TEST DRIVE MEME

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket!

Comments

[aliased]

[there is anger and bitterness that brews in arya's heart, feelings that make it grow darker every day, feelings that threaten to erase the sweet arya that once was and replace her with a shadow of herself. each night she repeats the names of those who wronged her then those she loves, the ones she misses each day but she never cries, she does not allow it. robb would never cry. jon would never cry. don't be a baby. even as dreams of their father's death haunts her, she battles back the feelings that might break her.

the world has been cold to arya stark since the day she left winterfell. never before had she understood the words of her house, although she knew what they were supposed to mean, she had never felt the cold. quickly her life had turned from an endless summer to a brutal winter, each time she closed her eyes she saw her father's face, dead and lifeless, even though she never quite saw it in reality. she saw her sister's face too, tears rolling down it, a face that brought on both longing and fury. there were other faces, those of robb and jon, her mother, her younger brothers, even maester ludwin and ser rodrik, but nothing brought her warmth. not even the memories of life that seemed so far away.

this place is strange. she stays in the shadows, along the walls, unsure of how she got here, what trick brought her here. perhaps its a dream. but the aroma of food makes her empty stomach grumble and after a long while, its torture to ignore it. she darts out like a cat, snatching a piece of bread to steal, ready to run should she be caught.

its then she sees him. a ghost. for it must be. how else would she see her father walking, alive, breathing. its a cruel dream she finds herself in and she shakes her head to wake her self up at him, big eyes staring wide at him, both in shock and longing.]

F-Father?

[quietwolf]

[ He pauses in his walking to sip from a goblet of wine, just enough to wet his thirst, and it's then that he feels eyes on him. Glancing over, he stares for a moment in surprise and in the next sheer relief wars with concern for a child of his own finding their way into these lands. That's why he's been navigating the huge crowd, at the core of it. His family are safer together than not. ]

Arya. [ Setting the drink aside without a second glance, Ned sighs and starts over and raises an arm to beckon her in. ] I'd half-hoped you'd still be with your sister back in King's Landing. Come here, child.

[aliased]

[ she has grown since he'd seen her last, she is dirty and her hair is cut like a boy's and yet, her father knows her, he knows her. he says her name and she feels like she cannot breathe. she'd forgotten what his voice sounded like, almost what her name sounded like. ]

But you... [ she doesn't come when he beckons, not at first. she is cautious and suspicious. this has to be a trick, of what sort, she is not sure. she remembers stories that old nan used to tell bran to scare him. they never scared her. (yes, they did). but he is not a ghost. he is real. and if crying makes her a baby, then she is just a wee babe as she runs to his arms, tears burning her eyes.

she's angry at him for dying, angry at those who killed him, but more than that, she feels a warm wash of something akin to relief upon seeing him as she buries her face in his chest.]

I saw you die.

[quietwolf]

[ Seeing Arya covered in dirt is one thing. It's as she nears that he can distinguish the subtle differences, a hand running through her hair coming away far sooner than it ought. Sitting on a bench, he tugs her in close and wraps his arms around her, trying to remember when she grew quite so much and failing. ]

Die? [ Peering down at her, he shakes his head and ensures she's held in his embrace, tucked beneath his chin. ] If you've cut your hair because you had a bad dream and gone chasing cats in the dirty corridors again, I can't rightly say even I'll be able to save you from Septa Mordane's wrath.

[aliased]

But it wasn't a dream! [ she insisted as she looks up at him, pulling back. oh, she'd wished it harder than anyone could wish something that watching her father die (she had not quite seen it) had not happened.] Joffrey had your head, father. I saw it. [ she'd seen his headless body at least before yoren dragged her away, cut off her hair, and she became a boy.]

It wasn't a dream. [ there's a heartbreak and anger in her eyes that must proof that what she says, she knows to be true.] They called you a traitor, they said you were trying to take the crown from Joffrey. I knew they were lying but they killed you. And I couldn't stop it. I tried but I couldn't.

[quietwolf]

[ It's the keenness of the truth in her eyes that makes him listen, although he knows he's never lost his head to anyone, let alone Joffrey. Still very much attached to it, thankfully. She's shaken up though and it's all he can do to rub her arms and eye that raggedy hair-cut, concern lacing through as he nods decisively. ]

... Alright. Alright, I believe you.

[ Somehow, something about this land with all its rife magic has twisted their perception. He knows when Arya is lying and this is not one of those times, that's without having breathed a word of what he's uncovered regarding the validity of Joffrey's right to rule. Not yet. He was on his way to meet Cersei, in fact, when the little fairy creatures intercepted him on his path.

Ned reels his daughter back into his arms, his deep voice tinged with a rumble of protectiveness. ]

Hush, then. You're safe with me where no harm will come to you, my girl. Have you seen your sister about?

[aliased]

No, no, she screamed. I heard her scream and then she fainted, I didn't see her after Yoren took me-- [ she probably sounds a bit wild, her mind is racing, the thoughts, the memories of that day haunt her, torment her. but she must be strong, she can't cry.

and yet there are tears slipping down her cheeks as he keeps her close. he smells familiar, he smells like home. it has to be him, it truly does, doesn't it? if he were a ghost, he would smell like a ghost. old nan always said they smelled different, wrong. dead.]

I thought I'd never see you again.

[quietwolf]

Come now, look at these big tears from such a little girl.

[ Finding the cuff of his shirt, he gently wipes away the worst of them and as much of the dirt as he can. Disturbed by what she says, Ned reaches to pull her into his lap and rocks with her as if she's no more than a babe in arms, the warmth and noise of the feast a backdrop to their own world.

He finds her hand, splaying his own big one against it, and murmurs into her hair. ]

Now you've found me again, see? We shan't be parted. [ His fingers slide through her own and give a reassuring squeeze, a good knee jostling her fondly as though to underline the fact it can, he's entirely solid. ] Your father's here, Arya. He's right here.

[aliased]

I'm not little-- [ she protests softly, weakly as he pulls her into his arms and into his lap, like she is a little girl. and she can't find the will to fight it just now, not when she feels so exhausted, feels worn to the bone. and here is her father. maybe i'm dead too.]

You promise? [ its the question of a child, of a girl her actual age, not the girl she's started to be twisted into. her eyes fall shut for a moment before her stomach growls loudly, earning itself a sheepish and yet annoyed look at her stomach. not having eaten a proper meal in over a week, her body protests.]

[quietwolf]

You're not half so big as me, I can call you little for a long time yet. [ His tone softens, losing the teasing edge. ] I promise. I'll stay.

[ That grumbling stomach gives him cause to gently tip up her chin, taking a look at her. Far too thin ... ]

What do you say we eat all the fine food we please, then take off to sit and talk together in my rooms? We'll even bring some with us for the morning.

[ Honestly, with no idea where the kitchens are and no reason to trust the servants just yet, he plans on taking enough food back with them later so she never has to stop munching, if she wishes. ]

[aliased]

[ a part of her fears that she will wake up in the mud, next to all the smelly boys that are her companions on their way to the north. most are just boys but some are rapers and thieves. this dream, if that is what it is, is far too pleasant for her to want to wake from.

his offer, his idea, she nods in agreement. her voice fails her for the moment before she moves to uncurl herself from his chest, ready to come off his lap because the aroma of food is far enticing for her to stop.]

[quietwolf]

[ He lets her go and all but helps plant her at his side, reaching over the table to bring closer some bowls of buttered potatoes and a thick slab of roast beef. Anything she'd be given at home is picked out, and Ned helps himself to it too, a hand patting her choppy hair down now and then. ]

Eat and drink your fill, and let's hope your lady mother arrives after you've done so or I'll be charged with keeping a wild girl at the table without first having sent her to wash.

[ He doesn't care for all that, but it's a familiar enough thing to say in order to try and put her at ease. Her spirits are so far downcast that Ned would do almost anything to lift them again, keeping an eye on the crowd for anyone they know while Arya is by his side. ]

[aliased]

Mother. [ the word almost feels foreign in her mouth and yet she longs for the woman whom it represents. there had been a time she resented her mother for sending her to king's landing, for trying to force her into being a lady but now she would gladly put on a fine dress if it meant seeing her mother again... alright, not gladly but perhaps without too much of a battle. or... she wouldn't run away this time.

the food looks too good resist and she hums softly before she moves to reach out for the things her father draws near. she reaches for the potatoes first, stuffing them in her mouth with a ferocity that would probably earn her a great scolding had her lady mother been there. but her stomach demands the food and she eats it happily, staying pressed to her father's side, still conflicted as to what to think about any of this.]