Who am I, what's inside, that's causing this malfunction

[catchallthecats]

WHO: Arya Stark
WHERE: Village outskirts/Forest, Stark Family Cabin
WHEN: During the plague event, backdated
OPEN TO: Village section OTA, Cabin section open to Stark CR
WARNINGS: blanket warning for violence/death chat because it’s murderchild with no filter.

---

Village outskirts and the forest, OTA
It was no new thing, how Arya all but seemed to vanish when she really wanted to, the only sign of her existence anywhere the fact that her chores were still being done. But she’d seen the illness that seemed to be flying around, and with how off she was starting to feel, she knew it was better to avoid others in order to minimize the risk of spreading it to others. So instead of seeking out one of the rare people she considered a friend, or any of her family, or lurking near the fountain, she spent her day exploring the forest, a satchel slung over a shoulder for anything interesting she found, though her attention was more on finding the kind of trees she remembered as being good wood for things like bows. She’d not made one herself, but she’d seen plenty in the process of being made, and felt that if she was careful, she could possibly manage to teach herself to make one with minimal waste. Given how few bows there were, it would certainly help to have more, and even if they weren’t strong enough for proper hunting at first, they could be used for teaching others how to shoot.

Others might spy her picking her way through the woods, or near the outskirts of the village on her way back. Still alert though she was still paler than usual aside from the red flush of her cheeks.

Stark Family Cabin, Closed to Starks and pre-existing Stark CR
Arya might not have gotten this bad if she’d rested herself when she first became aware she wasn’t well. But then she’d never been one to fuss, had counted on youthful health to help her through, at least until now. She hadn’t even managed to get out of bed before the way the world seemed to spin had her on her back again, kicking away blankets in a vicious if uncoordinated manner as if they were responsible for the boil of heat that had seemed to settle over her like a pall. The only sign beyond her bedroom door that anything was wrong today would be that none of her chores were finished.

As the morning drew on, she hadn’t left her bed, only tossing and turning in some attempt to find relief from the fever, or the itch of the rash that had crept up along the side of her neck over her collar. Sometimes she managed to catch scraps of sleep, the only real relief to be found at this point, but even that didn’t help. Not when she started to wake disoriented, too delirious to realize where she was, or what was going on. In the state she was in, it was probably for the best that the illness had sapped her strength enough that she wasn’t about to go wandering today. The vehemence she sometimes called out with, the way her hand reached blindly for weapons that weren’t there was hint enough that had she the energy for it, violence would be had.


((ooc: If your character wants HORRIBLE MURDERCHILD TRUTHS in the cabin threads, let me know! Otherwise they’ll luck out and find her in the midst of a childhood memory or something instead.))

Comments

[iron_beneath_beauty]

A number of the family had caught the mysterious illness, felled by the plague that seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere. So far, none had perished, but it didn't remove Lyanna's concern or fear for her family. Ned had left her worried and faint of heart, worried that she would lose something that she had been without since she raced away with Rhaegar. In quick succession, others fell ill, Arya the last among them.

Just as she had with Ned, she hurried to Arya's bedside to tend to her and help her through her illness. While she wasn't familiar with healing, she knew the most basic tasks to help combat fever. A wet cloth on her brow and broth to keep her sustained. But it seemed the most important thing to see to was to try and keep the girl still, lowering her arms when she lashed out at invisible foes.

She helped Arya lie back down, tucking the blankets around her. "Sleep, Arya. You're safe."

[catchallthecats]

At least she seemed to recognize that Lyanna was trying to help her. The cool damp of the cloth was a small relief in her feverish state, but she didn't fight the tending overmuch. At least it seemed she wore herself to a more general stillness soon enough, mouth twisting at the words that reached her in her muddled state, a small, emphatic shake of her head.

"Can't... can't sleep. Not yet." Did she know who she was talking to? Likely not, but this was the important part here. Safety she didn't much care for, she'd pulled herself from danger enough times that she didn't fear it.

[iron_beneath_beauty]

It was in these moments that Arya seemed so young and so small. Despite being close to her in age, it was easy enough to feel maternal towards her niece. Gently, she brushed the hair back from Arya's brow, gently shushing her. "At least save your strength." Not that she couldn't say how that was possible. If it were her, she'd be clamoring to get out of bed. She'd have to be held down to stay in place.

"Would you like me to tell you a story?" Most of the ones she knew, Old Nan had told her. She could at least tell some stories about Ned or her childhood. It would be enough at least to distract her from her head or any other aches she had.

[catchallthecats]

"But-" Her words faded off, focus drifting slightly under the light touch of fingers against her brow, though it was hard to tell if the twist of her mouth was from the idea of being coddled, or from something else. Gaze sliding over to fix on Lynna, too-bright from fever but a bit more lucid for the moment as she seemed to recapture the lost train of thought.

"I have to practice. I haven't yet-" Was that what she'd been about to say before? Even Arya herself likely didn't know, but it was the thread of thought she'd latched onto, and if Lyanna didn't think fast, she'd be gathering herself to try and get up again, stubborn as ever, ill or not.

[iron_beneath_beauty]

She had been the same when was ill. Being coddled had never been something she preferred, but she understood now the desire of the mother (or aunt, in this case) to want to give comfort. It was not only for the child, but for themselves as well. It was a painful thing to see someone you cared about fall ill and not know how to help them.

"Practice?" Her voice was gentle, uncertain what Arya meant but well aware this might be a fever dream. "What do you have to practice, sweetling?" She carefully placed another hand on her shoulder, helping to ease her into place. "You need to rest Arya and gather your strength. You are no good if you are sick and weak."

[thekittenqueen]

As she had with Ned, when Margaery heard of Arya's illness, she collected the same medicine she used and returned to the Stark home. Much like her father, Arya scratched at the rash and tore at her skin. Each time, Margaery was quick to press her hands back under the covers, reapplying the aloe salve to help ease the itching and pain. Every hour, Margaery helped Arya sit up so that she could have some water and broth, needing to help bolster her strength to see it through.

With tenderness, she looked after the young girl, tirelessly staying by her side and watching for fluctuations in her fever. It seemed there was little to be done but to wait, though the more days that passed, the more worried Margaery became. It wasn't a stretch to imagine that this illness was mystical, inflicted by the Observers. There had to be a cure, but they hadn't found it yet.

After rubbing more aloe on Arya's skin, she notice the girl stir, pulling out of a deep slumber. "Easy." She said softly. "You will feel a bit dizzy." Her fever was still high. "Are you hungry?"

[catchallthecats]

While she might not like being restrained from scratching at the near burning along her skin, the balm of the salve was typically enough to ease her suffering for a brief time at least. Enough to keep ire from rising for all she was in no real state to act on it.

And Margaery might recognize the way she looked around, not entirely seeing her surroundings for what they actually were. While she'd mostly been at least lucid enough to recognize her surroundings before, there had been at least one point where she'd been convinced they were in Winterfell, and that Margaery was instead Sansa, playing a rather odd trick if you asked her. But wherever she assumed she was, it wasn't nearly as nice as home if the way her expression seemed to close off.

"Since..." She grimaced, the feel of speaking almost ponderous at the moment, trying to keep her tongue from tripping over the words. "Since when do you care about my feelings, Waif?"

While it was the nickname the other was generally known by, Arya did cherish the flash of annoyance she could often get from her if she emphasized the title just so. And Margaery might not know that was what she was called, but she'd likely recognize some of the tone she spoke with, from the time Arya had shared a bit about The Waif.

[thekittenqueen]

Waif. It wasn't a name she recognized, but the tone of her voice indicated the relationship between Arya and the Waif. She hadn't said very much about her life in Braavos, but there had been hints of a life that would shock her father and any other noble from Westeros. Margaery could suspect, but she imagined the answer was still a bit beyond her comprehension.

Gently, she took Arya's hand, letting her hand caress her fingers. Let a soft touch remind her that she was in a safe place and with someone that cared for her. "It's Margaery." She offered. "You are in the village, Arya. You are with your family." For what else was she but Arya's family as well?

"Who is this Waif?"

[catchallthecats]

"We've been over this, Waif. A girl is not Arya." She spoke as if explaining something to a friend, if not for the underlying tension to her tone, bringing to mind an animal considering if it should lash out. "And if you're going to try and pretend to be Margaery you'll need to find a much prettier face than your own."

Fever dreams and memories seemed to be blending enough that she didn't forget her time in the village, but everything was a strange, foggy sort of cluster with no real line from one event to another. Enough so that for all she didn't think she was there? She was angry at the idea of the Waif, imagined or not, imitating the woman who she'd come to see as family just as much as any Stark.

[thekittenqueen]

She searched her mind for a way to show Arya who she was, helping her to understand that she wasn't this Waif, whoever she was. "Arya. We sit on my porch in the evenings and play a game." She placed the young girl's hand against her cheek, letting her feel her. "You know me, you know my voice."

It was touching to know that Arya was so protective of her, even from this figure that wasn't here. She shushed her gently, pressing a kiss to Arya's temple. It was dangerous, given what she knew about the girl and how fierce she was, but she needed to show that she was grateful and cared for her too. "You are safe in the village with your family."

Casa Stark

[tooktheblack]

Jon knew Arya well enough not to sneak up on her when she was vulnerable and so when he went to see her while she lay ill, he kept a careful distance until he knew she recognized him. Arya was such a different child now, so hardened by the world and a woman who seemed bitter and trusted no one. This was what the world had made them, House Stark, and Jon didn't know what they could do to repair it.

Should they? Sansa had said that no one could protect anyone. Shouldn't they all build walls and be more defensive now? Jon thought there might be merit in it.

"Arya? It's Jon," he said softly, reaching for one of her hands.

Re: Casa Stark

[catchallthecats]

For all she'd changed, for all she had learned those hard lessons that Ned had tried to shield them from, there were still a few who Arya trusted above all, and Jon was certainly one of them, whether he realized it or not. even if at the same time she was worried for his well-being, with how closely he held the Stark family honor to his heart.

And ill or not, hardened by the life that had led her to Braavos or not, there was still some of the girl she was in the small crooked grin that Jon's presence earned, Arya letting him have her hand even if it was hot and dry. It kept her from scratching at least somewhat too, though as she drifted in and out of lucidity, she didn't always keep to that, not if the raw angry look to the rash at her collar was any hint.

"You look like someone tipped your porridge bowl." She sees that worry Jon. And honestly even if she didn't she'd be able to guess the particular hangdog expression he wore.

[tooktheblack]

"My little sister is sick, let me have the chance to worry. I'm sure you'll be back to stabbing things tomorrow," Jon joked, laughing a little in relief that at least Arya was feeling well enough to quip at him.

"How are you feeling? I won't ask if you need anything because I know you're as stubborn as I am."

[catchallthecats]

"Honestly Jon, you always worry about something." She didn't mean anything by the comment, tone more playful than anything. "You had the same look when we were small and I'd rolled Ghost in the fireplace soot."

She'd apparently decided a black wolf would be more invisible than a white one- if he was to be named Ghost then clearly he needed to be unseen, right? And besides a black direwolf would look more like Jon with his mess of dark hair anyways. Not that these reasons had convinced Catelyn to be less irritated at the mess her attempts had caused.

"I'll be fine. Just a little fever is all."

[tooktheblack]

"He wasn't happy with you for that," Jon said, letting out a bark of a laugh with the memory. It had been a long time since he'd thought about those days at Winterfell, back when they were all together, and thinking of it made him smile a bit.

"Do you still think I need a black wolf instead of a white one? I don't have a wolf at all here. None of us do."

Jon wished they did. This village was dangerous and he would feel better if his sisters and brother had their wolves by their sides.

[learned_to_die]

When he had returned to their family home to see that Arya's cleaning duties had not been completed, he felt his heart sink to his feet; his first fear, naturally, was that she had disappeared again. With his heartbeat echoing in his ears, he'd attempted to call her name, but due to both fear and his still recovering from his own illness, it came out as little more than a whisper. He'd wandered from room to room on the first level of the house before pausing at the bottom of the steps, bracing himself for the devastating sight of an empty bed and an empty room.

At the landing for the stairs, he paused again, allowing his body a chance to regenerate some of its strength. He sent a silent plea up to the Old Gods to not have robbed him again of her presence; he didn't know if he could take it happening for a second time.

His hand hovers at the knob for her door, his other coming up to rap its knuckles against the wood. When there's no answer, he finally cracks it open to peek inside and exhales his relief at the sight of her. The relief is short-lived, however, at seeing her state, and he rushes to her side, bending a knee and clutching her hand.

"Arya," he calls, smoothing the dampened hair away from her forehead. "Arya, my dear child." There's a gnawing feeling of guilt in his gut that he might've spread this horrid sickness to her. "Can you hear me? It's your father."

No murderchild truths for Ned house rules.

[catchallthecats]

If there was one thing Arya was, it was resilient. Not often one to fall ill but when she did, it was definitely never something light and easy, especially if it was enough to leave her bedridden. At least she'd not been caught in any unpleasant dreams, no worrying comments to be had here.

As it was, when she heard his voice, familiar even in this state she seemed to relax somewhat, easing from the tense curl she'd been settled into. But, it was little surprised when the hand at her forehead was swatted at in a slow, uncoordinated way, the girl not wanting to be coddled. However, she gripped the hand that was over hers to drag in a bit, curling both arms around Ned's like she'd done when she was younger and didn't want to be fussed over but still wanted the reassurance of his presence.

HE HAS TO FIND OUT EVENTUALLY

[learned_to_die]

Ned's belly rumbles with the faintest of chuckles at his daughter's behavior, consistent even while ill. She'd always been the more independent of his daughters, the one who had insisted on feeding herself at an age far younger than any of her siblings had demanded the same. It does not surprise him that she should still refuse to be coddled, and if anything, it endears her further to him (if such a thing were possible).

He shifts and arranges himself to be lying next to her on the bed, allowing her to grip and curl herself around his arm without protest or hesitation. If he closed his eyes and focused solely on the feeling of her wrapped around him like a vine, he could almost convince himself he'd travelled back in time - that they were once again within the halls and chambers of Winterfell, listening to the sound of a crackling fire in the hearth, and she was once again the small, fiery girl he'd marvelled at.

"Would but that I could steal your sickness from you," he says quietly, resting his head against the wall behind the headboard. "I had feared you'd disappeared again when I saw your chores undone and untouched." He isn't entirely sure how much of what he's saying is infiltrating her thoughts, breaking its way through the outer wall of her illness, so he is partially speaking aloud to himself. "And though I am not pleased to see you like this, I will admit my joy to have you here with me." He glances down towards her and, with his other hand, smooths her hair down the back of her head in a gesture of affection and warmth. "In a time, I will go and fetch you something to eat and drink. Going without either will do nothing to hasten your recovery."

NO HE DOESN'T D8

[catchallthecats]

When he settled down himself, it wouldn't take long before Arya was squirming right in, tucking herself under the arm she had in her grasp so she could both cling to it and curling in a small bundle as close to the comfort offered by her father's presence as she could manage just like so many times when she was small, when there was no one to see or comment and her want for affection overrode her need to be independent even a tiny bit.

"Going to do them later..." Mumbled against his arm more than anything, Arya somehow convinced that she'd be well enough after a nap, that it wasn't that bad "B'fore I practice..."

She didn't argue the mention of food, though it was hard to tell if that was because she hadn't heard him or had simply become distracted again.

YES HE DOES EVERYONE NEEDS TO STOP LYING TO THEIR FATHER

[learned_to_die]

"You needn't worry about them," Ned replies, careful not to sound too dismissive at the kindness of her wanting to complete them even now, while hugging her close to his side. "We will see to them getting done while you regain your health." He can feel the heat radiating off of her body, even through the fabric of her clothes. He has the urge to check her skin for the blistering rash that covered his chest and arms, leaving pockmarks and divots in their wake to be lost amongst his battle scars, but he doesn't want to disturb her or cause her alarm.

"Practice?" he asks, brows tugging together. "What is it that you need to practice?"

Village outskirts

[chosenbytheocean]

Moana was collecting things for her boat project which took her to the far reaches of both villages. She wasn't too worried about the wild life though she had decided to leave Itiiti behind just in case she ran into a bear like that last time she went stomping through the woods.

When she spotted the familiar small figure she paused. "Arya? What are you doing?" Her large dark eyes glanced over the younger girl. "Are you okay?" She knew that Ned was sick and she had visited him but she hadn't heard about the others.

[catchallthecats]

Arya slowed at the familiar voice, gaze skipping over to see where Moana was approaching, sans the piglet who seemed to follow her everywhere he could.

"I was foraging. Looking for likely trees to try bowmaking from sometime soon." It was a lengthy process, if only because of the time it took for the wood to dry to be worked with, to say nothing about the process of putting the bend into the bow as well. The sooner she got some good options dragged into town the better in that case.

"What about you?" Pay no mind to her completely pretending that she wasn't asked how she was, she was just fine, right?

[chosenbytheocean]

Moana stared at Arya for a few seconds. "I'm fine. I'm gathering things to make a boat near the ocean." It was a stupid plan but Moana was determined to cast off to sea and see what was out there. It might be nothing but she had to try.

"Arya." She spoke her friends name firmly as she stepped closer. "Are you okay?" She asked the question slower than before. Moana had had the privilege of getting close to the Starks and while she didn't know all the details of their world, she considered them friends. Not only friends but an extension of her village. She wanted to protect them.

"Is your dad okay?" Moana was sure that she had heard that he was getting better though she hadn't had the time to visit.

[catchallthecats]

"You're building a boat?" That definitely had her interest. She couldn't help but wonder what might be further out in the water if there was some manner of civilization out past the water. Maybe Moana could find it. "I could come give you a hand if you wanted."

"I'll be fine." The firm, almost insistent tone the other girl spoke with just earned an annoyed frown, Arya unable to help it at the perceived fuss over her. Sometimes being so fiercely independent had it's downsides, and this was one of those moments, trying to get her to accept that concern. "And father's doing much better now."

[chosenbytheocean]

"Sure." Moana's expression brightened. She trusted Arya and her ingenuity to be a great asset to those who were helping her build the boat. "A few people are helping and more is always better. I've repaired boats but never built one on my own."

She lips twisted in an uncomfortable frown before return to her usual affectionate smile. "I'm glad that he's okay." She paused, looking a little unsure before continuing. "If you ever need anything... please let me know."

Moana then changed subjects.

"I am collecting things for the boat. I'm building it on the shore of the other village. If you want to help, that's where I'll be."