[ arya has never truly been to a bar. she’s been to a tavern, and an inn, and has had ale before. she’s never encountered anything quite like the redshift bar, however, and for a moment, the whole thing is confusing and exciting all at once.
that is, until she tries to order. then, it becomes frustrating.
arya is perched at a stool by the counter, her feet swinging, not touching the ground. she’s leaning close to the bar-bot, surrounded by four tequila sunrises, none of them consumed. she does have one of the tiny umbrellas tucked behind her ear, though. ]
I don’t want this! This is a strange, fruity drink, and all I asked for was ale. Are you stupid? Are you even a person? What is wrong with you?
[ what arya doesn’t realize, however, is that the translation program has failed, and that she’s just yelling at the bar-bot in the common tongue of westeros, which a lot less like english and, suspiciously, a lot more like tolkien’s elvish. ]
secret passages.
[ arya loves to explore. she’s been doing that practically nonstop since she’s arrived, and now with the partial power outage, the stakes are even higher. so she’s downright excited to find a new set of doors. even better, it looks like someone’s already pried them open. arya heads down the stairs, finding herself up to the chest in disgusting water. ]
Seven hells!
[ she’s annoyed, but not deterred. arya wades through the water slowly, trying all the doors, disappointed that they’re all locked, save one. she enters, examining all the strange artifacts, but not touching. not yet. ]
What is this?
forgetting.
[ arya does, eventually, touch an orb. the memories fade slowly, and at first, it’s barely noticeable. but after a few hours, the damage has been done, if it’s even right to call it damage: arya has forgotten her brother and mother’s death. she’s forgotten the red wedding.
arya now walks through anchor with almost a spring in her step, no longer weighed down by that horrible grief. she can be found actually playing with nymeria, telling the comically tiny wolf to go fetch, or sit, or flop over for a belly rub. and if your character approaches, she’ll be friendly for once, actually greeting them instead of offering little more than a solemn stare. ]
network: remembering. un: mercy.
[ that is, until a couple days later, when she remembers everything again. arya isn’t sure what’s worse: feeling the pain of losing her mother and brother all over again and knowing she failed to save them, or learning that this place can mess with her memory. and that if her family were to arrive, it could alter their’s, too, and perhaps even make them forget about her. ]
why does this place want to play with our heads I do not understand
arya stark | open
[ arya has never truly been to a bar. she’s been to a tavern, and an inn, and has had ale before. she’s never encountered anything quite like the redshift bar, however, and for a moment, the whole thing is confusing and exciting all at once.
that is, until she tries to order. then, it becomes frustrating.
arya is perched at a stool by the counter, her feet swinging, not touching the ground. she’s leaning close to the bar-bot, surrounded by four tequila sunrises, none of them consumed. she does have one of the tiny umbrellas tucked behind her ear, though. ]
I don’t want this! This is a strange, fruity drink, and all I asked for was ale. Are you stupid? Are you even a person? What is wrong with you?
[ what arya doesn’t realize, however, is that the translation program has failed, and that she’s just yelling at the bar-bot in the common tongue of westeros, which a lot less like english and, suspiciously, a lot more like tolkien’s elvish. ]
secret passages.
[ arya loves to explore. she’s been doing that practically nonstop since she’s arrived, and now with the partial power outage, the stakes are even higher. so she’s downright excited to find a new set of doors. even better, it looks like someone’s already pried them open. arya heads down the stairs, finding herself up to the chest in disgusting water. ]
Seven hells!
[ she’s annoyed, but not deterred. arya wades through the water slowly, trying all the doors, disappointed that they’re all locked, save one. she enters, examining all the strange artifacts, but not touching. not yet. ]
What is this?
forgetting.
[ arya does, eventually, touch an orb. the memories fade slowly, and at first, it’s barely noticeable. but after a few hours, the damage has been done, if it’s even right to call it damage: arya has forgotten her brother and mother’s death. she’s forgotten the red wedding.
arya now walks through anchor with almost a spring in her step, no longer weighed down by that horrible grief. she can be found actually playing with nymeria, telling the comically tiny wolf to go fetch, or sit, or flop over for a belly rub. and if your character approaches, she’ll be friendly for once, actually greeting them instead of offering little more than a solemn stare. ]
network: remembering. un: mercy.
[ that is, until a couple days later, when she remembers everything again. arya isn’t sure what’s worse: feeling the pain of losing her mother and brother all over again and knowing she failed to save them, or learning that this place can mess with her memory. and that if her family were to arrive, it could alter their’s, too, and perhaps even make them forget about her. ]
why does this place want to play with our heads I do not understand