( closed. )

[wolfchild]

CHARACTERS: assorted foolhardy souls
DATE: spanning a few days
WARNINGS: none atm; but arya and nymeria are both terrible
SUMMARY: meetings and follow-ups; pm for a starter

[ every night since she was brought to this dead world, her dreams have been empty. a belly empty of dream meat. ears empty of the songs of her little grey cousins. a heart, empty. as if something that had always been there…abruptly gone.

the kindly man would be pleased if he knew. if she told him. she would not even if she could. she would never be able to lie well enough. if he asked her how it felt, she fears the tears would choke her voice. she goes to bed each night hoping. she wakes each morning disappointed.

she has been so many people. maybe it was only a matter of time before she truly began to lose her hold on arya stark. the kindly man would look on her proudly. a sorrowful nostalgia blooms blackened flowers in a chest left aching and hollow.

until she wakes to a hot puff of air across her face.

her room is dark, the bed warm. she can feel the presence, warmer even than the bed, smelling of pine and soil and air and something older, something deeper. it's the smell of the northern wind rattling her shutters. it's the smell of her favorite red blanket when she wrapped herself in it. it's the smell of the warm grey walls of winterfell. it's the smell of her wolf when she would sneak the pup into her bed and nymeria would sleep curled up at the foot of her bed.

a tear squeezes past eyes still closed, then another. a rough tongue laps at the salt on her cheek. arya sobs, her mouth stretching into a watery grin.

her eyes blink open. nymeria is a shadow darker than those behind her, but her eyes glimmer strangely gold.

arya throws her arms around the wolf's neck. trembling, she clings to nymeria. the wolf makes a noise low in her throat and noses sweetly at her hair and shoulder. arya cries and arya laughs, until, spent, she tangles her fingers through the long thick fur. she breathes a gentle, contented sigh. ]

Comments

[spacerhyme]

[ he wipes his hand off on the side of his coat and crouches down to watch nymeria. resting on his heels, elbows on his knees, gaze intent.

and a little amused. ] She might feel a bit differently on the matter.

[ nothing wrong with belonging to a wolf. ]

You didn't mention her last time.

[ he sounds almost put out, like he can't believe she'd overlook that particular factoid. how could anyone fail to mention they've got this magnificent beastie?

never mind that he knows next to nothing about this girl in general, including possibly her name. wolf, though! ]

[wolfchild]

She wasn't here last time.

[ mouth twisted into an irritated half-pout, zokla closes the distance between them. she spills to her knees next to nymeria, much closer than the doctor in an action that is absolutely making no point whatsoever. the sharp spikes of her annoyance are softened when nymeria noses her belly.

stupid, she thinks, her fingers carding through the long fur, thick with the coming of winter and gloriously warm. whatever violent thought seized her, it remains that: a thought. no matter how willful nymeria has become, she won't ever throw anything at the wolf. never, ever again. ]

I guess ALASTAIR thought it'd be funny because my name is Zokla. My father was a sailor out of Westeros.

[ she speaks the lie so sweetly, with so much fondness it can only be true. and it is zokla's truth. she likes zokla and so she gives the girl a good memory to keep. ]

He heard the word someplace and liked the sound so he gave it to me. He only learned after what it meant, and he said he liked it more, then. Said I was always as wild as a wolf so he picked good. …Well, [ she corrects herself after. ]

[spacerhyme]

[ the names continue to mean nothing to him, which niggles at the back of his mind still. makes a mental note to see about learning her language later. maybe there's a book on it in the library...

he squints as she tells her story, tilting his head. not doubting her, per se, but it's difficult to imagine anyone presenting a child with a full-grow wolf just for the sake of wordplay.

...but then, it's ALASTAIR. who knows. maybe this is their clever idea for keeping her safe. doggy daycare, the other way round? ]

I wasn't aware they were handing out thematically-appropriate gifts. I haven't got a stethoscope or anything yet.

[ honestly, rude? not that that'll mean a thing to her. ]

But I suppose that would explain why she's so well-behaved.

[ maybe. possibly. sure, let's go with that. this pup, clearly very friendly. ]

[wolfchild]

You could complain, [ she points out. invite her when you do. that'll be funny as hell.

zokla scratches above her ear. her hair is a brown fuzz growing out again. it softens her appearance. she still favors alastair clothes. the tags aren't much good here; they would only make her stand out more. the coat better hides her knives and anything else she might choose to disguise.

needle is too long to hide properly even under the coat. it's not zokla's sword. she could hide it in her room. but she does not have to here and, if she were to meet the kindly man or another of the faceless men, she could tell the truth: it was just there one day like the direwolf. so she wears it openly like the bravos do.

if people aren't scared of a skinny girl with a skinny sword, nymeria isn't skinny. she's big and strong and more beautiful than dreams and will not leave her. ]

[spacerhyme]

[ he nods very seriously. ]

I might do. I'm good at complaining, you know. Got the accent for it this time.

And there's a lot that needs complaining about.

[ he's digging around in his pocket as he talks. the pocket of his own coat, he won't wear the uniform around here. it's not him - over and over, each time he's had to rebuild his identity from scratch, the one thing he's ever sure of, the one immutable fact... is that he knows his own fashion sense. that purple is not his color, thanks. and besides, he's customized this coat.

the pockets, for instance. he manages to fish out something wrapped up in brown paper, unwraps it: a patty of meat, probably from the dining hall. he never leaves without squirreling away a few snacks for later. he tosses it gently at the wolf. ]

[wolfchild]

[ nymeria snatches it from the air, swallowing after two chews. she noses at the doctor now. zokla should probably scold her for lack of courtesy. but nymeria isn't hurting him, only smelling. she won't try to steal anything that isn't meat. ]

Why this time? Did you have to leave your home before?

[ like she did. her braavosi accent used to be barbaric. cat could only be a recent arrival from westeros, a girl who took a ship from king's landing and delivered her across the sea. but she has practiced it often and long enough that zokla can belong to braavos. still born of westeros, but knowing only the stone city, its many canals, the rich lagoon, the roar of the titan at the mouth of the passage. ]

[spacerhyme]

[ the corner of his mouth twitches up, like he's just heard a very old inside joke. ]

Ohhh... I left my home a long time ago. [ gives nymeria's snout a pet. ] Don't think I can even remember how I used to sound, back then.

[ he makes it sound casual. but his expression, as he glances from the wolf up to her, has a wistful tinge to it - or something deeper. 'home', in the birthplace sense, is a complicated matter. he didn't just leave, he ran.

curious, that she thought to ask it. ]

[wolfchild]

Why did you go?

[ she assumes he left young. had to be very young to forget. or maybe not left. she knew people who had the same look. those were the people who couldn't or didn't dare return. ]

[spacerhyme]

[ ...he shrugs lightly. ]

Ah, well, because I wanted to.

[ which is true. he did want to leave; his society was stagnant and corrupt, he'd never belonged there and he wasn't ever going to, that much had been clear. but it wasn't simple boredom or wanderlust that finally drove him away so swiftly and completely from home, no. after what happened... he was afraid, he had no choice. they had no choice. he and his granddaughter, fleeing their planet in the night.

but it was a very long time ago. it doesn't matter anymore. he's old and he ought to have accepted by now that he'll never live there again. ]

I wanted to see the universe. [ he shoots a hand up through the air, skyward. ] Never could stand standing still, me. I've been traveling ever since, anywhere and everywhere.

[ flashes a grin, watching her expression. some people find the idea of a life like that - constantly on the move, never settling anywhere for long - quite appealing. enviable, a dream come true, even. but there are others who can't even wrap their head around the concept. who'd ever want to leave their home? it's a terrible notion to them, or worse, just plain pitiful.

it can really tell you everything you need to know, about someone's situation. ]

[wolfchild]

[ where do those without a home and nowhere else to go but where the current would carry them fit?

zokla tips her head, expression unchanging. practically, she queries, ] Do you have your own ship?

[ he must to travel so much. ]

[spacerhyme]

[ the ones who don't have to imagine what it's like.

oh, if it isn't one of his favorite topics. ] I have the best ship.

[ sorry, every other ship, those are the facts. ]

But not the seafaring type. Mine travels among the stars. She can go wherever I like, any world in any time, in an instant.

[ which sounds like a ridiculous flight of fancy, of course, but he says it with complete conviction. ]

[wolfchild]

[ it sounds like a story old nan would tell. it sounds so good it can only be impossible. even here where worlds have died and dragons fly above the battlements and her wolf has been wonderfully, unbelievably returned to her…

some things are impossible.

but — ]

Where is it now?

[spacerhyme]

[ he sighs, sitting back. ]

Waiting in my universe, I expect... growing crosser by the minute. She didn't come with me.

[ he talks about her as if she's a person as much as a vessel. she is - she's more than that, she's so very many things at once to him.

it's not the first time they've been separated for a long time, he suspects it won't be the last. he can cope, but it doesn't make it sting any less. ]

If I had her, we wouldn't be stuck sitting round here like this, trust me.

[wolfchild]

You wouldn't stay?

[ following their last conversation, a little furrow forms between her brows. ]

[spacerhyme]

Oh. Not [ he indicates the walls surrounding them, looks up at the ceiling ] in here.

There's a multiverse in danger. ALASTAIR's doing the best it can [ probably], but the weeks are plodding by. If I could, I'd be out there doing something about it right now.

[ he's only waiting about for mission dossiers because he hasn't got another choice. ]

[wolfchild]

[ another time and her eyes would have lit up with hope. she would have pleaded, cajoled, persuaded, bought a place for her. i can cook or clean, she would have voiced, quick to prove she's no useless mouth. or me and nymeria could be your protection, she would have offered. she is quick. nymeria is strong. even if he disbelieved her, nymeria's power is undeniable. and the direwolf goes nowhere without her.

but that was a different girl who believed if she only found a ship she might make it home. zokla has a home: braavos. every purple ship eventually turns back to braavos no matter how far out to the sea it ventures.

so instead she says, ] I hope you find her, [ meaning every word as much because he plainly misses his ship as she would like to see such a thing herself. ]