needlework and seedlings in the way that you're walking

[nightwolf]

Who: Arya Stark, OPEN
What: Wandering, killing, stealing, ALL THE FUN THINGS ONE DOES TO GET BY without a job
Where: All over. Aaaaaaall over, but notable: Echomire, Sobek Croix, Mafaton, Barrackham, and Griss Twist.
When: This week, Newdi to Veerdi
Notes: Tag in with any location, any time, she'll have a reason to be there. If you'd rather run into Arya with another face - a young man or an old woman, both of the Spatters variety - just let me know! I want to give her Facelessness a run. ALSO IF YOU HAVE A PREFERENCE ON NYMERIA BEING PRESENT idk just let me know
Warnings: None

She began in Echomire, as she always did, but each day she took a new route. Some days she walked as a man, strong shoulders hunched, head bowed and beaten by the world, a Stranger to everyone he passed. She had found that an interesting label, one she'd embraced and taken as a sign. In the Faith, the Stranger guided the dead to their afterlife. the Stranger was just another name for the God of Many Faces. Being a Stranger herself, now, she took as a reflection of the work she'd done for years. Even the kindly man would see that.

Some days she traveled with the face of an old woman, slow and aching and quick to speak her mind. Arya could hear the woman's voice when she spoke, she even fancied she could hear the woman's thoughts in her head. This, the kindly man would not accept. The Priests of the House of Black and White, they knew that death was to be communicated through the will of He of Many Faces. They had told her, again and again, that it was not for her to decide.

And yet they took money for assignations in Braavos, killing those they had been paid to. She did not see the difference. So more and more frequently, Arya left Madrasati with her own face on. Sometimes Nymeria accompanied her, particularly when she frequented the less populated neighborhoods that made up Baedal. They'd explored most of the farmlands, and Barrackham had become a particularly favorite place for them both - but there were too many people in the city to avoid them forever. And everywhere she went, she observed. Faces in Mafaton - particularly those who had warned her away, shops in Sobek Croix - the Apothecary still had her interest, one day she followed the river from Griss Twist to the ocean.

There were new things to learn. Arya hadn't reported three things she knew to the kindly man for years, but his task had had its effect: she looked for information everywhere, sometimes while her body sat against a wall near the Arena and her thoughts soared in a bird high above. Sometimes cats whose eyes she'd borrowed followed her through the towns near the water, and she was reminded of Braavos, and her time as Cat of the Canals. But Cat was dead and gone, a lifetime away and out of reach.

It was Arya's turn to live again.