entrancelogs | 06 ❆ "Who are you?" he would ask her every day.

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06 ❆ "Who are you?" he would ask her every day.

Who: Arya Stark and YOU
Where: The main entrance to the mansion
When: March 21
Rating: PG at first, will update if needed
Summary: Arya returns to Wonderland, without her vision
The Story:

The sounds of the bustling Braavosi street abruptly vanish, as does the mixed scent of exotic fruits and spices and human filth. At the same time, Arya's memories of Wonderland come crashing back into her, as though someone has pulled back a curtain in her mind and put them on display for her. Logically, it makes sense that she's back there once again. But Arya isn't sure whether she's just finally going mad.

She's hunched in the main entrance, tattered rags hanging off her frame, her cheeks pale and a little gaunt from lack of food, a large cut under her lip, mud and bruises scattered elsewhere. Her hair is longer than before, reaching to her shoulders, and her milky white eyes stare blankly ahead of her. A wooden bowl containing a couple of the square coins of the Iron Bank of Braavos is nestled in her lap, and she grips it as though terrified that even that meagre amount of money will be stolen from her at any moment.

She jumps whenever she hears footsteps, unsure if the person passing by will take pity on her and give her some food or coin, or whether it's the Waif ready to beat her again, and gropes blindly around the floor to find the staff she had to defend herself with.

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Perhaps it is only because a short time ago, Rip had been forced into a body of similar age himself—he is, after all, well-trained in the art of turning a blind eye, of walking past children needy and begging, of ignoring the sick twist of guilt as he reminds himself of his mission, his purpose as a Time Master.

He was meant to protect time, not to be a hero.

Yet he is no longer a Time Master, certainly not in this place. Moreover, Wonderland’s machinations have only just reminded him of his own fears when he’d been so young, of living in streets lined in cruelty and pain and how fortunate he’d been to be saved from them. So when he sees a child sitting there, confused, scared, ready to defend what is theirs, he doesn’t ignore them or simply walk by. Instead Rip stops a careful distance away, both for the child’s sake and his own. Few things inspire viciousness in a child quite like the hunger etched into their frame; this he knows, because he remembers. He housed such viciousness within himself, all driven by the need to survive.

"Hello there." He holds his hands up; empty, meant to show his intention to do no harm. Yet something else is off about the child, something Rip has yet to place. It doesn’t stop him; still keeping that measured space between them, Rip moves to sit across from them. He won’t be able to get up easily with his legs crossed; he won’t be able to come after them—a girl, he thinks, now that he’s gotten a better look—without her knowing, having time to react.

"My name is Rip. May I ask yours?"

Edited (Faaaaail) 2017-03-21 14:19 (UTC)

Arya hears him approach, but she doesn't expect him to address her, and she jumps a little as she hears him speak. Her blank eyes automatically search around for him, an instinct it will take some time for her to unlearn.

"A girl has no name."

She isn't sure if this is some trick, some test the man who was Jaqen H'ghar had set for her, and whether she'll be punished even more severely for failing it.

Only when she looks about does Rip catch sight of her eyes and understand what it might mean. His explanation just became that much more difficult to provide; she cannot see, meaning the shift of environment might not be so obvious. Moreover, her fear would only stand stronger for that lacking, that obvious weakness which others might exploit.

She doesn't offer up a name, nor does she refuse to speak--and in so many ways, it's worse for that.

"Alright." He doesn't believe her claim to lack identity, but Rip doesn't push the point. If she doesn't trust him, she won't offer that information, period. Instead he leans forward, his arms resting lightly against his legs.

"Do you know where you are?" He suspects she doesn't, of course; every action speaks of one newly arrived to Wonderland. The true question is if she has realized it yet, and Rip pushes a bit further. "You're not where you were. You can tell, can't you? It sounds different--quieter, yes? And it smells different. Not like the streets you're so used to."

Not that he has any way of knowing what world she comes from; he's guessing, but confident enough in his assumptions to be sure.

She can tell she's not where she was, but it's not instantly apparent to her where she is instead. As well as the sounds and smells being completely different, the whole feel of the place is calmer. She presses her hand to the floor and runs her fingers over the carpet - a tangible contrast to the cobbled streets of Braavos, rather than relying on the more subjective changes in the noises and scents.

"Is this Wonderland?" she asks tentatively. She doesn't want to get her hopes up, but she needs to at least discount it as an option.

Though unseen by the girl, Rip's eyes widen in surprise at the answer. So she does know, recognizing perhaps the feeling of the carpet beneath her fingers as she stretches them over the floor. He nods before catching himself, reminding himself that he has to answer out loud.

"Indeed. I take it you've been here before." Well, it does spare them both the difficulty of a full explanation. Instead he opts for a different approach, one that would hopefully help her better get her bearings. "You're in the entrance hall on the first floor of the mansion."

Arya nods, and as Rip explains precisely where she is, she sinks down in relief. She can picture it perfectly, and feels properly oriented for the first time.

"I was here for a little over a year. But that was so long ago now."

This isn’t the first time that Rip’s heard of someone being relieved to be in Wonderland, although it’s still somewhat strange to see. Yet he can’t help but understand on some level the way that visible tension drains—given her rags, how could he not?

“Well then: welcome back.” He doesn’t manage a smile; he can’t, when he considers the hardships this girl will apparently face whether in her own reality or this one. And that’s based only on what he can see, what he assumes from her appearance and nothing more.

“Is there anywhere you want to go, or someone you’d like to get in contact with?” The girl might be quite capable of managing on her own, and if so, then Rip would leave her be. They are strangers, and she has no basis to trust him. Yet the help is there should she decide she needs it; he’s willing to let this play out however she wishes it to.

Arya?

[It's her, he's sure. After noticing her missing for a few days he had been concerned as to her whereabouts but uncertain of who to ask about it.

But on seeing her, he goes from elated relief to stomach-dropping concern in a matter of moments, the sudden shift leaving his legs feeling hollowed out and his gut nauseated. He's seen this - she's blind - and he swallows down the urge to rush what happened out of her as he approaches.]

... Arya, it's Nathaniel.

[He waves his hand in front of her face once, then glances down to pick up the staff, pushing it gently into her searching fingers.]

Here.

[Her heart leaps in her chest when she hears Nathaniel's voice, but she's not sure whether it's too much to hope that she's back in Wonderland. What if something terrible had happened to him, and he was now simply one of the many faces in the House of Black and White? The logical part of her knows she must have returned to the mansion in order to regain her memories of it, but with all the ways in which Jaqen has messed with her head, she doesn't trust her own senses right now.]

Why are you here?

[Her hand grips around the staff, holding it defensively, expecting the trick to reveal itself any moment.]

Where else would I be?

[He asks her quietly, placing a light touch on her hand as she grips the staff. Whether or not it helps, he doesn't know, but he doesn't want to seem like a disembodied voice to her when she's in such a state.]

It might be you who isn't where you expect to be. You've been missing for a week.

[The poor girl.. what had happened to her while she'd been gone?]

[She tries to process what he's saying, and then she remembers that Ellie had been missing for a week too, before she'd returned to Wonderland after a huge gap in her own world. She physically jolts as she realises that she's back.]

It's more than a week. It's nearly a year for me.

I'm.. so sorry.

[She didn't flinch, so he leaves his hand on hers. Nearly a year, and it looks like so much has happened to her. He won't press her to put down her pride, but he can't just leave her here.]

Will you let me help you?

[Her stubborn pride surges up within her, needing to prove that even in this wretched condition she can take care of herself. But she knows it's not true, especially with the seemingly infinite corridors of the mansion to navigate. Slowly and reluctantly, she nods.]

Alright. Come on, you'll have to get up.

[He grips her arm, just below the elbow, and gently helps her to her feet. Getting her looked at by some kind of medical professional would probably be best, but he doesn't want to force it on her.]

You look hungry.

[She doesn't want to lean on him completely, and ends up looking rather shaky as she gets to her feet.]

I haven't eaten properly in weeks.

Then we should see to that first of all.

[He keeps his hand on her elbow, so she doesn't have to lean with how securely he holds her up.]

This way. We can go slowly.

[The footsteps fall fairly heavy, accompanied by panting and a rhythmic shouting of:] Go! Go! Work those legs, mister! Nobody ever got buff by slack- WAIT STOP.

[If Arya could see, she'd see Dipper, looking even more sweaty than usual, carrying his sister on his back piggyback style. Mabel leans down slightly to hiss-whisper:] ...Is that Arya or is it someone who looks like her?

[Dipper's breathing really hard, but as Mabel pointed out, Clementine probably would appreciate a guy who can outrun zombies, and that means working on his cardio.

Why this means Mabel has to be on his back is a mystery, but it's hard to argue with her once she talks you into something.

He stops, legs wobbling a little with the effort of holding himself and Mabel up. He's left the vest and hat in his room once it became clear he'd be getting really hot from all the effort, choosing instead an exercise outfit of exactly the same thing he always wears besides the hat and vest.

Mabel's words make him frown.]

I... think so.

[He staggers forward, still holding Mabel on his back.] Arya?

[It's been a long time since anyone addressed her by her own name, and she's wary hearing it now. Her first thought is that this is a trap, or at the very least some trick to catch her out. She automatically adopts a defensive position, and then she finally matches the voices and realises they belong to Dipper and Mabel. Immediately, she's disoriented.]

...Where am I?

You're back in Wonderland. [the relief is short-lived, because while it is Arya, it's also Arya who has Been Through Some Stuff and that leaves a lot of shuffling around how they should act.]

You're, uh... safer here... than you were. I guess.

[Dipper's gonna drop Mabel now. Literally drop her. Cause he's a nice brother like that.

....there's something wrong with her eyes.]

Do you remember us? [A beat.] It's Dipper and Mabel.

[A smile passes over her face, the first she's managed for a very long time. A memory of a simpler time, when her petty jealousy over how close the twins were to Sansa was the most pressing thing she had to worry about.]

Of course I remember you.

[Hearing that Mabel wastes no time in collecting herself off the ground and running to give Arya the biggest hug.] I'm glad. People come and go and forget so much stuff around here.

[Dipper follows more sedately, grinning at her from behind Mabel.] So... trip home? Seems like it must have been... eventful.

There are no footsteps, but Arya does hear a strange whirring noise approaching her. The noise stops abruptly, and it's followed by quieter mechanical noises coming from the same spot.

Presently, a man's voice is heard coming from in front of her. He sounds... Human, and very worried.

"Uh... Are you ok? You look like you've been stuck in the relaxation vaults for ages!"

Wheatley looks over the girl again, taking note of the strange fashion. "... Or probably worse, considering what you're wearing. Tragic. But don't worry, this place has plenty of food and shelter. You're gonna love it here."

The whirring is an entirely unfamiliar sound to her, and she's alarmed as it gets closer, unable to see what the noise belongs to, or how big and threatening it might be. The tips of her fingers alight on the staff, but she inadvertently pushes it away, and gropes around the floor to find it.

The voice coming along with the mechanical noises makes her drop her guard a little - he certainly doesn't sound dangerous. But perhaps that's all part of the plan.

She decides to go for the obvious question.

"What are you?"

Not 'who'. It's obvious from what she hears that he's not human.

"Uh..."

Wait, why is this girl reaching for a staff? He's not a threat, is he? No guns stuck onto him or anything.

"I'm a core." Hang on, this looks like a fantasy kid. "You know. A kind of robot? Like, a machine or something...?"

He doesn't know if the girl knows what that is, but... "Name's Wheatley, by the way. Not gonna harm ya, promise."

A soft, furry body gently winds around her, and a tail tickles under her chin. A cat, something that she should be familiar with after living in the streets of Braavos for so long.

The soft warmth is a familiar comfort. Arya raises a hand to lightly touch the tail, following it down to the cat's body and sinking her fingers into his fur, allowing herself this small comfort as she pets him.

The Judge begins to purr, and lies down where Arya can keep petting him if she likes, neatly tucking his limbs underneath his body. Despite being a cat, he has the greatest sympathy for children. Their suffering can create astonishing things, as sad as it is to admit.

Slowly, Arya begins to relax her stance, still keeping on the alert for anyone approaching but feeling her muscles unwind and almost allowing herself to feel a modicum of safety. She keeps petting him, running her fingers gently over his ears and down his back, enjoying the feeling of his purring under her palm.

Poor thing, to be so young and yet so wary of her surroundings. The Judge does not move to avoid startling her, but there is only so long this loquacious fellow can stay quiet.

"Excuse my interjection, when you are petting me so nicely. I do not wish to frighten you. But what is a girl with a gentle hand like yours doing in such a wretched state?"

Arya jolts with surprise when she hears a voice come from very close by. She's more than a little confused to realise it comes from the cat, as the only place she's encountered talking animals before is in Wonderland -- which makes her realise that all her memories of Wonderland have returned as though someone has just drawn back a curtain on that part of her mind.

Her hand freezes on the small of his back for just a second, before she begins petting again.

"A girl cannot say."

Less that she cannot, and more that she's certain she'll be punished if she does.

If there's one thing Georgia understands, it's eye problems.

The milky white eyes are about as far from Georgia's fully-dilated black ones as you can get, physically at least, but that doesn't mean Georgia can't relate. She approaches, stopping a little ways away so as not to startle her too much.

"Hey," she says softly. "I'm Georgia. How fully impaired is your vision?" She's not going to beat around the bush. She knows bad eyes. But she can't help unless she knows the exact situation.

Even with her trying not to startle her, Arya still jumps a little at hearing Georgia's voice. She turns her head to the direction it came from, an automatic reaction she's not been able to shake yet despite not being able to see who it belongs to.

Part of her thinks she should lie and claim that her vision isn't that bad, knowing she may set herself up as a target in showing her weakness. But her instincts tell her to trust her, at least a little.

"It's completely gone."

Georgia nods, though she knows Arya can't see it. Some instincts are hard to fight. "My eyes burn in the light. I'm used to doing a lot of things in total darkness because sometimes I have to." Retinal Kellis-Amberlee isn't known here like it is at home, but she still has never put any effort into keeping it hidden. She wears her sunglasses and explains the situation and just lives with the fact that she has one extremely obvious weakness. Take off her sunglasses and she's all but helpless.

"How long's it been?" Judging from the way she reacted, Georgia's going to guess it's not her whole life, and probably not very long at all. While the whole other senses getting more powerful thing is sort of a myth, you do get better at paying attention to them. George wasn't stomping or anything, but she also wasn't making an effort to walk quietly. Arya could have heard her, if she'd known to pay attention.

It's difficult for Arya to know exactly how long it's been, though she's done her best to mark the passing of days by the changes in sounds and the amount of visits Jaqen and the Waif have paid her. She shrugs, to indicate that this is only an estimate.

"Three weeks, more or less."

Not very long at all. Poor kid. Georgia won't be the one to say it, though. Pity doesn't help anyone.

She doesn't know this kid, so she isn't going to assume anything. She looks like she needs help. But Georgia won't force it on her. If it were her, she'd probably want to do it on her own. "Do you need help getting to a room? How long have you been in Wonderland?"

Arya freezes for a moment as the full impact of what Georgia's saying hits her. Then a smile of relief that's almost giddy crosses her face.

"Wonderland? A girl is--" No. No need for that now. She's free to be Arya Stark here. "I'm really back?"

"You're really back." So however long she's been here, she left and only recently returned. Good to know. "Were you sighted when you were here before? You may want to make different accommodations now."

She nods, feeling her hair fall across her face as she does so and pushing it away. "I was here for over a year. My room is on the third floor."

"Would you like me to help you get there?" She'll have to figure out a way to do it on her own, or find someone capable of helping her more full time than George can. But George can get her started. If Arya wants.

He hardly recognizes her, the small figure walking along the stalls of horses. Their animal scent is pungent though not unpleasant, but nor does it fully cover the familiar scent of her—he found it outside the stables; he followed it upon recognition, though the slow-moving girl bares only little resemblance to the Arya he knew. Klaus pauses in the entrance, brow furrowed, a roll of unease in his gut.

"Arya," he calls.

She's finding she likes being outside - the smells and sounds, and the way the ground feels under her feet, are easier for her to process out here than in the far quieter confines of the mansion. The noise of the horses whinnying had helped her get her bearings and she had made her way over to the stable, walking between the stalls with one hand trailing against the wooden railing, stopping to pet the horses when she gets close enough.

She turns instinctively when she hears Klaus call her name, even though she knows she won't be able to see who's addressing her. It's a habit she doesn't think she'll shake any time soon.

"Who's there?"

He doesn't need to be close to see the whites of her eyes—too white, unseeing; he knows she doesn't see him. Something terrible crowds his throat. It's that horror and anxiety that results in the suddenness of his actions. The air rustles with the audible force and the speed of him moving in front of her. It takes hardly the splitting of a second. Up close the truth is no more apparent than it was before.

His lips part, looking down on her. His eyes fill. "Who did this to you?" he asks, and then swallows thickly, realizing himself. He crouches before her. "It's Klaus."

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06 ❆ "Who are you?" he would ask her every day.

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right before the event?

sounds good!

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