fearcutsdeeperthanswords | ❈ | 031

[With all these people graduating lately and all her wardens gone off, Arya has been doing a lot of thinking. She's wormed her way into the CES - she always seems to find a way - and is sitting against Nymeria, using the direwolf as a pillow. She's wearing a modern looking zipper hoodie over her usual threadbare attire; the zipper is open, but the hood is up, and on its top are two fuzzy, gray wolf ears. There's dirt on her face when she clicks the feed on, in a swoop from her cheek to her jaw; on the other side she's managed to accumulate a couple scratches. She doesn't seem to notice either.]

There's no one left from Westeros, besides me. Tyrion's gone. Viserys used to be here; I don't think there are a lot who remember him. Jon Snow was here, too. But he left.

[They all left is what she doesn't say out loud. She scratches at her jaw, somehow missing the dirt.]

I've been here a long time, though. I checked - it's two years, now. [She doesn't pause; she's already let that sink in.] Your worlds are all different from mine. You treat people like babies till they're old; you call them kids until they're eighteen, twenty. In Westeros, and Essos, and all over in my world - a girl is grown when she's flowered. [She makes a face, because it's a dumb euphemism, but it's ingrained.] My brother was a king when he was fifteen. He wasn't a boy, he had a beard and led men and killed his enemies. [And he died.

She pauses for a moment, looking up as a shadow passes over her, presumably a cloud.]

When I was littler, I wanted to know if I could build castles, or be a High Septon, or be a councilor to a king. He said I could marry a king, and my sons could be Septons and builders and knights and lords. Well I'm not getting married, and I'm not having sons, not ever.

Is that what it's like in your worlds, too? I don't mean, do they say no and you do it anyway, that's not any different. Are girls allowed to be rulers and builders and fighters where you all are from?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes. My name was Oliver.

Or Ozzer as the other lads called me.

I was Arry.

Who are you now?

Arya. [No one, Beth, Salty, Nan, Squab, Weasel. She doesn't even remember them all.] Of Winterfell.

[A beat] Or Cat, I guess. But I'm Arya.

Sergeant Polly Perks of the Borogravian Tenth Footh regiment.

Polly works just fine.

Did they find out? That you weren't a boy.

Edited 2013-09-12 20:53 (UTC)

Yes, but they didn't discover any of us until after the war was over. All of the new recruits for the Tenth Foot regiment [NOW WITH DRAMATICALLY LESS TYPOS] at the time was actually made of all women pretending to be men.

We had different reasons for joining, but all of them were a damn fine group of soldiers.

[Her mind is officially blown.] Did you know? That the others were girls, too?

After a while, it became more and more obvious to me.

Though Mal I didn't know until the very end.

[Polly had also super stopped caring at that point, too. But let Mal feel good about herself.]

And no one else realized? [She's starting to smile.] That's so weird.

[Polly grins a little.]

You'd be surprised what you can do with a good pair of trousers and socks.

Socks?

There are certain things a woman lacks that a man has when it comes to trousers, if you follow my meaning.

So you used socks?

It worked.

Until you take your trousers off.

That's why you don't take your trousers off in front of others.

And piss in the woods.

Smart lad.

I'm a girl. I don't have to pretend anymore.

I'm aware.

[It just doesn't make a lick of difference to Polly.]

[She's not sure if this annoys her or not.]

Good.

[In the end, she's supposed to be a sword. Maybe it doesn't bother her.] Okay.

What do you plan to do when you get home? And possibly taller.

Why?

Curiosity. If you don't want to be married and have kids, but everyone says you can't do any of those other things, what do you plan on doing?

(no subject)

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