[[DEACTIVATED]]

DROPPED ACCOUNT

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

[He knows Garlan is lying, but he doesn’t push it. The situation is a shitty one, and it’s not like he can fix it right now anyways.

His stomach drops a little at Garlan’s request]

“You know I can’t do that. I don’t even have access to the file.” 

[he sighs, anxious and wanting to help, but feeling rather useless.]

“I’ll see what I can find out and let you know ASAP, okay?”

[He hopes Garlan knows, that Garlan believes Satin when he says he’s going to do everything within his meager power to help a friend.]

[gtyrell-blog]

He smiled slightly and gave a short nod, not that Satin could see it.

‘Try to find out when it was supposed to have happened, that’s all I need. Anything else is just bonus.’

He wanted to give the man a hug, tell him that his help, anything, was appreciated, but he wasn’t there. Maybe later.

‘I’ll come down later tonight. You’ll let me in, won’t you?’

[oldtownboy-blog]

"All right, I'll see what I can find out."

"And yeah, come when I get off. See what's happened by then."

[He glances at his watch, noting how long he's been absent.]

"Right, gotta run. I'll see you in a few hours, mate."

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

[That doesn’t do much to vanquish Satin’s frown. He can’t help but wonder if Garlan was insinuating anything or merely joking. Did he really think Satin would arrest him, if that unlikely situation ever arose? He replies with a heavy dose of sarcasm.]

“Oh, please.”

“All I know is that the charge is for assault on a citizen. The name Stannis Baratheon was thrown around, but I dunno…Loras been in any barfights with the Prime Minister lately?”

[He hesitates, noting the sigh he hears crackling over the phone line, and the resignation in his friend’s voice. He hesitates for a moment, worrying.]

“You okay, Garlan?” 

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan could only hope that Satin wouldn’t turn the cuffs on him, but it wasn’t Satin that he didn’t trust, it was the others, the ones that had hauled his little brother in.

‘Not as far as I know.’

He shrugged, a gesture that wouldn’t be seen, but he hoped would be translated along the line. 

‘I’m fine. Perfectly fucking fine.’

He was lying, of course he was lying.

‘Now when was this assault supposed to have happened? Can you send me a copy of the file? Something?’

[oldtownboy-blog]

[He knows Garlan is lying, but he doesn't push it. The situation is a shitty one, and it's not like he can fix it right now anyways.

His stomach drops a little at Garlan's request]

"You know I can't do that. I don't even have access to the file." 

[he sighs, anxious and wanting to help, but feeling rather useless.]

"I'll see what I can find out and let you know ASAP, okay?"

[He hopes Garlan knows, that Garlan believes Satin when he says he's going to do everything within his meager power to help a friend.]

[oldtownboy-blog]

it's all worth it to take a bite || Satin & Maege Mormont [back in June 2012]

Mormont. The name was vaguely familiar before Satin got the details on his next job, but it never hurt to learn more. Maege Mormont, a woman of money, power, and independence. A tantalizing client, Satin had to admit, and he wondered why she would be seeking the services of Chataya's brood when she could probably have whatever she wanted, but whatever. It was good money, and he was genuinely interested to meet her. 

Chataya gave him a bit of a lead as to what the client was looking for, so Satin could prep both his appearance and his angle. They were all like actors in some ways, putting on masks, adorning different identities and adapting to the client's wants and needs. Sometimes Satin was the youthful boy, sometimes the charming stud, sometimes the devilish rake. You ran the gambit, in this business, and ninety-nine percent of it was farce. Give the client what they wanted. Be who the client wanted. Get paid. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

She was a woman of some status, so Satin dressed accordingly. Slacks, a crisp button-down shirt, vest and tie. Sharp, but not stuffy. He'd let himself catch up on a bit of facial hair--couldn't hurt, he had such a boyish face anyways. He packed all the essentials with him--condoms and lube, mostly, as he hadn't been instructed to bring anything else. 

Evening was getting on when he hopped into a cab and instructed the driver to take him to the address Chataya had provided him with. Maege's flat, he assumed. A lot of times he was sent to hotels, which was good neutral territory, and house calls were monitored a little more closely for safety precautions. But usually with the women, Satin didn't feel the need to worry about anything like that. It was the men who got possessive. 

The sky was partially-cloudy, tinted purple by the setting sun. People were scurrying home from work, swarming down to the Tube, or hitting the bars to celebrate the state of it being Friday. 

The cab ride was short, and Satin tipped the driver generously. He'd be making a lot more money tonight than the cabbie, anyways. Pausing for just a moment to smooth his longish hair, he strode up the walk to the Georgian door in front of him, knocking. While he waited, he studied the exterior of the flat.  It seemed a nice place.  It had a touch of charm and warmth that places in the city so often lacked. Over the years he'd learned to discern a lot about people from things like how they kept their house, a handshake, whether their confidence was genuine or feigned...his job depended on interpreting what the client wanted, even if they didn't know how to ask. 

The door opened after a moment and he turned his attention to the woman before him, putting on a silky smile. She was quite a bit older than him, but still rather attractive. One of those women who must have been an absolute bombshell in her twenties. But the twenty-somethings were easy to please. They didn't know what they want, so it was hard to go wrong. Women like Maege did know what they want, and sometimes they'd demand it. 

Made things much more interesting, that was for sure. 

"Maege Mormont? I'm Satin. Pleasure to meet you," he said, offering a hand. 

[ren-baratheon]

Where, Oh Where, Can My Baby Be? | Satin & Renly | September 9th

[oldtownboy-blog]

When he spoke he was polite. That put Satin at ease, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a slight smile. “You’re Renly, aren’t you? Er—excuse me, Mr. Tyrell.” He felt strange, realizing that he knew who Renly was, but Renly had no idea who he was. He should just stick to formalities. 

Of course he was here for an audience…Satin had no idea if Renly would be permitted to see Loras…but he couldn’t repress his desire to help. He shifted the heavy gun to his side, extending a hand.  ”I’m Satin. I’m a friend of Garlan’s.” 

[ren-baratheon]

The smell of the man’s freshly smoked cigarette, normally a scent he’d turn his nose up at, now reminded him of home.  Loras had taken the habit back up in the last few weeks, and the lingering whiff of tobacco was as vivid reminder of him as any.  Renly chalked it up as a good sign.  He needed every little straw he could grasp at right now.

“Yes, I’m Renly Tyrell,” he confirmed, feeling a bit sheepish to think he’d have been able to get inside without everyone instantly realizing what he was there for.  He was used to being recognized on his own, but being recognized as someone tied to Loras was still a new phenomenon for him.

He was busy trying to rearrange his strategy, and think of possible ways to get the guard to let him in to see Loras when he introduced himself as a friend of Garlan.  Finally a stroke of luck.  

Garlan had mentioned his Night’s Watch connection yesterday.  It, or rather, Satin, as he now had a name and a face to put to the source, had provided them with little to go on, but more than they’d been able to garner from anywhere else.  

Renly’s tone softened knowing that he was talking to someone who could potentially be on their side, “Oh wonderful, Satin, it is a pleasure to meet you.”  He held out his hand.  ”We are ever so thankful for what you’ve told us so far.  And as I’m sure Garlan already told you…this has just been an absolute nightmare.  Loras did not assault anyone…he’d never, he’s hardly the type for physical violence,” Renly lied.  Loras was exactly the type for physical violence, not that Satin needed to know that.  

“I just really need to get in to see him.  I know we are all hoping this is just a huge misunderstanding.  I know my brother’s name has been thrown out in connection, but you…the Night’s Watch, don’t take sides on politics.  So, this has got to be just Stark stepping out of line.”  Renly was talking in circles, trying to buy time…hoping he’d eventually stumble upon a point that connected with the guard in front of him.  ”But honestly, right now…I don’t care about any of it.  I just want to see Loras and make sure he is okay.  Then I will leave.  I promise…no harm done.  Is there anyway you can do that for me?”  He was practically pleading at this point.  He was so close now.  He’d gotten lucky enough to find an audience with the one potentially sympathetic Night’s Watch member they knew…Loras was just on the other side of the ominous walls…he just could not be turned away right now.  He wouldn’t let it happen.

[oldtownboy-blog]

The man was gracious and polite, and Satin thought he liked him immediately. His handshake was firm and steady, like a practiced professional. Satin had learned to decipher people by their handshakes. Initial impressions were a big part of his career before the Watch.  Renly's was warm and confident. He wasn't surprised, considering who Renly was and what he did for a living. 

His tone was hopeful, and even apologetic.  The earnesty with which he described his husband, and the hopefulness with which he asked to see him, made Satin's stomach drop.  He felt a pang of guilt, despite having nothing to do with Loras Tyrell's actual arrest.  But he knew he was going to be extremely limited in what he could do to help--and he wanted to help. Not just for Garlan's sake, but because so far he felt like this Renly was a pretty decent bloke.  Loras might presently be raising hell, but Satin guessed he'd be pretty pissed off too, if he was being held by the Watch.

But he also feels a surprising touch of defensiveness. "This has got to be just Stark stepping out of line." Jon had always seemed fair, and he'd always been good to Satin.  Fuck, who was he supposed to defend, now? His friends, or his comrades? 

Fuckin' Darkes. Satin cursed the bastard for the umpteenth time since the police had barged into the MP's flat to find Satin in bed with him. All of this shit, Satin was happy to pin back on Alan Darkes. If it weren't for him, he wouldn't be standing outside of this bloody wall right now trying to liaison between his new co-workers and friends-of-friends. 

Renly's request seems pretty harmless, Satin has to admit. Even people in prison got to have visitors, so why not Loras? Satin wasn't even sure if Loras had gotten his proverbial "one phone call" yet. 

The young man reaches up to run his fingers through his hair--he'd never shake the habit, no matter how short they'd cut it. His dark eyes shift to the building behind him and he frowns.  

"I'll be honest--I don't know what Garlan mentioned about me, but I've literally been here a month..." he said, looking back at Renly. "They've been really tetchy about letting anyone see Mr. Tyrell--I haven't even seen him..."

He sighs a little, knowing that's not a good answer, and wanting to be more helpful. But surely they can't argue if Loras' spouse wants to see him for a few minutes, right? He looks back at Renly, as though sizing him up a bit, and then sighs softly. "Let's see who's at the front, maybe I can convince them to let you in." 

He waved to the guard behind the gate, who opened it obediently.  Satin stood aside and allowed Renly to walk through. "Sorry for this whole mess," he said.  He didn't know why he said it.  It wasn't like he knew Loras or Renly, or that he had made the arrest...but he still felt like he should say it. 

[ren-baratheon]

Where, Oh Where, Can My Baby Be? | Satin & Renly | September 9th

Last night had been among the worst in Renly’s life.  It was the first night he’d been away from Loras since their marriage.  Even before that, when things were at their worst, they’d still slept beside each other despite it all.  He had grown accustomed to the warmth of Loras next to him, the slow rhythm of his breathing a soundtrack to his own peaceful sleep.  He hadn’t realized how comforting it was until it was gone.  It had taken him hours to actually fall asleep, his mind to busy running through scenarios, each more awful than the last, of what was happening to Loras.  Once he had grown too exhausted, and his body gave out on him, he would wake with a start every few minutes, uneasy with the cool bed and silence coming from the empty space next to him.

The morning had been even worse.  He woke early, giving up on the idea of getting any real sleep, and was yet again met with an uncomfortable change to his routine.  There was no Loras to whinge on about wanting to stay in bed all day, no Loras to eventually drag out of bed with the promises of kisses and coffee.  The apartment was deadly silent.  It was almost frightening, as if it was a constant reminder of the fact that he was gone.  And therefore was in danger.

He had obeyed Garlan’s (and Jon Stark’s) request to not go to the Nights Watch headquarters yesterday, and he had tried to stay away again today, but his heart would not let him.  He needed to try.  If there was even a tiny chance that he’d get to see Loras, or even see some hope that he was alright, he had to do it.  He couldn’t keep on living with all of these doubts.

After he’d finished his assigned research and contacting everyone he’d agreed to yesterday with Garlan and Margaery, he began packing things for Loras.  He put together a massive bag of his favorite Greek takeaway, grabbed a pillow and extra blanket, a few of his favorite books, a pack of the fancy colored cigarettes he liked so much, and wrote him a short letter promising that they’d be back together soon.  After everything was set, he headed out to Nights Watch headquarters.

The cab ride over was easier than he expected.  Since he’d made the decision to go see Loras he’d found some hope returning to him.  The chance that he’d get to see him brought back some of the life he’d felt leave him when Loras left.  Maybe all that sappy crap about “part of his soul being with his lover” was true…because the closer he got to him, the more whole he felt.

That was until he stepped out of the cab and took in the headquarters of the Nights Watch.  The sight of the looming building brought him right back to feeling hopeless.  It was an ugly building.  Big, square, emotionless.  It was an eyesore, and Renly suddenly hated everything about it.  Including the guards that stood at the front gate.

Shouldering the bag of things for Loras, he gripped his cane tightly, and walked over to the friendlier looking of the two guards.  If it had been any other day, Renly might have even called him attractive.  He considered lying to get himself inside for a brief moment, but he thought better of it.  Jon had been adamant about him not being allowed in, and he was a public figure.  They’d know what he was here for.  

He addressed the guard with a bright smile and a welcoming tone.  Perhaps if he appeared as friendly as possible they would bend the rules (they were already doing so in illegally arresting an innocent man on false charges).  ”Hello, I’m hoping to gain an audience with someone in Nights Watch custody.”

[oldtownboy-blog]

The past twenty-four hours had been abuzz. It wasn't every day that a household name was hauled into the Night's Watch HQ. It would have been significant in itself, but there was the added stress that Loras Tyrell was the brother of one of Satin's few good friends. 

He'd called Garlan immediately, and frankly he'd been shocked that Garlan hadn't come trying to break down the door. But as well as he knew Garlan, Satin didn't know the family dynamic. He had never met Garlan's siblings, had never spent any time with them together as a unit. 

Satin remembered something that Garlan had said when he'd told him he was joining the Night's Watch...something about finding himself in a position where he had to work against his friends.  He didn't know Loras Tyrell, it seemed like Garlan's words were coming true. Loras was in a cell, but Satin felt like he was trapped too, like his hands were tied. 

It wasn't a good feeling. Satin was used to fending for himself. He had no other baggage, no one he ever had to worry about. Just him. And typically it was Garlan worrying about him, not the other way around. 

But Satin had barely been with the Night's Watch a month. It wasn't like he had much sway.  And what did he really want to do, anyways? He didn't know if Loras was guilty or not...it was hard to imagine Garlan's brother as being guilty of assault, just as it was hard to imagine Jon Stark lying. Satin didn't know what to think of the whole shitty mess. 

He was taking his gate shift the following day, and though it was frowned upon he was treating himself to a smoke. Fuck it. What were they going to do, fire him? They were so desperate for recruits and Satin never caused any trouble. 

He still wasn't used to the weight of the gun. The semi-automatic rifle felt heavy and foreign to him, strapped around his neck and shoulders, hanging by his torso. He'd taken to using it as an armrest during his watch shifts outside the wall. The weight of the gun and the vest...he felt clunky. He wondered if he would ever get used to it. 

Satin exhaled a plume of smoke, gazing languidly out at the dull and dreary street, and that's when he saw him.  He was somewhat impressed with himself for recognizing the man, as he didn't exactly keep up with news all that well. But here came another household name, knocking on the Night's Watch's door. 

Satin straightened his frame, planting his weight on both feet.  He knew exactly what Renly Tyrell was here for, though he didn't know what sort of man Renly Tyrell really was. With a flick of his fingers, he disposed of his cigarette and waited for the man to draw near.

When he spoke he was polite. That put Satin at ease, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a slight smile. "You're Renly, aren't you? Er--excuse me, Mr. Tyrell." He felt strange, realizing that he knew who Renly was, but Renly had no idea who he was. He should just stick to formalities. 

Of course he was here for an audience...Satin had no idea if Renly would be permitted to see Loras...but he couldn't repress his desire to help. He shifted the heavy gun to his side, extending a hand.  "I'm Satin. I'm a friend of Garlan's." 

[oldtownboy-blog]

ink-and-cigarettes said: Reply for Renly with Satin? 8D

    THAT'S THE ONE I WAS MISSING xoxox 

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

[He furrows his brow, surprised that Garlan seems to be taking this so well. Typically he’d return the jest, but he’s too anxious at the moment.]

“I thought you’d be breaking down our door by now….He’ll get food and all—as far as I know, the Watch isn’t in the habit of starving their inmates… 

[Satin rubs at his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.]

“Unless the shit gets stirred up here I’ll be off at the usual time.” 

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan had had quite a few large gulps of wine and was more than ready to go back to sleep, more than ready to let himself collapse there on the couch and leave Margaery and Renly to talk to each other in the car. Sleep through the entire ordeal, but his hands were shaking, his body was trembling slightly, and he took another large gulp,

‘While brawn can help it’s not the best thing to do, they’ll only have you lock me up, too.’

He sighed down the phone and sat himself up properly, using his hands to grope blindly for a notebook and pen,

‘Do you know anything specific? The report? When was he supposed to have done something? Where, to who, all that shit? I need you to tell me all you can, if you can. Please.’

[oldtownboy-blog]

[That doesn't do much to vanquish Satin's frown. He can't help but wonder if Garlan was insinuating anything or merely joking. Did he really think Satin would arrest him, if that unlikely situation ever arose? He replies with a heavy dose of sarcasm.]

"Oh, please."

"All I know is that the charge is for assault on a citizen. The name Stannis Baratheon was thrown around, but I dunno...Loras been in any barfights with the Prime Minister lately?"

[He hesitates, noting the sigh he hears crackling over the phone line, and the resignation in his friend's voice. He hesitates for a moment, worrying.]

"You okay, Garlan?" 

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

[Satin chews on the inside of his cheek, feeling the weight of the pause, and the weight in Garlan’s voice.  He doesn’t know what to do, and he’s just really hoping this whole thing is a misunderstanding.]

“You know I’ll do whatever I can, I just don’t know how much that will be. No one’s allowed in to see him right now. I’ll make sure to give him a smoke if I do, though.” 

[He’s silent for a moment, feeling a bit lost. He’s only been with the Watch for roughly a month, and has absolutely no leverage. But Jon has always been good and fair with him, so he’s hoping…]

“Are you coming to the station??”

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan smirked at his question and let himself sink back into the couch, both feet up on the table in front of him, wine sloshing in the glass in his hand, and he shrugged, as if Satin could see him,

‘Maybe later. Why? Do you miss me?’

He gave a little chuckle and took a mouthful, hoping that he would at least be a little tipsy, a little more relaxed, when Renly got there. He was more than ready to jump back on a boat, or a plane, or even in a car, and leave them all to it, leave them to sort out their own stupid messes.

‘I’ll be down later on. Give him some food as well. He might be a dick but just ignore it. I’ll come down to see you later on.’

[oldtownboy-blog]

[He furrows his brow, surprised that Garlan seems to be taking this so well. Typically he'd return the jest, but he's too anxious at the moment.]

"I thought you'd be breaking down our door by now....He'll get food and all--as far as I know, the Watch isn't in the habit of starving their inmates... 

[Satin rubs at his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.]

"Unless the shit gets stirred up here I'll be off at the usual time." 

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[oldtownboy-blog]

“Ah, you heard….”

[Satin isn’t sure if he’s relieved or not. He imagines Garlan and his siblings are probably in a panic, and he can’t blame them. He runs his hand through his hair—still a habit, even though it’s cut short now. Can he really do anything to help? Probably not but he sure wants to try.]

“Well, the charge is for assault…I haven’t talked to him or anything. Does that sound like something he’d get caught up in? Could this just be some shitty misunderstanding?”

[Satin hopes so. He doesn’t know Loras Tyrell personally, but if he’s anything like Garlan, it’s hard to imagine that he’s a violent person.]

[gtyrell-blog]

‘I heard.’

He echoed this, voice flat and seemingly already sick of the whole situation, though he did enjoy being busy he did not enjoy what he was having to do. Olenna would be concerned with how this entire situation made them look, made her company look, and Margaery and Renly concerned with getting Loras out. Either way he was destined to be the bad guy and, quite frankly, after his talk with Renly, he was not against buffing him to the side.

‘Loras is far more likely to aggravate someone else into hitting him. Not actually hit anyone. Probably too worried about bruising his knuckles or something.’

He shrugged his shoulders—he was still thinking on Renly and his attitude, on the swearing, and he narrowed his eyes at the opposite wall—but soon enough he pushed himself to stand and wandered to the cabinet, pouring himself a large glass (bowl) of wine.

‘You still have to do something. At the very least make sure he has cigarettes.’

[oldtownboy-blog]

[Satin chews on the inside of his cheek, feeling the weight of the pause, and the weight in Garlan's voice.  He doesn't know what to do, and he's just really hoping this whole thing is a misunderstanding.]

"You know I'll do whatever I can, I just don't know how much that will be. No one's allowed in to see him right now. I'll make sure to give him a smoke if I do, though." 

[He's silent for a moment, feeling a bit lost. He's only been with the Watch for roughly a month, and has absolutely no leverage. But Jon has always been good and fair with him, so he's hoping...]

"Are you coming to the station??"

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[There’s some commotion at the station when Loras Tyrell is brought in, but in the midst of the gossip Satin finds it easy to duck aside and make a private phone call.  He hastily calls Garlan, heart pounding. Does Garlan already know, or is Satin going to have to break the news to him himself? Either way, he knows he has to call.]

Hey mate, it’s me. Ah, something’s come up… 

[gtyrell-blog]

It was only a matter of time until Satin called, him and his stupid idea of joining the Night’s Watch may, for the first and last time, he gathered, have an advantage. He hadn’t wanted to call him, not right away, anyway, but there he was, being the first to call him—for once—and it would be rude not to answer.

‘Told you they were a bunch of cocks, didn’t I?’

He grumbled down the phone, face practically smashed into the the cushions of his couch,

‘You have to do something.’

[oldtownboy-blog]

"Ah, you heard...."

[Satin isn't sure if he's relieved or not. He imagines Garlan and his siblings are probably in a panic, and he can't blame them. He runs his hand through his hair--still a habit, even though it's cut short now. Can he really do anything to help? Probably not but he sure wants to try.]

"Well, the charge is for assault...I haven't talked to him or anything. Does that sound like something he'd get caught up in? Could this just be some shitty misunderstanding?"

[Satin hopes so. He doesn't know Loras Tyrell personally, but if he's anything like Garlan, it's hard to imagine that he's a violent person.]

[oldtownboy-blog]

✆ → GARLAN TYRELL (8 Sept 2012)

[There's some commotion at the station when Loras Tyrell is brought in, but in the midst of the gossip Satin finds it easy to duck aside and make a private phone call.  He hastily calls Garlan, heart pounding. Does Garlan already know, or is Satin going to have to break the news to him himself? Either way, he knows he has to call.]

Hey mate, it's me. Ah, something's come up... 

[grenn-the-auroch-blog]

Sticks n' stones-I take 'em home on my own [ Grenn & Satin; 28th August ]

[oldtownboy-blog]

He weighed the option of going back on the street tonight to pick up extra cash. He couldn’t work with Chataya’s anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go back to being on his own, so long as the Watch didn’t hear about it. But was it worth the risk? What would happen if he was caught? He was so distracted he nearly walked right into Grenn, catching himself at the last second. “Sorry, sorry,” he said hastily, moving aside to get to his locker. Grenn, like just about everyone else, was senior to him, but he had a pleasant attitude about him.  He wasn’t like Thorne, or some of the others. 

Satin flicked at the numbers of his padlock, glancing at Grenn once more. “Heading home?” he said, just to be friendly and ensure he hadn’t irritated his fellow Watchman by bumping into him. 

[grenn-the-auroch-blog]

He was turning on his heel when he bumped into Satin. Satin. What as strange name for a guy, he thought, when he first introduced himself. It got a couple of sniggers too, but that didn’t matter now. At least it was something to call someone by, and Satin didn’t look like he was terribly upset about his name either, so that’s good. The only thing he seemed to be upset about was his hair. They had cut it short when he arrived and he never did seem to like his new look. Grenn didn’t understand though, it was just hair after all, and it wasn’t like a shave or buzz cut or anything. ” It’s allright, mate,” He said, flashing him a smile and stepping out of the way to allow him past, ” And yeah, i am,” ” I thought everyone’s gone home already,” He turned to look over his shoulder, ” Why’d you hang back?” He remembered how Satin was at the yard this afternoon. He wasn’t the best, but not exactly the worst either. He managed to get things pretty quickly, but he was just too … flimsy. He backed down too easily and he didn’t hit as hard, but he could be stronger and tougher, and that was the whole point of training wasn’t it? Soon enough Satin will be strong, of that he was sure. ” Hey- Uh,” He ran his hand through his hair, messing it, ” You know, if you need any extra help with anything, i’m here okay?”

[oldtownboy-blog]

Satin jerked his locker open, snorting out a breath. "Thorne roped me into cleaning some office," he said.  Thorne didn't need a reason to dish out extra work, and he seemed to resent all of the new recruits equally.  Well, except Sam. He seemed to be making it his life's mission to torment Sam. And if he hated Sam, he hated Jon at least that much.  It had taken Satin about three seconds to realize this, and to come to the decision that he did not like Alliser Thorne. He was also quite positive that Thorne had read the article that had damned Satin to be here. Something about the sneering, lingering gaze he directed at the boy, a hawkish, disapproving stare.... 

For that very reason, Satin had aimed for mediocrity in the training yard. He wanted to be competent, but he was avoiding the attention that came with being either abysmally useless or recognizably talented. Right down the middle, that's where he wanted to be. It kept everyone off his back.  He was a quick learner, though, and he was committing all the information to memory, his instincts honing in on this new trade...but he was doing his best to go unnoticed. 

Grenn's offer made him pause, looking back at the more seasoned young man. He hadn't expected the gesture, and it was welcome to hear some kind words.  Satin felt so painfully out of his element here, surrounded by people who knew nothing about him, who couldn't possibly relate to him. He was drowning in a crowd, but completely alone. 

"Thanks, mate," he said with a little smile. "Really, I appreciate it. I just don't think combat is going to be my forte." He plucked his bag from his locker and shut it with a clang. 

[grenn-the-auroch-blog]

Sticks n' stones-I take 'em home on my own [ Grenn & Satin; 28th August ]

He clapped his hands ridding them of the crumbs before making his way across the dining area and into the locker room. That too was empty, and he thought that everyone must be very tired after the training session. The Old Bear has been doubling training since the bombings and that riot that killed the Prime Minister. Things have settled down since then though, but that was because of the military law. ( Or was it called martial law? ) The nights have been long too. They were sent out to patrol London and make sure everyone was inside during curfew and to make sure no one got the chance to set up another bomb or kill anyone else. He supposed that the extra training was good. It was to protect themselves and other people after all, and these people were very dangerous. They can’t take any risks. He found it strange though, and a bit frustrating, that no one seems to know who did the bombings. He pulled his locker door open and grabbed his bag, shouldering it. In some ways, it’s scary. These people were still out there, and who knows…

[oldtownboy-blog]

It had been eighteen days since Satin had signed his name to the sheet of paper that now ran his life.  Eighteen days since he had left behind everything he'd known, left the lifestyle he had learned from the time he was born. To call it an "adjustment" was an understatement. 

He'd never had a structured life.  Even his school days had been short-lived, serving the minimum required years before liberating himself from the regiment and responsibility. He had lived where he wanted, worked when he wanted, and he'd only answered to his managers, when he saw fit to sign with one. He'd had the money and the liberty and the time, all to himself. 

But that was before that fucking article was published. How much money had he made off of Alan Darkes over the years--had it been worth losing his lifestyle over? Probably not. There was always another Alan Darkes, willing to pay, and probably less inclined to become an enemy of the state. Now Satin's daily routine was regimented almost to the minute. He did what he was told, he answered to just about everyone here, since just about everyone outranked him. 

The worst was the classroom time.  Lectures to engrain the Law into their heads, to make them experts in what their own range of power was.  Satin felt like he was a boy again, wasting away in school, barely able to make himself focus. The hours ticked by so slowly he was sure the clocks had gone backwards. 

At least in the yard he could make himself unnoticed.  He was good at that, if he wanted.  And he hadn't run into much trouble yet.  A few looks, from those that read the Daily Mail...but Satin knew how to fly under the radar, and he knew how to keep from pissing people off. There were a hundred people around him constantly.  The lectures kept talking up a good game about the Night's Watch being a fraternity of brotherhood, about being like a family.  It wasn't sticking yet, though. Satin had been alone for most of his life, but he had never felt more lonely than he had these past eighteen days. 

The end of another day had him eager to return to his flat...which he was now thinking he'd have to break the lease on, since seeing his first paycheck from the Watch. That was another adjustment...getting a bank account and a credit card...he'd almost always gotten paid in cash before.  Worrying about his flat left him in an agitated state, and he was glad to finally make it to the locker rooms to grab his shit and get out of there. 

Satin reached up to run his fingers through his hair, forgetting for a moment how short it was now. That agitated him more and he threw his hand back down, furrowing his brow. His hair had always been one of his defining features, one of his assets, part of the whole packaged look he utilized to get clients. One of the first things the Watch had done since he signed that paper was to cut it. If he was honest, he thought it looked all right, but he was so unused to it that it made him self-conscious. Like Samson, he'd thought wryly. He wondered what the girls at Madam Catherine's would say if they saw him now, with his beautiful hair gone. That was his namesake from them, and they'd doted on him so. 

He weighed the option of going back on the street tonight to pick up extra cash. He couldn't work with Chataya's anymore, but that didn't mean he couldn't go back to being on his own, so long as the Watch didn't hear about it. But was it worth the risk? What would happen if he was caught? He was so distracted he nearly walked right into Grenn, catching himself at the last second. "Sorry, sorry," he said hastily, moving aside to get to his locker. Grenn, like just about everyone else, was senior to him, but he had a pleasant attitude about him.  He wasn't like Thorne, or some of the others. 

Satin flicked at the numbers of his padlock, glancing at Grenn once more. "Heading home?" he said, just to be friendly and ensure he hadn't irritated his fellow Watchman by bumping into him. 

[oldtownboy-blog]

when I lose my head, I lose my spine | (Satin & Garlan Tyrell) (August)

[oldtownboy-blog]

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. You’re smarter than you look,” he teased with a smile.  ”It sounds like a pretty cool gig. Always interesting, at least.”  News was always changing and media was fickle. No doubt, Garlan was being kept on his toes. 

He furrowed his brow when Garlan spoke again though.  He hadn’t though about anything like that…the Night’s Watch was his lighthouse right now, a sanctuary, a shield.  His eyebrows quirked in a skeptical expression and he looked back at Garlan.  ”Why, you’re not planning on starting any riots, are you?” he joked.  Why should he be worried about something like that? He didn’t have many attachments to be worried about, anyways. He could hardly see Garlan doing something as downright stupid as getting arrested by the Night’s Watch. 

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan licked his lips and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. It was difficult, really, for him to think or say anything he pleased, his mind always reeling with the ingrained knowledge that there was always concequences, and so, for now, he shook his head as a no to the man’s question,

‘Nah, don’t plan on it anytime soon, at least, maybe by the time I start a riot you’ll be high up enough to have them, all of your minions, of course, let me go.’

He would have loves to have started a riot, he would have loved to take to the streets and cause trouble, but he couldn’t, even the thought of it, the mere idea of the chaos, made his head ache just a little bit. He’d seen enough of rioting, soldiers, tanks and wars in general to last him a lifetime, he did not need to see it here—though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. He could almost see the bodies littering the ground, and at his own hand, piles of them, unclaimed and burned, the stench of burning flesh. He had to stop himself, look at the beautiful boy next to him, and smile, pushing the thoughts aside.

‘Are you trying to say that I don’t look smart, Satin? I mean, you don’t need to be jealous that I was born with a lovely head of blonde hair, but you should know that it means little to your intelligence.’

He gave a small wink and took another mouthful of the beer, already nearly done with it, mouthful after mouthful and only a large lunch, and a couple of snacks—not nearly enough—sitting in his stomach.

[oldtownboy-blog]

Satin laughed through his nose, shaking his head.  No, that wasn't his way.  He wasn't made to rise through militarized ranks and lead troops into battle.  He was made for the undercurrent, the quiet support. He didn't want the attention and he didn't want the glory.

But Garlan, on the other hand...he was the leadership type. That was brazenly apparent simply from his previous line of work.  It was straight-forward, honest...Garlan's style. He had put himself on the frontline, put his life down for his country. It was a respectable quality, the sort of heavy thing that Satin never thought too much about because it seemed too big. He'd rather not get into the sentimentality, the admiration and awe of a person who was willing and able to do such a thing when so many others just didn't have it in them.  Like Satin...did he really have it in him? The Night's Watch?

He smirked at his friend teasingly. "Some people were born with brains, some with beauty, mate. And some of us lucky bastards get both," he joked, puffing up his chest in an exaggeration of the boast. He finished off his second beer, carefully setting the glass aside.  "But really, I'm sure they'll just have me pushing papers. Someone's gotta do it." Nice and safe. Sit there, look pretty.  He could do that. He wasn't concerned with what the Watch would get out of him as much as what he was going to get out of the Watch. Safety. Immunity. Even Garlan should like that aspect of it. 

[gtyrell-blog]

Tea. || Satin and Garlan || January 7th 2011

[oldtownboy-blog]

Satin raised his eyebrows.  So Garlan must be a soldier, or work for the military in some aspect…Satin would put his money on soldier, though, considering the way this guy was built.  ”Shit.  London must be a bit of an adjustment, then.” He could hardly think of two more opposing worlds—this great capitol of the Western world, and that cesspool of violence in the desert. That was the kind of job Satin knew he wasn’t cut out for. He’d take a sleezy client over an armed radical any day.  

Satin glanced at his watch to note the time. It was getting a bit late, and he thought that his own bed was starting to sound nice. “Yeah sure, let’s head out.” He smirked a little at the tea, whose one virtue had been warmth, and decided to just toss what remained of it. He stuffed his into his pockets and strolled out of the cafe (much to the relief of the baristas, who locked the doors right behind them). They didn’t have to walk far to spot a cab—London was good about that sort of thing. Satin hailed it and waited for the black car to skulk up to the curb, then he ducked inside and quickly slid over to the far side to let Garlan in. 

[gtyrell-blog]

Garlan leaned up to the window of the car as it pulled up, telling the driver they would have to make a stop before continuing on and, after a wave of agreement from him, he shuffled inside after Satin. He had to duck to get in and he had to sit somewhat diagonally to be properly comfortable in stretching his legs out, but once he was alright the car pulled away and he looked to Satin. He was beautiful, there was no denying it, and Garlan, despite his general lack of sexuality, could see that as well as anybody else could. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had anybody share his bed, and he was quite happy for it, quite alright to live without the complications that sex brought to a relationship,

‘So where is it that you live then? Where shall I drop you off?’

He, at times, wondered if any of this was ever worth the trouble, Garlan was a nice man, a decent fellow who hardly thought about anything other than enjoying himself and being sure that others did, too, and soon enough he would be thinking about working, holiday, all sorts, but always, at the end of the day, making people happy. They never cared, though, people loved being miserable.

‘I live over in St. John’s Wood, I’ll assume you live closer to central?’

[oldtownboy-blog]

Garlan slid into the seat beside him and then the cab was off, cruising smoothly through the quieting streets of London. Satin briefly scanned their surroundings as they passed, noting the straggling cars and straggling pedestrians, once again noting that perhaps he'd inadvertently taken a good night off anyways.  Tomorrow night, maybe, he'd make some money. In the meantime, he was meaning to dig through the couple of boxes in his hotel room and find his coat--then it was off to hunt for a flat. 

Garlan's voice brought his attention back, and he glanced over at his new companion. "Oh right, I'm at the Mandeville--" he broke off to lean forward, smiling at the driver and asking him to stop at Mandeville Place first. Then he leaned back and noted, "So sort of on the way. I'm hoping to just go ahead and sign for a flat tomorrow." 

He'd saved up a nice cushion of funds to allow himself the expenses of travel, and the cost of a hotel while he sought for a suitable place to live.  That was the nice thing about his business--it was always in business. Big money came in, and even if he blew it all in a few nights, it didn't take very long to replenish his bank account. Money came back in just as fast.  Sure, he'd gone through some spells where he couldn't land the real work, the sort of customer base that he could feasibly charge outrageous amounts of money for his services.  But he always scraped by and he could always work things out. 

"How long have you been over at St. John's, then?" he asked curiously. "Do you like it?"  Maybe it would be a good place to begin tomorrow's search.  He hadn't looked on that side of the city yet, and he wasn't entirely settled on what he was looking for.  He had a strange feeling that he was going to be in London for quite some time now, and after a few years of drifting like some vagabond, it felt strange to have to make a decision on a home. It didn't help that his price point could be anywhere from a few hundred a month to a few thousand. 

[bloodandglory-caps]

[samtheslayer-nw-blog]

I got soul but I'm not a soldier || Samwell & Nights Watch || August 10th

[samtheslayer-nw-blog]

The worry painted itself on his face as his eye was caught by the man clearly signing the few new recruits in. He was everything that Sam wasn’t, he was tall and muscular his head crowned with a head of dark curls. His features were serious as he asked questions of the men before him. Sam dropped his bag and looked across at Satin, “Suppose we’re in the right place.” His attempt at a smile coming out as a grimace.

[jonstarksnow]

“I’m Jon St—“ He stopped. He had stopped introducing himself as a Stark since Robb’s apparent treason, because the name was just another reason he would be left outside, looking in. Not Stark enough to have the prestige, but just Stark enough to carry the disgrace.

He wondered if Robb knew what he would be doing to Jon when he had Dacey Mormont land the plane in Scotland.

He wondered if he cared.

“I’m Jon,” he said. That would do for now, new recruits tended to be too terrified to ask any questions. “I’ve been given the dubious honor of welcoming you to our little band of brothers. We’d honestly thought there’d be more of you.”

As the men stared at him, Jon silently wondered when I had become we.

[oldtownboy-blog]

His new acquaintance spotted the recruiting office and pointed.  "Ah, right" said Satin, moving forward once more.  He didn't speak as they entered the office, but he immediately felt comforted by the fact that he had some sort of companion now, someone who was just as new as he was, just as clueless, and at least as scared.  Satin had gone into hundreds of unfamiliar situations alone, with unfamiliar people. But for some reason this made him more uncomfortable than any client. 

Satin felt profoundly out-of-place now that they were submerged amongst seasoned Night's Watch officers. They were stern men, clean-cut, moving with sureness and authority. Satin felt small and slight in their presence.  He wondered, not for the first time, if they were going to make him cut his hair--his namesake, really. One hand went subconsciously to push some of his long, dark brown hair from his eyes.  His hair had always been a part of his image, of the "look" he used to work with, to attract clients. It was pretty hair that fell in his face boyishly. His female clients loved it. He tried to imagine himself with a buzz-cut, but couldn't decide how that might look. 

"Looks like the spot," Satin replied to Sam, his eyes falling on the recruiter as the man in front of them stepped aside.  Feeling somewhat aimless, he found his feet carrying him towards the desk. The young man turned his attention to them and Satin simply nodded in response to his question. What else could he say? Did they need his name, was there a list they had to check into?

He noted with curiosity the hesitation in the introduction of the young man named Jon.  Satin noticed subtleties...he wouldn't have been good at his job otherwise. Normally he would have been more interested in the reason for his correction, but that wasn't his job anymore. Besides, he was too preoccupied with the issue at hand. 

The Night's Watch still wasn't getting the rallying of troops it was hoping for. Apparently national service was far from the minds of Englishmen at the moment. Satin couldn't blame them--he wasn't exactly there because of some overwhelming sense of duty and pride in his city. 

"Do we need to sign in, or...?"  Satin felt disappointingly lacking in his usual charm. Maybe it was the profound lack of charm about this place and the course his life was about to take. 

Aw c'mon, he told himself. At least the Night's Watch had some meaning, some substance...maybe it would suit him better than he feared. So he tried to open up his expression, appear more attentive.