fearcutsdeeperthanswords: (I'll rearrange your bones)
[Sometime after this gem, Arya gets on the network.]

Does a girl have eggs inside her? Chris thinks babies come from eggs. [She sounds like she thinks this is incredibly, incredibly dumb. And she might be wording it to her favor.]

[Open Spam]

[She was stupid, and let herself answer questions publicly. Which means people might know, and try to ask her questions she doesn't want to answer. She hates this flood. It was one of her first, and part of her wants to press a pillow to her mouth and scream. At least it doesn't mean she's spilling her story at will - at least she knows how to avoid it, now.

Maybe she can answer in Braavosi, if someone tries. Maybe that will work.

But she doesn't know. She doesn't know what will work, so she stays in her room and ignores her communicator. But she's learned to hate this small room, and eventually her bladder gets the better of her. She heads for the inmate toilets, and from there she goes to the CES, where she waits for Nymeria to let her in. She doesn't wear the collar Jesse gave her anymore, the one that lets her in whenever she wants - but Nymeria has it, stretched with thread to fit around her thicker neck. When the direwolf shows, Arya disappears into the CES. It's a forest she doesn't recognize, but that's fine. Birds and squirrels can't ask her questions.]
fearcutsdeeperthanswords: (swift as a deer)
[The video clicks on, and those unaffected will notice that Arya looks different. When she arrived, her head was shaved bald; she hasn't kept up with that, but yesterday it was no longer than her chin. Today, it's well on its way past her shoulders again, and much less messy than one might expect. And she's in a proper northern dress. Hell has frozen over.

The expression on her face, at least, is a very familiar scowl.]


You can't put princesses in dungeons!

[It's an angry huff, but there's a reason this is public, instead of private to Arthur.] My brother is King in the North, and he'd cut off your stupid head himself for jailing me. [Behind her, Nymeria gives a quiet warning growl, more annoyed than distressed. That hasn't changed, either: they still feed off each others emotions. Arya tosses hair over her shoulder, and keeps glaring at the screen.]

Robb's a better king than Arthur can ever be. Robb never put little girls in dungeons. [Not that she likes thinking of herself as a little girl, but.] He's fair, and smart, and not paranoid like some kings.

[This is perhaps brought on by the last flood, which was very close but not quite like home, and she misses her family. And anger is less annoying to her than petulance.] You all think Arthur's good just because he's a king, but he's not. He's just a stupid craven.

[Private to Arthur]

You give me Needle back, or the next time I buy poison, it will be for you!
fearcutsdeeperthanswords: (a girl gonna get hers)
A girl remembers she was here before. She remembers people called her Cat, and knew she sold cockles and clams in Braavos. But that girl is gone. She belongs on canals in the Ragman's Harbor, not here.

A girl doesn't belong here either. She wants to leave. She won't answer to Cat any longer.


[She doesn't mention Arya Stark; why talk about some dead girl?]

Her warden calls her Jeyne now. Jesse calls her Shadowcat. But she has no true name, and she never will.

Even when she's older.


[And that, ladies and gents, is how Arya deals with having been an adult for a few days. Apparently.]

[Private to Jesse]

A girl will punch you again.

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When at last she slept, she dreamed of home. The kingsroad wound its way past Winterfell on its way to the Wall, and Yoren had promised he'd leave her there with no one any wiser about who she'd been. She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon...But it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her "little sister." She'd tell him, "I missed you," and he'd say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.