( 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! ))

Comments

[selfimage]

Shall we find out? I've got a knife in case it's nefarious.

[ there's ease in his body language when he says that. while there's a few knives on him, that isn't the most dangerous thing about him. he's either reckless (and willing to walk into danger) or confident enough that it's enough for him to brush off.

with a dark nailed finger, he points around the corner. ]

[wolfchild]

If it's nefarious, you can go first. [ she waves him on for good measure.

she isn't scared. she isn't stupid, either. he can go first and go on ahead. if it is an ambush, she'll have time to run. ]

[selfimage]

If the lady insists.

[ unfazed, he heads down the corridor with his magitek as a guide. behind him, the obnoxious flare of his coat glides from side to side, announcing his presence like a loudspeaker. he assumes she'll follow, but if she takes this opportunity to run, he knows that she won't go far. (he has a feeling that she's got to know that by now, too.)

pressing his back against the corner nearest their destination, he peeks around it as if they may be ambushed.

there's nothing except the walls, and a chirp from the magitek. ]

[wolfchild]

[ flatly, ] I'm not a lady.

[ to run she needs somewhere to run to. frustrating though loki is, he is the first person she sees. she lets him go on what she imagines a safe distance ahead, then steps after him silent as a shadow. as she follows, she racks her brain for mention of asgard, but there is none. it must be secret if braavosi purple hasn't reached it to speak of it.

when he slows, she does too. she grips her stick in case she must crack it against whatever is around the corner. or loki. in braavos, the noblemen all dressed in dark colors. the bravos dressed brightly and the tyroshi made even the most flamboyant bravo look drab in comparison. loki wears emerald green and gold, has the weaselly look of a thief, and could swear he refuses to speak plainly just to goad her. she's all but positive, though, he's no commoner.

in a different life, her father's ward had always been smiling like he knew more than everyone else did, too.

her fingers itch to take back her bracelet as if it might give her more answers. she pokes him in the back with her stick instead. ]

Are you going or not?

[selfimage]

[ while Loki is most certainly not a commoner, he makes it hard to pin exactly what he's trying to pull off. he'd jabber something off about aesthetic, or about the cultural context of the horns. as for what he exactly was, well, that was still up in the air, even to him. saying god only went so far.

there's a swat at the stick as she pokes him, a fruitless, dismissive gesture. ]

It's called sneaking. [ he says it hotly, leaning his shoulders on the wall and glancing over at her. ] You'll have to maintain your patience somehow.

[ as if he didn't know completely what was around the corner. watching the flashing points on the map, Loki slinks silently around the corner with light feet, making no sound. while there's nothing there, a little animation begins to emerge on his jewelcomm. ]

...

Ah.

[wolfchild]

[ she knows what sneaking is. she also knows it's done for a reason. ]

You're not telling me anything!

[ she has half a mind to jab the stick into the backs of his knees. would have tried it, but for the creature.

an animal, though unlike any she has ever seen. unnatural colors, a sphere topping its tail. it blinks at them dumbly. ]

What is that?

[selfimage]

[ she's scolding him and he's cleaning his ear with his pinky finger, balancing the arm that has the jewelcomm in the other hand. ]

A MagiMon. [ with a tilt of his head, he examines it. then, because he didn't clarify: ] A game that's on the jewelcomm, it allows you to collect these creatures in any of the worlds we visit. They're not real, of course, but people like to collect them all the same.

It's fun.

[wolfchild]

[ a game. she looks from him to the little creature, still waiting. something about its appearance looks stranger to her eyes. nor does it move or try to get closer or further or…anything like a real animal. a game, he said like she is meant to be impressed. ]

I don't care for games.

[ losing her temper, she marched up to him. she snatches her bracelet back. ]

This thing asked for a name. Why?

[selfimage]

[ it's held loosely in his fingers, and he doesn't stop her when she grabs it back. when she claims her bracelet back, his eyes go to the curious hologram-like creature wafting in front of them. ]

So you can communicate with the rest of the team. You need a display name.

[ a pause. ]

Can I suggest buttfart?

[wolfchild]

[ he can suggest whatever he wants. she's about to suggest he go fuck himself. but he is also answering her again — sort of — so she swallows the insults cramming her throat. ]

Can everyone see it?

[selfimage]

That's the point, yes.

[ he's eying her suspiciously, like she may poke him again. maybe with her words instead of a stick, but he doesn't seem like the type to be anything but pleased by whatever reaction he elicits. ]

[wolfchild]

[ she picked right, then. the kindly man can't be displeased. she finds she cannot shake the suspiciousness, though. a warning that she is rarely that lucky. she does not poke him again, but she keeps her stick firmly in hand. ]

What else can everyone see?

[selfimage]

Whatever thoughts that you'd have put out there for your teammates to respond.

[ there's a suspended shrug, and the buckles on his obnoxious jacket jingle. it's amazing that he's managed to sneak through anything with them attached to him. ]

[wolfchild]

[ that is less than reassuring. her hand goes to her temple. ]

I haven't put anything out.

[ she thinks. she hopes. her thoughts are terrible and unkind and full of things she can never speak. ]

Are you supposed to be my teammate too?

[selfimage]

[ that would be unfortunate if it were psychic, luckily he has a spell for that one. ]

For now, yes. I've been here a while. Amid the violence and the poor choices, Audentes does a fairly all right job looking after one another.

[wolfchild]

[ violence and poor choices. she trusts that, though she does not trust him. she thinks only a fool would. she thinks his name.

she never meant to call the box. when it appears, she jumps. a question winds through her mind and is transcribed in spidery letters before her: what is — startling away from her train of thought, stops the letters too. they hang before her written in the common tongue underneath a word in high valyrian and a name whose language of origin she does not know.

it's magic. truly magic. enough to rip her from braavos. and if they promise to send her home — ]

Did you choose to stay?

[selfimage]

[ it's always good to be wary of him, he has the sort of face of someone that anyone should be wary of.

he considers her as she jumps, still looking easy as he almost seems to lounge in his stance. ]

Aye, you could say that my home life isn't the best. [ you know, all too casually. ] For now, this is a place of opportunity, so I've vouched to stay and give my aid. [ there's something in his voice that almost hints at for a price. ]

[wolfchild]

[ the opening is almost a gift, so easy is it. her face becomes still water. ]

Couldn't you go back? But not to your home. Someplace else in the world.

[selfimage]

[ wrap it up and put a bow on it. ]

I could do that, anyway, so I never thought to check.

[ if he really wanted to, he could up and usurp a place in another universe. contrary to himself, there was still a pull for Asgard—a pull for home that he still didn't want to admit.

the wound of exile was still fresh. ]

And, really ... if you wished to do it, why not?

[wolfchild]

[ it would not do to seem eager or disappointed. she instead scoffs as if he had been trying to insult her intelligence. ]

Passage anywhere has a cost. Unless you have the coin, you'd have to stow away somewhere. Either way, you're stuck and me too.

[ the little animal is still there. unlike loki, her stick goes right through the creature's belly. it utters a cry, but it's the same cry it had been voicing all this time. ]

How many others are here?

[selfimage]

[ there's a tip of his head.

coins are not what he would consider the most sought-after type of currency in the multiverse, but she'll find that out soon enough. there are better things to barter with. ]

Of those? [ he points to the cute little monster. ] They're making more all the time. I'd say ... [ he taps on his chin ] A couple thousand, at least...

[wolfchild]

Of people. [ impatience colors her tone.

that she chooses to remember that there are many more animals like this one has no bearing on anything whatsoever.

that she will be gunning for dagny's title is also completely beside the point. ]

[selfimage]

At any given time? People come, and people go. More than fifty, less than a hundred. Some of us are gone in a flash, others have been here for a while.

You'll figure it out soon enough.

[ it's not patronizing in the way that he's sincere. he's certain that she will. she may be a child, but Loki was a child once, too.

and damn all the people that underestimated that kid. ]