❈ | 029 | Video

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[When the video comes on, the view is skewed: if you look long enough, it may seem like you're looking at a small section of a blanket, possibly on a bed, and a fold of cloth to one sight. Up comes the camera after a moment and an in drawn breath, and the fold of cloth is one skinny leg, the blanket tucked on a bad. Only then does she turn the device around so she's visible.]

I'm-- [Arya Stark, she almost says, but she's afraid to. Last time there was Tyrion; last time there was Tywin. Better they should think she's dead. But there are people who she wants to know she's alive. She chews her lip a moment, and decides to forgo names all together.]

I'm looking for anyone from Westeros.

Comments

[therearenomenlikeme]

Finish the sentence. You're Arya Stark.

Arya Stark with a rather alarming haircut.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[no no no no no no

Her throat tightens, and she wants to say I'm no one, or a man is wrong. But she's not Beth, she's not Cat, she's not no one. She bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood, expression settling in a scowl.]

And you're the Kingslayer.

[therearenomenlikeme]

Does just the one king honestly make you a slayer of them? I have to wonder.


So where's the rest of the Stark clan, then? Still up north, fighting off little more than fleas and frost?

[morewine]

And much of Westeros has been looking for you.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

You slayed a king. That makes you one.

[But she goes still and cold at that. If anything, the glare deepens.]

You shut up.

[therearenomenlikeme]

Ooh. Hit a sore spot.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[She still says her prayer at night, still thinks the names and moves her lips.

Queen Cersei. Valar Morghulis.]

Why, am I lost?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

You shut up! You don't even know what you're talking about!

[therearenomenlikeme]

My humblest apologies, Arya Stark. I'm afraid you're right.

Care to explain?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Her hand is resting on Needle's hilt, even though there's nothing she can do. That's the most frustrating thing.]

No.

[morewine]

[Frankly, Cersei was hoping you were dead. You being alive certainly complicates things.]

So it would seem.

[therearenomenlikeme]

Of course not.

Is that a sword I spy at your waist?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[She grips it tighter, defensive.]

Yes. You should be glad you're not here.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Arya had similar hopes. Nobody gets to be happy today.]

I know exactly where I am.

[....For a relative definition of 'exactly.']

[therearenomenlikeme]

And where is here?

[ladysarmor]

[Alayne recognizes Sansa's sister immediately. She just doesn't know if she can believe her eyes. Even at her worst, Arya never looked this unladylike. And her sister's clearly aged too, though considering how long it's been, that much isn't a surprise. Then again, she hadn't even been sure her sister was still alive.

Then again, she can hardly throw stones. With her hair dyed brown (shhh yes really ignore the icons) and the way she's grown into a woman lately... she's hardly the girl she was. Sansa wasn't a bastard, for one thing. Alayne is.

She hesitates before speaking, not sure what to say, not sure if she should even try to say anything. But at this point, she really should.

She wonders if Arya will even remember her.]

I am from Westeros.

[morewine]

And where might that be?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

A ship. [Least helpful child in the world.] Where are you?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

A ship. [She and Jaime really are twins, jeez. Arya's eyes narrow.] Maybe one day you'll be here too.

[therearenomenlikeme]

I'm beginning to remember my distaste for you Northerners and your inability to give straight answers. Or is that a Stark trait?

A city.

[northernking]

You are in the Northern lands of Westeros, boy. Throw a stone and I'm certain you'll find one.

[A voice replies as if distracted. He isn't focused on the video and his reply is gruff and humorless. He has yet to note the appearance of a face and images within the flames of a small hearth in his tent. She had video, he had-- to rely it seemed on stranger means.

The King in the North sits at a makeshift table reviewing maps. He does not even bother to look up to the open flap (though there is no one to be seen.)]

Did no one teach you how to address highborns? I have not the time for games or teachings, off with you.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Arya remembers her too well.

She remembers a red hair girl who sang stupid songs and sewed stupid things. She remmebers a red haired girl who whispered behind her hands with Jeyne Pool, a girl who dreamed of princes and kings and the south, who wanted to be a lady like their mother, who had a wolf--

She remembers, and Arya feels her mouth open, feels her throat work and her tongue lay still without words. She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know what to do. She she lets the first thing that comes to mind tumble out.]

Your hair is brown.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Better than Lannister traits. What city?

[therearenomenlikeme]

Am I addressing the resident expert of Lannister traits? I hadn't realized.


What ship?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[She sees him immediately. She sees and goes very still, forgets to breathe. There are Lannisters here, and them she's not afraid of, them she can snap at and snarl from afar. There's a girl who used to be her sister, and that is hard; this is hardest.

She sees him, but in her mind she is back in port. She sees his head on his shoulders, but she also sees Grey Wind's. And it's not fair, it's not fair that he doesn't know her, though she always suspected they wouldn't recognize her. She feels something bubble in her chest, but before she can decide if it's a sob or a laugh, she shoves it back, beats it down.

Her voice is still very small when she speaks; she's so afraid she'll blink, and find him as he was in Silent Hill.]

Robb? [The King in the North is her brother, and she's never given a damn about titles.]