EVENT: SPACE PIRATES ▒ OXYGEN GARDENS

[ataraxites]

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: Oxygen Gardens
WARNINGS: Camping.
SUMMARY: Hanging out in camp, discussing pirates, etc.
NOTES: Open to all!

Camping may not be an expected activity on a spaceship, but the gardens are large and have clear, grassy areas for people to gather together. You can help set up tents, inventory supplies or guard the perimeter — just keep an eye out for any strange faces trying to sneak in...

Comments

[wolfdreamer]

[Solemnly, loyally, he nods.]

But you would have, if only they weren't such cowards.

[And she might refuse him--but then again, she seems in a fair enough mood--]

Will you show me your sword?

[wolfchild]

[ The good humor evaporates. Rationally, she knows she has nothing to fear. Bran would not take it. It's only a sword.

But it's not and there's a part of her still afraid she will lose it again. No one knew where she had hidden Needle. She had been certain she was alone. How it came to be here worries her more than finding herself here.

Her fingers touch the pommel, but she does not draw it. She glares at him out the corner of her eyes. ]

[wolfdreamer]

[Her hesitation stings at him, slightly--what reason would she have for hesitating? Because she doesn't trust me, he thinks, and that thought makes him sadder still. They should always trust each other. They are brother and sister, no matter what she says.]

I only want to see. I swear.

[wolfchild]

[ After another long moment, she draws it. Needle is clean, its blade honed to a wicked edge. It doesn't take an experienced eye to see she takes excellent care of it; better, even, than she does herself.

She does not surrender it lightly. Even after she holds it out for Bran to take, she keeps an eye on it. ]

[wolfdreamer]

[When she offers the sword, it is a surprise, and his gaze flicks up to her face first. Her eyes look narrow but her face is pinched with only a little wariness, and so he carefully reaches to take the sword from her, hefting it in his hand. His arm is a little clumsy, he is not used to lifting blades at all, but he does his best.

It is a smaller blade than Robb's or Jon's--but of course it is. They have larger arms, they are able to lift a broadsword. But Arya's sword is slender and clean and sharp, and he turns it so it catches the light.]

It's wonderful.

[wolfchild]

[ Her eyes stray to Mikken's mark. ]

It's mine.

[ She holds out her hand to take it back. ]

[wolfdreamer]

[He looks at it a moment longer--but he is quick to hand it back to her, lest she grow more wary of him. It catches in the light again, and this time he sees that mark on it.]

Where was it made?

[wolfchild]

Don't know.

[ Stupid. She should never have shown it to him. She slips back inside her belt with a little more force than necessary. ]

[wolfdreamer]

[His eyebrows lift a little. This is an easy truth. Will she really keep it from him?]

Then where did you get it from?

[wolfchild]

Took it off a bravo that was killed.

[wolfdreamer]

[He glances to where the sword is sheathed, and then he looks back at her face, his arms folded over his chest.]

I don't believe you.

[wolfchild]

I don't care.

[wolfdreamer]

You should care. I might know one of your secrets.

[wolfchild]

You don't know me.

[wolfdreamer]

I know a girl. She lived in Winterfell, and the smith that made swords there put his mark on them. Your sword might have such a mark.

[But when he looks at Arya--he sees Arya. It is her, he recognizes her. He could never pretend not to know her. She looks like Jon, and like Father--and a little like me, too. She is his sister, even if she has found ways to hide herself.

But she isn't his sister, either. She has gone far from him, and joined other packs, or tried to, and he looks down at his lap before he can feel too sad and stupid.]

But you aren't that girl.

[And if they asked him, he would say that. He would lie, for Arya.]

[wolfchild]

[ Arya keeps her eyes on the branches. ]

Stupid.

[ She kicks his ankle. Looking down, she does it again. ]

Can you feel that?

[wolfdreamer]

[Stupid, he agrees, but bites his lip and does not say it. Because he isn't looking, he doesn't notice when she kicks him--not the first time. The second has force enough that it jostles his leg against the robotic legs, and he looks up at her and feels no less stupid.]

No. But don't.

[wolfchild]

[ Sitting up, she pokes his thigh. ]

And that?

[wolfdreamer]

[He pushes at her hand this time, frowning.]

No. Don't.

[wolfchild]

You really can't feel anything?

[wolfdreamer]

No. The robotic legs make it so I can walk, they don't make it so I can feel. I'm still a cripple.

[And he hates that he feels sad when he says that; he hates that he must look down again, quickly, to hide his face from Arya. Don't be a child, don't pity yourself.]

[wolfchild]

[ Arya screws up her face as she thinks. She pokes him in the stomach. ]

What about that?

[wolfdreamer]

Ow--

[But he says it by default; it doesn't actually hurt. More it's surprising, and he looks up at Arya again, squirming way a little.]

Of course I can feel that. Don't--

[wolfchild]

[ She gets his chest next and his arm. ]

That? And that?

[wolfdreamer]

Yes-- stop--

[He's beginning to smile a little, though, and he tries still to twist away from her, biting at his lip to keep from laughing.]

Stop, I said!