maskormenace

[ Video starts off with the image of the saddest looking, middle-aged man you can ever think of. He's already beginning to bald, and his beard is a thin, sad thing. Over all, he looks like a man who had seen some things.

He's also holding the camera upside down. ]

Is this how it works?

[ Someone off camera said, "Yeah, you had it turned on, so you can say anything now."

The man coughed. ]

'ullo. I'm Eddison Tollett. I'm from Westeros.

[ The other voice added, "hey, if you make mentions of your job from home . . . " and it became fainter, but the man named Edd seemed to understand his directions. He nodded in the way that one is still confused but managed to follow some of the logic. ]

Hash tag Night's Watch.

[ There's a pause. He looks up beyond the camera, confused. ]

So that makes it easier to find?

[ "No, you have to type it." Edd now looks a annoyed in a morose tone. ]

How in the seven hells do you people write anything with these tiny things? I can barely pick the fleas off my coat, never mind make tiny letters with tiny words.

[ The messages here are smaller than the scrolls on ravens, and that's something. ]

How do I type it?

[ The anonymous helper told him to press the button to end the recording. Instead, poor Edd sent it to the network instead. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ah, that's a shame. But you've worked out the video; that's very important.

[Or at least it is according to Alfie's very biased opinion; he prefers videochatting most of the time, because it most resembles a face-to-face conversation.]

Yeah, you don't have to use the text at all, if you don't like it.

I don't like it. I don't have talent with words like others might.

[ So video it is. ]

Oh, we're not all wordsmiths here, mate. Unless what you mean is that you can't read...?

I know how to read. Doesn't mean I make it a hobby.

Well, you're in luck; the audio and the video are very common here. And can you believe the quality of the picture? It's as if we're right in front of each other.

I don't know what to feel of talking to a man who is mayhaps a thousand leagues away.

Haven't even got telephones where you're from, then?

What's a telephone? We have ravens that send our messages.

Ravens? Fucking hell, you are from the past, aren't you. Haven't you got some sort of postal service that isn't run by fucking birds?

No, the ravens are managed by the maesters.

Mm, and Westeros isn't on the planet Earth, yeah?

I have no idea what you just talked about there.

That'll be the answer, then.

Earth is where most of us are from. Now, there are different versions of Earth, of course; what they call alternate universes. Me, I'm from this world's past.

[If he seems overly blasé about it, it's only because he's been here for over a year.]

Westeros is Westeros. Go east and you'll land on Essos. Is there any of that where you are from?

[ Edd is starting to get a headache from all this. ]

No, not at all. But you've got others from that world; you're not on your own.

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