aryaunderfoot | 3rd Winter [Action/Video]

[Another wave of incoming New Feathers is slowing down, and again there aren't any familiar faces added to the village. Arya hadn't realized just how much her hopes had gotten up until she was suddenly aware of how much it ached that she hadn't seen her father walking through town, or heard Jon's voice. Even stupid old Gendry or Hot Pie would've been a relief. As it is, she's frustrated and hurting, once again thwarted by a bunch of people who would rather make Spock's hands not work than bring her father back for her. Maybe Thoros said he couldn't bring back someone without a head, but the Malnosso can.

But they won't. Of course they won't. And she's stupid to think they would.]

[Early morning finds Arya out at the barracks, viciously attacking straw dummies with Needle. With each strike, she goes through her list aloud: Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Ser Gregor. Dunsen and Raff the Sweetling. Queen Cersei. The Malnosso, the Malnosso, the Malnosso. By mid-morning, she's tired and sweating and no less hollow. Not wanting to talk to much of anyone, she skips going back to House 2 to change and just cuts through the edge of town, over a bridge, and back out in the general direction of the Battle Dome, only straight into the trees instead. And she keeps on going, Nymeria padding along silently beside her.

It's mid-afternoon when she stumbles upon it. Deep in the woods, with nothing but the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds around. And she stands there a while, just soaking in the familiarity, before eventually going to nestle down among the roots with Nymeria.

Much later, just as the sun is going down, she opens the journal she's been ignoring all day and carefully follows the steps she remembers to sending a filtered message... not that she's mastered this art yet.]

[7% Filtered to Natasha Romanoff, Logan, Luke Skywalker, and Konan]

I lied to you all before. About my name, that is. It isn't Cat. [And here, with the bone-white bark of a weirwood tree at her back, Needle on her hip, and a keen-eyed direwolf at her side, she knows she can't deny being a child of the North any longer. After all, you can't lie in front of a weirwood. Fierce pride shines in her grey eyes.] I'm Arya, of House Stark.

I'd say I'm sorry for lying, but I'm not. It wasn't a safe name back home. But all of you should know the truth.

[/filter]

[She pauses for a moment, changes the filter back off, and then decides to address the rest of the town. The video clicks on with a good view of the white trunk at Arya's back, stretching up into a blood-red canopy of leaves. The tree definitely has a striking look to it. Arya seems pleased.]

Back home, these trees are sacred to the old gods of the North. Years and years ago, the Children of the Forest carved faces into them so the old gods could watch over the people and the woods.

In the north, every great castle has a godswood with a weirwood heart tree in the center. All of them have different faces. [Beat.] This one doesn't have a face, but I guess that makes sense without any of the Children being here.

Do we have other trees like this anywhere else in Luceti? I only found the one. Or does anyone have something like this back home?

[[ooc: Anyone who wants to hack the filtered, feel free!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Arya stiffens. Seven bloody hells...]

Well, you were wrong. [She just said you don't look or act like a Stark. Which she stands by. Nymeria starts to growl as Arya scowls.] How did you see that message?

Hacked it. I think that's a pretty good sign you're not related to me - if you were, you'd be better at filtering.

[ Not that he was worried much about long-lost family relationships, considering the things he'd gleaned off her before. But...still. Wouldn't be the first time a Stark unexpectedly showed up in Luceti. ]

[She is so furious at you right now, you fake Stark. Nymeria's growling is loud enough to carry over the journal now.]

If you were a true Stark, you wouldn't be breaking into other people's messages.

[Okay, Sansa might intercept a message, but Sansa is something else entirely.]

[ Wow, that...sure is growling. That's unexpected. ]

Give your dog a bone or something. Anyway - we seem to have a disagreement about what it means to be a 'true Stark'.

She's a direwolf. [And any true Stark would know a direwolf right away. Arya folds her arms, eyes grey and hard as stone.]

I told you before our -- my Starks aren't ironborn. [This stupid multiple worlds thing is really irritating when you're already incensed.] What's your idea of a true Stark anyway? Aside from being like some hero out of a stupid song.

If you want to get technical, the suits are actually made out of a gold-titanium - never mind. [ That wasn't the more important thing here. ] True Starks, for one, are proud enough to wear their name wherever they are.

[Made of gold. Yeah, she's pretty sure this guy is more Lannister than Stark.

But that second part makes her narrow her eyes.]

You already know why I didn't, stupid.

Luceti isn't 'back home', Junior Mint.

[What in the seven hells is a junior mint.]

But the Malnosso can bring anyone here from back home. And I can't kill them for true here.

[Twelve year old girl, very matter-of-factly discussing killing her enemies. Yup.]

...What are you, eight or something? [ Too young to be planning on killing anyone, in his opinion. ]

I'm not a child. [Children don't kill. How many people here don't get that?] I'm twelve.

Pretty sure you are, actually. What kind of home do you hail from, anyway?

[ He might want to be just a bit more sure she's not from his world. ]

[Godsdammit, not!Stark. She seethes for a beat or two.]

The kind that isn't there anymore.

[ Oh, well isn't that something. ]

That makes two of us, then. Peas in a pod already. Maybe we're not so different after all.

[If he isn't just japing, then Arya might actually feel a little bad. But this man who talks like a Lannister, looks like a Baratheon, and claims to be a Stark doesn't seem like he can be trusted to tell the truth about much of anything. She frowns.]

That doesn't mean we're the same. No Stark would wear golden armor.

[That's the Kingslayer's bit.]

Edited 2013-07-18 23:06 (UTC)

It's mostly red. Half and half, maybe. Why, what color is a Stark supposed to wear?

[Red and gold. Lannister colors. She knew it.]

Grey and white. Steel and boiled leather, if it's armor. It's not supposed to be pretty, it's supposed to keep your guts in.

Oh, my armor does that, too. No guts are getting through that thing. Much better than steel and boiled leather, trust me.

[Soft snort.] Why would I trust you? You broke into my message.

Touché. Only because I distrusted you, first.

What do you have to worry about from someone you keep calling a child?

[Her tone is equal parts sharp and mocking.]

Oh, plenty. I know better than to underestimate a kid.

[ He learned that lesson a few times over now. ]

[She's still chafing over the word "kid" being used, but she gives a grudging nod.]

Maybe you aren't as stupid as you sound, then.

[Is she not merciful.]

I like to think so, too. Glad you're catching on, Fun Size.

What's "fun size" supposed to mean?

voice; filtered

alloys - 2013-07-29 22:32 (UTC) - Expand