She is a beautiful woman.
That is Sansa's first thought of Kayama Nemuri.
She is reminded of the North.
Like so many things in this new life. Sansa speculates that the universe, vast as it is, has constants, and repetitions of patterns. It is what makes her new life both so strange, and so familiar. Oh, Kayama-san is not quite like the features of her old homeland, but there is a similarity. The pale skin, the long, dark hair pulled back in a loose tail, soft blue eyes that smolder, the full pout. Not Tully blue, they are not quite like that, lighter, but it brings comfort to see eyes similar to her own. Like To-san's eyes reminding her of Ser Jaime.
She thinks of Jon Snow this time, the same stunning beauty of stern Northern features mixed with the breathtaking features of Valeriya when she looks at her face. It is that breathless, her brother, in his adulthood, having been one of the prettiest people she had ever known.
This woman is probably one of the most beautiful she has seen in this life.
The woman is dressed casually, the most casually she has seen anyone but Ser Eraserhead, a loose purple sweat-shirt, dark stockings that cling to every curve of her legs, and floppy house flippers of the brightest pink. The most luxurious thing she wears is an expensive pair of eyeglasses, perched carelessly on her elegant eyes. Sansa has struggled with women of her beauty before. It is what makes her wary when she comes to see this stranger in her home, sitting on her chaise, sipping at tea prepared by her To-san.
It is because women of beauty find competition in others like them. That is what she learned with Cersei, with her withered Aunt, with Daenerys. A folly, that she had felt tiring and a result of a society that borne them. She cannot help but wonder if this world is the same.
All of those thoughts fades when the woman looks at her.
She smiles.
It is a slow, curling smile, softening her natural sensual beauty into something warm and gentle.
"Hey there, Sansa-Joō," she extends a hand, ever so carefully, "My name's Nemuri."
"Well met, Lady Nemuri," she says in return.
Hesitantly, she takes the woman's hand. It is calloused. Like Ser Brienne. Like Arya's hand. Taking her hand makes that soft smile turns into a beam.
"None of that. I'm Nemuri-Oba, or nothing at all, got it Joō-sama?"
Sansa gives a careful nod. She was a sister at arms with her fathers. They have mentioned more then once in passing. She had been dreading this meeting.
Women of beauty are ever rarely, if ever, kind to her without reason.
"Yes, Nemuri-Oba."
The woman smiles, blue eyes glittering with happiness. Sansa waits. For the jealousy. The displeasure of taking the attention of the men she loved.
"I went to UA with Shota and Hizashi. They are my closest friends, my brothers. It is good to meet their daughter. You've made them very happy, Sansa-Joō."
Her heart flutters despite herself. Waits again for jealousy. Cannot find it.
Yet, a voice whispers, Baleish and Cersei together.
"They have made me very glad as well. I had forgotten how love felt until Ser To-san saved me."
The woman breathes. Gently, she beckoned Sansa closer. Sansa comes closer, step by step. She smells of flowers, sweet, but with a hint of musk that is lulling and human. With Sansa's small nod, she brings her into her lap. She is soft, yet muscled. A warrior and woman all in the same. She too must be a hero if she had gone to school with her fathers.
"And we will make sure you never forget it," her voice is fierce.
Like a She-Wolf.
Sansa realizes her pack has grown yet again. She breathes in the scent of rich flowers and musk.
"Thank you, Nemuri-Oba."
She will trust this woman for that alone.
But, she cannot help the wariness in her either.
AN:
HOLY INTERNALIZED MISOGYNY BATMAN.
Yeah. Figures that need to be addressed. Sansa, love the girl, but she is a product of the society she lived in… And she's gonna have it. I can't avoid it. Give it a bit before Nemuri and Chiyo guide her to the light.