❈ | 028 | Video

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Backdated to a day or two after the Silent Hill port.

The video clicks on, and Arya's eyes flicker into the camera and then away again, staring at some middle distance with a look that says she's seeing something not present. She looks a little shell shocked, but not particularly battered; she's washed since port - washed several times, because she can still feel bloated, waterlogged fingers on her shoulders - and her hair is damp and pushed back now, just long enough that it needs to be tucked behind her ears.

She's wearing the black and white robe she wears most days, but the starkness of the black has faded, and the white is much more gray by now. Around her neck is a chain, and in her hand is the ring she's threaded it through. It's a man's ring, with a gold band and a blue stone. She's turning it over in her fingers, sliding it to and fro on its chain.]

Rumpelstiltskin is gone.

[She falls silent again, and looks down at the ring instead of the camera.] He graduated, and now he's going to look for his son. He's been missing since he was my age, but he'll always be his son.

[This is right out of a note Rumpel left for her; it's no where in sight, though. She doesn't have to read from it. She doesn't add the rest - that Bae would always be his son, just like she would always be someone's daughter. It's too hard to think about, now, and it's definitely too hard to talk about. Her head droops a little lower, and it looks like that might be it - but a moment later she drops the makeshift necklace and straightens, finally looking at the camera. She's fierce looking - she's found her purpose and she's dogging it.]

You all don't have to call me Cat anymore. [She wavers, chews her lip, then draws a deep breath.]

My name is [Horseface, Underfoot, Arry Weasel Nan Nymeria Squab Salty Cat Beth - she breaths out, and lets them all go] Arya Stark. I'm Arya, of Winterfell.

[Something drops from above onto the bed behind her, and in the corner of the screen, Nymeria lifts her heads from her paws to look over as Arya turns, dropping the communicator to her bed. There's a hostled view of the ceiling, then dark fur as Nymeria comes to inspect. Eventually it's grabbed up again to be shut - but not before getting a glimpse of a black cloaked, lined in white fur at the collar, with a silver direwolf's head stitched into the fabric. The feed dies as she finds a note scrawled, Happy Christmas.]

[Private to Merlin]

[A bit later - long enough that she's decided to put the cloak on, with the fur brushing up against her cheeks - she adds this message on.]

Thank you. [It's a little awkward, maybe, but she manages it with minimal fidgeting.] For fixing him. [She doesn't add that it was her fault, that she feels guilty that he was hurt at all. If she's lucky, he'll just know that much.]

Comments

[truth_is_cold]

It's a noble cause. There is no greater honor or gift than a child.

[And his brows raise. He was about to ask about her clan name being Stark, but she disappeared.] What's going on?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[It's a few moments before the feed comes back on, and she looks confused but not precisely unhappy.]

I got a cloak. [It's in a pile on her lap, and she holds it up, trying to give him a better look.] It's our sigil.

[truth_is_cold]

[He tilts the communicator as if that will give him a better look.]

It's a very nice cloak.

Are you glad to have it, right now? [She sounds like she's proud. He hopes that she is.]

[onceandfutureprat]

[And then she graduated.]

What have you got there?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Sorry bro, revenge is still the most important :c]

It's a cloak. [She sounds intensely bewildered.] It's a Stark cloak.

[onceandfutureprat]

[Fuck this]

Fitting then for a Stark.

[private]

[deadliestviper]

[Beatrix is in worse shape than Arya is, clearly visible from the bandages on her face and the slash from her scalp to her cheekbone, but is still doing better now than she was.] Arya. [She tries out the feel of it. Somehow, the tone seems to fit.]

What does that name mean?

[private]

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[It's not the first time she's heard it spoken - but it's the first time be someone beyond a warden or Jesse, and it's...strange. Strange, and almost sweet.]

I don't know. It's just my name. Does it have to mean something?

[private]

[deadliestviper]

No. I just wondered if it did.

Will you tell me about Winterfell?

[Private]

[yeahscience]

You want me to, too? [He will, if she wants, but it's not totally natural for him. She is Cat in his head, however much that might not be her real name, however much she might have tried to change it before. A Stark, but a Cat, too.]

Yo, you're still who you are to me no matter what, okay.

[Private]

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[She takes a little while to respond, but eventually, she just shrugs. Cat is part of her, too - she took that name because of her mother, and it's something she still wants to hold tight to, especially now. But it doesn't have to be a lie, now. A mask. Not any more.]

You can call me whatever. I don't mind.

[Another few beats, then she adds,] Are you still mad at me?

[Private]

[yeahscience]

A little. [There's not any heat in it, though. He shrugs, mouth quirking tiredly.] I'm pissed you went and did something like that on your own, yeah. I'm pissed that there's innocent people in this place and like maybe now I gotta worry about you going all wolfed out and doing something to one of them. I'm pissed you don't listen to me, like, ever.

[Okay, maybe he's a little actually mad again by the end of that. He squints at her.] You don't trust me, either.

[routemistress]

To be honest, lovey, I'll always think of you as "camel cunt girl" - but it's a thing. Claiming a proper name of your own. It's important. Good for you, sweetheart.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[That gets a grin; she is not remotely sorry for her foul mouth.] There are a lot of camel cunt girls and boys in harbors, then.

[routemistress]

[Iris finds it adorable, to be honest.]

One of these days I'll 'ave to visit your world, lovey, if only for me vocabulary's sake. It'd be an education, right enough.

Private

[takeyouapart]

[He kind of got that from you throwing yourself at Arthur and crying all over him while apologising profusely, yeah. But he just smiles a little and nods.]

You're very welcome, Arya.

Private

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[He's not mad at her, and that's good enough for her.]

You spoke another language.

[Video - Private]

[some_kinda_hero]

Arya is such a beautiful name. [Cants her head. She's seen something fall but doesn't call attention to it.] You alright?

[Video - Private]

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[She doesn't know how to respond to the compliment, so she ignores it; better to avoid it than to stumble through a thank you.]

Fine. It's just a cloak.

[secretasshole]

I'll be sure to keep that in mind. I hope others make the same effort.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Did you choose your name?

[fire_punk]

Arya? Wierd name. Cool!

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

It is not weird.

[Private]

[mistconduct]

Hey Little Baller.

[Private]

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Little what?