ɴo oɴᴇ ☍ ɑryɑ sτɑrк (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
innominata) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsilium2013-01-18 11:15 pm
innominata) wrote in exsilium2013-01-18 11:15 pm
video;
[ When the video feed flickers on, it catches the girl from an extreme angle. She comes into clear view as she holds up the tablet and frowns at it.
The face is familiar, but there are differences. Thin always, she's too skinny now; her eyes are almost too big on her face. Her hair is a little longer and raggedly cut. Her clothes, a once fine page's garb, have turned to rags.
Sitting on the ground, Arya turns the tablet over. Her legs and the ground come briefly into view. She tosses the tablet aside with a frustrated sound. Enjoy that shot of the sky. Well. Clouds. ]
This is all stupid.
The face is familiar, but there are differences. Thin always, she's too skinny now; her eyes are almost too big on her face. Her hair is a little longer and raggedly cut. Her clothes, a once fine page's garb, have turned to rags.
Sitting on the ground, Arya turns the tablet over. Her legs and the ground come briefly into view. She tosses the tablet aside with a frustrated sound. Enjoy that shot of the sky. Well. Clouds. ]
This is all stupid.
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Am I supposed to?
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I don't know how long you've been here, exactly. But it's been at least--two fortnights, if not more. I've met you, only you've forgotten it all.
[he glances over her shoulder, quickly.]
Where is your wolf?
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Who are you then? Some lord's bannerman?
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No. We've been over this-- I am Prince Arthur Pendragon, of Camelot. And we are not in your country--Bravos, did you call it? We have been brought to this city, to fight a war for the Initiative.
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Stiffly, looking at the floor than his eyes, she adds: ] Your Grace.
[ The rest she considers, but does not dare ask. He must mean Braavos, but she's never set foot there. All she knows is what little Syrio Forel told her. The memory of Syrio makes her sad. He would know what had to be done now. He would know what to say. ]
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the Cat he'd met was--well--cattier than this. she curtsies? he'd thought her some street urchin--which, yes, of course, even they can curtsy, but--]
Er-- yes. I suppose. [which is not the usually rejoinder for that, but--] Are you feeling all right? Fevered, or anything?
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[ Every royal apart from her brother sucks :| even talking to them is a pain. ]
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[he studies her a moment longer, but she's mostly not looking at him now.]
Then you will allow me to help you? If you do not remember anything at all of this city, you will become easily lost.
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I don't get lost.
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Not even in a city you've never been in before?
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I got here before you.
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So I noticed. Well done. [he glances over at her again, thinking for a moment.] How old are you?
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[but she won't listen. right? she'll probably give him some backtalk; for all that she's curtsied to him, he can't believe that she'll keep that up.]
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That's it?
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Yes, Your Grace? [ Another curtsy. That's what he wants, right? ]
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Not that I particularly enjoy it, but--you've generally proven to be a bit more... irreverent.
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I'm sorry?
May I be excused? Your Grace.
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[he makes a gesture. so weird!, maybe that's how he could end that sentence. but. as it is, he sighs.]
If I forbid you from going, you'll only run off anyways, won't you. Go if you wish. But if you need help, remember, I have offered mine, Cat.