"A wolf with a fish in its mouth? That would look silly."
She still had sucker marks running virtually all the way up her right arm but they were fading, and Arya had never been one to let a thing like that get her down. Quite the opposite, in fact; she wasn't going to let a little thing like a squid attack keep her out of the water.
The remnants from the squid attack made things easier, in a way; while Arya over the course of just being Arya tended to pick up minor bruises and scratches as if it were a hobby, and consequently Rosalind had what could be considered a worrying knack for covering such marks up, there wasn't much she could do about something that went up her entire arm. So Rosalind wasn't around, and didn't get to go swimming. She probably couldn't even swim, and Arya wasn't sure how one went about becoming a worse swimmer than one was.
The Starks were wolves, sure enough, but Arya of all people was not going to forget that she had a mother, too, and the Tullys were fish. And you couldn't keep a fish out of the water.
"Come, on, it'll cool you off," she entreated, but it was no good. It seemed that on the other hand, you couldn't get a wolf in the water. "Fine," she told Nymeria, who was flopped in the sand, "stay here. Watch my swords!"
And she threw herself cleanly into the surf, refusing to even contemplate being concerned there could be more squid lurking about, and her with no knives in the bathing suit. She swam out further with long, clean strokes, then held her breath and dived. Squid, strange new fish, shellfish, one of those deadly jellyfish, she watched out for them all.
Eventually her breath gave out and she came back to the surface with a gasp, the floated on her back and circled about lazily, staring at the sky. It was not, Arya considered, a bad day to be her, all in all.
[Catch her out there, catch her coming back in to shore, whatever works best. ST, LT, all a-okay.]
The remnants from the squid attack made things easier, in a way; while Arya over the course of just being Arya tended to pick up minor bruises and scratches as if it were a hobby, and consequently Rosalind had what could be considered a worrying knack for covering such marks up, there wasn't much she could do about something that went up her entire arm. So Rosalind wasn't around, and didn't get to go swimming. She probably couldn't even swim, and Arya wasn't sure how one went about becoming a worse swimmer than one was.
The Starks were wolves, sure enough, but Arya of all people was not going to forget that she had a mother, too, and the Tullys were fish. And you couldn't keep a fish out of the water.
"Come, on, it'll cool you off," she entreated, but it was no good. It seemed that on the other hand, you couldn't get a wolf in the water. "Fine," she told Nymeria, who was flopped in the sand, "stay here. Watch my swords!"
And she threw herself cleanly into the surf, refusing to even contemplate being concerned there could be more squid lurking about, and her with no knives in the bathing suit. She swam out further with long, clean strokes, then held her breath and dived. Squid, strange new fish, shellfish, one of those deadly jellyfish, she watched out for them all.
Eventually her breath gave out and she came back to the surface with a gasp, the floated on her back and circled about lazily, staring at the sky. It was not, Arya considered, a bad day to be her, all in all.
[Catch her out there, catch her coming back in to shore, whatever works best. ST, LT, all a-okay.]