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Entry tags:
looking for wisdom in the dark
[ private ]
[ Confusion is Arya's first emotion. An uneasy feeling of disorientation that stretches like cobwebs across her memory.
Fury follows quickly.
The pillow explodes in a mass of feathers. A lamp cracks the window. Nymeria snarls, but even she does not try to stop Arya. When she has broken everything that can be broken (quickly done when she has so little to start), she sinks onto the floor and clings to Nymeria.
She feels little. Like she is nothing. Like she can do nothing. How can they find a way out when they cannot even hold on to what's real? All those people the past week…they weren't family. They weren't her pack. None of them cares about her. A lot of them don't even know her. She has a real family. Not the shades the castle taunted her with. They're not here or pretending to be someone else or dead or will have died.
Arya is not even sure if she is alive. The black brother had pulled out a dagger; the Imp claimed she was a corpse.
There is no one she can ask. No one who knows. Even the gods are silent. ]
[ Action // castle lawn ]
[ Sunning themselves on the lawn, Arya lies half-sprawled on Nymeria. Her head and shoulders are pillowed on the direwolf's body. Her hands rest on her stomach. The left throbs as if a little heart had been inserted beneath the broken skin of her knuckles: a consequence brought on by trashing her room the day they returned. To any onlooker, she might have been cloud watching if there were any clouds.
A wet nose presses against her temple. Nymeria peers at her with eyes so yellow they shame the Sun. Her tongue is rough and hot as she licks Arya's face. Arya pulls back with a quiet laugh.
Nymeria is the only one who loves her no matter what. Even after Arya had to push her away, Nymeria came back. The direwolf doesn't care if Arya is dirty or cannot make friends or if she no longer sleeps without nightmares or is always scared. Nymeria makes her special. Unafraid.
Everyone will leave her, but Nymeria came back.
Shifting onto her side, Arya brings her knees in toward her chest. The fur is warm and soft under her cheek. ]
It's just you and me, Nymeria. [ The direwolf's ears turn toward Arya as she whispers. ] You'll stay with me. I won't ever make you go away again.
[ It won't be like last time. They're wolves. They won't run again. ]
[ People the castle made Starks ]
You're not real Starks and you can't use our name.
[ With the purpose of testing filters, she puts up two more. ]
[ Stark ]
Where are you?
[ House Stark ]
[ Underneath the filter is a sketch of their sigil, drawn from memory. ]
[ Confusion is Arya's first emotion. An uneasy feeling of disorientation that stretches like cobwebs across her memory.
Fury follows quickly.
The pillow explodes in a mass of feathers. A lamp cracks the window. Nymeria snarls, but even she does not try to stop Arya. When she has broken everything that can be broken (quickly done when she has so little to start), she sinks onto the floor and clings to Nymeria.
She feels little. Like she is nothing. Like she can do nothing. How can they find a way out when they cannot even hold on to what's real? All those people the past week…they weren't family. They weren't her pack. None of them cares about her. A lot of them don't even know her. She has a real family. Not the shades the castle taunted her with. They're not here or pretending to be someone else or dead or will have died.
Arya is not even sure if she is alive. The black brother had pulled out a dagger; the Imp claimed she was a corpse.
There is no one she can ask. No one who knows. Even the gods are silent. ]
[ Action // castle lawn ]
[ Sunning themselves on the lawn, Arya lies half-sprawled on Nymeria. Her head and shoulders are pillowed on the direwolf's body. Her hands rest on her stomach. The left throbs as if a little heart had been inserted beneath the broken skin of her knuckles: a consequence brought on by trashing her room the day they returned. To any onlooker, she might have been cloud watching if there were any clouds.
A wet nose presses against her temple. Nymeria peers at her with eyes so yellow they shame the Sun. Her tongue is rough and hot as she licks Arya's face. Arya pulls back with a quiet laugh.
Nymeria is the only one who loves her no matter what. Even after Arya had to push her away, Nymeria came back. The direwolf doesn't care if Arya is dirty or cannot make friends or if she no longer sleeps without nightmares or is always scared. Nymeria makes her special. Unafraid.
Everyone will leave her, but Nymeria came back.
Shifting onto her side, Arya brings her knees in toward her chest. The fur is warm and soft under her cheek. ]
It's just you and me, Nymeria. [ The direwolf's ears turn toward Arya as she whispers. ] You'll stay with me. I won't ever make you go away again.
[ It won't be like last time. They're wolves. They won't run again. ]
[ People the castle made Starks ]
You're not real Starks and you can't use our name.
[ With the purpose of testing filters, she puts up two more. ]
[ Stark ]
Where are you?
[ House Stark ]
[ Underneath the filter is a sketch of their sigil, drawn from memory. ]