Arya Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fearcutsdeeperthanswords) wrote2014-08-27 09:39 am
fearcutsdeeperthanswords) wrote2014-08-27 09:39 am
Entry tags:
- [comm] lastvoyages,
- a girl has a home,
- a girl has a name,
- a girl has family,
- a girl is less angry,
- a girl remembers her brother,
- a girl remembers her sister,
- a girl says i,
- a sister remembers,
- fear cuts deeper than swords,
- flood: conspiracy theories and interior,
- have gathered inside your door,
- more than begin but less than forget,
- of winterfell,
- polly stop,
- the best of the vanished marvels,
- the north remembers,
- we thought we lost you,
- welcome back,
- winter is coming
❆ | 042 | Video
[Private to Polly]
Where are you? I found a good spot. [She's sitting on a pile of pillows, with a blanket (or maybe a dish towel) wrapped around her head like a crown. And she's grinning. Her own smile, not Mercy's pretty little thing: Arya's smiles are big and open, but they have a little bite to it. The wolf blood will always run hot in her, even when she's happy.]
[Private to Riddick]
Will you do something for me?
[Public, later]
[Still seated cross legged on her throne of pillows, Arya stares down at the device in her hands. There's an odd little look on her face, below hair that's terribly messy after she pulled off the towel-crown - like she's confused but not, knows what she wants but doesn't, like she's hovering between two worlds. She feels like she is.]
I graduated.
[The words feel strange: she's never combined them in that order, that conjugation, and the newness is unsettling. But she hasn't been afraid of new things in a long time. She can't be afraid of this.
Reaching off screen, she grabs a cookie, and lifts it up to show the camera: it has a frosting smiley face.]
Do you always get sweets? [She's been here so long, but it feels like the one thing she never fully realized. Instead of waiting for an answer - it doesn't really matter, does it, not now - she takes a bite and tosses the rest back onto it's plate.]
I'm going home. I've been here a long time, three years maybe. And I'm--
[She hasn't grown, except when she returned home. She is twelve and thirteen and fourteen and fifteen all at once, and she can't take the stillness of her existence here anymore.]
I could stay, and make a deal. I could probably kick my inmate to graduating. I could have my family back.
[She chews her lip for a moment, looking off toward the pillow and blanket forts. Finally, she just rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath. That's stupid. She won't do it.]
But I still have family. And I'm going home to find them.
So - goodbye, I guess. This was a good flood.
[She flashes a smile, wolfish and toothsome and pleased, and turns the feed off.]
Where are you? I found a good spot. [She's sitting on a pile of pillows, with a blanket (or maybe a dish towel) wrapped around her head like a crown. And she's grinning. Her own smile, not Mercy's pretty little thing: Arya's smiles are big and open, but they have a little bite to it. The wolf blood will always run hot in her, even when she's happy.]
[Private to Riddick]
Will you do something for me?
[Public, later]
[Still seated cross legged on her throne of pillows, Arya stares down at the device in her hands. There's an odd little look on her face, below hair that's terribly messy after she pulled off the towel-crown - like she's confused but not, knows what she wants but doesn't, like she's hovering between two worlds. She feels like she is.]
I graduated.
[The words feel strange: she's never combined them in that order, that conjugation, and the newness is unsettling. But she hasn't been afraid of new things in a long time. She can't be afraid of this.
Reaching off screen, she grabs a cookie, and lifts it up to show the camera: it has a frosting smiley face.]
Do you always get sweets? [She's been here so long, but it feels like the one thing she never fully realized. Instead of waiting for an answer - it doesn't really matter, does it, not now - she takes a bite and tosses the rest back onto it's plate.]
I'm going home. I've been here a long time, three years maybe. And I'm--
[She hasn't grown, except when she returned home. She is twelve and thirteen and fourteen and fifteen all at once, and she can't take the stillness of her existence here anymore.]
I could stay, and make a deal. I could probably kick my inmate to graduating. I could have my family back.
[She chews her lip for a moment, looking off toward the pillow and blanket forts. Finally, she just rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath. That's stupid. She won't do it.]
But I still have family. And I'm going home to find them.
So - goodbye, I guess. This was a good flood.
[She flashes a smile, wolfish and toothsome and pleased, and turns the feed off.]
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