[intro] "winter is coming" jokes have arrived

[starksurvivor]

When Arya awakes, it’s with absolutely certainty that she’s dead. After surviving cold, starvation, and injuries beyond count, it’s finally happened. Of all things, the Others took her. It’s almost funny. Okay, it is funny. It’s kind of hilarious.

Despite all of her expectations, this doesn’t seem to be hell. Nymeria is stretched out beside her in the grass, blissful. The air is warm, the trees around her laden with late summer fruit. Apparently the afterlife is where that damned eternal summer has been hiding all along. On the other hand, the lost friends and family coming to greet you doesn’t seem to have held true. Countless septons and septas were wrong. Father isn’t here, nor Robb or Syrio, nor even Grey Wind or Lady. The part about all hurts being healed is wrong, too; her phantom toes and finger ache a bit.

And she’s hungry. That wasn’t supposed to be around in the afterlife either. She snorts. “They were all wrong,” she tells her wolf, but Nymeria just yawns, disinterested.

[a]

Dead or not, she has to find something to eat. Happily, it doesn’t seem that she’s going to have to dig up worms or eat bark. There’s plenty of fruit overhead. Carefully setting down her small arsenal of weaponry beside Nymeria and kicking off her boots, Arya hops nimbly up and catches the lowest branch, then shimmies up into the tree. She’s not the climber that Bran was once, but she’s quick and surefooted despite her missing toes. Any passersby might see her scrambling up and down the tree, a pouch fashioned with the front of her tunic to carry apples down in.

Or they might notice the sheer size of the wolf watching her owner's climb. Nymeria is easily the size of a small horse. Despite her size, though, the wolf looks extremely relaxed, if mildly interested in what Arya is up to in the tree.

[b]

Once she’s eaten something, it’s off to explore the castle. And the more she does so, the less she’s so certain that she’s dead. How anything like this is possible, she has no idea, but fact remains, this is either the stupidest afterlife ever or it’s no afterlife at all.

After nightfall, Arya and Nymeria can be found in the throne room, giving the trio of thrones skeptical looks. Definitely not as impressive as the Iron Throne. Although probably infinitely more comfortable.

Don’t mind Arya as she puts her shoulder to one and shoves it over, just to make a point (to no one in particular).

Stupid kings and queens.

Comments

a!

[dustless]

There's something else in the trees far to the duo's right. Something jumping from one to another, making all the branches shake and knocking some fruit to the ground, laughing.

It's Frisk trying to figure out how to fly, which was already hard since their wings are little and shouldn't be able to work at all, but now they've also got horns to deal with, and they keep catching on things! It's sort of irritating! But still, being able to leap through the trees like a weird monkey's fun.

They notice the wolf from afar and stop, crouching on a midlevel branch a few trees away. They lift a hand to wave at the beast and call out a greeting. "Hello!"

[starksurvivor]

While Arya is climbing, she can hear some kind of a ruckus from a little way off, but it's Nymeria first to notice Frisk. The huge wolf tilts her head, golden eyes fixed on the odd creature waving at her. Her ears swivel to catch the faint greeting. She half rises to her paws, giving a low whuff of a bark.

Up in the branches, Arya stops. It takes some focusing, but she reaches for her wolf's mind and she sees.

What she sees, she has no idea, but she doesn't stop to consider it too closely. She scrambles down out of the tree, nimble as ever, lets the apples roll out of her makeshift pouch, and grabs up Fang. Whatever that is up in the other tree, if it's a threat to her or Nymeria, she's ready for it.

...Is this what a child of the forest would look like?

The young woman squints up at the odd little thing crouched on a branch. "...What are you?"

[dustless]

Oh, that's a sword-knife-something. They can't see it too well from their current angle, plus they're more interested in the giant wolf and the person who suddenly showed up. She's certainly a quieter climber than Frisk currently is.

They wave again, at the human this time. "Hi! And I dunno." Saying that they're a demon now would probably not be very good to say to somebody they just met.

Frisk tilts their head, and the rest of their body follows until they're lying sideways on the branch. "Who are you? An' who's that?" They nod to the wolf.

[starksurvivor]

How... can it not know what it is? Arya's nose wrinkles slightly as she puzzles over that one for a second or two. It must know. The answer is probably something it doesn't want to share.

For a moment, she considers making up a name. It's part habit, part caution. But, seven hells, if she's dead, what's the point in being careful with her name?

"I'm Arya, of House Stark." Pride rings in the way she says her family name, but Arya doesn't move from the familiar sideways water dancer stance. Even though she's cautious, the direwolf is still calm, tail giving the occasional lazy wag, her head tilted. "This is Nymeria."

Nymeria's head tilt follows Frisk's path sideways, though she doesn't fall over. Arya's sword dips slightly. If Nymeria isn't growling, then...

"Who are you?"

[dustless]

"Arya, Nymeria. 'S nice to meet you." ...Not entirely a lie, even if Arya looks ready to fight them if they get any closer.

House Stark? House. Not a home-house, probably. That's a thing...that has to do with knights, right? Is she a knight? That weapon looks like a thing a knight would have, even though she doesn't look that old...knight-in-training, maybe.

"I'm Frisk. Jus' Frisk."

[starksurvivor]

No m'lady, no accusations, no hint of recognition at the name. Nymeria lets out a soft whine. Arya stays frozen for a second or two longer, weighing her options, before she abruptly slides Fang back into its sheath and buckles it back into its usual place at her hip. There doesn't seem to be any threat here, odd as this little creature is.

Still, she's no idiot. She killed her first when she was nearly as small. Arya stoops, gathering up her various other weapons and getting them back into their rightful places. Daggers, quiver, Needle, and bow, all back where they belong on her. It doesn't take very long; gods know she's had plenty of practice getting prepared in the dead of night in a great hurry.

"Frisk." Not a name she's heard before, but she's also never seen anything quite like this before. No recognition of her name and no fear of Nymeria... Arya glances up at Frisk with a thoughtful frown. "Are you from Asshai?"

It'd have to be Asshai or Valyria to breed a demon-looking creature.

[dustless]

Alright, the weapons are--stowed. Frisk decides that makes her less likely to attack. She's got a bow, if she really wanted to go after them right off.

They roll right from the branch to the ground.

It mostly goes well, too! Their landing's a little rough 'cause the drop wasn't long enough for their wings to actually do anything, but they landed on their hooves and only stumbled into the tree beside them. Success!

They straighten up and brush their shirt off. Leaves everywhere. "Um, no. Dunno where that is. Don't think I'm from anywhere...you're...from, either."

b

[mercybutton]

Light flickers in the window, something blue and orange and firey. It becomes smoke and lingers, but disappears in a few minutes' time.

Then blue firelight, wavering but strong, appears, approaching the doorway that leads to the throne room, as well as the rhythmic clop-clatter of hooves.

And then they appear. And Frisk can see the faint outline of Arya and Nymeria, despite having been wholly blind for nearly their entire life. And still technically blind, for that matter.

"Are you new?" is all they say.

[starksurvivor]

The girl and direwolf turn as one, Arya's left hand dropping to curl around Fang's hilt out of instinct. And then they both go completely still, Arya's eyes going wide. The little one earlier was strange, but this one... this is something even stranger. It looks like something out of one of Old Nan's stories.

And whatever it is, it's talking to her like it's nothing out of the ordinary.

Nymeria pads a step or two forward, sniffing. Deer are a very familiar shape to her. This one doesn't smell right at all. After a few sniffs from a distance, she whuffs and gives a shake of her head.

"Yes," Arya answers, tone cautious. "I am. What is this place?"

Not the afterlife, she's sure now. But full of monsters that are, so far, much more gentle than most of the humans she's met in the past six years.

[mercybutton]

If anyone should be nervous, it's Frisk, really. That direwolf--well, it really only reminds them of all those hunting stories.

Hmmmm.

They stay at the doorway. A hoof scrapes against the stone, skittish. "It's the Castle," they say. "Place with its own conscious. Likes to switch the rooms around on people. The entire place is populated by random folks dragged from the ends of the multiverse." Frisk shrugs, their tail flicking. "As far as we can tell, we're in the sky. And there's almost no escape."

[starksurvivor]

"In the sky." Her tone is dry.

She's not entirely sure what multiverse means, but she can guess from what they've said. With a gesture, she calls Nymeria back to her side. As far as she can tell, this thing doesn't mean any harm. If it does, well... Nymeria has hunted down plenty of deer before, and she has a bow, as well. They can manage.

Sarcasm dripping from her words, Arya drawls, "So we're highborn prisoners in some mystery castle. In the sky. Are the handmaidens all mermaids, then?"

[mercybutton]

"No handmaidens," they say. "It's only us. The castle is inhabited by nothing but the people dragged here." Probably, anyway. They haven't noticed otherwise.

[starksurvivor]

The answer is just so nonchalant that Arya can practically feel the sarcasm fleeing her. She stares for a second or two, not quite believing, and then gives a small shake of her head.

"No guards? Some prison this is."

oh boy : D [b!] also body horror warning

[itstheend]

So you were saying about Others, Arya?

Most of the flesh has fallen off Chara now, which is a situation that ordinarily wouldn't be a good thing, but this place has a way of defying expectations it seems. There's less pain, and they can think clearly, and they grumble a bit at the sharp, brief sting as they pick a piece off with finger bones that are somehow staying together and toss it idly to the floor, where it turns into the same dust that drifts off them as they move. Don't ask them how they can speak. They don't even know.

The crash has drawn their attention, and Arya will see a child-sized skeleton in the throne room's doorway, draped in suddenly too-big clothes that are powdered white. The points of light in their eye sockets go from the toppled throne to her.

omg ahahaha i love it.

[starksurvivor]

It's Nymeria's sudden snarl that draws Arya's eyes away from the toppled throne and over to the small skeleton in the doorway. The direwolf's fur bristles all over, eyes like molten gold locked on this creature suddenly approaching. Gooseflesh prickles up Arya's arms. No matter how many times she sees these things, the gut-clench never fails.

Instinct takes over. Her two obsidian daggers are in her hands before she's even thinking. She knows better than to make the first move. The Others don't move in ways that make sense. You react, you don't act. Her grey eyes go hard as she takes in every detail - the dust, the pinpricks of light in the eye sockets, the way it's standing. There's only one so far. That shouldn't be a problem.

"Nymeria. Heel." The direwolf's rumbling growl doesn't stop, but she stays by her human's side. They can cover one another this way.

Wait. Something's missing. Lifting her voice, Arya addresses the skeleton: "What happened to the cold?"

[itstheend]

Chara tries to curl their own lips in response to the wolf's snarl, Nymeria quickly drawing their attention as the apparent most immediate threat, and encounters the problem of that, well. Their teeth are already exposed.

Then Arya draws her daggers, and instinct responds to instinct. They draw their sharpened stick from their belt, inwardly cursing. Those knives look sharp, and Chara's gaze isn't leaving them. Chara feels woefully underarmed, especially if they have the fragility of a monster right now.

That gives them a thought. Can they use magic now? They thrust out their unoccupied hand at her, picturing turning her soul blue and pushing her back.

...Nothing happens.

That's about when Frisk arrives behind them, following less closely now that everything seems all right and they actually can move independently. They're invisible but as a ghost they still have a presence; there's the seeping chill drifting into the room as they rest cold hands on Chara's shoulders in wordless warning-worry.

Chara relaxes somewhat under the touch as they wait, high key battle-primed and therefore finding the idea of replying somewhat difficult; they're not going to make the first move here. Their eyelights flick between the girl and the wolf - okay, she can command it, another thing to factor in.

[starksurvivor]

There, indeed, is the cold. It's not quite on the same scale that she's used to. It's not the kind of cold that freezes the blood the instant one of those ghostly ice blades bites into you. But the chill is there all the same, and as the knot in Arya's stomach tightens, Nymeria snaps her jaws at the newcomers.

Arya, for her part, has her eyes fixed on the pointed stick. It's not much of a weapon, but the wights have brute strength on their side. She has plenty of scars to prove it, and Jon Snow had told her tales of a wight that nearly choked the life from him and Ghost alike.

And she waits. But the wight isn't moving.

Patience is not her strong point.

"Well?" she snaps. "What're you waiting for?"

[itstheend]

Arya's words manage to sink in through the haze of whatever-they-have-instead-of-adrenalin-now rushing through them, and their eyes narrow. Somehow. They never thought to ask Sans how he did that.

"What are you waiting for," they retort, jaw moving slightly, and their voice matches their stature; a child's, annoyed and suspicious in tone. They tip their head back briefly, defiantly. "If it's a FIGHT you want, come and get it."

They feel so vulnerable now. Monsters are so fragile. She could kill them with one hit, and isn't that hilarious? The shoe is on the other foot now, Chara. They refuse to show any sort of weakness to her, and that includes fear, so they swallow it down.

[starksurvivor]

Talking trash to a wight or Other is one thing. She's flung plenty of insults at them, some even ranking well enough on the vulgarity scale that Gendry got his feathers ruffled enough to tease her about it.

They've never answered. They also can't move their eyesockets in a way that frankly shouldn't be possible without eyelids or cheeks.

Her grip on the obsidian daggers tightens. Nymeria's gone silent. Fear cuts deeper than swords.

"You can talk." It's all she can manage. It comes out in a deadpan, not a question, but also not entirely certain.

b

[trombones]

It's probably a good thing Sans was human right now. A short, wide, and awkwardly pudgy-looking human, but better than a skeleton. At least, for someone who thought this was an afterlife. The former monster was wandering the halls and getting used to his new weight in his legs when he catches the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

He wasn't far from the throne, so he makes his way through the darker parts of the room. Even without teleportation magic, he could at least make a quiet entrance.

"Hey, now. What'd that thing ever do to you?"

pffff I love that human Sans, good choice

[starksurvivor]

At the sound of the voice, Arya glances up from the fallen throne and can't help the slow grin that spreads across her face. The first human she's run into since waking up here and he's... possibly a dwarf? Like the Imp? It isn't often that she sees a full-grown man nearly of a height with her. Nearly everyone is bigger than Arya.

Then again, Nymeria makes up for her own lack of height. The perks of being one of Eddard Stark's children. There aren't many of those.

"This throne? Nothing. Another throne, though... that one did plenty."

Nymeria sniffs in the direction of the newcomer, ears swiveling curiously. Another strange new scent. Arya glances over at her wolf to be sure that there's no warning in her posture, then glances back at this new guy.

She has the grace to look slightly sheepish. "It isn't yours, is it? You don't much look like a king. ...No offense."

S A M E

[trombones]

"Another one, huh."

If Sans knew what a dwarf was in human context, he'd probably agree. He might as well be. He eyes Nymeria, eyes widened in subdued - though not alarmed - surprise.

"Whoah. Big doggy."

He grins, showing he doesn't mind the large dog's presence (he's honestly seen bigger), then turns back to Arya.

"What, you kidding? You haven't heard of me? Being king is my crowning achievement." He puts both hands up and shrugs with a wink. "Or maybe I'm the royal chef, Sir Loin. I dunno, which one sounds better?"

[starksurvivor]

Truly, this place is the strangest ever. Barely anyone has so much as batted an eye at Nymeria. Granted, half of them seem to think she's just a dog, which might explain something. It's easier not to correct them, even if it is a slight insult to her direwolf.

And then come the puns.

Northerners aren't known for their senses of humor, Starks most especially. That said, Arya has always had more of a sense of humor than her siblings. It's a dark sense of humor, sure, but it's a sense of humor all the same. And so there's a half laugh, an odd noise of disbelief and mild amusement, as she splits into a grin.

Of course the first human she meets here is the castle's fool. In her experience, though, the fools can be several times smarter than the lords and ladies. It's oddly comforting.

"Seven hells, they're both awful. Besides, no one knights a chef, ser." Although the Brotherhood probably had, but they were something terribly unique. "What's your name? I'm Arya Stark, of Winterfell."

It's a long shot, since nobody here has known her name (refreshing), but this one is human. Maybe he's heard of Westeros or knows of someone else from home.

[trombones]

Then comes the puns. Sans snickers after Arya catches on, clearly finding it a lot funnier than she did. Who cares, though, he was happy just to get a groan out of people.

He shakes his head, still laughing, and holds a hand out to shake.

"Tell that to my brother. He wants to be a Royal Guard and a master chef. I'm Sans. Sans of, uh... Snowdin. Normally there's a 'the skeleton' there. Nice to meet ya, Arya."

in which the mun knows what's coming and starts laughing a tag early

[starksurvivor]

Talk of brothers is something Arya is definitely comfortable with. (As long as it doesn't concern her eldest brother.) This guy is strange, for several reasons. But "Snowdin" jumps out at her as sounding like something of the north, which is a plus, and "skeleton" makes her quirk an eyebrow, but she'll leave it alone for now. After everything else this day, this is positively normal.

"A friend of mine was a really good cook, but he was hopeless at guarding or fighting anything. I hope your brother is better at it than Hot Pie was."

Good old Hot Pie and his yielding. And being noisy as anything while trying to sneak. And whining about any hardship. Why she came to love him as a brother, she'll never know.

And she takes the accepted hand to shake.

"Good to meet you, too."