❆ | 042 | Video

Aug. 27th, 2014 09:39 am
fearcutsdeeperthanswords: (I am neither walker nor sleeper)
[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.]
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❈ | 026 | Video

Apr. 19th, 2013 05:03 pm
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!
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❈ | 022 | Voice

Dec. 12th, 2012 01:54 pm
fearcutsdeeperthanswords: (a girl don't give a shit)
A girl...

[She trails off, and there's the briefest hesitation. She'd thought it was a way to stay Faceless, to keep true to everything the kindly man has taught her. But it just makes her stand out more. No one here knows Braavos, no one knows how they speak the common tongue, and no one knows her.

When she starts up again, it's as if she never stopped, all confidence.]

I want someone to teach me to fight. Without swords. I'm small, but I'm fast. And I'm strong. [She sounds a little less certain of that, but she will fake it till she makes it.]

And I want to learn to shoot a bow. Who knows how to teach it?

[There are no Lannisters here, now, but maybe one day there will be. Maybe one day she'll go back to Westeros, and though she has every intention of burying Needle in Cersei's chest, she doesn't care if she kills the others from a distance.]

[Private to Bruce Wayne]

A man - you said you'd teach me.
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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.
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