asgardeventide | 002 ❅ Action/Video

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[Having been here a couple of weeks now, Arya looks very different from the first time she addressed the network. She's cleaned up considerably from when she arrived, covered in the mud and blood of Harrenhal, an urchin shivering in a forgotten gray alleyway. She has gained a few bruises since then, particularly on her arms and legs, most of them brown and fading now, but there's one purpling welt on her forearm that she can't help poking at. She doesn't seem too bothered by the bruises, though. While she's arranged her hair in a slightly more feminine way, she's still wearing boys clothes; looser, more comfortable, easier to fight and tumble around in.]

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[Those of you passing through the Thor district may chance upon Arya sometime in the morning, looking a little dissatisfied and disappointed in herself. Maya's set her a task, but she's finding it a very difficult one to complete.]

No good. Maybe I just haven't found the right place yet, but...

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[It's late afternoon when she addresses the network. Her face still looks troubled.]

What sort of place do you go to, when you need to be alone and think?

[A pause. She's not sure whether to say the next part or not. The truth is, there's a lot that's happened to her over the last few months, ever since they left Winterfell, really. And she's just had to keep going through it all. To have to stop and examine herself now, to meditate and find the inner Arya, would mean facing it all, rather than just adding names to a list of people she'll one day give their retribution. It would mean grieving for Ned, something she's not had the space to do yet. And the idea is scaring her. Maybe not being able to find a place to follow Maya's instruction to her successfully is just a front for that.

She takes a deep breath, but the words won't come. She's just eleven years old, after all, how does she even try and process all of this?]

Robb, can you come and see me, please? I...

[She feels herself blinking back tears and, embarrassed, quickly shuts off the feed.]

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How about the park? A few people suggested it to me as somewhere quiet.

Thank you. For looking out for me.

I will meet you there about four thirty. By the lake. Thank you for at least letting me try.

[She cut the conversation off at about that point. When work permitted her to go to the park in Baldr's district, she made her way out in that direction. It was definitely not the part of town that she really had a desire to be in all the time, rich and upscale, pretty and pampered. She never felt like she belonged out there.

Arriving at the lake at about the right time, she looked around for Arya. She hadn't actually met her in person, and looked awkwardly at her tail, swishing lazily behind her. Dressed for work, it and her horns weren't hiding, but at the same time there was little point in doing so with Arya. She knew, after all. ]

[Arya was sat underneath a big oak tree, whose branches spread over the lake, shading her from the late afternoon sun. Looking sadly at her reflection in the water, she realised that she hardly recognized the girl looking back at her. It wasn't just her short hair, either: she looked older, harrowed, from her experiences.

Spying Samantha, she waved to get her attention. While she hadn't met her before, she'd talked with her enough to recognize her instantly. Plus the horns were a bit of a giveaway. Not that she had a problem with them; they were part of her, and she was her friend, and that was all that was important.]

[Samantha barely remembered the days when she might have considered someone so newly met a 'friend.' It was like another world, separated from the one of her own experience so thoroughly that it felt like it was light years apart. Still, part of her wanted to shield that childlike element of Arya, to keep it from being lost. She was too young to turn cynical.

Waving back, she drew nearer and took up a seat near the water. Her back was turned to the lake itself. She was not someone who liked seeing her reflection in the water very often.]

I hope I haven't kept you too long. Are you alright?

[She nods. She did feel a little better, now. Talking to Robb had helped a little, and being here, amongst the trees, was helping more.] I'm much better than I was.

[She nodded and leaned a little onto one of her elbows, relaxing while her tail flopped behind her. It really did move, most of the time, like a cat's, simply meandering around lazily and aimlessly. Arya seemed a touch less distraught, which was good, but she still wanted to help.]

Do you want to talk about it still?

[She looks down for a few seconds, contemplating if she really wants to bring all of this back up to the surface again. Then she looks out over the lake and nods.]

I think it might help. I'm ... not exactly sure where to start, though.

[Where should a person begin? That was a difficult question. Samantha didn't want her to be uncomfortable, but at the same time this sounded like it was something that needed to be talked through.]

Why don't we begin, like a doctor, with the question 'where does it hurt?' What is the thing that was bothering you most when we spoke this morning?

I think this morning, I was scared more than anything. Of having to face everything that's happened. I thought that training with Maya would help, but now I'm meant to sit and think and find the inner Arya, and ... I'm not sure where she is. So much has happened in the last few months, and now that I'm away from it and have the space to process it, I'm a little afraid to. [She's not used to being this upfront about her feelings, especially when it came to admitting that she was scared. She thinks maybe it's a sign of how much she's been forced to mature recently.]

[Samantha looked at her quietly while she talked. Of the people that Arya could have asked about something like this, it was telling that Samantha was pointedly not looking at her own reflection. She understood being afraid of what was inside.]

It's very young to ask you to know what's at the center of your heart. I can understand not wanting to look into yourself. You said yourself that you've been on the run, and... your father was killed wasn't he?

No, it's alright to be afraid. You run for a few months, and you do whatever you can to survive. We don't always want to see the person who's lurking there that survived it all. I know that I don't want to know what's inside of me, not really. I'm just as afraid of what's there as you probably are, though maybe for different reasons.

How old are you, really, Arya? I'd kind of like to know.

He was executed for being a traitor. He wasn't, though, no matter what they say. No matter what they made him say. [She says this last part fiercely.]

As for what happened after that ... so much happened so fast. There was a lot that I didn't expect to have to see. Things that nobody should have to see.

I was eleven on my last nameday.

[Her jaw clenched at some of the things that the girl said. She shifted her posture and almost said something right off the bat, preferring however to wait for a moment. 'The things they made him say' was a telling thing for her. She knew of the inquisition. The look in the girl's eyes spoke volumes that were reminiscent of that.

She swallowed and looked beyond Arya to the park that surrounded her. She mouthed the word 'eleven' and shook her head sadly. She had been seventeen, maybe sixteen, when things had begun to go wrong. Arya was too young by a long shot to be dealing with these things.]

It ... is impressive that you are still alive. I know about extracting confessions. Don't think long about anything that they made your father say [True or not.]. That you even know about such things is unfortunate.

You may be forced to see things here you don't feel prepared for. This place may be no more forgiving for you than your home was. I don't really want to scare you though. What do you see when you look inside yourself?

[It takes Arya a while to respond. She thought about everything that had happened since she'd left Winterfell. The death of Mycah. Her separation from Nymeria. Her lessons with Syrio, where she'd first learned the basics of the sword. Jory's death. Syrio's death while protecting her. And then, that day. Her father, Ned Stark, executed as a traitor. Yoren had shielded her, made sure she didn't see the killing blow, but the other faces she saw, Joffrey's, Cersei's, Sansa's, were forever burned into her memory. And that was just the beginning. She'd been disguised, on the run from the Lannisters. The slaughter she'd seen, the tortures of Harrenhal. It was far more than anyone should have to see, especially one so young as her.

But now she had to face up to herself. When she looked inside, what did she see?]

A scared little girl, having to fight on.

[She closed her eyes, breathing once in and out. Was she that much different from that description, herself? She had been on the run for the last year, fleeing from one hideous monstrosity after another, sometimes of her own creation and devicing. In that year, she had begun to develop a sense of a target, of people who might have been allies, of souls who could potentially aid her, and numerous more souls who were more likely to manipulate and use her.

She sighed.]

That's a start, but ... you shouldn't stay there. You shouldn't have to be just a scared little girl. What do you want to be, Arya?

[She thinks about this for a moment, and then speaks a single word.]

Free.

[She takes one of the leaves that has fallen from the great tree stretching above them, gently sets it on the water, and watches it float off, leaving a trail of tiny ripples behind it.]

But you are free.

[It was out of her mouth before she even thought of the words. She put a hand to her mouth and looked at Arya nervously, hoping she hadn't offended. They weren't entirely free here, bound with these shackles on their wrists.]

Ok, we're not really completely free here, but... I don't like being here, but my world's not much better. If you're here, though, you're free. Nobody, except maybe your brother, will be telling you what to do here.

[Her brow furrows as she thinks back to the day of her arrival: Loki's words of warning to her, which have rung in her ears and made her wary of this place.]

I don't think we're free at all here. Who says what the gods might do? If we don't cooperate with them, they might force us to.

[And something Hanako had told her had added to her worries about this place, too.] They're keeping information from us, too.

[She made a small, choked sound and shook her head. Ok, it had been a lie. She had to admit that. They were bound, at least to an extent. She just didn't want Arya to think that it was the case.]

They might. In fact, I suppose you're right. I'm just trying to cheer both of us up. We're trapped here too. It's just different people keeping us under their thumbs, isn't it?

And you're right. They are definitely keeping information from us. I know that for a fact. There used to be magic here. I'm sure of it, more than what they give us.

So. You want to be free then? That, you can focus on that.

[She nods decisively.] I've been training, to try and get stronger. I'm learning how to use my power, too. I just ... keep thinking of how it's gods that are keeping us here, and I feel even more helpless. How can I stand up to them? How can any of us?

[She stared at her as she said that and then looked down, closing her eyes. There was only cold comfort in her mind at first. And then, she gritted her teeth and made a defiant snort.]

I've dealt with demons. Gods can be killed. I'm not saying it's easy, and if we're going to stand up to them we need something they don't control, but it isn't impossible. I refuse to believe that.

Don't you dare give up hope, not if you want to be free. You have to hold onto that... no matter how strange that is to hear me say. Even a little glimmer of hope is the light at the end of the tunnel if that's what you're hunting after.

[She listens intently, feeling more and more confident by the second.]

Something they don't control... But this is their city, what could there possibly be that they don't control?

I won't give up. I promise. I am finding this place hard, but it's nothing compared to what I've been through. I'm going to take this chance to get stronger.

I've... heard of some mystical herbs, and I think that there is magic here, old magic that may have been forgotten or lost. They could be tapped into. It's flimsy, but it's a start.

And good. [She reached forward and patted the ground in front of Arya. She didn't actually touch her, and in fact pulled back one more inch when she sat upright again. She always seemed to have a large personal space bubble.] I never want to hear you giving up, no matter what. If you have to bend, that's one thing, but don't let anyone break you. [Not even me.]

Are... you comfortable talking about the things you've gone through, Arya? I do not want to pry too much.

You don't have to worry about that. [Not after Harrenhal. There's no way anyone here was going to break her.]

I ... I think so. I'm not really sure where to start, though. But I don't mind you knowing. I think I'd feel better if you did.

Ok. Know that... you can ask me whatever you need to, if you need to talk to me about my past too, but please don't talk about it with anyone. I'm... it isn't comfortable to me, but there are things I think I can share with you if you need to know them.

[She felt too similar to Samantha's own plight in a way. It was hard not to want her in a little more, young as she was. She didn't want her to end up like her. Nobody should have to be.]

Besides your father, have your enemies done anything to make you afraid? It does not feel like they've merely tried to kill you. Girls your age don't pick up swords and start talking about making themselves free easily.

When they arrested my father, the Lannisters came for me, too. I've managed to stay one step ahead of them, but...

[A long pause now. Memories that are burned into her brain, that won't go away. They still wake her in the night, dancing grotesquely in front of her in the dark.]

Samantha ... have you ever seen someone tortured?

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