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entrancelogs2016-06-01 09:14 pm
needlebearer) wrote in entrancelogs2016-06-01 09:14 pm
03 ❆ Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly.
Who: Arya and OPEN
Where: Around the mansion
When: June 1
Rating: PG for now?
Summary: Arya finds out Sansa is gone, and doesn't take it well
The Story:
a) Sansa's (former) room
She was reluctantly beginning to accept that she'd been avoiding Sansa far too much. Arya had got the bare bones of what had befallen her in Westeros since that fateful day at Baelor's Sept, but she hadn't prodded her with further questions, partly because she knew the memories would be painful for her sister; partly - and it took a lot for her to admit this to herself - because her own image of Sansa having a grand old time sipping tea and nibbling on lemon cakes with the Queen had long become a sort of shield for her, made her able to pity her own situation in a way she couldn't otherwise allow herself to do. But they were here now, both of them together, and they were going to have to get along. Maybe Dipper was right and Sansa had grown up. Maybe she had too. There was only one way to find out.
She heads over to Sansa's room unannounced, the balls of wool she'd retrieved as her prize in the Deep Roads tucked under one arm, thinking how deft her sister was with the other sort of needle and wondering if she might like to make something with the brightly coloured yarn. She knocks, but there's no answer. Gingerly pushing the door open, Arya finds the room deserted, as though Sansa's never been there at all. The yarn tumbles from her grasp and rolls away down the corridor, unravelling colours that seem far too bright now.
Her sister is gone.
b) Around the mansion and grounds
Perhaps she's just decided to move rooms, Arya thinks. She could be anywhere. She'll likely turn the next corner and see her standing there, that familiar look of consternation crossing her features as she regards Arya's dishevelled appearance and her boyish hair and the axe that hangs at her side. She searches high and low, resolving to leave no stone unturned, poking her head into people's bedrooms and even beginning to look in closets and under tables in her desperation. This had to be some sort of sick joke. They wouldn't reunite her with Sansa just to take her away again, would they?
c) Training room
The reality has begun to sink in now. Arya is stuck here, alone again, and Sansa has returned to Westeros to -- to what? Live out her days pretending to be Littlefinger's bastard? The thought made her burn with an impotent rage, knowing how debased Sansa would feel, knowing there's nothing she can do about it.
She shows no mercy to the training dummy she's attacking, the look on her face positively vicious as she channels her anger into whacking away at it, both with the axe and her bare fists. There's no technique in her movements at all, she's not really concentrating on training at all, she just needs to get some of the anger out of her system. Every time she strikes true she recites a name, something she's fallen out of practice of doing since she got here, but now once again the names are all that's left to her.
"Joffrey. Cersei. Walder Frey. Meryn Trant. Tywin Lannister. The Red Woman. Beric Dondarrion. Thoros of Myr. Ilyn Payne. Polliver. The Mountain. The Hound." And another name, tacked on the end and said with even more venom. "The Queen of Hearts."
Where: Around the mansion
When: June 1
Rating: PG for now?
Summary: Arya finds out Sansa is gone, and doesn't take it well
The Story:
a) Sansa's (former) room
She was reluctantly beginning to accept that she'd been avoiding Sansa far too much. Arya had got the bare bones of what had befallen her in Westeros since that fateful day at Baelor's Sept, but she hadn't prodded her with further questions, partly because she knew the memories would be painful for her sister; partly - and it took a lot for her to admit this to herself - because her own image of Sansa having a grand old time sipping tea and nibbling on lemon cakes with the Queen had long become a sort of shield for her, made her able to pity her own situation in a way she couldn't otherwise allow herself to do. But they were here now, both of them together, and they were going to have to get along. Maybe Dipper was right and Sansa had grown up. Maybe she had too. There was only one way to find out.
She heads over to Sansa's room unannounced, the balls of wool she'd retrieved as her prize in the Deep Roads tucked under one arm, thinking how deft her sister was with the other sort of needle and wondering if she might like to make something with the brightly coloured yarn. She knocks, but there's no answer. Gingerly pushing the door open, Arya finds the room deserted, as though Sansa's never been there at all. The yarn tumbles from her grasp and rolls away down the corridor, unravelling colours that seem far too bright now.
Her sister is gone.
b) Around the mansion and grounds
Perhaps she's just decided to move rooms, Arya thinks. She could be anywhere. She'll likely turn the next corner and see her standing there, that familiar look of consternation crossing her features as she regards Arya's dishevelled appearance and her boyish hair and the axe that hangs at her side. She searches high and low, resolving to leave no stone unturned, poking her head into people's bedrooms and even beginning to look in closets and under tables in her desperation. This had to be some sort of sick joke. They wouldn't reunite her with Sansa just to take her away again, would they?
c) Training room
The reality has begun to sink in now. Arya is stuck here, alone again, and Sansa has returned to Westeros to -- to what? Live out her days pretending to be Littlefinger's bastard? The thought made her burn with an impotent rage, knowing how debased Sansa would feel, knowing there's nothing she can do about it.
She shows no mercy to the training dummy she's attacking, the look on her face positively vicious as she channels her anger into whacking away at it, both with the axe and her bare fists. There's no technique in her movements at all, she's not really concentrating on training at all, she just needs to get some of the anger out of her system. Every time she strikes true she recites a name, something she's fallen out of practice of doing since she got here, but now once again the names are all that's left to her.
"Joffrey. Cersei. Walder Frey. Meryn Trant. Tywin Lannister. The Red Woman. Beric Dondarrion. Thoros of Myr. Ilyn Payne. Polliver. The Mountain. The Hound." And another name, tacked on the end and said with even more venom. "The Queen of Hearts."
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Stop trying to fix everyone's problems, Frisk. You can't fix everyone. You just can't. Sometimes the best thing is to simply listen, and accept what you can't help. But they're not one for that, not really.
"I'm sorry," they say again, wincing slightly. They're starting to hate that word too. "I...know how much it hurts, to not be the one in control. To feel helpless."
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She knows that feeling too, all too well. "I wish there were an easy way to actually get some control back here."
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"I know," says Frisk glumly. "Me too. Even if it was just knowing who might leave next, or who's gonna stay forever."
The thought that Chara might just blip out one day is...no. They can't bear to imagine that. Not for one second.
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It sounds so stupid coming out of their mouth like that, and they stare at Arya for a moment, stunned, in the absence of finding any reasons for her not to do just that.
"You just - you just can't."