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Out of Character Information
Name: Ari
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zenith
Are you over the age of eighteen? Yes
Current characters in Baedal: --
In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: Arya Stark
Username:nightwolf
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Played By: Katie McGrath
Icon:
Canon Character Section
Physical Description: Arya has grown up a lot since Jeyne Poole first called her Arya Horseface; she is still small, but pretty, with dark hair that has recently been allowed to grow. Her eyes are gray, she's muscular, and has the Stark look; pale skin and dark hair and gray eyes and a wildness. The wildness is important. It's what makes her look like her Aunt Lyanna.
Sexuality: Arya is pretty...undefined. She isn't asexual, because eventually she will have to deal with what it means to be attracted to somebody, but she wouldn't know what to do if she was. She knows the mechanics, knows how to use being a pretty girl to her advantage, but she doesn't actually consider sex as something she'd evr engage in. So she's probably heterosexual, but, you know. How do boys.
History: Arya's history, and summations of: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, and A Feast for Crows.
Arya was born and grew up during the long summer, in a noble house: she was the second daughter of the Warden of the North, a Stark of Winterfell. She never put much stock in birth stature, however; Arya was always happy to play with high and lowborn alike. It didn't matter, as long as the game was fun. She spent the majority of her earliest years causing mischief and getting into trouble, and dashing again and again her parents' hopes that she'd one day be a proper lady. She rarely showed up for Septa Mordane's lessons on needlework: watching her brothers in the practice yards was far more entertaining. When Jon and Robb and Bran brought back their direwolf pups, it got even worse: Nymeria was the perfect accomplice, and training a direwolf was, of course, far more important than learning to stitch a straight line.
When the king showed up, and asked her father to be his Hand, she saw it as an opportunity for adventure. The journey south back to King's Landing would take months, and Nymeria would be with her. So would her sister Sansa, whom Arya never really got on with, but she could ignore that. Before they left, her bastard half-brother Jon had a small, thin sword made for her, and helped her name it Needle. A lady must know her needlework, after all.
Until Prince Joffrey, her sister's prideful and cruel betrothed-to-be, decided to torment Arya's low born friend Mycah for playing at swords with her. When the prince saw fit to draw his real sword where Arya and Mycah had been using sticks, Arya interceded, and Joffrey turned on her. That was when Nymeria attacked, mauling the prince's arm before Arya called her off, and ran.
She had to throw stones at Nymeria to get the wolf to leave. It was the hardest thing she'd had to do up until that point, but she knew that if Nymeria stayed, the king and queen would have her killed.
It worked; Nymeria was spared. but Queen Cersei proved cruel, and had Lady - Sansa'a direwolf - killed instead. And the Hound, Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's sworn man, rode Mycah down and killed him.
After that, nothing could convince her that King's Landing was a place of adventure. She wanted to go back home, but more than that, she wanted to go back to that area of the Trident, and find Nymeria again. She could do neither, though, and eventually found something to love in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms: Syrio Forel, the Braavosi waterdancing teacher her father found. It wasn't dancing he taught her, but needlework - and the way a warrior sees.
But all that came to an end, too; the Lannisters orchestrated the fall of the Starks. Arya saw Stark men killed, and when a stableboy threatened to bring her to the king, she killed him. It was his life or her freedom: she didn't even think about it. After that, she spent days in Flea Bottom, the poorest part of King's Landing, where most people thought she was a boy, and no one thought she was Arya of House Stark. Eventually, her father was brought forward in front of Baelor's Sept, and there he was beheaded for treason. Arya was there, though Yoren, a man of the Night's Watch, kept her from seeing the deed.
She started a long journey north, then, with a band of boys and prisoners, all being taken to the Wall to take the black. Yoren was going to leave her at Winterfell, before continuing on with the other boys to the Wall. Those plans fell through when they were attacked by Ser Armory Loch. Yoren died, and the boys and men who lived scattered. But Hot Pie, Lommy, and Gendry stayed. They became her pack while they traveled, and they traveled far. Until Lommy was killed when Ser Gregor, the Mountain that Rides, captured them. She watched the Mountain's man, who she knew only as the Tickler, torture and kill many people, always wondering if she'd be next.
Eventually they reached Harrenhal, the cursed castle, and Arya entered a life of servitude. She labored under Weese, until Jaqen H'Ghar showed up. He was one of three men she'd saved in the attack that killed Yoren - and he promised her three lives in return. She became the Ghost at Harrenhal, killing with a whisper: at her bidding, Jaqen killed Chiswyck, one of the Mountain's men, and Weese. When she realized her choices had been selfish and petty, in terms of the war that was raging across Westeros, she conned Jaqen into helping her free the northmen who had been taken prisoner. Roose Bolton took charge of the castle, rousting most of the Lannister men who remained, and Arya stayed on to act as his cupbearer. When she learned that the castle was to be left to the Brave Companions, a group of mercenaries who were renowned for their cruelty, she convinced Hot Pie and Gendry to escape with her. They traveled for a long time, heading for Riverrun, her mother's House, but they never got there: Hot Pie left them at an inn, and just as the Mountain had taken them prisoner, so did Beric Dondarrion, a man who had did six times, and been brought back to life.
He was a kinder captor than the Mountain, but he was still a captor. Arya tried to escape, but it proved harder this time, and it wasn't until the Hound kidnapped her that she had hope of ever getting to her family. She fought him bitterly, until he told her where he was taking her: the Crossing, where her mother and brother Robb would be, for her uncle's wedding.
It would become known as the Red Wedding: they arrived just in time to see the Freys turn on her brother's people and kill Robb, the King in the north.
After that, she was listless. She traveled with the Hound, often saying nothing, not knowing where to go or who would have her or who to be. As far as she knew, all her family was dead. She met a little girl along the way who had taken to following her around one of the villages they stayed at. Arya couldn't understand how very childish the girl was, though they were of an age. She had no patience for her tag-along, and eventually tore the head off her soldier doll to make her go away. The girl missed the point; Arya wasn't even aware she was making it. She knew more about the real world than most children ever would. Eventually, she and the Hound happened upon an inn, where she met the Tickler and Polliver, another of the Mountain's men, who had stolen Needle. There was a squire with them as well, and when a fight broke out, she killed him, and the Tickler, stabbing him repeatedly. She had Needle back and she had shaken off some of her depression: but the Hound had been badly wounded. She helped him at first, but when he begged the gift of mercy - of death - she recalled what he'd done to Mycah, and refused. She left him to die, and traveled on alone, to a harbor called Saltpans. There she bought passage on a ship to Braavos, the home of Syrio Forel and Jaqen H'Ghar, who had taught her so much.
There, she entered the House of Black and White, and became no one.
HERE STARTS THE AU.
For six years, Arya lived in the House, and learned. The Faceless Men taught her about poisons, and about changing your face. Arya has adopted many faces since then, and killed many people. She's learned stealth, weaponry, a little bit about a lot of things. While she was an acolyte, she had many apprenticeships, all the while using what she learned to kill the people He of Many Faces had marked for death. She killed for an order that effectively brainwashed her. Had she been anyone else - had Arya not had wolf dreams every night she was in the House, maybe she would have taken to their cause. But when she woke every morning with the taste of blood on her tongue and thoughts of Westeros, and the riverlands, and the north in her head, she knew that she was only no one for now.
'For now' lasted years; during the days, she was no one. When she dreamed, she was the night wolf. She never forgot her prayer, continued to say it to herself every night. When news reached Braavos that the Black Bastard on the Wall had been killed by his own, she grieved - but only away from the House, when she knew that she could mourn Jon Snow without reprisal. After that, her determination sharpened, and for a time the men of the Night's Watch were added to her prayer. When that hurt faded, she had only her dreams to remind her.
When she had learned all that was necessary, the priests offered her their rank. She had been the youngest acolyte to lose her sight in her tutelage, perhaps it was fitting that she be one of the youngest Faceless Men, obeying a Many-Faced god. She very nearly accepted, and devoted her life to them. But she remembered the taste of blood, the smell of blood, and she finally asked to leave the House of Black and White. Arya found money (by less than honorable means), and booked passage back to Westeros - ironically, by Saltpans. The city looked nothing like it had when she left it. The war was over, and they had rebuilt. She stole a horse from the woman who had cheated her years ago, and rode off into the riverlands.
Arya lost track of the days. She hunted for food, ate roots and berries - though the pickings were as slim as she remembered them being as a child - and traveled, traveled, traveled. One day, while she rode across a field, she slipped her skin; she didn't even realize she was no longer on her horse at first, but soon enough the scent of small gray cousins filled her nose, and the feeling of a pack all around, feasting. Her belly wasn't as empty as it had been a moment ago, and she could taste the hot, sweet blood. And all at once she was back in her own body, on her shying, slowly panicking horse. She could no longer smell the southron wolves Nymeria thought of as cousins - but she could hear them. It was the biggest pack Westeros had ever seen, and it was coming right toward her. The horse reared, and despite her best efforts, Arya was thrown; the gelding bolted, leaving her with no cover, and no escape.
Then the pack showed itself, at its lead was what looked like a small horse - but as Arya regained her feet, she saw that it was a wolf; a direwolf. Nymeria. For a moment, they watched each other, and Arya thought that Nymeria would attack her for the rocks she'd thrown years ago. But when Nymeria raced for her, Arya found herself running to meet her lost wolf. As it turned out, there was some bloodshed, but only the result of accidents. They fell on each other, excitement and joy overcoming any hard feelings the direwolf had retained.
After that, Arya became one of the pack. Though her fist instinct was to force Nymeria to leave the wolves behind, she changed her mind when she saw how her wolf controlled them. They could be useful. So for weeks, she pushed them east, living with the pack, hunting with the pack, sleeping with the pack. After so many years alone, telling the priest - telling herself that she was no one, being a wolf again was freeing. Almost as freeing as she imagined killing Cersei would feel. She dreamed of falling on King's Landing with her hundred strong pack, of seeing Lannister blood run in the streets, because her nights were no longer only for wolf dreams; she was the night wolf in earnest now, and she would never be a mouse, or a sheep, or no one again.
Powers: Arya showed signs of being a warg, also known as a skinchanger, someone who can slip their skin and enter the minds of animals, controlling their actions from very early on. She only did this with Nymeria, her lost wolf, though she wasn't aware that they were anything more than dreams. Since she first started having her wolf dreams, though, things have changed a great deal.
Arya knows how to slip her skin and into any animal's, now. She needs to see the animal to do it the first time, but once she's worn an animal's skin, it's permanently linked to her. They don't always follow her - she rarely orders them to - but certain animals will stay close. She slips into dogs very rarely because they tend to stick around. (And she kind of hates dogs.)
She can also force her way into humans, now. She does this sparingly, because it frequently damages the host, noticeably, and sometimes they remember what happened when she leaves, if not who did it. Sometimes they remember who, too, and then she has to kill them.
Talents/Abilities:: Arya has become extremely adept with a knife and sword. She's quick, quiet, and was taught to see - as in, beyond the surface of a situation. Once, Queen Cersei had King's Landing men dress as Winterfell men, hoping to catch her when she disappeared in the city. Most nine-year-olds would have run right into the trap, but thanks to her teaching from Syrio Forel, Arya saw it and was able to get away. Her expertise has only increased in past years; Arya's deadly with a sword, a knife, poison, her bare hands; she's been trained as an assassin. And she's good at it.
Arya also spent some time as a blind girl, thanks to a particular poison, as a lesson at the House. She is very good at using her other senses; she can tell men from women by their scents, feel air currents, differentiate between people by footfalls. She can even defend herself, just a little; but she's better at cheating with her warg abilities. The House took her eyes, to enhance her other senses, so they took her ears, and her legs, at different times over the course of her years with the servants of the Many-Faced God. They meant to make her a servant, a priest like them; they made a killer.
Personality: Arya has often been compared to her Aunt Lyanna, a woman who, in a way, started the war that most of the shit Arya has been through can be dated back to. Though she never met Lyanna, Arya is very much like her, though more in personality than appearance (though they are, apparently, similar on that level too). Lyanna was said to be fiery and willful and outspoken, and Arya has been like a miniature Lyanna all her life. Though her parents clearly wanted her to be a lady, she couldn't imagine anything more dull; ladies sew and dance and sing, and Arya is good at absolutely none of those things. In her mind, needlework is sword practice (her sword is called Needle), and dancing is the waterdancing of Braavos, a style of sword fighting. She can be blunt, and frequently says what's on her mind. When her father told her that she could not be lord of a castle, but could be mother to lords and knights and princes, she shook her head and refused. That was not the life she wanted, one of dresses and real needles and children: she wants adventure and exploration and new things, and even if the Starks had not fallen and the War of the Five Kings had not happened, her parents would have been hard pressed to talk their willful daughter into marrying.
Born during a summer that lasted ten years (long even by her world's standards), Arya was a child of summer - and winter is coming. The Stark words were never more apt in describing Arya's life. Her earliest years were spent happily, playing with her brothers and tormenting (and occasionally hating) her sister. It was a good, if cold environment, and she took to her bastard brother Jon Snow very early on. They were both of them a little different, just enough to stand apart from the others. They had the Stark coloring, while the rest of their siblings inherited Arya's mother's Tully looks. Something so small frequently has a profound affect on children: Arya never felt like a redheaded stepchild, but she was always a little different. She hated sitting still and learning to sew, though her sister Sansa did so wonderfully. She wanted to be in the practice yards, to learn the sword with Robb and Jon and Bran. When it was clear that wasn't going to happen, she did everything she could to avoid all those things she'd have to learn to be a lady.
That was where one of her earliest aliases came from: Arya Underfoot.
Arya has always been a curious girl. She wants to know how something works and why, if it interests her, and she has a tendency to look into things herself, preferring a first hand experience. Harwin, one of Winterfell's sworn guards, took to calling her Underfoot, along with his father Hullen, the Master of Horse: she was frequently in the stables when avoiding Septa Mordane's lessons. Many things are worth learning, after all, but some things are just really, really stupid.
Identity in general is a very big deal with Arya. She's gone by many names in the last few years: her given name, Arya of House Stark, is something she had to abandon during the fall of the Starks in King's Landing. Before that, while still living at Winterfell, she was called Arya Underfoot, as above, and Arya Horseface - something her sister's friend Jeyne called her whenever she was being particularly annoying. She was Arry when she pretended to be a boy heading to the Wall, Weasel when she was captured by the Mountain, the Ghost of Harrenhal, responsible for several deaths in that burned and dreary place, Nymeria an Nan when she acted as Roose Bolton's cupbearer, Salty on her journey from Saltpans to Braavos, Cat when she wandered the alleys and causeways of Braavos' ports, and most importantly, no one when she entered the House of Black and White, and the guild of the Faceless Men. She's very bad at being no one, because under the lies and false names she is still Arya Stark, a Stark of Winterfell, and member of a once proud pack.
That's another thing that has kept her alive, the idea of having a pack. The sigil of House Stark is a direwolf, a giant species of wolf that has forever been tied to her family. Her father once taught her that when winter comes, the lone wolf dies while the pack survives. Though it's still autumn where she comes from, Arya's life has been in winter since the Starks fell at King's Landing. With her family scattered, then killed, she made her pack where she could: for a while, Hot Pie and Gendry and Lommy were good enough, but Lommy was killed, Hot Pie left them, and Gendry dissolved the pack completely when he chose to join Beric Dondarrion. She should have known not to make of them her pack: they weren't really wolves, not the way Starks are.
Letting her father's advice go has proven hard: she has been a wolf alone for many months, now, trying to be no one. She still aches for a pack, though she's found that if a lone wolf must die, no one can survive. She's had to let go a lot of her father's ideals to do that.
But Arya has always been very good at that: she's made do under terrible circumstances. When the Starks fell, she fled the Red Keep and survived in the most miserable part of King's Landing. She could have allowed herself to be taken captive and avoided much of the hardship she suffered, but it isn't in Arya to give in. When her safe ticket back home to Winterfell died in battle, she carried on with her substitute pack; when the Hound kidnapped her, she tolerated it because he was taking her to her mother. And when her mother and Robb died at the Red Wedding she found a way to carry on despite the hole it left in her chest. She has manage to take the absolute worst of every hand she's been dealt, and find a way to survive. She's resourceful, and cunning, and observant: she does everything she needs to in order to survive, because she knows better than most that she can't control the people around her. Bad things happen, and they happen frequently, and all you can do is look and listen and look after yourself and your pack, for however long it's around.
And when it is around, she can be devoted. Arya will never be the type to fall over herself to help another, but when she cares for someone, she will protect them and move them toward safety to the best of her abilities. She frequently found fault in traveling with Hot Pie and Gendry, and knew that she could make much better time, and be less likely to be spotted by others on the road without them, but despite considering abandoning them, she couldn't leave her pack until they'd left her. She knows what it is to protect your own - even though she never got on with Sansa, even though in many ways she hates her sister, Arya would defend her. She is pack, and nothing will change that. Arya also understands that sometimes protecting those you care about can hurt both of you. Before King Robert arrived in Winterfell, when all this began, her brothers found a litter of direwolf pups at their dead mother's teat. There were five, one for each Stark, and a sixth albino for Jon. Jon said they were meant to have them, that they were a sign from the old gods - but all Arya cared about was that she had a wolf pup that was all her own. All the children bonded with their wolves, but Arya was the first to lose hers. Nymeria was like Arya in too many ways to not believe that it was fated: but on the long trip south, when Nymeria defended her by biting Prince Joffrey, Arya knew that the king and queen would have her wolf killed. She did everything she could to save Nymeria: ultimately, she had to throw rocks, and struck the wolf twice before she ran. Arya has wolf dreams, sometimes, dreams that she is Nymeria, with a pack of southron wolves around her. They were her favorite, well before she realized that dreaming the night wolf was real.
Part of what allowed her to keep Hot Pie and Gendry safe was her wit, but even more so was the fact that she is as quick on her feet as she is to act. Shit has had a way of hitting the fan frequently in recent years, and Arya has survived it by thinking quickly and acting quicker. Staying a step ahead is out of the question for someone who can't control the people around her, but keeping apace is something she's more than familiar with. To escape the Red Keep, she did not run, which would have drawn the attention of the guards, but walked right out of the castle. She kept her head down and her eyes up. Later, she held a watch with her small pack, and did what she could to keep Hot Pie and Gendry from being found by the wrong people. Despite being the smallest, and the youngest, she was their leader: she could read, and she could guide, and she knew not to make a fire at night in the middle of the war ravaged riverlands. Arya is a very smart girl, and though she doesn't come off as a dominant personality, she takes to the role of leadership naturally.
And as far as natural things go, killing has become second nature to Arya. Ever since leaving King's Landing, she has whispered a prayer to herself every night before sleeping, whether she was camping on the road, living in Harrenhal, traveling through the riverlands, or becoming no one in Bravos: "Ser Gregor," it goes, "Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei." It used to be longer, and should be somewhat shorter, but there's no such thing as instant communication or obituaries in Westeros or the Free Cities. These are the people who have harmed her or those she cares about. Gregor took her and Hot Pie and Gendry captive, and allowed his men to commit atrocities to the small folk. Dunsen was one of those men, as was Raff. Ser Ilyn beheaded her father, Ser Meryn killed her waterdancing instructor Syrio, and Cersei was responsible for the fall of the Starks. Arya managed to kill several of the people who had been on her hit list herself, in addition to others who had the misfortune of trying to take her to the queen, or of standing guard the night she escaped from Harrenhal.
She has not regretted these murders. She's rejoiced in some of them. The Tickler was one of Gregor's men, and interrogator who would torture one prisoner in front of the rest, before killing them. Arya watched him work many, many times, and when she killed him she stabbed him as many times as the questions he would ask of those he 'tickled.' He terrified her: killing him was a balm.
Once, before she knew her mother was dead, she wondered what Lady Catelyn would think of her if she knew, and worried that her mother would not want her back for many reasons - murder amongst them. Beyond that, however, Arya has allowed revenge to become her prayer, her salve, her replacement for her pack. She believes that she is the last Stark, that her pack is dispersed; she has no place to go, and no family to turn to. All that is left is revenge for what she lost.
Object: The sword her brother Jon had made for her, Needle.
Reason for playing: I really want a real game setting to try older!Arya out; I love her, she's my favorite character in this canon, and it makes me want to dabble with her a lot. Her older self is the easiest one to delve into right now, and I mean. She was a bamf at nine, I really want to explore that line she's clearly walking between badass and slightly fucking nuts. She's got such an interesting story that throwing her into new situations is always exciting.
Gods: Definitely Eliandre. Arya believes in justice and fairness, but it's her own brand of justice and fairness. Her father had honor, and it got him killed; her brother had honor, and it got him killed. She doesn't really care about honor, she cares about an eye-for-an-eye, basically. Cersei orchestrated the fall of her family, so she deserves to die. Ser Meryn killed her teacher, so he deserves to die. The Tickler killed people by torture, so he deserved to die - more slowly than she killed him, she'd say now, but at least he's dead. It's part of why she had difficulty assimilating into the House of Black and White; the Faceless Men killed good men and bad men ("Elsewise the good would live forever"), but she needed to find the reason for the murders she committed, beyond being told to.
Writing Samples
Players may choose to write three of the four writing samples. Additionally, for two of the three samples applicants may substitute links to previously written roleplaying threads of no less than eight substantial replies. We reserve the right to ask for an additional sample if more information is required.
First-Person Network Post: [The camera flashes on and gives a sweeping view of the room before it's half covered. Arya's voice comes at a distance; she has no idea what the hell to make of an iphone, and no idea that you're supposed to talk into it, either.]
'Don't panic.' That's a stupid thing to say. Nymeria, come - no, come here.
[She drops the phone, and there's a crooked, half visible, monstrously large wolf pacing in and out of view. A girl is sitting at the edge of the video, her face out of sight, legs stretched out. The wolf steps over her each way, whining and disgruntled.]
Stop that. I don't know where the pack is - don't eat that! [She darts to her feet and out of sight for a moment; but then the wolf runs back into sight, a pamphlet between her teeth. Arya grabs for it, and they struggle.] Give it back, it might be important!
[Abruptly, Nymeria lets go and Arya tumbles back onto her ass, only her legs visible.] Camel cunt, [she mutters, and that might be the sound of Nymeria licking her face in apology. There's silence for a long moment, presumably as Arya reads. Then:]
Seven hells, are they stupid? Don't panic, rejoice? [The pamphlet is tossed aside, and Arya darts to the door (though only her feet can really be seen). It's more than obvious where she is, though, because she's banging on the wood.] Let us out, you camel cunts! Open the door now!
First-Person Journal Post: --
Third-Person Arrival Post: A couple links for this, though I can write the game specific sample if it's preferred: an ongoing meme, and a reunion thread.
Third-Person Action Post: He was a butcher. He was good at his craft. He did not overprice his wares. He did not cheat his customers, or con them out of coin. He was a good, honest merchant, and Arya did not think she wanted to kill him.
The kindly man had given her his name, though, and though she memorized it, she would not say it aloud. He was to die, and she was to help him on his way. For days, she watched, and rationalized, calling it observation. He was a good man. He arrived at work early, and he closed up shop late. He kept his counter clean. He never saved the choicest cuts for himself.
The second night she observed the butcher, Arya prowled over rooftops, following him. Like most shopkeepers, he lived above his shop: but all men had vices, even good ones. Even ones that get their heads chopped off, but she kept that thought in the deepest part of herself, where Arya Stark still lived. His vice, like many, was drink and whores. So it seemed at first, anyway. But he never let the whores pull him into back rooms, the way they pulled other patrons. He only watched, and drank, and paid, and left.
On the fourth night, something new happened. While Arya Stark sat safe on the roof of a building fifteen feet away, a cat slipped into the whore house, watching with gray eyes. And Arya saw that the man had stopped watching all the girls: he watched one, and never took his eyes off her. Worse, when she let the cat rub against his side, looking for a bit of food, he kicked it aside. The cat yowled, and Arya returned to her body to narrow her eyes.
Instead of returning the House, she stayed where she was, and watched. He stayed until closing, later than usual, and paid his tab. But when he left, he circled around, waiting in the alley behind the brothel. So Arya circled too, slipping down from her high perch to pad silently, unnoticed, through the streets near the Ragman's Harbor. Just as she reached the alley, she heard a scuffle; it would go unnoticed to most ears, she knew, but her time as a blind girl (and a cat, and a bird, and a dog) had taught her to listen better than most. Someone had been grabbed.
She watched, silent, as the butcher dragged a girl away from the building - the one he was watching she knew before she saw the whore - and down the alley, where there were no torches to light the way. He wasn't heading toward his shop, and she was struggling. Arya hesitated, waiting till he'd rounded the corner with the girl, and followed.
No one is to till this man, she thought to herself. It's for someone to save the girl. Arya Stark argued with no one, argued about honor and doing what was right. Arya stark judged people every day; no one judged nothing. The girl was not hers to judge. Perhaps she is just as evil, she told herself, and when she peered around the next corner, she realized it didn't matter.
The man had trapped the girl between himself and the wall. As Arya watched the girl's arm hang limply, swaying slightly, she realized that she could not orchestrate a better opportunity. There were no witnesses.
Sliding her knife from her boot, Arya walked up behind the man, and slipped the blade into his back. He never heard her. She twisted the knife, side stepping until his rolling, terrified eyes could see her. She had not expected him to look into her face and thank her for the gift: she wanted him to see her, before she became no one again.
He died as she let him drop; without his weight, the girl's body fell too. Though she couldn't see the red, Arya saw the smiling gash cut across the whore's throat. She paused long enough to wipe her dagger clean on the butcher's clothes, and moved away. A girl of the north may have moved the whore's body away from that of her killed. But no one had such sentimental thoughts.
Misc
Other: Arya reacts very badly to being grabbed. Grabbing her in any way is very likely to result in being stabbed; she's not particularly good at controlling that urge. She will also be bringing Nymeria with her, her mostly wild, small-horse sized direwolf.
Name: Ari
Username:
zenithAre you over the age of eighteen? Yes
Current characters in Baedal: --
In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: Arya Stark
Username:
nightwolfFandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Played By: Katie McGrath
Icon:
Canon Character Section
Physical Description: Arya has grown up a lot since Jeyne Poole first called her Arya Horseface; she is still small, but pretty, with dark hair that has recently been allowed to grow. Her eyes are gray, she's muscular, and has the Stark look; pale skin and dark hair and gray eyes and a wildness. The wildness is important. It's what makes her look like her Aunt Lyanna.
Sexuality: Arya is pretty...undefined. She isn't asexual, because eventually she will have to deal with what it means to be attracted to somebody, but she wouldn't know what to do if she was. She knows the mechanics, knows how to use being a pretty girl to her advantage, but she doesn't actually consider sex as something she'd evr engage in. So she's probably heterosexual, but, you know. How do boys.
History: Arya's history, and summations of: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, and A Feast for Crows.
Arya was born and grew up during the long summer, in a noble house: she was the second daughter of the Warden of the North, a Stark of Winterfell. She never put much stock in birth stature, however; Arya was always happy to play with high and lowborn alike. It didn't matter, as long as the game was fun. She spent the majority of her earliest years causing mischief and getting into trouble, and dashing again and again her parents' hopes that she'd one day be a proper lady. She rarely showed up for Septa Mordane's lessons on needlework: watching her brothers in the practice yards was far more entertaining. When Jon and Robb and Bran brought back their direwolf pups, it got even worse: Nymeria was the perfect accomplice, and training a direwolf was, of course, far more important than learning to stitch a straight line.
When the king showed up, and asked her father to be his Hand, she saw it as an opportunity for adventure. The journey south back to King's Landing would take months, and Nymeria would be with her. So would her sister Sansa, whom Arya never really got on with, but she could ignore that. Before they left, her bastard half-brother Jon had a small, thin sword made for her, and helped her name it Needle. A lady must know her needlework, after all.
Until Prince Joffrey, her sister's prideful and cruel betrothed-to-be, decided to torment Arya's low born friend Mycah for playing at swords with her. When the prince saw fit to draw his real sword where Arya and Mycah had been using sticks, Arya interceded, and Joffrey turned on her. That was when Nymeria attacked, mauling the prince's arm before Arya called her off, and ran.
She had to throw stones at Nymeria to get the wolf to leave. It was the hardest thing she'd had to do up until that point, but she knew that if Nymeria stayed, the king and queen would have her killed.
It worked; Nymeria was spared. but Queen Cersei proved cruel, and had Lady - Sansa'a direwolf - killed instead. And the Hound, Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's sworn man, rode Mycah down and killed him.
After that, nothing could convince her that King's Landing was a place of adventure. She wanted to go back home, but more than that, she wanted to go back to that area of the Trident, and find Nymeria again. She could do neither, though, and eventually found something to love in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms: Syrio Forel, the Braavosi waterdancing teacher her father found. It wasn't dancing he taught her, but needlework - and the way a warrior sees.
But all that came to an end, too; the Lannisters orchestrated the fall of the Starks. Arya saw Stark men killed, and when a stableboy threatened to bring her to the king, she killed him. It was his life or her freedom: she didn't even think about it. After that, she spent days in Flea Bottom, the poorest part of King's Landing, where most people thought she was a boy, and no one thought she was Arya of House Stark. Eventually, her father was brought forward in front of Baelor's Sept, and there he was beheaded for treason. Arya was there, though Yoren, a man of the Night's Watch, kept her from seeing the deed.
She started a long journey north, then, with a band of boys and prisoners, all being taken to the Wall to take the black. Yoren was going to leave her at Winterfell, before continuing on with the other boys to the Wall. Those plans fell through when they were attacked by Ser Armory Loch. Yoren died, and the boys and men who lived scattered. But Hot Pie, Lommy, and Gendry stayed. They became her pack while they traveled, and they traveled far. Until Lommy was killed when Ser Gregor, the Mountain that Rides, captured them. She watched the Mountain's man, who she knew only as the Tickler, torture and kill many people, always wondering if she'd be next.
Eventually they reached Harrenhal, the cursed castle, and Arya entered a life of servitude. She labored under Weese, until Jaqen H'Ghar showed up. He was one of three men she'd saved in the attack that killed Yoren - and he promised her three lives in return. She became the Ghost at Harrenhal, killing with a whisper: at her bidding, Jaqen killed Chiswyck, one of the Mountain's men, and Weese. When she realized her choices had been selfish and petty, in terms of the war that was raging across Westeros, she conned Jaqen into helping her free the northmen who had been taken prisoner. Roose Bolton took charge of the castle, rousting most of the Lannister men who remained, and Arya stayed on to act as his cupbearer. When she learned that the castle was to be left to the Brave Companions, a group of mercenaries who were renowned for their cruelty, she convinced Hot Pie and Gendry to escape with her. They traveled for a long time, heading for Riverrun, her mother's House, but they never got there: Hot Pie left them at an inn, and just as the Mountain had taken them prisoner, so did Beric Dondarrion, a man who had did six times, and been brought back to life.
He was a kinder captor than the Mountain, but he was still a captor. Arya tried to escape, but it proved harder this time, and it wasn't until the Hound kidnapped her that she had hope of ever getting to her family. She fought him bitterly, until he told her where he was taking her: the Crossing, where her mother and brother Robb would be, for her uncle's wedding.
It would become known as the Red Wedding: they arrived just in time to see the Freys turn on her brother's people and kill Robb, the King in the north.
After that, she was listless. She traveled with the Hound, often saying nothing, not knowing where to go or who would have her or who to be. As far as she knew, all her family was dead. She met a little girl along the way who had taken to following her around one of the villages they stayed at. Arya couldn't understand how very childish the girl was, though they were of an age. She had no patience for her tag-along, and eventually tore the head off her soldier doll to make her go away. The girl missed the point; Arya wasn't even aware she was making it. She knew more about the real world than most children ever would. Eventually, she and the Hound happened upon an inn, where she met the Tickler and Polliver, another of the Mountain's men, who had stolen Needle. There was a squire with them as well, and when a fight broke out, she killed him, and the Tickler, stabbing him repeatedly. She had Needle back and she had shaken off some of her depression: but the Hound had been badly wounded. She helped him at first, but when he begged the gift of mercy - of death - she recalled what he'd done to Mycah, and refused. She left him to die, and traveled on alone, to a harbor called Saltpans. There she bought passage on a ship to Braavos, the home of Syrio Forel and Jaqen H'Ghar, who had taught her so much.
There, she entered the House of Black and White, and became no one.
HERE STARTS THE AU.
For six years, Arya lived in the House, and learned. The Faceless Men taught her about poisons, and about changing your face. Arya has adopted many faces since then, and killed many people. She's learned stealth, weaponry, a little bit about a lot of things. While she was an acolyte, she had many apprenticeships, all the while using what she learned to kill the people He of Many Faces had marked for death. She killed for an order that effectively brainwashed her. Had she been anyone else - had Arya not had wolf dreams every night she was in the House, maybe she would have taken to their cause. But when she woke every morning with the taste of blood on her tongue and thoughts of Westeros, and the riverlands, and the north in her head, she knew that she was only no one for now.
'For now' lasted years; during the days, she was no one. When she dreamed, she was the night wolf. She never forgot her prayer, continued to say it to herself every night. When news reached Braavos that the Black Bastard on the Wall had been killed by his own, she grieved - but only away from the House, when she knew that she could mourn Jon Snow without reprisal. After that, her determination sharpened, and for a time the men of the Night's Watch were added to her prayer. When that hurt faded, she had only her dreams to remind her.
When she had learned all that was necessary, the priests offered her their rank. She had been the youngest acolyte to lose her sight in her tutelage, perhaps it was fitting that she be one of the youngest Faceless Men, obeying a Many-Faced god. She very nearly accepted, and devoted her life to them. But she remembered the taste of blood, the smell of blood, and she finally asked to leave the House of Black and White. Arya found money (by less than honorable means), and booked passage back to Westeros - ironically, by Saltpans. The city looked nothing like it had when she left it. The war was over, and they had rebuilt. She stole a horse from the woman who had cheated her years ago, and rode off into the riverlands.
Arya lost track of the days. She hunted for food, ate roots and berries - though the pickings were as slim as she remembered them being as a child - and traveled, traveled, traveled. One day, while she rode across a field, she slipped her skin; she didn't even realize she was no longer on her horse at first, but soon enough the scent of small gray cousins filled her nose, and the feeling of a pack all around, feasting. Her belly wasn't as empty as it had been a moment ago, and she could taste the hot, sweet blood. And all at once she was back in her own body, on her shying, slowly panicking horse. She could no longer smell the southron wolves Nymeria thought of as cousins - but she could hear them. It was the biggest pack Westeros had ever seen, and it was coming right toward her. The horse reared, and despite her best efforts, Arya was thrown; the gelding bolted, leaving her with no cover, and no escape.
Then the pack showed itself, at its lead was what looked like a small horse - but as Arya regained her feet, she saw that it was a wolf; a direwolf. Nymeria. For a moment, they watched each other, and Arya thought that Nymeria would attack her for the rocks she'd thrown years ago. But when Nymeria raced for her, Arya found herself running to meet her lost wolf. As it turned out, there was some bloodshed, but only the result of accidents. They fell on each other, excitement and joy overcoming any hard feelings the direwolf had retained.
After that, Arya became one of the pack. Though her fist instinct was to force Nymeria to leave the wolves behind, she changed her mind when she saw how her wolf controlled them. They could be useful. So for weeks, she pushed them east, living with the pack, hunting with the pack, sleeping with the pack. After so many years alone, telling the priest - telling herself that she was no one, being a wolf again was freeing. Almost as freeing as she imagined killing Cersei would feel. She dreamed of falling on King's Landing with her hundred strong pack, of seeing Lannister blood run in the streets, because her nights were no longer only for wolf dreams; she was the night wolf in earnest now, and she would never be a mouse, or a sheep, or no one again.
Powers: Arya showed signs of being a warg, also known as a skinchanger, someone who can slip their skin and enter the minds of animals, controlling their actions from very early on. She only did this with Nymeria, her lost wolf, though she wasn't aware that they were anything more than dreams. Since she first started having her wolf dreams, though, things have changed a great deal.
Arya knows how to slip her skin and into any animal's, now. She needs to see the animal to do it the first time, but once she's worn an animal's skin, it's permanently linked to her. They don't always follow her - she rarely orders them to - but certain animals will stay close. She slips into dogs very rarely because they tend to stick around. (And she kind of hates dogs.)
She can also force her way into humans, now. She does this sparingly, because it frequently damages the host, noticeably, and sometimes they remember what happened when she leaves, if not who did it. Sometimes they remember who, too, and then she has to kill them.
Talents/Abilities:: Arya has become extremely adept with a knife and sword. She's quick, quiet, and was taught to see - as in, beyond the surface of a situation. Once, Queen Cersei had King's Landing men dress as Winterfell men, hoping to catch her when she disappeared in the city. Most nine-year-olds would have run right into the trap, but thanks to her teaching from Syrio Forel, Arya saw it and was able to get away. Her expertise has only increased in past years; Arya's deadly with a sword, a knife, poison, her bare hands; she's been trained as an assassin. And she's good at it.
Arya also spent some time as a blind girl, thanks to a particular poison, as a lesson at the House. She is very good at using her other senses; she can tell men from women by their scents, feel air currents, differentiate between people by footfalls. She can even defend herself, just a little; but she's better at cheating with her warg abilities. The House took her eyes, to enhance her other senses, so they took her ears, and her legs, at different times over the course of her years with the servants of the Many-Faced God. They meant to make her a servant, a priest like them; they made a killer.
Personality: Arya has often been compared to her Aunt Lyanna, a woman who, in a way, started the war that most of the shit Arya has been through can be dated back to. Though she never met Lyanna, Arya is very much like her, though more in personality than appearance (though they are, apparently, similar on that level too). Lyanna was said to be fiery and willful and outspoken, and Arya has been like a miniature Lyanna all her life. Though her parents clearly wanted her to be a lady, she couldn't imagine anything more dull; ladies sew and dance and sing, and Arya is good at absolutely none of those things. In her mind, needlework is sword practice (her sword is called Needle), and dancing is the waterdancing of Braavos, a style of sword fighting. She can be blunt, and frequently says what's on her mind. When her father told her that she could not be lord of a castle, but could be mother to lords and knights and princes, she shook her head and refused. That was not the life she wanted, one of dresses and real needles and children: she wants adventure and exploration and new things, and even if the Starks had not fallen and the War of the Five Kings had not happened, her parents would have been hard pressed to talk their willful daughter into marrying.
Born during a summer that lasted ten years (long even by her world's standards), Arya was a child of summer - and winter is coming. The Stark words were never more apt in describing Arya's life. Her earliest years were spent happily, playing with her brothers and tormenting (and occasionally hating) her sister. It was a good, if cold environment, and she took to her bastard brother Jon Snow very early on. They were both of them a little different, just enough to stand apart from the others. They had the Stark coloring, while the rest of their siblings inherited Arya's mother's Tully looks. Something so small frequently has a profound affect on children: Arya never felt like a redheaded stepchild, but she was always a little different. She hated sitting still and learning to sew, though her sister Sansa did so wonderfully. She wanted to be in the practice yards, to learn the sword with Robb and Jon and Bran. When it was clear that wasn't going to happen, she did everything she could to avoid all those things she'd have to learn to be a lady.
That was where one of her earliest aliases came from: Arya Underfoot.
Arya has always been a curious girl. She wants to know how something works and why, if it interests her, and she has a tendency to look into things herself, preferring a first hand experience. Harwin, one of Winterfell's sworn guards, took to calling her Underfoot, along with his father Hullen, the Master of Horse: she was frequently in the stables when avoiding Septa Mordane's lessons. Many things are worth learning, after all, but some things are just really, really stupid.
Identity in general is a very big deal with Arya. She's gone by many names in the last few years: her given name, Arya of House Stark, is something she had to abandon during the fall of the Starks in King's Landing. Before that, while still living at Winterfell, she was called Arya Underfoot, as above, and Arya Horseface - something her sister's friend Jeyne called her whenever she was being particularly annoying. She was Arry when she pretended to be a boy heading to the Wall, Weasel when she was captured by the Mountain, the Ghost of Harrenhal, responsible for several deaths in that burned and dreary place, Nymeria an Nan when she acted as Roose Bolton's cupbearer, Salty on her journey from Saltpans to Braavos, Cat when she wandered the alleys and causeways of Braavos' ports, and most importantly, no one when she entered the House of Black and White, and the guild of the Faceless Men. She's very bad at being no one, because under the lies and false names she is still Arya Stark, a Stark of Winterfell, and member of a once proud pack.
That's another thing that has kept her alive, the idea of having a pack. The sigil of House Stark is a direwolf, a giant species of wolf that has forever been tied to her family. Her father once taught her that when winter comes, the lone wolf dies while the pack survives. Though it's still autumn where she comes from, Arya's life has been in winter since the Starks fell at King's Landing. With her family scattered, then killed, she made her pack where she could: for a while, Hot Pie and Gendry and Lommy were good enough, but Lommy was killed, Hot Pie left them, and Gendry dissolved the pack completely when he chose to join Beric Dondarrion. She should have known not to make of them her pack: they weren't really wolves, not the way Starks are.
Letting her father's advice go has proven hard: she has been a wolf alone for many months, now, trying to be no one. She still aches for a pack, though she's found that if a lone wolf must die, no one can survive. She's had to let go a lot of her father's ideals to do that.
But Arya has always been very good at that: she's made do under terrible circumstances. When the Starks fell, she fled the Red Keep and survived in the most miserable part of King's Landing. She could have allowed herself to be taken captive and avoided much of the hardship she suffered, but it isn't in Arya to give in. When her safe ticket back home to Winterfell died in battle, she carried on with her substitute pack; when the Hound kidnapped her, she tolerated it because he was taking her to her mother. And when her mother and Robb died at the Red Wedding she found a way to carry on despite the hole it left in her chest. She has manage to take the absolute worst of every hand she's been dealt, and find a way to survive. She's resourceful, and cunning, and observant: she does everything she needs to in order to survive, because she knows better than most that she can't control the people around her. Bad things happen, and they happen frequently, and all you can do is look and listen and look after yourself and your pack, for however long it's around.
And when it is around, she can be devoted. Arya will never be the type to fall over herself to help another, but when she cares for someone, she will protect them and move them toward safety to the best of her abilities. She frequently found fault in traveling with Hot Pie and Gendry, and knew that she could make much better time, and be less likely to be spotted by others on the road without them, but despite considering abandoning them, she couldn't leave her pack until they'd left her. She knows what it is to protect your own - even though she never got on with Sansa, even though in many ways she hates her sister, Arya would defend her. She is pack, and nothing will change that. Arya also understands that sometimes protecting those you care about can hurt both of you. Before King Robert arrived in Winterfell, when all this began, her brothers found a litter of direwolf pups at their dead mother's teat. There were five, one for each Stark, and a sixth albino for Jon. Jon said they were meant to have them, that they were a sign from the old gods - but all Arya cared about was that she had a wolf pup that was all her own. All the children bonded with their wolves, but Arya was the first to lose hers. Nymeria was like Arya in too many ways to not believe that it was fated: but on the long trip south, when Nymeria defended her by biting Prince Joffrey, Arya knew that the king and queen would have her wolf killed. She did everything she could to save Nymeria: ultimately, she had to throw rocks, and struck the wolf twice before she ran. Arya has wolf dreams, sometimes, dreams that she is Nymeria, with a pack of southron wolves around her. They were her favorite, well before she realized that dreaming the night wolf was real.
Part of what allowed her to keep Hot Pie and Gendry safe was her wit, but even more so was the fact that she is as quick on her feet as she is to act. Shit has had a way of hitting the fan frequently in recent years, and Arya has survived it by thinking quickly and acting quicker. Staying a step ahead is out of the question for someone who can't control the people around her, but keeping apace is something she's more than familiar with. To escape the Red Keep, she did not run, which would have drawn the attention of the guards, but walked right out of the castle. She kept her head down and her eyes up. Later, she held a watch with her small pack, and did what she could to keep Hot Pie and Gendry from being found by the wrong people. Despite being the smallest, and the youngest, she was their leader: she could read, and she could guide, and she knew not to make a fire at night in the middle of the war ravaged riverlands. Arya is a very smart girl, and though she doesn't come off as a dominant personality, she takes to the role of leadership naturally.
And as far as natural things go, killing has become second nature to Arya. Ever since leaving King's Landing, she has whispered a prayer to herself every night before sleeping, whether she was camping on the road, living in Harrenhal, traveling through the riverlands, or becoming no one in Bravos: "Ser Gregor," it goes, "Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei." It used to be longer, and should be somewhat shorter, but there's no such thing as instant communication or obituaries in Westeros or the Free Cities. These are the people who have harmed her or those she cares about. Gregor took her and Hot Pie and Gendry captive, and allowed his men to commit atrocities to the small folk. Dunsen was one of those men, as was Raff. Ser Ilyn beheaded her father, Ser Meryn killed her waterdancing instructor Syrio, and Cersei was responsible for the fall of the Starks. Arya managed to kill several of the people who had been on her hit list herself, in addition to others who had the misfortune of trying to take her to the queen, or of standing guard the night she escaped from Harrenhal.
She has not regretted these murders. She's rejoiced in some of them. The Tickler was one of Gregor's men, and interrogator who would torture one prisoner in front of the rest, before killing them. Arya watched him work many, many times, and when she killed him she stabbed him as many times as the questions he would ask of those he 'tickled.' He terrified her: killing him was a balm.
Once, before she knew her mother was dead, she wondered what Lady Catelyn would think of her if she knew, and worried that her mother would not want her back for many reasons - murder amongst them. Beyond that, however, Arya has allowed revenge to become her prayer, her salve, her replacement for her pack. She believes that she is the last Stark, that her pack is dispersed; she has no place to go, and no family to turn to. All that is left is revenge for what she lost.
Object: The sword her brother Jon had made for her, Needle.
Reason for playing: I really want a real game setting to try older!Arya out; I love her, she's my favorite character in this canon, and it makes me want to dabble with her a lot. Her older self is the easiest one to delve into right now, and I mean. She was a bamf at nine, I really want to explore that line she's clearly walking between badass and slightly fucking nuts. She's got such an interesting story that throwing her into new situations is always exciting.
Gods: Definitely Eliandre. Arya believes in justice and fairness, but it's her own brand of justice and fairness. Her father had honor, and it got him killed; her brother had honor, and it got him killed. She doesn't really care about honor, she cares about an eye-for-an-eye, basically. Cersei orchestrated the fall of her family, so she deserves to die. Ser Meryn killed her teacher, so he deserves to die. The Tickler killed people by torture, so he deserved to die - more slowly than she killed him, she'd say now, but at least he's dead. It's part of why she had difficulty assimilating into the House of Black and White; the Faceless Men killed good men and bad men ("Elsewise the good would live forever"), but she needed to find the reason for the murders she committed, beyond being told to.
Writing Samples
Players may choose to write three of the four writing samples. Additionally, for two of the three samples applicants may substitute links to previously written roleplaying threads of no less than eight substantial replies. We reserve the right to ask for an additional sample if more information is required.
First-Person Network Post: [The camera flashes on and gives a sweeping view of the room before it's half covered. Arya's voice comes at a distance; she has no idea what the hell to make of an iphone, and no idea that you're supposed to talk into it, either.]
'Don't panic.' That's a stupid thing to say. Nymeria, come - no, come here.
[She drops the phone, and there's a crooked, half visible, monstrously large wolf pacing in and out of view. A girl is sitting at the edge of the video, her face out of sight, legs stretched out. The wolf steps over her each way, whining and disgruntled.]
Stop that. I don't know where the pack is - don't eat that! [She darts to her feet and out of sight for a moment; but then the wolf runs back into sight, a pamphlet between her teeth. Arya grabs for it, and they struggle.] Give it back, it might be important!
[Abruptly, Nymeria lets go and Arya tumbles back onto her ass, only her legs visible.] Camel cunt, [she mutters, and that might be the sound of Nymeria licking her face in apology. There's silence for a long moment, presumably as Arya reads. Then:]
Seven hells, are they stupid? Don't panic, rejoice? [The pamphlet is tossed aside, and Arya darts to the door (though only her feet can really be seen). It's more than obvious where she is, though, because she's banging on the wood.] Let us out, you camel cunts! Open the door now!
First-Person Journal Post: --
Third-Person Arrival Post: A couple links for this, though I can write the game specific sample if it's preferred: an ongoing meme, and a reunion thread.
Third-Person Action Post: He was a butcher. He was good at his craft. He did not overprice his wares. He did not cheat his customers, or con them out of coin. He was a good, honest merchant, and Arya did not think she wanted to kill him.
The kindly man had given her his name, though, and though she memorized it, she would not say it aloud. He was to die, and she was to help him on his way. For days, she watched, and rationalized, calling it observation. He was a good man. He arrived at work early, and he closed up shop late. He kept his counter clean. He never saved the choicest cuts for himself.
The second night she observed the butcher, Arya prowled over rooftops, following him. Like most shopkeepers, he lived above his shop: but all men had vices, even good ones. Even ones that get their heads chopped off, but she kept that thought in the deepest part of herself, where Arya Stark still lived. His vice, like many, was drink and whores. So it seemed at first, anyway. But he never let the whores pull him into back rooms, the way they pulled other patrons. He only watched, and drank, and paid, and left.
On the fourth night, something new happened. While Arya Stark sat safe on the roof of a building fifteen feet away, a cat slipped into the whore house, watching with gray eyes. And Arya saw that the man had stopped watching all the girls: he watched one, and never took his eyes off her. Worse, when she let the cat rub against his side, looking for a bit of food, he kicked it aside. The cat yowled, and Arya returned to her body to narrow her eyes.
Instead of returning the House, she stayed where she was, and watched. He stayed until closing, later than usual, and paid his tab. But when he left, he circled around, waiting in the alley behind the brothel. So Arya circled too, slipping down from her high perch to pad silently, unnoticed, through the streets near the Ragman's Harbor. Just as she reached the alley, she heard a scuffle; it would go unnoticed to most ears, she knew, but her time as a blind girl (and a cat, and a bird, and a dog) had taught her to listen better than most. Someone had been grabbed.
She watched, silent, as the butcher dragged a girl away from the building - the one he was watching she knew before she saw the whore - and down the alley, where there were no torches to light the way. He wasn't heading toward his shop, and she was struggling. Arya hesitated, waiting till he'd rounded the corner with the girl, and followed.
No one is to till this man, she thought to herself. It's for someone to save the girl. Arya Stark argued with no one, argued about honor and doing what was right. Arya stark judged people every day; no one judged nothing. The girl was not hers to judge. Perhaps she is just as evil, she told herself, and when she peered around the next corner, she realized it didn't matter.
The man had trapped the girl between himself and the wall. As Arya watched the girl's arm hang limply, swaying slightly, she realized that she could not orchestrate a better opportunity. There were no witnesses.
Sliding her knife from her boot, Arya walked up behind the man, and slipped the blade into his back. He never heard her. She twisted the knife, side stepping until his rolling, terrified eyes could see her. She had not expected him to look into her face and thank her for the gift: she wanted him to see her, before she became no one again.
He died as she let him drop; without his weight, the girl's body fell too. Though she couldn't see the red, Arya saw the smiling gash cut across the whore's throat. She paused long enough to wipe her dagger clean on the butcher's clothes, and moved away. A girl of the north may have moved the whore's body away from that of her killed. But no one had such sentimental thoughts.
Misc
Other: Arya reacts very badly to being grabbed. Grabbing her in any way is very likely to result in being stabbed; she's not particularly good at controlling that urge. She will also be bringing Nymeria with her, her mostly wild, small-horse sized direwolf.