(2013) open rp post

[181]

permanent open rp post

new year, new post.
❧ select one of my characters (or one that you know I play but isn't on the list)
❧ leave a prompt: pictures work best; lyrics, scenarios of your own creation, etc.
❧ reply as many times as you want.
❧ the apocalypse finally happens.

❧ please note that I am extremely backtag friendly and will be backtagging these threads until the cows come home. and I'm always really eager to do things even if this post is found months after it's posted. also lol sometimes i may take a bit to get to them since some characters are harder for me to think up things and require some canon review! sorry for the wait, i'll make you a vegemite sandwich in the interim.

Comments

aw yis aw yis khaleesi's forgiveness that i am unworthy of for my treacherous heart!

[distrust]

[ they had never meant her lord father any harm. from what arya understands, king robert had called ned stark forward in the hand of friendship to lead him and his table of councillors to a happier and flourishing future. but all arya can think of is her lord father's head detached from his body. they had promised her protection, a new home away from where her heart truly sleeps, and here she is, far from king's landing, not frightened (for no one is frightened), but very much alone and cold. ]

[ words are powerful things — she has learned as much with her lack of name. though, she does wonder if names are more powerful than that of a word — i mean you no harm can be a lie. everyone lies. everyone who thinks she's too stupid lie to her in order to gain her trust. she is nobody but a mere peasant — she is not a lady (she never has been) and she understands her name — stark — will mean nothing anymore. she is a traitor's daughter, and, for that, they hunt her like a wolf to remove her head from her body. ]

[ arya does as she is bid, though. she cannot run — this woman has spotted her with her quick, purple eyes. arya wonders if she can see through the shadows, can see the darkness that now surrounds arya's heart. quick as a shadow — but not quick enough. she doesn't wipe her hands on her knees, doesn't brush the dirt from her shoulders or her hair. she comes as she is — dirty and shadowed, masked and stupid. ]

[ her thick brows furrow as her gaze hits the woman before her hard and accusing. where is her sword? where is her knife? she can see her claws — their long and sharp and thick, like a dragon's, the beasts circling the sky up above — but arya stark has not heard of danaerys targaryen's travels. she does not know of the dragon girl who has set westeros ablaze with fear and fright. she's been too lost within her own bubble of survival to know she stands before a woman who has every right to slash her throat, or, worse: cut her head off. ]

Who are you?