( 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

[wolfchild]

Yes, but wolves live outside. [ this is obvious, bell, keep up. ] Most people like walls and roofs.

[ while she speaks, nymeria is silent. still, she does not look away from bellamy. there's a strange intelligence reflected in the golden eyes. like the animal is in the process of judging him. her stare only breaks when zokla cards her fingers through nymeria's fur. the wolf licks affectionately at the girl's fingers. ]

[unburdening]

[ he's tempted to say: i'm not most people. but that's not true; he'd spearheaded the project of building a wall around the dropship, and months later he couldn't think of a safer place than within arkadia's walls. wilderness for him has, for a long time, been synonymous with danger, with death, with war. even now, he steals glances to the woods around them as they talk, half-expecting wild animals or attacking grounders.

instead, he shrugs, tries to keep his eyes on zo and not on the strange wolf. ]

I'll have plenty of walls and roofs when I go back home. Right now, my friends and I are living in a space station.

[wolfchild]

What's that? [ asks the medieval fantasy princess who spent hours playing, fascinated, with a faucet. ]

[unburdening]

It's like a building up in space. [ being on the ground has, at least, got him used to being around people who aren't as familiar with the ark or its level of technology; he hardly pauses before answering. ] One where humans can survive, up there. We have our own air and water supply, and we can generate our own food.

[wolfchild]

[ zokla sits up properly. her eyes lift when he says "up there" as if she might see this space he's talking about floating in the sky or behind it or — ]

With the stars?

[ doubt mars her tone. but a lighter edge points to a want to believe. ]

[unburdening]

With the stars, [ he confirms, reflexively looking upwards himself.

there’s nothing to see, of course. the go-sci ring might be visible above the earth he knows, but it’s a long way from here. ]

You can see a lot more of them there than down on the ground. The moon, too -- it’s much closer.

[wolfchild]

[ these are not stars she knows. this is not a sky familiar to her. but she lifts her hand as if she might high-five the sky — or, more accurately, reach the moon she knows. ]

Can you touch it?