aryaunderfoot | 1st Winter [Action]

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1st Winter [Action]

[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!]]

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["Lady" stings her enough to start to protest before the fact that this man just walked through a wall fully registers.]

I am not a la--

[Wait, wait, wait, back up. He was in the stall, and now he is not. And the door never opened.

And there is nothing that can walk through a solid door that Old Nan ever told a story about, or that even the kindly man ever spoke of, that is entirely friendly. The girl backs up a step, cautious, but not running. Watching for another move. Fear cuts deeper than swords.]

Edited 2013-03-05 22:44 (UTC)

My mother raised me to be polite. Thus unless you'd like to try to convince me that you're a boy, you're a lady.

[He tilts his head, a quick, curious movement.] And the young lady's name is...?

[Eyeing him with no small amount of suspicion, the girl chooses the most recent name she's worn.]

Cat. Cat of the Canals, from Braavos.

[Fear cuts deeper than swords. She straightens up again, defiant.]

And I'm not a lady. Ladies live in castles and sew. I'm just a girl.

[He gives her a look that seems to say you're not fooling me, but continues on.] Lady Cat, then.

I was dear friends with a lady who could beat me in wrestling and was a fearsome hand with a sword. She couldn't sew worth a toss.

[He considers a moment, then holds one hand up, an illusion of Sif in miniature, in full armor, riding her horse, appearing.]

[This illusion piques Cat's interest keenly. The woman seems like everything she wants to be: swordswoman, an excellent rider, powerful.

Which just means this must all be some kind of spell he's trying to trick her with. She looks up from the illusion to frown at Loki suspiciously.]

What kind of trick is this?

This is a simple illusion. [He shrugs, hand dropping back to his side. The illusion remains where it's at, hanging in the air.]

And that is the Lady Sif, one of the greatest warriors of the Aesir.

[Oh, how she wants to believe in this great warrior woman. She might even have been able to stand equal with Queen Nymeria. But Cat is still suspicious that this is a trick.]

I've never heard of Aesir.

And I've never heard of Braavos. Though I suppose that could be because I haven't bothered with Midgard in quite some time.

[He dismisses the illusion with a flick of his fingers.]

Though you'll find that here, people are from a myriad of different universes, and different realms within those universes. The Aesir come from a realm called Asgard. [He smiles crookedly.] The realm eternal.

[So much of that just flew over the top of her head that she's not sure she wants to bother trying to unravel it. Different realms she can grasp, though. And she's traveled enough to know how huge the world really is, so that could explain a lot.

Except for that one snag.]

How is it supposed to be eternal? Nothing lasts forever.

[Winter always comes.]

Nothing ever changes in Asgard. [Loki shrugs.] 'Tis quite boring, really. And the Aesir are immortal.

[A wry tilt to his lips.] Though that is not the same as invulnerable.

[Valar morghulis.]

Even the dragons could die.

Anything can. Some day, even the universe shall cease.

Anyone with half a grain of sense knows that. It can't stay summer forever.

[This is a girl who isn't fazed by mortality all that much anymore.]

Nay, but summer also has a way of coming back in the fullness of time.

But there's no such thing as an endless summer.

[No matter how much some people believe that such a thing can happen.]

That depends upon the world from which you come. But if there are seasons at all, they do not last eternally.

There are seasons where I come from. They're long, but they're not eternal.

[It's been summer almost her entire life. Autumn barely just started.]

How long is long?

The seasons on Midgard are, I believe, about three months long each.

In Asgard, it is always summer.

[Three months? How is anyone supposed to get enough crops grown?]

It depends. Sometimes, they're short like that, but we just had a summer almost fifteen years long. Winters can go a lot longer than that. There have been entire years without sunlight in the winter.

[At least, there have been if Old Nan's stories can be believed. The woman was old enough to have probably seen them herself.]

How very eccentric.

[Hm, that must be difficult for the mortals to survive. Interesting, that.]

There is another realm I know, called Jotunheim. 'Tis always winter there. And it's populated with monsters called frost giants.

[Small frown.]

They say we have giants living out past the Wall. Them, and mammoths.

[And the Others. But she's not sure she buys into that part.]

The frost giants rather like killing humans. They'd been all set to take over Midgard before the Aesir stepped in, I've been told. [He smiles sardonically.] I was a bit too young at the time to remember.

But I should say, for all you look like a mortal, you're most definitely not from the Midgard I know.

[From what she hears, the giants in the far North like killing humans too, although they'll sometimes side with wildlings. Who would conquer the kingdom were it not for the Wall. Some things are familiar, at least. Even if she's not sure if Midgard is supposed to be a country or what, but she'll go on the assumption that it is.]

Of course not. I'm from Westeros.

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complicatedliar - 2013-03-06 21:02 (UTC) - Expand

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aryaunderfoot - 2013-03-06 21:06 (UTC) - Expand

Ah. When I say realm, I mean the world as a whole. The planet and its home dimension.

[That makes her pause for a moment to think.]

I don't know if there's a name for it. I've never heard any maesters mention it.