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

[fatherlesskind]

"Yes, of course. If they're skilled enough. There's never been many women in the Wardens but it's not unheard of." And even if fewer women joined the Wardens there were still plenty who fought in other capacities. And in his experience tended to be more terrifying than many men.

[needlebearer]

A triumphant smile flickers across Arya's face. "You sound like the Night's Watch, then, only better."

[fatherlesskind]

Well of course the Warden's are better than any other order out there, even those he's never heard of. That goes without saying. Though he's not entirely sure how Arya came to that conclusion just based on the fact that they allow women to join.

"What's the Night's Watch? And why do you care if they don't let-" Oh. Wait. Oops. That... made a bit more sense. "I mean, why did you want to join?" That was exactly what he'd meant to ask, yes.

[needlebearer]

"I never said I did." She shrugs nonchalantly, wanting to make it seem like no big deal. "I'm just curious, that's all. It really does sound like the Night's Watch, in my own world, except they don't let girls join." If they did, she'd have followed Jon north in a heartbeat.

[fatherlesskind]

"The Wardens don't really let girls join either. You'd have to wait a few years before any Warden-Commander would consider accepting you." Outside of a Blight threatening the lives of everyone it would be too cruel to take someone so young into the order and condemn them to an early death. And, being so young, there was a good chance she wouldn't survive the Joining were she to take it.

"That's if you wanted to join." Since she claimed she didn't really want to, even if he had his doubts about that. But he wasn't going to push the topic, being as it didn't really matter right now if she did or didn't. "So this Night's Watch, they fight monsters too?"

[needlebearer]

"They protect everyone from the wildlings and creatures north of the Wall." It doesn't even occur to her that that statement probably wouldn't make sense to anyone not from Westeros. "My brother joined - it's one of the only ways a bastard can become respectable, and it's the closest he can get to a knight." She looks Alistair up and down. "You sort of look like a knight."

[fatherlesskind]

It doesn't make a lot of sense, no but he can guess that this Wall she speaks of must be a mountain range or a border or something beyond which these dangerous wildlings and other creatures lie. Like the darkspawn in the Deep Roads.

But there's something far more interesting to Alistair at least. Waving aside her remark on his knightliness he asks, "Your brother is a bastard?"

[needlebearer]

"Yes." Her body language changes just a little, automatically preparing to jump to Jon's defense. "Technically he's our half-brother."

[fatherlesskind]

"But you still think of him as your brother?" Alistair can't hide his surprise over that idea. He wouldn't expect her to have any kind of fondness for a bastard sibling. There certainly hadn't been any between him and either of his half-siblings, no matter what he'd wished.

It's also pretty clear at this point that he's completely forgotten what he was doing in the first place, crouched there with a blade loosely held in one hand, all his attention on the girl in front of him.

[needlebearer]

"Of course he is." She shrugs, completely unable to understand it any other way. "My sister Sansa -- she's here too -- she wouldn't say that. Just that he's our father's baseborn. She's stupid."

[fatherlesskind]

"Oh." She's noble. And still thinks of her common-born bastard brother as just her brother. Even if it's just that she's young enough not to care about that sort of thing Alistair can't help saying wistfully, "He's lucky to have you as a sister."

That sounded a bit weird, coming out of nowhere like that. It's not like they're in the middle of one of the previous events where he had to call himself the Bastard instead of using his name. She has no idea why he even cares about this brother he's never met.

Clearing his throat Alistair looks down at the sword in his hand instead of meeting her eyes. It's a fine blade and will serve well. He may as well take it, should he ever find himself in need of a spare it will come in handy. "I'll, ah, take this one. Thanks."

[needlebearer]

"Of course he is," she says a cockily, flashing a grin that fades a little when she sees he's genuinely choked up, which just makes her feel kind of awkward. "All right. But you have to name it. All the best swords have names."

[fatherlesskind]

"A name? Uh-" He didn't know if he adopted it he'd have to name it too. "Um...." What did people normally name swords?

...Something dangerous sounding. Like, like- "I could call it... Slasher?" No, that's dumb. It sounds more like a falcon or a thug than a blade. "Wait, wait I'll come up with something."

Just give him a minute.

[needlebearer]

"No, that's perfect!" It's the sort of name she'd choose herself, something to the point, illustrating how deadly the weapon is in her hands. "Mine is Needle, but it's back in my own world."

[fatherlesskind]

Really? Well, if it meets with approval then alright. Slasher it is. Maybe it works. It's short and to the point. Pun intended.

"Needle? That's an odd choice." He doesn't really think of needles as deadly except to his fingers when he has to darn his own socks.... maybe it does work. "It must be important to you."

Since her attempts to get it back led them to this point. Alistair can't say he's ever had a great personal attachment to any blade he's owned. The longsword he was given when he first joined the Wardens carries some significance but were he to lose it he can't say he'd be broken up about it. Perhaps if he had the blade of someone important to him - Duncan's sword say - that would be different.

[needlebearer]

"My mother and Septa Mordane always made me do embroidery, because it was ladylike." She wrinkles up her nose at the thought of it, even as her voice is tinged with sadness as she misses them both so much. "So when Jon gave me my sword, I knew that was going to be the needlework I'd be good at."

[fatherlesskind]

Alistair laughs and grins down at Arya, raising the newly named blade to demonstrate as he asks, "How good are you at this kind of needlework?"

She really doesn't seem the type to be happy sitting around in a pretty dress doing needlework, no. Although, appearances can be deceiving. No one would think after seeing Leliana fight that she used to be a Chantry sister. Or likes pretty dresses and fancy shoes. There's no reason she can't do both forms of needlework should she wish to - unless it's different where she's from.

[needlebearer]

"Good enough." The words have a weight to them; she was good enough to use what she knew to kill, even if she hadn't mastered many of the finer techniques yet. "I trained with the best swordsman in the world."

[fatherlesskind]

He holds back a snort at that claim. Oh, he doesn't doubt that Arya's teacher was a fine swordsman but the best in the world? Not that it matters, unless this teacher comes to Wonderland and starts offering lessons.

"I'm not so bad myself." Getting to his feet he nods down at the remaining blades. "If you decide to keep one of those and want some practice." Or a moving target.