To: everyone (a few days after all arrivals)

[northerndragon]

[Jon writes in a very fine hand, but to many, it will seem archaic.]

I would like to speak on duty, if you will.

What does duty mean to you, if it means anything at all?
How do you know what your duty is?
How do you know when you have done it, or failed to do it?

If it doesn't matter to you, why doesn't it matter?
If it does, why then?

I seek to learn from my fellows.

— Jon Snow, of Thorne

Comments

[tobeclosetohim]

[ Jo stares at that collection a long second, and then writes a single line back. ]

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕥𝕠𝕠.

[northerndragon]

So it is.

My duty is to my home, my family, my people. It is also to have a care for those who cannot help or defend themselves — to protect and aid them however I can.

I was raised to it. Not everyone is, and I cannot pretend to know anything about the lives of people from other lands unless they have told me, or I have seen it.

[tobeclosetohim]

[ Jo knows enough to know this question could be taken wrong, but maybe that's part of the asking it, too. Unhedged response, where implications already lay long in blood-dried roads and burned-down fields. ]

𝔻𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕦𝕥𝕪 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨?

[northerndragon]

[The question he was hoping wouldn't come up, although he knew it might, if he asked. It's the question he's trying to figure out the answer to.]

Where are you? Do you count your duty to the people there? If you do, why?

[tobeclosetohim]

[ Jo is incredibly good at that. There are several people from three or four years ago, that last time she was surrounded by people regularly, who would not be surprised in the slightest Jo Harvelle hit the heart of it in two, without trying to. It's who she is. How she approaches things. ]

ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕖. [ Cheeky, even when she can be unapologetically canny. ]

𝔸𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤, 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪, 𝕠𝕣 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖?