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[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Leaving the bloody mess behind her in her little rented room, Mercy rushed down five flights. She had some lines to say, and Izembaro would have her head if she was late for her entrance. She wouldn't be late: the first act would finish soon, and she'd have plenty of time to catch her breath and say her silly lines. It would be harder not to roll her eyes at Bobono's fake cock.

As she ran through the day's heavy fog, though, something changed. Shifted. She couldn't tell what, at first, only that the fog was not so thick as it had been. And then, all a sudden, the fog was gone. And so was Braavos.

Skidding to a halt, Marcy stared down the long hall ahead of her, lined on either side with doors. This was not the way to the Gate. This was not the way anywhere.

Mercy, Mercy, Mercy, she thought to herself, and started forward again. Some magic was at work, here. She had to sort out what magic would send her back - before she was late. That was all there was for it.

One of the doors looked familiar, and she came to a halt in front of it, staring. This is Mercy's door. Reaching out, she pushed the door open, and there was Mercy's little room - only the spot where she'd left Raff's body was plain wood. The blood that had sprayed across her floor boards when she cut his throat was gone, too. But on her bed was something new. Closing the door behind her, Mercy picked up the queer black box, turning it over.]

asdfsdljkgh

[No sooner does she accidentally send the text to the network does she manage to turn on the video: there's a flash of a shaven head, a shapeless brown dress of wool, even the blue hempen rope that serves as her belt. A flash, and no more. Her fingers find the off button, and she slips the device into her pocket. It doesn't belong in this room, but neither does she. Only Mercy does, and Mercy wouldn't spend time looking over such a strange thing. So she turns and leaves again, looking up and down the hall before picking a direction. Mercy is bubbly and sweet, but Arya knows how to disappear.

She follows her feet, wearing Mercy's confusion and her sweet smile, but looking with Arya's eyes. There is something familiar here, only she knows Mercy has never been in a place like this. The problem is, she doesn't know when she would have been, either.

When she reaches the deck she gasps, and for a few moments, Mercy is too afraid to move. It's the whole of the sky, and Mercy is afraid it will swallow her whole. But that, she knows, is silly. She forces herself forward, finding a secluded spot by the rail where she can crouch and pull the communicator out for a better look. Mercy wouldn't bother with this strange thing, but she understands that many things are worth knowing.]

Comments

[indispensible]

[Arya.]

[Vin is off and running in an instant. Arya, Arya, Arya; she knows her smell and the sound of her gait, and she will find her, she will find this girl who became, somehow, irreplaceably important to her. Clifford pounds after her, not quite able to keep up with the pace she's set--]

[And there's the deck, and there's Arya, shaved bald and older and wearing some other girl's expression, but instantly recognizable. Vin doesn't cry out, but skids to a halt in front of her, looking down with an unreadable look on her face.]

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Mercy doesn't worry about unreadable looks: she answers with a sweet smile, while Arya's gray eyes try to read what she cannot. There is a chord of familiarity here, sharp and sweet, and she rises from her crouch slowly.]

Hello, [she offers, easy and uncertain at once. Mercy would be scared. Mercy would be frightened to not know where she is. But Arya is not afraid, and Arya needs to learn new things.]

Do I know you? [Some of the sweetness slips, and that's all right. Arya allows it. She is too familiar not to pursue.]

[indispensible]

Yes. You're Arya. You're -

[Her friend? Her pack? Her family? None of these sound right. She hesitates, then shakes her head.]

We're not enemies. I'm Vin. I won't hurt you, and I'll kill anyone who tries to.

[There, that about sums it up.]

Where did you go?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[You're Arya, she hears, and she thinks, clearly and unarguably, yes.

All the same, she goes still. She wears Mercy's face, poor Mercy's confused face. Fuss and feathers.]

My name is Mercy. [It's not entirely a lie, she has been Mercy for some time now. What does a name mean, if you know who you are beneath?

(She is supposed to be no one, beneath. She only learned how to lie better.)]

Well, it's Mercedene, but people only ever call me Mercy. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy. [She sings it, a little. Mercy is a silly girl.

Vin is not a silly girl. She knows that. Remembers glass daggers. That's not one of Mercy's memories.]

I went back to my room, I wasn't long. Only, Izembaro, he told us to see to the lords. I was going to be back in time for my part, but - how do I reach the Gate? Izembaro will tan me if I miss my cue.

[indispensible]

[Mercy? Vin's eyebrows shoot nearly through her hairline. Mercy? Of all the names she could put on Arya, of all the titles - Mercy? All the way at the bottom of the list.]

You are not Mercy. [She says this firmly, with utter certainty. There is no way that this could be the truth. Vin knows about truth and lies, and she knows that she can be tricked, but she could not have been tricked this badly.]

[Arya is not Mercy, but Vengeance.]

There's no Gate here. You're on the Barge. And no one's going to tan you. I told you, I'll kill them.

[patheticvillain]

Arya?

What the fuck happened to your hair?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Arya. The song of Mercy, Mercy, Mercy takes on a new refrain. He knows her. And she - knows him?]

Izembaro says wigs fit better on a shaved head.

[She can taste his name, but her mouth won't give it shape.]

Who are you?

[patheticvillain]

Cassel, stupid.

Izembaro gives you bad advice.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Izembaro's the king of mummers. [They roll their eyes at him, at the Gate, but Mercy has pride for her troupe.]

Besides, there's no lice to worry about.

video

[fire_punk]

Arya? What happened to your hair? [He looks worried.] And where's Nymeria?

video

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Nymeria, she thinks. I had a wolf called that once. Now I only have wolf dreams.

She doesn't answer at first. Mercy wouldn't know who Nymeria is - the direwolf, or the queen.]

Wigs fit better on a shaved head, Izembaro says. What's a Nymeria? [It's strength.]

video

[fire_punk]

Why would you want to where a wig? Who's Izembaro?

[He takes a deep breath. If she really doesn't remember Nymeria, he'll be worried.] She's your wolf, Arya.

video

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

Mummers always wear wigs. Izembaro's one - he's the king of mummers. Haven't you heard of him?

[She's your wolf. She can taste blood and see the stars and the moon, like she can in every dream.] What? What am I to do with a wolf in Braavos? I'm Mercy. [Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.]

[hearrrtofgold]

[The stars on deck often do that to Duke as well: back home on an open sea they're breathtaking, but here they're dizzying, a reminder of the enormity of possibility. Back home he'd wonder if there were other worlds around those stars. Now he knows, and contemplating it is both inspiring and terrifying.

Of course he's not the only one who feels this way. There are often other stargazers around the deck, although only one he knows of quite that small and dark and determined.

She's hiding the way River would. So instead of just calling out to her, Duke settles down to sit an arm's length from her, his legs crossed underneath him.]

Pretty incredible, isn't it?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[She hears him coming, tracks his progress from the corner of her eye while she moves and breathes as if she's reading. That is all right: Mercy has to read, to learn her lines. When he settles, she finally looks up, deciding he's close enough that Mercy would notice. She gives him her smile, her sweet smile. People always like her smile.]

I've never seen stars like this. Braavos is always so foggy. It looks like we might be swallowed whole. [She makes her eyes go wide in believable near-fear.]

[hearrrtofgold]

[He doesn't disguise his movements, knowing she'll want to know where he is. She may have grown up a little, changed her clothes and sheared her hair, but she's still recognizable as the girl he met before. And that girl would keep tabs on him.]

Are you sure you haven't? [Duke's smile is sweet, almost as innocent, but there's nothing fearful here.] We're safe. Is Braavos where you're from?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[No, she thinks.] Yes, [she says. All Mercy's life has been spent in the secret city.] I don't think I've seen this before.

[mercurialize]

[Kylar spots her on deck and squints a moment, leaning forward. He knows he isn't seeing things. Or at least, he's pretty positive. Illusions, you'd think, would be more convincing. But that's definitely an odd wardrobe selection for her.]

Nice, uh, haircut.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[Mercy reaches up, presses both hands to her shaved skull. Mercy hasn't had her own hair in weeks. Arya remembers the last time her hair grew.]

Is it still called a haircut, if there's no hair to cut?

[mercurialize]

The first time, yeah. After that, I guess it's shaving.

[He leans to the right this time, judging her from the side.]

So why the change?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[When she sees him looking, she holds out her arms and gives him a little spin. Mercy would think nothing of it. Arya is quick, so that he's not out of sight for long.]

Izembaro says wigs fit better on a shaved head. Plus there's no lice, if there's no hair.

[myresponsibility]

[Peter catches her on deck, and is momentarily surprised, wondering if this is Arya or not, or just another one of those freak evil twin things the Barge likes to throw at people every once and a while.

It definitely seems like her, though, which is less a comment on his ability to see through her Mercy disguise and more that she's still wearing old timey clothes and didn't exactly have long hair before, so he walks over and gives her outfit a once over once he's closer.]

Wait, wait, don't tell me-

You're a mummer.

[Look he's learning!!!]

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[He's learning so well!!! She smiles at him - a sweet smile, everyone says Mercy has a sweet smile - and grabs the skirt of her shapeless brown dress to curtsey. It's not bad, but it's not perfect, either. It's good enough on stage, though.]

I am! Are you from Braavos, too?

[myresponsibility]

[Okay.

This is weird.

But weirder things have happened than people coming back with amnesia, or deciding to just be pains in the asses and pretend they don't know everyone, so he is just. Going to roll with it and see where it goes.]

No, I'm from New York City. [Which might mean nothing to you, not!Arya.]

Have you seen a giant wolf wandering around?

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[New York City is foreign and queerly familiar at once: Mercy doesn't know it. But Arya thinks maybe she does.

His question shocks her, just for a moment. A wolf - a giant wolf - the wolf from her dreams.]

A wolf, [she says, voice delighted and terrified. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.] Of course I haven't! Are there wolves here?

[There is always a wolf here.]