(Untitled)

[practiced]

DATE: December 6th.
CHARACTER(S): Everyone!
SUMMARY: Shoot, scavenge, survive. It's going to be a long week.
LOCATION: The Fort of Dead Shambly Merchants.
WARNINGS: Zombies and appropriate zombie-type violence likely.
FORMAT: Action, prose: commenter's choice. Go crazy!

Comments

OPEN!

[danceswithwater]

Stay safe, Arya. Don't be foolish, Arya. Be more like your sister, Arya- Well, maybe none of her brothers had said that, but it felt enough like being a child in Winterfell again, the wild daughter not living up to Sansa's example, that she could almost her it anyway. Why was it so strange to want to see the Others? She'd heard of them all her life. Jon had seen them and lived. It wasn't as though she wished to fight them. She just wanted to see. They moved so slowly, such creatures would never be able to catch a cat, let alone her.

So in the pre-dawn hours, Arya, as quiet as a shadow and swift as a deer, stirred from her wagon to try and slip away, just for long enough to catch sight of the strange Others they were, for the moment, trapped with in the settlement.

[[OOC: Feel free to catch her trying to leave the wagon, on her way out of the circle, in the town, whatever!]]

[whatistheremore]

"Lad!"

Horatio Hornblower raised his voice at seeing the young figure a few feet away from the fort. Trousers, hair, even just being out. Everything suggested, to him, that it was a boy he was calling to.

"What the Devil are you doing?" A few long, quick sides brought him up to 'his' side, and the Navy captain looked down. "At least tell me you're armed."

He... certainly was. Three pistols in his belt-- piratical, he felt, but necessary--, a rifle on his back, and a sword with a gold hilt at his side.

[danceswithwater]

"Of course I'm armed. I'm not stupid."

The voice that came from that little male body may be a familiar one, but in either case is clearly that of a young girl. There's more than a slight trace of defensiveness in it- she really isn't that foolish, after all- but Arya's accepted the gender confusion long ago. Really, she almost preferred being seen as a boy. People tended to bother her less when that was so.

To prove the point she tugged back the edge of her cloak, revealing the pair of long hunting knives sheathed on either side. They were no 'guns,' but the would suit in a pinch.

[whatistheremore]

"You're the one who asked about learning to use a gun."

He recognizes the voice, though he's served with enough boys whose voices had not yet changed that, really, her voice does not strike him as distinctly feminine. Not when coupled with her appearance. And he feels immediately chastised for having assumed such a thing. He should know by now that young boys could sound like girls, especially when unseen.