1st Winter [Action]

[aryaunderfoot]

[Early this morning, somewhere deep in the woods, there is a wolf howling.

It's a long, mournful howl, and the wolf doesn't seem to want to stop. Occasionally, she'll pause for breath, and then throw her head back again after a moment's rest. This place isn't right. Her cousins aren't here, the smaller ones of her pack. The air is too warm, too full of the smells of spring. And the more she searches, the more she howls, trying to get some sort of answer out of these unfamiliar trees.

Around mid-morning, the crumpled form of a small girl can be found on the path leading from the village to the Battle Dome. She's not hurt, just very much asleep (and scrunching up her face with each wolf howl) and very much covered in grime (and smelling faintly of fish cart). And there's also the fact that she's in a New Feather dress. As the howling reaches a higher pitch, she awakes with a start, freezes, and tries to figure out what this place is. There's a chill in the air, yes, but it isn't winter building up to full strength. It can't be the Summer Islands, and it most definitely isn't Braavos. This place...

...is less concerning than the fact that there is a journal right next to her with "Arya Stark" printed right on it. She gives it an incredulous look for a moment before deciding that this must be a test of some kind. The kindly man must be behind it. With a shake of the head, the girl stands, pushes the journal with a foot until it's tucked out of sight under a nearby bush, and then turns back to the task at hand.

And tries to ignore the mournful howling that is practically tugging her in its direction. That's not something she needs to worry about. That was Arya Stark. Not her. She's nobody.]

[With so many things glaringly wrong with this place, she figures it's time to try scoping it out. The girl very cautiously approaches the village, keeping to the trees for cover until she's sure there aren't any Lannister banners flying anywhere. When there aren't any, it isn't much consolation; the buildings are huge, and the architecture isn't anything she's ever seen before. This place may not be full of lions, but it's not exactly a safe zone, either. She's not even sure what it is.

Eventually, she finds her way into town, going around to see what exactly there is to see here. She doubts she'll spot any familiar faces, but she still makes her way through all the shops in the main square, trying to get some kind of sense of what kind of town this is. The smith shop is familiar, the fashions in the clothing shop completely outlandish, the foods in the indoor marketplace entirely alien.

And she is so, so very lost. As she makes her way through town, the old phrase starts repeating in the back of her mind: Fear cuts deeper than swords. She can do this. She has to do this.

Towards nightfall, after much exploration and poking around, the girl makes her way back to the stables she passed by at some point. The horses are horses. That much is familiar, at least. This much she can understand completely. And the familiar, earthy, horsey smells are something of a comfort when you're trying to wrap your head around what in the world happened to bring you to a place such as this.]

[[ooc: Feel free to run into her at any point!]]

Comments

[snikting]

Well, we've already got each other figured out. How 'bout that.

[He isn't going to hassle her about the dress though. If she's content to stand around in the cold like that, far be it for him to argue. He's done stupider.]

[aryaunderfoot]

[She won't be cold long, if she's got this tinderbox-lighter-thing. It would be really easy to slip off into the woods and get a campfire going. She turns the lighter over in her hand again, somewhat reassured by that thought.]

I guess so.

[Except that she's sure neither of them has barely even scraped the surface, but she's also perfectly comfortable with that. She nods in the direction of the grocery store behind him.]

How much would bread cost in there?

[She doesn't have any money on her, but she knows she can steal bread easily enough. Not like she hasn't done that before.]

[snikting]

Nothing. Everything's free. Kind of a contrast to our current state.

[It's like being in a prison. The wardens provide you with a daily meal that you don't have to work for, but it comes at the cost of any personal freedom.]

[aryaunderfoot]

[How. Does that even work.]

...All of it? Don't the farmers and fishmongers complain?

[snikting]

There ain't any. The jailers keep it stocked.

[Hence why the farmlands rarely get tended to.]

[aryaunderfoot]

[Absently, she bites her lip as that sinks in.]

And nobody ever sees them?

[Somebody mentioned that before. How do they keep it stocked if they're never here?]

[snikting]

They operate from outside the barrier. That way we can't get at 'em.

[Granted, that's not the case on missions and drafts. He had plenty of opportunities to kill Mallies then.]

[aryaunderfoot]

What barrier?

[Her tone becomes a little more sullen. Don't tell her it's time to be a mouse again.]

[snikting]

About a hundred miles off. Invisible. You'll know it when you bust your nose on it.

[Which may or may not have happened to him...]

[aryaunderfoot]

Invisible? [Gods, does anything here work like it did back in her world?] So there's no way of knowing how high it is, is there.

[snikting]

It's a dome. Goes all the way 'round to the top.

[So, no point in climbing. He takes another drag from his cigar.]

[aryaunderfoot]

[Her shoulders slump a bit and she absently bites her lip again. No way over it, then. But maybe there's a way under? It's something to think about.]

And it goes all the way around this place, doesn't it.

[Sort of like how the Wall closes off everything to the north.]

[snikting]

There ain't any way out of it unless the Mallies take us out first.

[So he's here. Smoking a cigar. Waiting.]

[aryaunderfoot]

[So they're not much better than mice in a cage. The girl scowls. She hates just sitting here, but this man who can pop knifelike claws out of his hands doesn't seem like he would just be sitting around if there were much chance of getting out right now.]

"Mallies"? I thought it was "Malnosso."

[She's got to have the name right to add to the prayer.]

[snikting]

It's shorthand. Think of it as being nice and derogatory to the bastards keeping us here.

[So. Mallies. He could probably come with with worse, but this works for now.]

[aryaunderfoot]

["Bastards" isn't exactly a derogatory term in her head. Some of her favorite people are bastards. But she'll let that slide because she knows what he means.]

With a bunch of camel cocks like them, I'd think someone would have come up with something better than "Mallies."

[snikting]

[He raises an eyebrow at the insult. He's impressed.]

I gotta tone it down on account of the kids back home.

[aryaunderfoot]

[She can't help but crack a small grin at that.]

You don't have to tone it down around me. They say a lot worse on the canals where I come from.

[snikting]

Now that wouldn't be very responsible of me, would it?

[But he may indulge her a bit. Eventually.]

[aryaunderfoot]

[Indifferent shrug.]

It's not as bad as whoring and gambling.

[cough brotherhood without banners cough.]

[snikting]

Yeah, tryin' to cut back on that.

[Not that he really did either much to begin with. But you know, he's got a reputation as a horrible person to uphold.]

[aryaunderfoot]

[Another appraising look. Okay, gambling she could maybe see. Whoring doesn't seem to fit, but then again, that can be hard to tell.]

It must not be too hard. I haven't seen a single brothel since I got here.

[snikting]

Seems like people ain't much interested in whoring themselves out when they can't get paid for it.

[He's not disappointed by this, though. The Malnosso do more than enough pimping to make up for it.]

[aryaunderfoot]

I guess you're right. There isn't much point in a place like this.

[It's still going to take getting used to, though. The whores were some of her best customers when she was selling seafood in Braavos. Nice people, too.]

[snikting]

First day and you've got it all figured out. Not bad for a half grown sprout.

[It's almost as though he was approving of her.]