Sock and Open RP: Dealing with popcorn grief
Skirata had made it a habit to take advantage of good weather by walking outside, trying to keep his bum leg as limber as was possible. He preferred the outdoors to the stone walls of the castle; being stuck inside made him think of Kamino, where the choices had been indoors or storms and ocean. Miserable shabla planet.
His circuit today took him into the forest a ways--challenging, because he couldn't drag his leg and not fall on his face. He hadn't been in for very long when he heard a noise: high-pitched grunting, like a child at play. Except that as he got closer, it was a different sort of play than he had been expecting. A young child was up a tree, barefoot, and hacking at the trunk with a sword, but in a well-thought out way. It reminded him of watching Et'ika and Bard'ika doing lightsaber forms. He limped a little closer, and then realized that the child was a girl and familiar. "You," he said. " The Stark girl. Glad to see your arm's better, atin'ika."
She didn't seem surprised to see him, though she looked annoyed. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying, but her face was composed into a furious scowl instead of the sad puppy face that little kids got when they cried. "What are you doing here?" she snapped.
"Enjoying the weather," he said. "For once. What about you? You're not bad with that little sword, are you?"
"I'm going to be a water dancer," she said. Her voice was haughty and strained, and then broke as she said, "I call my sword Needle. My brother Jon gave it to me." She hacked once more at the tree trunk. "He's popcorn now. Again. So is Robb, my other brother who was here."
"Sorry to hear that. But it's only popcorn. It's not like they're dead, right?"
It was the wrong thing to say. She gave him a look that said that if she'd had a rock or a blaster or some other sort of ranged weapon in hand, he would have been her immediate target. "Robb was. The Freys killed him at my Uncle Edmure's wedding and cut his head off and sewed Grey Wind's head onto his." Before he could adequately process it, the girl was curled up against the tree trunk, trying very hard to hold back tears from the sound of it. "But then he was here, so it wasn't so bad because he wasn't dead anymore, but now he may as well be. Jon... maybe he went back to the Wall so that's okay because they kill deserters, but Robb..."
"But people come back, don't they?" He'd never been the most warm and comforting man around, though he certainly had tried with the Nulls. But they were soldiers, and this was... well, what was she? A skinny little girl with a sword, for one. "It can't be like being dead for real if they come back. The dead never do, atin'ika."
"Robb did. My parents did." Before he could reply, she spoke up again. "What does that mean? Atin'ika?" It was almost an accusation. She didn't like showing she was hurt, this one. It was okay. He was the same way.
"It's Mando'a for 'little stubborn one.' Which it seems to me that you are."
She puzzled that one over, gave him another studying look, then slid down out of the tree and landed with odd light grace on the forest floor. "It's okay, I guess. Better than 'Princess.'"
He broke into a small tight smile at that. "I'm sure it is." She preferred stubbornness and swordplay to poofy dresses and that sort of thing, it sounded like--this girl was Mando'karla. She had the right sort of outlook for a good Mandalorian. "So you had two brothers here. Do you have any more family?"
"My mother and father, and my sister. Mother and Father were dead when they got here, too, but they look better now. And Sansa..." She trailed off and looked sad. "She isn't dead, but Queen Cersei made her marry a Lannister. They're the ones who killed my mother and father and Robb and Bran and Rickon. My two little brothers," she said, clarifying. "And her son said that my direwolf bit him so I had to chase her off or else they would have killed her. So they killed Sansa's direwolf instead." Her voice shook with the injustice of it. "So one day I'm going to kill them."
"Good for you," he said approvingly. She looked surprised. He forgot sometimes--aruetiise occasionally didn't truck with vengeance, depending on the culture. "It sounds like you have a good reason to be angry with them. I've got sons of my own, and I like to think they'd avenge me if anything happened to me. But I'd also like to think they wouldn't let it take up time they could spend living." The girl wouldn't know just how much he meant that. Every day was twice as precious for his lads than it was for most other people. The aiwha-bait gray freaks had seen to that.
She looked like she was going to say more, but nodded her head instead. "I'll leave you alone, Ser."
"It's Kal, atin'ika."
"I'm Arya. But you can call me 'atin'ika' if you want, it's not so bad if that's what it really means."
"It is. Oya, atin'ika. Good hunting." He left her to her thoughts and her tree. If she had some family here, it was better than nothing.