think quickly, and smile as warmly as he can.
British. British accent is good, it means he can use his own. ]
Yes, the-- [ castle? ] castle. I, ehm, must have hit my head...
[ Once he's away from a crowd, he'll put it together, but he's not going to say no to someone getting him into some dry clothes and hopefully away from prying eyes. For now, he's at King's Landing, and trying to stifle the feeling that this is some strange theme park based on the Tower of London or some such. ]
I'm no maester, but I'll do my best to soothe you.
[ Loras tries to recall the quickest route back. He knows there's a way to walk up to the gardens, and while there will be guards, they know Loras and they know Olyvar, so passage into them will be met with no resistance. Along the way, Loras keeps his hands behind his back, but he keeps the corner of his gaze on his companion. His mind is trying to sort through all the possible scenarios.
Olyvar has offended someone who has a bad temper. Olyvar is a gambler who owes money and he's been warned. Olyvar is an innocent man, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or that the Lannisters are somehow behind this.
Hopefully he can get at least something out of Olyvar, if only to put his own mind at ease. ]
[ This is not good. The places, unfamiliar--the whole situation screaming out magic, and the worst kind. The unfamiliar.
He doesn't even know what a maester is, and while it's being said by a rather lovely man in outdated garb, he'd rather figure out how to get back before anyone finds out he's not who he says he is. He's already become Sebastian Verlac instead of Jonathan Morgenstern, and now he's adding someone else to the mix.
But they walk, his own footsteps feeling heavy outside of just how soggy his combat boots are, and he tries to take in the place. All he has to do is steal a moment alone with this man. Either he belives him when he says who he really is and it goes smoothly, or he's alone and can take him one-on-one. He's praying it's the former. He'd hate to have to fight someone as handsome as he is.
They move through a gate and Sebastian clears his throat, slightly stooped posture making him look a little smaller than the other. Dry himself off, figure out what's what--that will have to be the short term plan. ]
Thank you, I-- [ His lips press into a thin line, glancing up. ] Is this a castle?
[ He means it gently. Loras has taken enough heavy blows to the head from jousting to know sometimes it takes a bit for the daze to pass. He looks uneasy now, his concern growing into something more serious. ]
Best we try to avoid too many people. We all know how fast gossip travels King's Landing.
[ If they're fortunate, they'll avoid Cersei's informants and the woman herself. Loras puts a hand lightly to the small of Sebastian's back in an effort to quicken their pace along, until at last they're safely in the hall leading to Loras' chambers. ]
I'll send for someone to get a bath started for you. [ He hesitates a moment, because he should send him to his own rooms, but admittedly Loras has no idea where it is. Probably near the other squires. ] I'm not certain you're in a state for me to send you off alone.
[ More people. Sebastian lifts a hand up to touch the rune on his neck even if he can't activate it, and his smile flickers again. He feels bad that the other is fretting over him, and there's a sudden stab of curiosity as to whether or not he's taken the other's place or they've switched or if the real whoever-this-is is somewhere where he's supposed to be in King's Landing.
King's Landing? It sounds like a renaissance fair. ]
No, no, you said it yourself, haven't you? That it's best to avoid too many people. I've been dunked rather hard in the lake, perhaps a bath isn't what's best. Is there a moment, a room, somewhere private?
[ At the very least, Loras can try to lend some nondescript clothes - if he has any that don't scream Tyrell - until further notice. He opens the door to his rooms and closes it once they're inside.
At least here they have more privacy than anything else. And for that reason alone, Loras doesn't mind stepping in to press a light kiss to not-Olyvar's lips in a small show of relief. ]
Now let's get you out of these clothes and you'll tell me what's happened. I'm certain between my sister and my grandmother, we can do something about it.
[ It's the only word he really can blurt out, blinking in confusion. He'd been expecting something, but not a kiss. How long had it been since anyone kissed him?
Had he ever been kissed?
His memories are fuzzy. Strange, because he's perfectly aware of who he is despite the gorgeous man with golden curls and the bluest eyes he's seen even in comparison to himself telling him he's someone else.
Maybe he did hit his head before plunging into the water. ]
[ Loras lets out a laugh, but it's hardly lingering. He's never taken to being the butt of a joke, and if that's what's happening here, then it won't end well. He's clearly trying to brush it off, though. Maybe the hit to the head was worse than he thought.
Poor Olyvar. ]
If you're going to play games then I can send you off to your own room to recover. Which I should do, really, but you're welcome to stay here. I can find a temporary squire for tomorrow if you're still not feeling well. But I've always found a good meal and a good sleep clears my head just fine.
[ Squire. That's something Sebastian hasn't heard in a while, and while he's momentarily stunned by the laugh that just came out from the other he's able to pull himself together to shake his head and place one of his hands in the air to stop him.
A knight. Handsome, dashing, and maybe Sebastian's fallen into a fairy tale. ]
The problem is that I'm not whoever it is you think I am. This isn't where I'm from, it--
[ He has to start actually finishing his sentences. ]
I'm from a land very very far away from here. I just happen to look like your boyfriend, and for that I am sorry, but I needed a moment alone with you to explain myself.
[ Loras watches as he listens, but his lips press together. Now he feels that he's certain he's in the middle of some prank, that someone is trying to exploit some (true) rumours and Loras is much too proud to stand for that.
Even if he's never heard the term boyfriend in his life. ]
I'd assume it'd be much more satisfying to humiliate me more publicly, but as it's a sport I've never taken part in, what would I know?
[ He's not doing much to hide the fact that he's mad about it. He's only ever been kind, hasn't he? Then again, this has never been a good place for kindness. ]
Wh--no, I'm not trying to humiliate you in the slightest, I'm trying to tell you I'm not whoever it is you're thinking of.
[ What was it, that Azazel had done to the Warlock and Sebastian's father? Switched their bodies around. It had to be some sort of spell like that, only he's himself. And the only person who's actually been kind to him looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Understandable, really. The other hand shoots up, as if to show he's unarmed. ]
[ Were this not Loras' room, he'd leave. He draws himself up to stand a bit taller, clearly displeased. ]
You can leave or I can have someone come to escort you out.
[ But there is a sort of hesitance in it all. Loras will feel terrible if it isn't Olyvar, and worst of all, if it isn't then he's revealed a dangerous secret to a complete stranger. In which case, letting him go would be a mistake. ]
[ He's banking on a lot, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't quickly pray to the Angel before reaching his hand up to touch the rune on his neck. ]
Your boyfriend, does he have this?
[ As if to further prove his point (and also because he's still wet), Sebastian removes his comfortably too-big sweater, revealing a lithe runner's body and still more runes. They're bold in black, and he licks his thumb, rubbing at the one on his neck. ] They're permanent. They would take a long time to heal, wouldn't they?
[ His smile is hopeful as he raises his brows. ] I understand this isn't ideal and I shouldn't have tricked you, but I wasn't sure what else to do until I could properly explain myself alone.
[ Loras watches, keeping his distance. There's a look on his face that is full of skepticism, but he's a touch more trusting than his sister. No doubt that Margaery would see through anything in an instant. Loras, however, has no reason to distrust the world.
But he also knows that magic is a real thing, and that would explain easily why the marks could heal so suddenly. If it were Olyvar. But Loras feels, perhaps, that Olyvar would not be so committed to such a joke, even for any sum of money. ]
No. By the Angel--no, no. [ The shirt was wet anyway, wool becoming uncomfortable and scratchy, and so shirtless Sebastian stays, trying his best to smile, to placate. ]
I should be apologizing, but I wanted to get somewhere quiet so I could get my bearings. My name is Sebastian.
[ Sebastian is luckier than he knows, to share looks with Olyvar and to have had Loras come across him before anyone else. Anyone beyond the Tyrells would lack kindness or even the sense of decency to help the man, and Loras has to wonder how much even his own sister would extend to Sebastian. Likely enough to see that he was well and send him out of the city as fast as possible. ]
Loras Tyrell. I would suspect you do well to remember it, for as long as you're in Westeros, being associated with a Tyrell will prove kinder to you than any other allegience.
[ It's a haughty thing to say, but Loras still feels slighted, and he wants it to be known that he has the upper hand here.
He seeks out the plainest tunic he has. It's still perhaps too much for a simple squire to have, but Loras can, if needed, play it off that it's important a squire emulate his knight. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
First meeting;
What happens is something he's never heard of in his entire life. There's a shift, a pull, and something yanks at him midway through stepping into the shining transportation portal. The sonorous vibrations and wooshing sounds thrumming in his ears intensify, and then--
And then he winds up absolutely soaking wet. The water he lands in might have something to do with that, and he kicks and kicks - combat boots are not very good for this - until he finds his way to the shore of a dock of some kind.
A dock?
By the angel, after he's done coughing up some of the worst lake (ocean?) water he's ever tasted in his entire life, he's going to have a very long talk with whatever Warlock decided to do this. Sometime, between the coughing up a lung and trying to get his bearings, he realizes that people can see him. Normal, every day people. Mundane people. ]
This keeps getting better and better.
[ It's murmured to himself, mostly, as he hoists himself up. Wherever he is - what dimension he's in - it's enough for his powers to be weakened. It's different enough that while there are mundanes here, many of them are giving him strange looks, most likely from the clothing he's wearing. Apparently, loosely knitted sweats and tight jeans aren't de rigeur here.
But more importantly, he has to find a bloody Warlock. He offers a hesitant smile to a child staring at him while holding on to her mother, and tentatively makes his way towards the innermost part of the city.
At least they all speak English. ]
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He doesn't stay by her side long. Before much time has passed, Loras takes it upon himself to go for a walk. He's not been down by the docks. He finds the sight of the sea makes him recall Storm's End - even if the waters are much gentler here. He craves a fresher smell than King's Landing has to offer, though, so to the docks it is. The confused gaze of the crowd doesn't go unnoticed. Nor does the very familiar face and Loras, who thinks this is Olyvar, frowns as he walks over to meet him. ]
Shall I ask what sort of mess you've found yourself in, or is it simply to be a new secret among the bunch at King's Landing?
[ There's a smile, amused but full of carefully masked fondness. It's a look that Loras has long since mastered. It fades when he finally takes in "Olyvar's" appearance. Strange clothes, strange markings. Being branded never means anything good in Westeros, and Loras feels a wash of dread. This, coupled with being dumped in the sea, clearly suggests that something untoward has happened, and what happens to a squire, surely always comes back around to the squire's knight. Loras doesn't need whispers or worse when his family is in a precarious state as it is.
He glances around. After some debate, he puts the smile on again, and it puts the nearby gawkers at ease. If Loras Tyrell finds it a jest, then a jest it must be. ]
We'll go back to the castle and find you some dryer clothes, and perhaps we can avoid too much gossip on the way.
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This is different. His invisibility rune is somehow not working, and there's someone who clearly has mistaken him, and so Sebastian does what he does best: think quickly, and smile as warmly as he can.
British. British accent is good, it means he can use his own. ]
Yes, the-- [ castle? ] castle. I, ehm, must have hit my head...
[ Once he's away from a crowd, he'll put it together, but he's not going to say no to someone getting him into some dry clothes and hopefully away from prying eyes. For now, he's at King's Landing, and trying to stifle the feeling that this is some strange theme park based on the Tower of London or some such. ]
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[ Loras tries to recall the quickest route back. He knows there's a way to walk up to the gardens, and while there will be guards, they know Loras and they know Olyvar, so passage into them will be met with no resistance. Along the way, Loras keeps his hands behind his back, but he keeps the corner of his gaze on his companion. His mind is trying to sort through all the possible scenarios.
Olyvar has offended someone who has a bad temper. Olyvar is a gambler who owes money and he's been warned. Olyvar is an innocent man, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or that the Lannisters are somehow behind this.
Hopefully he can get at least something out of Olyvar, if only to put his own mind at ease. ]
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He doesn't even know what a maester is, and while it's being said by a rather lovely man in outdated garb, he'd rather figure out how to get back before anyone finds out he's not who he says he is. He's already become Sebastian Verlac instead of Jonathan Morgenstern, and now he's adding someone else to the mix.
But they walk, his own footsteps feeling heavy outside of just how soggy his combat boots are, and he tries to take in the place. All he has to do is steal a moment alone with this man. Either he belives him when he says who he really is and it goes smoothly, or he's alone and can take him one-on-one. He's praying it's the former. He'd hate to have to fight someone as handsome as he is.
They move through a gate and Sebastian clears his throat, slightly stooped posture making him look a little smaller than the other. Dry himself off, figure out what's what--that will have to be the short term plan. ]
Thank you, I-- [ His lips press into a thin line, glancing up. ] Is this a castle?
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[ He means it gently. Loras has taken enough heavy blows to the head from jousting to know sometimes it takes a bit for the daze to pass. He looks uneasy now, his concern growing into something more serious. ]
Best we try to avoid too many people. We all know how fast gossip travels King's Landing.
[ If they're fortunate, they'll avoid Cersei's informants and the woman herself. Loras puts a hand lightly to the small of Sebastian's back in an effort to quicken their pace along, until at last they're safely in the hall leading to Loras' chambers. ]
I'll send for someone to get a bath started for you. [ He hesitates a moment, because he should send him to his own rooms, but admittedly Loras has no idea where it is. Probably near the other squires. ] I'm not certain you're in a state for me to send you off alone.
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King's Landing? It sounds like a renaissance fair. ]
No, no, you said it yourself, haven't you? That it's best to avoid too many people. I've been dunked rather hard in the lake, perhaps a bath isn't what's best. Is there a moment, a room, somewhere private?
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[ At the very least, Loras can try to lend some nondescript clothes - if he has any that don't scream Tyrell - until further notice. He opens the door to his rooms and closes it once they're inside.
At least here they have more privacy than anything else. And for that reason alone, Loras doesn't mind stepping in to press a light kiss to not-Olyvar's lips in a small show of relief. ]
Now let's get you out of these clothes and you'll tell me what's happened. I'm certain between my sister and my grandmother, we can do something about it.
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[ It's the only word he really can blurt out, blinking in confusion. He'd been expecting something, but not a kiss. How long had it been since anyone kissed him?
Had he ever been kissed?
His memories are fuzzy. Strange, because he's perfectly aware of who he is despite the gorgeous man with golden curls and the bluest eyes he's seen even in comparison to himself telling him he's someone else.
Maybe he did hit his head before plunging into the water. ]
Ehm--who are you?
[ Let's take this slowly. ]
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Poor Olyvar. ]
If you're going to play games then I can send you off to your own room to recover. Which I should do, really, but you're welcome to stay here. I can find a temporary squire for tomorrow if you're still not feeling well. But I've always found a good meal and a good sleep clears my head just fine.
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A knight. Handsome, dashing, and maybe Sebastian's fallen into a fairy tale. ]
The problem is that I'm not whoever it is you think I am. This isn't where I'm from, it--
[ He has to start actually finishing his sentences. ]
I'm from a land very very far away from here. I just happen to look like your boyfriend, and for that I am sorry, but I needed a moment alone with you to explain myself.
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Even if he's never heard the term boyfriend in his life. ]
I'd assume it'd be much more satisfying to humiliate me more publicly, but as it's a sport I've never taken part in, what would I know?
[ He's not doing much to hide the fact that he's mad about it. He's only ever been kind, hasn't he? Then again, this has never been a good place for kindness. ]
You can see yourself out, I'm sure.
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[ What was it, that Azazel had done to the Warlock and Sebastian's father? Switched their bodies around. It had to be some sort of spell like that, only he's himself. And the only person who's actually been kind to him looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Understandable, really. The other hand shoots up, as if to show he's unarmed. ]
I can prove it to you.
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You can leave or I can have someone come to escort you out.
[ But there is a sort of hesitance in it all. Loras will feel terrible if it isn't Olyvar, and worst of all, if it isn't then he's revealed a dangerous secret to a complete stranger. In which case, letting him go would be a mistake. ]
How can you prove it?
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Your boyfriend, does he have this?
[ As if to further prove his point (and also because he's still wet), Sebastian removes his comfortably too-big sweater, revealing a lithe runner's body and still more runes. They're bold in black, and he licks his thumb, rubbing at the one on his neck. ] They're permanent. They would take a long time to heal, wouldn't they?
[ His smile is hopeful as he raises his brows. ] I understand this isn't ideal and I shouldn't have tricked you, but I wasn't sure what else to do until I could properly explain myself alone.
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But he also knows that magic is a real thing, and that would explain easily why the marks could heal so suddenly. If it were Olyvar. But Loras feels, perhaps, that Olyvar would not be so committed to such a joke, even for any sum of money. ]
Then I have made a fool of myself either way.
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I should be apologizing, but I wanted to get somewhere quiet so I could get my bearings. My name is Sebastian.
[ His brow raises--'and you, now?' ]
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Loras Tyrell. I would suspect you do well to remember it, for as long as you're in Westeros, being associated with a Tyrell will prove kinder to you than any other allegience.
[ It's a haughty thing to say, but Loras still feels slighted, and he wants it to be known that he has the upper hand here.
He seeks out the plainest tunic he has. It's still perhaps too much for a simple squire to have, but Loras can, if needed, play it off that it's important a squire emulate his knight. ]
Take these dry clothes.