Aʀʏᴀ Sᴛᴀʀᴋ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
needlebearer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-03-21 12:46 pm
needlebearer) wrote in entrancelogs2017-03-21 12:46 pm
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.
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.
no subject
[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?
no subject
no subject
[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.
no subject
I haven't eaten properly in weeks.
no subject
[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.