02 ❆

[needlebearer]

Who: Arya and OPEN
Where: The corridors of the mansion, then Arya's room
When: March 8
Rating: G, will update if needed
Summary: Arya disposes of too many swords, then chills in her blanket fort
The Story:

a) Corridors

It's far more likely that Arya will be heard before she's seen; a metallic clank echoes down the hallways announcing her presence. She walks slowly, trying not to overbalance, her arms bundled full of swords of all different shapes and sizes. She's clearly struggling with the weight of them but keeps going nonetheless, looking down at them as though irritated with their presence, and looking more than a little daunted with the prospect of having to drag them downstairs, though what she's ultimately going to do with them she's not sure.


b) Arya's Room

She keeps her door open today, proud of her handiwork and wanting to show it off. Her communications device is next to her, discarded in disinterest, and she's sat cross legged in the middle of the pile of blankets, turning over a coin in her hands, almost entranced by it, though she quickly shoves it into her pocket when she hears anyone approach, scared that it might be taken from her when she's only just got it back.

Comments

corridors

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"OK, who the hell's jogging around in a suit of armor?" Faith rounds the corner, a plain but worn broadsword hefted over her shoulder. Her face is red and shiny with sweat, which she wipes from her forehead with the back of her free hand.

"Seriously, I'm not trying to kill anyone's fun but why the fu-- woah. What's the deal, Little Miss Scissorhands?"

[needlebearer]

Arya looks encouraged to see a woman wielding a sword -- there doesn't seem to be the same social rule against it here as there is in her own world, for which she's very glad -- but then frowns, glances down at the pile she's carrying to see if they've transformed while she hasn't been looking, which she supposes she wouldn't put past the magic of this place, though for what reason she has no idea, then back up at Faith, the reference flying straight over her head.

"They're not scissors, they're swords."

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"Right, yeah." It's hard not to smirk at that. By now Faith is plenty used to her references not being fully appreciated. Such is the life.

Her own sword swings down to clunk onto the ground, supporting her weight as she leans. Faith's neck crooks a bit as she peers down at the hefty collection Arya seems to have amassed. "So, what? I miss the memo about a tournament or something?"

[needlebearer]

She shakes her head, though she wishes there were a tourney here, even just for some sort of entertainment that she recognises from home. "I got them from the wardrobe in my room, but they're no good. I'm just looking for somewhere to get rid of them."

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Faith chews her lip, nodding her head behind her.

"Got a training room could use some spares. They no good overall, or just not for you?" Because either way, Faith can probably find a use for them. Her students could use a lesson or two with a crappy weapon, considering life in Wonderland doesn't always consider providing perfect instruments when things get ugly.

Corridors

[fatherlesskind]

There's a similar clanking coming in the opposite direction, accompanied by a cheerful whistling. Alistair is on his way back from practicing outside, a looming figure in full plate armour with a shield on his back and his own blade at his side, his helm tucked under his arm. He pauses as he comes around the corner and spots the young boy with his armful of weapons, surprise and amusement mingling on his face at the spectacle.

"Let me guess, you couldn't find one you liked? I have that problem all the time." Not really but it's as good an explanation as any. That or the boy is planning to raise an army. A small army. Who happen to like variety in their armaments.

[needlebearer]

Arya stops in her tracks, the weapons feeling even heavier now she's not moving, her gaze wandering over the variety of blades and hilts. "I like some of them. The smaller, lighter ones. But they're not what I was looking for."

[fatherlesskind]

The voice is a little more feminine than he'd expect even for a boy this young but Alistair isn't about to embarrass him by saying so. The Warden instead steps closer, looking over the weapons critically. There are certainly a few that should be suitable for someone his size to practice with, so Alistair has to ask, "What exactly were you looking for? Some of these look like good blades."

[needlebearer]

It makes Arya feel vulnerable admitting what she was looking for, and she resents herself for it, knowing she needs to be strong her, for Sansa even more than herself. She casts her gaze down to the floor and says quietly, "I was looking for Needle. For my sword."

corridors also

[determinedest]

Frisk stops dead in the hall when they first hear the sound, and take great pains to track it back to its source. When they do happen upon it from the back, they peer closer until they recognize the glint of steel bundled in a child's arms.

The Worn Dagger - still buried, they're certain. But if Chara got their hands on these...

They'd better make sure it doesn't come to that.

"Those are some...very, um, knife swords," they say, but their confidence dwindles into nothing before they even make the intended punchline, which pretty much butchers the joke's delivery. Guess Sans is the only one who can really lighten the mood with one of those, huh.

But seriously, what's with the swords.

[needlebearer]

The pun would have probably gone straight over Arya's head anyway, with how literal her thinking can be. "You can have one, if you want," she says as though she'd be doing Frisk a great service by letting them have one, when really she's desperate to get the swords off her hands.

[determinedest]

Frisk's eyes widen at the offer, and they hastily shake their head.

"Um, no, no thanks. I don't - I don't do..." They don't do swords. They don't do a violence. They don't...something. The words don't quite come out.

"Where're you taking them?" That's still a subject of their interest, though, and they hastily pull themselves together to ask. "And, um. Why do you have so many?"

[needlebearer]

"I got them from the wardrobe in my room." If she's going to stand here and talk, she decides she doesn't need to stand here holding them, and goes to prop up a couple of the heavier longswords against the wall. "I only wanted one, really, but none of them are right. So now I need to get rid of them somewhere."

corridors

[henrydaniel]

Henry's been keeping a look out for Arya since talking to Sansa, but he doesn't want to make it all too obvious. So, he's actually just heading to the gym to practice with his sword and bow. One's in hand and the bow from Robin is across his back. His shoulders are starting to hold the weight a lot easier as he leaves and goes home and ages a little in random bursts of time.

As he rounds a corner, he sees Arya (or at least who he thinks is her based on description) and ever chivalrous, he moves to assist. "Can I help?" he asks first, not wanting to over-step right away.

[needlebearer]

Arya shakes her head, though she does alter her pace to keep up with Henry, intrigued at his own weapons and whether he knew how to use them. "It looks like you've got enough of your own to carry."

[henrydaniel]

“I figured I’d go do some practicing. I haven’t in a couple weeks.” He looks over at her again, shifting the bow on his back. “Where are you going with all of that?” Henry asks curiously.

[needlebearer]

"I'm not sure," she admits. "Just somewhere to put them. I didn't mean to get so many, but none of them were right so I kept pulling more and more out of the wardrobe."

A.

[araneidal]

It's not the clank of the swords, but the light footsteps: not enough weight to be an adult. Natasha looks first, then follows, more interested in the variety of the weaponry than the person carrying them.

'Where are you taking these?'

[needlebearer]

"I'm not sure," Arya admits, frowning a little as she glances down at the pile of steel in her arms. "I just need to get rid of them."

[araneidal]

'These are in good condition.'

Natasha eyes one of the hilts closest to her, and gestures for it. 'May I?'

[needlebearer]

She nods, holding out the bundle of swords. "You can have it, if you want."

b (1/2)

[krmvgivv]

"Oh, man!" Dipper stops in his tracks, putting a hand on Mabel's shoulder and turning to look into Arya's room. "That is one heck of a blanket fort. And we know blanket forts." They've made plenty of them over the years.

(2/2)

[powerofmabel]

Mabel lets out an excited noise as she sees what Dipper's gesturing at. That is, indeed one fine blanket fort. "Yeah, it is." Eager to meet the architect responsible, she just pokes her head into the room like a creep. "Hey! Permission to come inside!"

Hey, at least she's respectful of Blanket Fort Laws.

[needlebearer]

Arya sticks her head out between the blankets just to see who it is, then retreats back into the fort, feeling pleased with how well it's turned out as she doesn't have much of a creative bent. "Permission granted!"

[krmvgivv]

Dipper grins at Mabel, then ducks his head in. "It's even cooler on the inside." He takes a seat since... even at as short as he is, there are some places you just don't want to stand. "Did you build it all by yourself?"