( open. )

[wolfchild]

CHARACTERS: the artist formerly known as arya and you
DATE: spanning several days
WARNINGS: will edit if needed
SUMMARY: arrival shenanigans aka indoor plumbing is the single greatest thing you guys

[ with the purple hood pulled over her shaved head and clad in her new black trousers with the white and purple piping along the sides, her feet encased in tall, good boots, the new girl looks like she belongs. zokla is her name, for being the word to come to mind after discounting the others. she did not know what to expect to risk cat as she might otherwise have done; she could no longer be beth since her vision was returned. she wasn't sure if the kindly man would have insisted on "no one" or if that here too would not serve.

it's a good word, she decides. fierce. the girl turns it over on her tongue. zo-kla. it has a sound like a pause, then a sharp strike. much like the creature it means. it will make a good name.

the bedrooms had been dull, each one identical to the last. at least, those she could open. she tried to pick one of the locked doors, but without the proper tools gave it up for lost. there is plenty more to see, however, and zokla's steps soon speed up until she is dashing through halls and rooms trying to see it all.

she is outside, studying the strange animals stabled with a curious eye and wishing she could mount a horse and ride out, but zokla has never touched a horse much less mounted one so she pushes aside the memory of wind through her hair and the ground falling away ( that memory belongs to another girl, and anyway she has nowhere to ride to — )

or she cranes her neck at one of the suits of armor, distracted by it, as if she might catch glimpse of the person that must be inside before stepping closer to knock on the metal and being greeted by the hollow sound, and when it sets off on its patrol, she follows behind, often getting it to divert from its path to show her where to find this place or that one until she has memorized the paths herself —

or she is piling a dish high come mealtimes, grabbing a little of everything and then some more because zokla would know the hollow ache of going to bed hungry and would cheer that those days are now past —

or she is in the kitchen standing on tiptoes before the faucet, laughing in delight at the splash of water on her fingers the temperature of which she can change, now hotter, now colder, with a simple twist of the knobs and from which she can drink deep, the water clean and sweet —

or she stumbles across the greenhouses and spends a day up to her elbows in loose, dark earth, learning which plants are safe and which will raise an unsightly purple rash on her skin, which are good to eat, good for injury, good for aches, and which will render you ill almost to death ( or kill you outright ) — when she's not chasing after a wide-leafed bush with pale red flowers that likes to get up and walk away on rope-like roots —

or she comes into the forge when it looks empty and passes a hand over the tools, picking one or two off the wall ( those that she can lift ) and thinks she might have known someone once who would have lived here happily —

or she makes her way through the dungeons to come upon the strange sight of a thousand, thousand mirrors stretching so far up and so far away she cannot see those furthest and spends hours among the reflections as if she might make sense of them. ( as if one of them might show her a wall made of ice at the end of the world. ) ]

(( note: feel free to use any of the suggested locations or use another! if you'd like a personalized starter, pm me or comment to this post! ))

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LOKI.

[wolfchild]

[ the girl slips down the hall on quick, little shadow feet. a castle hall, wide and lined with doors. she presses ears to doors, tries those which harbor nothing but silence behind them. many will not open. those that do look the same as the one before it and the one before that, and she lingers less time in each. they are all the same as the one in which she awoke, confused and wary, though not afraid.

this will be a trick. a test the kindly man has set for her, she's sure. she has the silver baby bracelet she picked from the pile and she has her knives, one in her sleeve, one in her boot, one strapped to her lower back. she has her walking stick with which she can whack anyone who strays too close. best of all, she has her eyes again. now, she need only discover what is its purpose and the solution will follow.

first, what does she know. she's in a castle the likes of which she has not seen. when she peered out a window, she found it surrounded by land, not water, and she knew why she missed the tang of salt of the brackish waters of the lagoon. once upon a time, she had known castles. but there are none in braavos and certainly none like this. it would have been impressive were it in better shape. in parts, cracks arc up walls and across ceilings. a few cross the floor. she hops light as feathers over each, landing silent on the other side. this is an old game. a little creature skittering through a massive edifice searching out what there is to be found.

she has opened her seventh door when she becomes aware of eyes on her. she does not know how long he has been watching and she chastises herself for letting someone creep up on her. whoever he is, he must move like the kindly man for she did not hear him approach. maybe he is the kindly man, she thinks as she lets her fingers slip off the knob and lifts her eyes to the strange face.

the face is that a smirking, handsome youth. she does not recognize the armor nor the golden horned diadem he wears. merry and her whores would have tittered. a man would only come in horns first if he had something to announce. but it is the eyes against which she narrows her own. she has never known anyone to have eyes so bright. the color reminds her of one of the animals that brought often into the docks of braavos. the sealord was said to have a great menagerie of exotic creatures. his eyes make her think of the bright emerald scales of a snake.

she has never feared snakes. ]

What is this place?

[selfimage]

[ since the time that he arrived, Loki has done enough snooping to consider a majority of the castle memorized. even the keyless rooms locked up tight had been infiltrated. he was a trickster, and not just any trickster, a resourceful one who enjoyed the challenge more than the payoff, and this made keeping things from him difficult.

Oska's familiar walls feel as if they're closing in on him, heavy with the ghosts of those who have left. it's not Asgard, but the way he's accustomed himself too them is beginning to a discomfort. ALASTAIR is between celebration and nursing the wounds of failure, and the anxiousness that threatens to overflow inside of him casts him away from the festivities when he's not searching for a distraction.

he doesn't expect to find Arya, but he doesn't look surprised when he does. ]

That depends on who you ask. The short of the matter? Ah—It's called Oska, and you're in the company of ALASTAIR. [ it's somewhat straight-forward, at least. he doesn't look like a person who would give a straight-forward answer. ] You didn't stay for the recording, did you?

[ Loki has a way of making everything sound good, even when it wasn't. his voice threads is easy, threading through words like the sounds were meant to fade into the next.

the way his eyes look over her, there's something else that he's looking for that's not just physical appearance. whether or not he finds it, it's not apparent on his expression. he just looks like he's up to something. ]

[wolfchild]

[ any answer is better than nothing. even lies sometimes have a kernel of truth to them. she listens closely to the cadence of his voice, sees as she was taught to. he does not have an honest face, but she does not think he is lying. not in this. she does not know what he means by recording. it makes her bristle as if he is already judging her a silly, careless child.

her face is still water, but she all but throws her answer at him. ]

Lloyd said that too. [ that they were in oska and that they should join the organization. there were parts she could not make sense of, though. talking about carrying out a…timeline? and something's sick? or has to be kept well. she chews her lip. ]

He used a lot of other words I don't know.

[ and a few she understood perfectly: you'll be going home. she has no home, though. where she wanted to go, no one would take her. that was when she knew it had to be a trick. this is a test only she does not know what she must do. whatever she has to, though, she will do it. she won't give them reason to turn her out. so she asks. ]

What am I supposed to do here?

[selfimage]

[ there's a curious thing about Loki that makes it difficult to tell just how much he cares about something, just by looking at him. he's trained his expression, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't look skeevy, it's just whatever's under the skeevy that's hard to pin. ]

That's a broad question. Save the world is the most likely answer—or, rather, all worlds.

[ he tilts his head at her, watching curiously. ]

An unfortunate trip, or a fortunate one, depending on how you look at it.

[signifies]

[ Clark has been everywhere but the library. The kitchen had a decent array of food he'd like to explore, but he was more interested in cooking it than eating it. He doesn't feel unsettled by much, but he'd been expecting at least that small personal comfort.

Picking a bedroom is a formality. He does find one in a corner with a nice view, and some uniforms in the cupboard. But he's stubborn: he doesn't feel like changing just yet. His ancestral suit is the only thing he got to bring from home, and it's the symbol that's important to him. People should see that before they see an Audentes uniform.

What makes him smile as he explores is that Lois would have an incisive comment about almost everything he sees. And she'd probably be really amused he stops in the stables. It's the farmhand in him. Clark was always fond of horses; They had personality, and they demanded respect from humans and aliens alike. He'll be drawn back here, and he wants to familiarise them with his presence.

He picks up one of the treats nearby for people to give the horses. Clark picks one and walks towards it slowly. He introduces himself to it, and talks about how much his father loved horses. When it's smelled the tips of his fingers, he offers it the treat.

He heard Arya at the doors sneaking in, but he keeps talking to the horse and petting it. ]

[wolfchild]

It doesn't understand you.

[ zokla hasn't much experience with animals that didn't come from the lagoon. she is also one to point things out so she helpfully supplies the obvious. her assertion aside, she rises on tiptoes the better to see around clark and over the stalls. curiosity won out.

she keeps her distance, though; enough that were he to make a grab for her she might get away. grey eyes flit from clark to the horse and back, lingering a little longer on the horse. it's a fine animal. pity there is no real use for them in braavos. she thinks she might have liked one.

her weight shifts forward on her toes, then back again without losing her balance. ]

[signifies]

[ Clark smiles at her warmly when she comes around. He's glad she chose to show herself and talk, but his heart sinks a little at how young she is.

He hope she's a native, and not from Audentes. ]

It's listening to how I'm saying it.

[ Clark is a large man, very physically imposing. It doesn't sound like it from his tone of voice. He's very soft-spoken and playing that up for the horse's sake.

He also doesn't want to scare this girl. She's keeping away from him. ]

There's apples over there if you want to try.

[wolfchild]

[ if there is one thing she is not it is craven. she takes his suggestion, picking one of the prettier apples from the bunch before hopping back over.

she slows her approach once she's close as to not spook the animal. fruit offered first, the apple resting on her palm. when the horse bites into it, she strokes its muzzle. around her left wrist is a silver baby bracelet embedded with an opalescent stone: alastair-granted magitek.

she smiles at the horse, a mare now that she's checked, giggling quietly at the ticklish sensation across her palm when the animal noses at her as if she might have more food.

the mare is spoiled. she has plenty food with the look of being well-fed. it'd be one thing if she looked too skinny, but she'll live a while without another apple. zokla pets her again. ]

BELLAMY.

[wolfchild]

[ it was not her intention to stay. zokla has never cared for books. letters aren't important to someone who has never been taught them. yet she stole through the doors, wondering what was behind them…when her eyes took in the impossible rows upon rows and stacks upon stacks of books…

she has never known a library this big. she does not think another like it exists. this knowledge would please the kindly man greatly.

soon, she decided to see just how big it is. when she thinks of the castle as she has seen it from the outside, this library should not fit. half this library should not fit. it must be more sorcery. some spell to make things bigger on the inside. if she could, she would like to learn it herself. it'd be a useful thing.

during one of her walks, she saw a woman whisper a title into an orb. when she had gone, the girl approached. she bit her lip, forgetting that she should not, as she thought. finally, she whispered her own query, not expecting anything of it. the orb answered her with a location.

it took her the better part of an hour to hunt it down on her own and another ten minutes to realize it is kept up. she looks around — empty — before pulling off her boots and socks and fanning out her toes. she climbs, silent as a shadow, gripping the floor of the next row to pull herself up, her toes curling around the one her fingers abandoned.

the sound of footsteps makes her hug closer to the shelf. she can only see the top of his head as he stops before her abandoned boots. don't look up, she thinks, don't look up, don't look—

he looks up.

she almost groans.

instead, she jab a finger against her lips. be quiet! ]

[unburdening]

[ this is a new one.

he raises his hands, palms towards the little girl, to convey that he'll be quiet. bellamy has no intention of interrupting her...whatever it is she's doing. climbing up the shelves, and there's only one real reason for that. he can respect her ability at getting as far up as she has, but there are easier ways to do what she's doing.

he gestures in the direction of a ladder -- not nearby, but not impossibly far away -- and then points back at her. ]

[wolfchild]

[ easier, sure. but she a) is not afraid of heights, b) likes the practice free-climbing the shelf affords, c) is just that fucking stubborn and d) hadn't seen the ladder in her immediate search. so.

she takes another look around, more for the librarians than anything else. she shakes her head at him, motions once more to keep quiet, then turns her attention up. two more rows and she is at right one. she slides along to the left until she finds the title she wants, the title etched by hand onto its spine. smiling, she draws it out.

the book is heavy, the cover leather, the pages thick and fine. she cannot easily tuck it under her chin so she clutches it in her hand, pressed close to her chest. the descent is a little more awkward with only the one hand. awkward, but doable. to her credit, she does not slip.

when she is close enough to the floor to land safely, she jumps. a little girl, small and skinny, with grey eyes and a shaved head. the hair of her eyebrows is brown. in the light provided by the crystals, the skin of her feet looks closer to leather, tough and hard: a testament to miles and miles and miles tread barefoot.

she opens her mouth to tell him thanks for not immediately raising a cry. at that moment, a librarian chooses to appear. perhaps he paused to ask if they needed help or only to remind them to keep quiet. but her bare feet elicits a demand as to why she is not wearing shoes.

she hugs the book a little tighter.

her mouth clicks shut.

uh… ]

[unburdening]

[ bellamy watches her continue to climb in search of her book -- because how could he leave now? if something does happen, if she does slip or fall, who else is there to make sure she'll be okay? but she's a better climber than he'd given her credit for, better than he is; she finds her book and makes it to the ground safely, and it's there that he gets his first real look at her.

she looks like she could use a meal, or about a hundred. she looks like she's known hardship, struggle, hard-skinned and wary-eyed. she looks, in short, like any child he could've met back home. his eyebrows knit, and --

he steps between her and the librarian without a second thought. ]

You got a problem?

[spacerhyme]

[ the doctor's also strolled into the kitchen, watching the girl sidelong as he clicks on the electric kettle. this whole set-up is self-operating, he doesn't actually need to be in here; there's probably tea out in the dining hall, at all hours. but it's the ritual of the thing. the principle, or whatever. maybe he's just wanting for something to do with his hands.

but boiling water's not a terribly engaging activity, either, and so the girl's got his attention. the fact that she's so enthralled by a sink isn't remarkable - he's a time-traveler who picks up people from an array of different eras and revels in anachronisms, he saw this sort of thing practically daily before he came here. but she's young, too. young and pre-plumbing. she's basically a fetus, kitted out like a proper recruit. alastair really is beyond desperate.

he fishes a couple teabags out of his pocket. ]

Oh, if you think that's impressive, the microwave's gonna blow your socks straight off.

[wolfchild]

[ her head whips around to find the speaker, but her fingers stay under the stream, happily on the way towards pruning. a tiny frown mars her brow.

just an old man with a kettle. talking about a — ]

What's a…micro waif?

[ she tried. ]

[spacerhyme]

Wave. [ he mimes what's probably intended to be a wave, of the ocean variety. ] A micro, a very small one. It means -

[ he reconsiders, just before he attempts to launch into an explanation of electromagnetism. he worked at the university too long. ]

...Actually. Never mind, the reasons are complicated, and probably boring. It's really not a very good name for it, now that I think about it... A demonstration's more interesting.

Here.

[ he moves quickly, pulling a small bowl out of a cabinet, and a bar of plain milk chocolate out of his pocket. breaks off a piece of the chocolate and slides it over to her, as he drops the rest into the bowl.

and then pops the bowl in the box-like contraption nearby, sets the timer for several seconds. the sound is awful, but it's gonna be like magic, rest assured. (his water still hasn't boiled yet, anyway.) ]

[wolfchild]

[ she seems to debate abandoning the sink, but finally twists the knobs off. curiosity winning out, she pats her hands dry on her coat. zokla would not hesitate to pick up the piece, thumb it or sniff it so she does all three. a little smear of chocolate comes away on her finger. she flicks her tongue at it, and her face changes. ]

What is this?

[ and — rising a little on tiptoes the better to see around the old man — what are you doing with the rest. ]

[deemed]

[It would be a mistake to say that Odinson has any kind of a green thumb. No, if he's not eating or crushing them them underfoot they seldom come into contact. But like any good warrior he knows enough herb lore of which plants have leaves that make a soothing poultice for bruises. It's on that errand he's here today, sporting a fresh bruise on his jaw.

The smell of clean dirt and fresh plants will soothe anyone and the Asgardian takes a moment on entering the greenhouse to appreciate it. For all the good he's doing here, he still misses the Earth and his connection to it. But there's nothing to be done except the work that's in front of him.

In the stillness he realises he's not alone, there's a girl nearby.]

Well met, small one.

[wolfchild]

[ most who come in greet her when they notice her. she responds in kind, hardly without looking up. a lie, of course. those she has met have been kind, but there is one among the bunch and all it takes is one. so as closely as she studies broad and narrow, skinny and thick leaves, she sees the people too, learning who is smart and who is stupid, who only looks scary and who might truly be.

the man is big. built like one of the aurochs she has only seen in books, but he speaks politely so she responds in kind. ]

Hello.

[ then zokla sees his face. still kneeling in the warm earth, her face splits into a grin. ]

Did you win?

[deemed]

[The coming of Kal-El to Oska has been a real boon to Odinson. At last, there's a partner who he doesn't have to hold back against, and who's capable of giving as good as he gets.]

It was merely a friendly bout. [A grins crosses his face, his hand coming to rub at the bruise.] But I'd say I won.

[He starts down the side of the greenhouse, looking for a specific plant.] I've not seen you around, I think. Are you new to Oska?

DAMIAN.

[wolfchild]

[ it's snowing.

the wind blows cold through the dark trees. firs and sentinels stand silent watch. through the trees she can see the glistening twists of the trident. the waters are the same green she remembers, though now the muddy banks and the reeds begin to crust over in ice. in the distance, smoke twists a black column into the sky, but the battle is far away for once. it's only the river, the trees, the red mud and her.

all the while snow continues to fall on the riverlands.

she spent so long trying to navigate this land. first, to reach the river. then, hoping to catch up to her mother. she hadn't known what to expect when she stepped on the pad. this recreation…it's unnerving. it's wrong. she hated so much of her time here, but the tears carve down her face and arya cannot stop them.

a wolf's howling rips her head up. a warning. she discerns movement behind her and hurriedly wipes at her face.

zokla whirls around.

the boy is around her age, in clothes like hers. but where her coat is purple, his is black. still, she can call to mind the symbol he'll be wearing. it'll be the same as the one worn now on her back. ]

What are you doing here?

[littlestguano]

[He isn't surprised to find the training room already occupied, but he is surprised to find it occupied by someone as young as the girl in front of him. The girl—and it had taken him an extra moment to deduce that she is in fact a young girl and not a young boy—isn't anyone he's ever seen before, which means she must be fairly new. Damian has gone out of his way to make himself aware of the children on team Audentes and he's definitely never seen this one before.]

I'm here to train. Who are you? [His eyes flicker to the icy river and then back to the girl, and he frowns. Whatever she's doing here, it does not appear to be training.]

[wolfchild]

[ call her a boy. lose what you have left of a nose. ]

I was here first. Who are you?

[feytality]

[A girl after her own heart! Maya approves. Maya's similarly piling her plate high with various food, and she gestures to a plate of burgers (albeit a little differently than they're supposed to be made) with her fork, when she sees the young girl grabbing a bit of everything]

Here, here, try one of these. They're awesome!

[she's talking with her mouth full, too, how rude]

[wolfchild]

[ gluttony is unbecoming in anyone. but she forgot she should not overeat along with why stealing was bad the first time she went hungry. the time of knocking down pigeons and eating them as she could or grinding acorns into paste or grubbing in the ground for worms and beetles is past, though. she can eat to fill her stomach. poultry stuffed with nuts and greens. slices of beef and venison swimming in its juices. seafood breaded and fried. thick, creamy soups. vegetable dishes in abundance. platters of fruits, fresh and candied.

much of the food is strange to her. plates of strange, vivid colors. bodies no bigger than her little finger that wriggle still. bubbling pots wafting odd smells. she keeps to the ones that seem familiar to her, though even that isn't a safe bet sometimes. she dipped her finger in a pale pink mousse as light as a cloud and found herself floating a few inches off of the ground for several minutes. the hamburgers, while composed of parts she can name, is not familiar to the land before sandwiches.

she looks from the girl to the burgers, picking one up to look it over quizzically. ]

What is it?

[feytality]

[Honestly, after near-starving in prison and the maze for.... however long she's been there, Maya will take any sort of weird effects from the food here over anything. She's just happy to be able to eat again, and she's slowly regaining the weight she lost so she looks more like a person and less like a skeleton.]

[She's pretty aware of other worlds and timeframes, but she somehow manages to take for granted that other worlds don't have burgers of their own. A tragedy, really.]

It's the greatest food you'll ever taste in any world.

[says Maya, Oh So Seriously] A delicious burger! C'mon, try it! Expand your horizons! Discover the deliciousness for yourself!