bite my tongue, bide my time

[iknowdeath]

WHO: Arya Stark and Jon; OTA
WHEN: November 1th
WHAT: Arrival, getting filled in
WHERE: Gazin
WARNINGS: Talk of murder very likely
Note: Feel free to catch her walking towards Gazin, in town before the storm or the next day when she can be found wandering around, trying to take the reality in of how she got there. As well as how it had managed to bring in a younger version of her father. And her dead Aunt.

ARRIVAL - INN

Despite the jarring way it all happens, one wouldn't know by looking at Arya Stark's face upon entering Gazin that she's not from the kingdom, nor of the World she has recently arrived in. It makes it easier to walk among the people and glean information that she pretends to already know, leaving those people none the wiser that she is yet another one pulled in by some force unseen.

The only problem is that Arya doesn't know it either.

After hearing a man speak the name of the town in a discussion with another, and seeing signs that confirm it, Arya knows she isn't in Westeros. Not after Septa Mordane drilled every House and where it was in Westeros into her and Sansa's heads, which was the case for every young lady who would be coming to the age of being married in order to unite Houses. Gazin is nowhere she knows of.

And then there was the question of how she got there without remembering the travel.

The answers wouldn't come themselves so Arya made a decision to try and find what she could before nightfall and then head to a tavern where maybe there were merchants or wanderers discussing their travel routes. Unfortunately, the skies open up and chase all the citizens into their homes.

So, Arya stands inside the main door of the inn, looking around before asking the keeper if there was a place she could go until the rain stopped outside. The older man looks her over, then gestures to the tavern door.

Comments

[ulfur]

The young knight shouldn't be a very conspicuous sight in the tavern, just one of many in dripping cloaks and seeking warmth. His hair and light beard are a darker brown than usual from the damp, but his eyes are their usual thoughtful grey, and his face is smooth and unlined, if quizzical from the strange events o the day.

From the corner of his eye, Ned glimpses Lyanna and turns to tell her something he has learned...only to stop and blink. For this girl is so much like Lyanna but yet not quite. The details are wrong. The hair, the slight difference in the shape of her face, and certainly the clothes. Yet it is near enough that he wonders if he is seeing things, or if this strange place is playing tricks on him.

"Lyanna?" he asks tentatively, stepping closer. His voice, still a young man's timbre, rings with the cadence of the North. "Do you know me?"

[iknowdeath]

Arya hasn't quite had a chance to wrap her head around the situation she's in. Jon had tried to explain, but that only left her with questions she knew couldn't be answered. Not likely ever. Being forced into accepting the circumstances is not something easily done. Especially for a girl who has had the ability to make her own choices up until that point.

She can see him move closer in her periphery and when she turns to look at him, Arya can't help but stare at the man who only resembles her father. He cannot actually be Ned Stark. And yet, he mentions a name that causes her to wonder if this world has abilities beyond what has been told to her.

Arya's face becomes unreadable and calm as she turns fully to face the man.

"I'm not sure," she lies believably, in a voice that keeps steady. "Who are you?"

[ulfur]

It is not Lyanna, this he knows, but the small alteration is so distinct that it seems clear they must be related. And by the intent way the girl stares back at him too, Ned is sure the same thing is on her mind.

"My name is Eddard Stark," he says, palms spread. His voice, his face, even his demeanor a young man's. The weight of so many cares and years has not yet taken its toll on him, despite the recent losses in his family. "I only just arrived. Who are you? You must be Stark yourself." Whether from his father or mother's side, he is not sure.

[iknowdeath]

Unfortunately, Arya becomes completely transparent at that moment, his name causing her lips to part slightly and grey eyes to open wider in disbelief. How was this even possible? How could a place have the power to reverse time and could she still be dreaming all this?

Lost in the shock of staring at her father in his younger years, she nods. "Arya," she practically breathes out unsteadily. "My name is Arya Stark."

It hit her right then that he would have absolutely no idea who she was and that hurt so much.

[ulfur]

The surprise of it is mirrored in Ned's face for a moment too as he realizes who she must be. It seems no stranger than any of the other things that have happened today. His features are full of wonderment.

"Then - you are my grandmother, for my mother was Lyarra Stark, and her mother Arya was a Flint of the mountains before she wedded my grandfather Rodrik Stark." It was one of the earliest lessons any Stark child was taught, their own family tree. 

He shakes his head, as if trying to clear it. "The last time I saw you, you were an old woman, or at least you seemed so to a little boy." So many of her features seemed to have passed down to her grandchildren. It was truly remarkable. "What kind of magic does this place have, to tamper with time itself, and turn back all those years?

[iknowdeath]

Arya lets him speak, emotion pricking her eyes forcing her to look down. Her reaction was no doubt going to prompt more questions but for now, she held the power over whether or not she wants to answer them.

"No, I am not your grandmother," Arya replies softly, shaking her head. "I don't have any grandchildren, as I'm sure you don't have any either."

The only explanation that could be reasoned is a long lost cousin or someone so far removed that it's a wonder they can call themselves a Stark.

[ulfur]

"No. None that I know of, at least. Though I just found a son I didn't know I had."

She is a shy one, it seems. But not his grandmother. He combs back through his family history but can recall no other Aryas. He'd studied the names in the records thoroughly too. "You must be from another branch or another time," Ned finally says, shrugging. "Well, nonetheless, we are both Stark, which makes us kin. I am glad to make your acquaintance here, Arya."

He holds out his hand for her to clasp his arm and he hers. She reminds him almost of the Mormonts, how the women there dress in warlike garb as the men do, strong and porud. Perhaps she was a Stark among them, he muses.