sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

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WHO: Arya Stark
WHERE: By the fountain
WHEN: December 13th, afternoon
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Arya Stark being Arya Stark, discussions of violence more than likely
STATUS: Open

It had become something of a habit. Arya would explore the strange town, and on the days when her older brothers weren’t keeping tabs on her? She’d range further. Into the woods, looking for any signs of anything off. Old campfires, ruined buildings, anything that might hint at what story this place had. Not too far yet, not with what had happened. Just enough to start getting used to what was normal, so she’d notice when things were off. While snow hid quite a bit, the lack of leaves and undergrowth currently meant she could see much more of her surroundings.

But even on days when Robb or Jon were paying more mind to what she was doing, her daily explorations took her to the fountain park. If anyone asked, she was simply hoping that other members of her family might show up. Not entirely a lie, but the knife borrowed from the kitchen hidden under her coat belied the claim, as did the dark expression she sometimes cast towards the fountain when alone.

There were specific people that if Arya saw them arrive would certainly get a hand, though that would be followed rather quickly with a knife somewhere unpleasant. There was no way she’d take any risks and if there was one Southern lady here already, who was to say more wouldn’t come? Those who meant her family harm? So no one should pay any mind to the girl scowling at the fountain like it had somehow personally offended her, hands in the pockets of the coat she wore. She wasn’t bothering anyone, wasn’t getting into trouble. Just plotting a bit of hypothetical murder, nothing wrong with that.

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"You seem quite sour today," Margaery said, having come from the outer edge of the forest to collect kindling. Her basket was full of dried bark and moss, where once she had gathered berries and mushrooms. Since the incident in the woods, and now the creature that had been found, she had no intention of wandering to far again.

Though it seemed Arya had not fully heeded her warning, given the small signs that indicated she had been in the woods. It didn't matter. Let Jon and Robb reprimand her. Margaery was still trying to earn Arya's friendship and affection.

"Come walk with me. You need to keep warm."

"Surely no more than any other day?" Said in a teasing sort of tone. She didn't mind Margaery. Still wasn't entirely sure what to make of her, wary of her, but she seemed earnest enough in her attempts to be friends, so Arya was willing to try as well, if only for the relationship she seemed to have with Robb. She knew however that she'd need to be wise about what she said around the woman, that truth would be easier. Her lies weren't good enough yet, and there were certain things she didn't want the Southern lady to get to the bottom of. Better safe than sorry.

At the invitation, she peered back at the fountain, considering a moment before she shrugged faintly, stepping away and closer to Margaery.

"Alright then."

"Less so than in the mornings," Margaery nudged Arya, grinning at her. "What causes you to frown, little wolf?" She asked, curious to know what exactly was so appealing about the fountain. She knew that others kept an eye on it, if only to greet those that emerged from the waters, but Arya's continual presence was...strange.

The girl had her secrets, but since Margaery's last encounter with them, she hadn't tried lying again. To allow Arya her fun, she didn't bother to ask about her activities. Better to let her have her mischief.

"Most of my chores seemed to be finished. I wonder..." she leaned closer, "would you help teach a southron lady how to play in the snow?"

Clearly she'd need to change her routine a bit then. She didn't want to have everyone paying too close of mind to her presence around the fountain, didn't want to have to avoid answering questions. She could probably deflect with the all-too-honest wish to see more of her family safe, but that required her to let someone see her vulnerabilities and she was entirely unwilling to do that unless absolutely necessary.

She was glad that so far Margaery didn't seem to be all too concerned with digging into the things she said or did, found it a bit relieving in a way. It was sometimes tiring after all to keep up walls under scrutiny, easier, lighter interactions were more than welcome.

"I suppose I could be convinced to help." Quirking a brow as she peered over, a light smirk on her lips. "We've all this time and more than enough snow after all."

No matter what Arya did, she had Margaery's notice. Since refuting Arya's lies, she found herself intrigued and concerned for the younger Stark girl. She had learned from someone to assume another identity and there seemed to be a purpose to her actions. The Starks were family to Margaery now and she would worry over all of them, especially Arya.

She had been without a nurturing influence, from what Margaery could detect. If she was allowed to, she would offer it to Arya freely.

Margaery grinned, "What games did you play in the snow when you were at Winterfell?"

If Margaery learned just how much Arya had learned about assuming a new identity, she might be more than simply concerned.

"My brothers and I would build snow forts and try and storm each other's. Or pelt Sansa with snowballs when she came out to find me." Sometimes Sansa would join in, but as she grew, it became less likely that she would. She had to be a lady, after all. "Climb trees and shake all of the snow from the boughs onto whoever was under them."

Long story short, Arya Stark was entirely trouble.

She laughed, able to imagine how easily Arya could have tormented Sansa. Margaery had siblings as well and had a similar childhood. She had pushed Loras into the mud and chased him through the brambles maze. It was the sort of existence all children should have, but too many were pulled away from by the harsh realities of Westeros.

"Snowballs?" She knelt, scooping up a pile of snow. The cold stung at her skin sharply, causing her to give a small hiss of surprise. "I don't think we can throw them at your sister, but maybe at each other instead?"

She was inviting utter destruction at Arya's hands, but it would be worth it to see the young girl smile. "I expect no mercy."

"Put some gloves on first, elsewise you'll freeze your fingers off." Lightly reproachful in tone, but nothing mean about it. "Gloves and then I can teach you how best to be barraged by snowballs."

Nope, Margaery was definitely going to get buried in the process if that slight mischief to her seemingly innocent smile was any hint. But at least it was clear she did like the woman if she was worried about her wearing the right clothing for the game.

"Well that's good to know, as I know no one by that name here!"

"You sound like your brother," Margaery said, tossing the messily made snowball towards one of the nearby trees. Her gloves were tucked into the pocket of her cloak, forgotten earlier during her scavenging. Pulling them on, she felt her fingers throb beneath the wool, slowly warming.

Discomfort was something that could be pushed out of mind with the right amount of focus. She had no evidence of the fact, but part of her suspected that Arya might know that, if not know how to do it.

She grinned, "Nor do I. I do know several Starks and, according to southroners, they are as wild and untamed as the wolves associated with their house. Do you think you can live up to that expectation?"

"Robb is, on occasion, right sometimes." Said of course with affection, she did care for her brother for all she had to give him a hard time. Pulling her own gloves on, casually scooping a bit of snow as they spoke, packing it between her hands in an absent sort of way.

Discomfort? Surely not, surely Arya wasn't experienced with shoving it aside, though her focus to do so tended to be more... savage and bloodthirsty than anyone might suspect.

"I've heard such things as well." Replied in an easy tone. "I suppose you'll have to find out for yourself. If you can catch me!"

Lobbing the snowball at Margaery, aiming to hit maybe her torso or legs before turning to dart away with a grin. Not so fast that she was trying to actually escape, but enough to make a game of the chase.

"Only on occasion?" She grinned, already packing the next snowball together. "I would be careful not to let him hear that too often." She glanced over her shoulder, pretending to make certain he wasn't there. He wasn't and she knew that, as he was likely in the woods, but still. It was all part of the game.

Arya would have fared well as a Tyrell. There was even particular qualities in her that reminded Margaery of herself when she was younger. Perhaps it was that reason that lead her to want to nurture and encourage her abilities in deception. It wasn't something she could easily approach, so she preferred instead to make Arya feel at home.

She gave a cry of surprise as Arya's snowball landed on her shoulder. The burst of cold seeped into her scrubs, wetting her skin. Hardly deterred, she lobbed a snowball after her, watching it land short of hitting her.

Margaery was trailed after Arya, pausing only to pack more snow between her hands. "I'll get you for that!"

Arya didn't mind how things were at the moment. She'd settled when she realized that Margaery didn't tell Robb or the others about her lies when she arrived, something that might pique her older siblings worries for her if they heard. Content to let things continue as they were, see what happened with the bond that was slowly forming between herself and the older woman.

Friends were rare for her lately; she just worried that trend would continue in this place somehow.

But for the moment she didn't worry. She just laughed hearing the retort, leading away from the fountain, scooping snow from a windowsill as she turned a corner. If Margaery followed too quickly, she'd certainly be getting snow in her hair before the smaller Stark girl was taking off again.

She always had a fondness for children, though it was impossible to label Arya as a normal girl. Her maturity and spirit were unlike anyone else that she had met before. It was easy to understand how she was able to slip through Cersei's fingers. It would be impossible to hold someone like Arya down. She was clever in a way that couldn't be taught. She was born with it.

If it were even possible for Margaery to have a child (which she doubted since she was technically dead), she would want a daughter like Arya. The Tyrells relied on strong women and Arya would be well suited among them.

She nearly stumbled over herself as Arya showered snow in her hair. The snowball fell from her hand, lost when her gaze became obscured by her long curls. It was a momentary setback before she was chasing after Arya again, tossing another snowball after her, this one better aimed at her.

Gods above help anyone that wanted to make Arya do anything she'd set her mind against; she was far too stubborn to simply lay down and accept it. She'd claw and twist her way out just like an angry cat, she'd proven it time and time again.

Once she'd gotten Margaery, she took off again laughing, the sound devolving into a yelp as the snowball exploded against her back and some of the snow slid under her shirt collar.

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