[ Petyr Baelish doesn't remember the last time he woke up with no recollection of where he was or how he got there. He also doesn't remember the last time that it was truly panic that gripped his heart
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[ Blunt, isn't he? A few moments go by before any response comes back. It's a question that Littlefinger considers letting go unanswered, but if the toe tag is any indication, that'd be a futile exercise in anonymity. ]Petyr Baelish. [ (He lets his titles go unsaid.) ]
[What is subtle. What is conversation, while we're at it.
The data confirms it. And from what he's picking up, Alayne's already discovered the new arrival. He's more than a bit curious about the response. But it's not particularly relevant to him.]
[ She had not prayed for it for there were no septs in Abax and her mother had given her over to the Faith of the Seven. But Alayne had hoped for it - the way one hopes for relief during a miserable time (spring after seemingly-endless winter). He had saved her once and he would do it again - Alayne was convinced of it, no matter how foolish the desire - and so when she finds Petyr Baelish's countenance on the small glowing screen of her communicator, when she hears the distinct timbre of his voice, her heart clenches and she drops the device onto the floor. It is a long moment later before she retrieves it, having gone back to her bedroom to fetch the clothes she kept (waiting; it was only a matter of time) at the foot of her bed
( ... )
[Arya had been outside, on the metal stairs just outside their broken window. She liked to practice her balance up there, standing on one foot, rising up on her toes, sometimes with her eyes closed and her arms stretched out to her sides. She was good at balancing, and she'd only tumbled once - there was a scrape on her arm to prove it. It made her feel like her, and after those days when she'd known nothing, was no one, she had been desperate for some real reminder. And this had been good enough.
She isn't so far that she couldn't hear what was happening in their rooms, though. When the clatter of the dropped device reaches her ears, Arya lowers her leg and pads lightly back down the stairs and into their apartment, peeking into Alayne's room - just in time to hear her. Lord father.
The hole in her chest, where her heart used to be, aches hard as she remembers Baelor's statue, and Ice. She didn't knock at her sister's door, didn't ask if she could enter: Arya rushed forward, grabbing for Alayne's wrist as she
( ... )
[ She almost raised her voice then, as Arya wrenched her wrist downwards, making Alayne stumble forward with little to catch herself save her sister's shoulder. She was good at lying, Arya was; Alayne had seen it many times for herself already, but in this - this man, Alayne Stone's father - she feared Arya would not be steadfast, that her lies would flicker and fail. For Arya Stark had had a father once and Alayne wondered if her heart loved him still.
Sansa Stark's heart would have, surely, if her heart still knew how to beat. But Alayne had dismantled it - pulled it apart and set it aside - for only in becoming the mockingbird's daughter had she had hope of surviving.
But in seeing those wide grey eyes, in knowing their apprehension, Alayne found her voice stuck to the inside of her throat. Whatever irritation she felt quieted and then, as she pulled her wrist back to herself, fell away completely. Even if Arya faltered, Alayne knew that she could not. ]
He will protect us, [ were the words she said, though her expression
( ... )
[He is not my father, she wanted to say. He is a Lannister's puppet. But she said nothing. Littlefinger was here, now, and she had to remember that he was not Littlefinger anymore. He was her father. And if that unsettled her, she was to ignore it. There were more important things at stake. So she whispered, so quiet she was almost only mouthing the words, afraid the device would pick her up.]
[Arya had been uncertain, staring at her device while Alayne coaxed her into saying something. This was not her father. This was Alayne's father, whom she must respect. That frustrated her; but she pushed it down, turned it into a ball and buried it deep inside her. No, she would be Artos. And Artos was grateful for Lord Baelish's protection of his sister.
Still, she had to reach for her etiquette; it had been so long since she'd needed it.]
My Lord Protector. Do you remember me? [She glanced away from the screen, up at Alayne again, furtive.]
Comments 33
[Visuals match the description.]
Identify. [Or don't. He'll pull the data from the connection either way.]
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[ (He lets his titles go unsaid.) ]
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The data confirms it. And from what he's picking up, Alayne's already discovered the new arrival. He's more than a bit curious about the response. But it's not particularly relevant to him.]
Acknowledged.
[A short pause.]
Query. Purpose of broadcast?
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Do you often misstep into morgues?.
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Not exactly how I'd put it.
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[ She had not prayed for it for there were no septs in Abax and her mother had given her over to the Faith of the Seven. But Alayne had hoped for it - the way one hopes for relief during a miserable time (spring after seemingly-endless winter). He had saved her once and he would do it again - Alayne was convinced of it, no matter how foolish the desire - and so when she finds Petyr Baelish's countenance on the small glowing screen of her communicator, when she hears the distinct timbre of his voice, her heart clenches and she drops the device onto the floor. It is a long moment later before she retrieves it, having gone back to her bedroom to fetch the clothes she kept (waiting; it was only a matter of time) at the foot of her bed ( ... )
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[Arya had been outside, on the metal stairs just outside their broken window. She liked to practice her balance up there, standing on one foot, rising up on her toes, sometimes with her eyes closed and her arms stretched out to her sides. She was good at balancing, and she'd only tumbled once - there was a scrape on her arm to prove it. It made her feel like her, and after those days when she'd known nothing, was no one, she had been desperate for some real reminder. And this had been good enough.
She isn't so far that she couldn't hear what was happening in their rooms, though. When the clatter of the dropped device reaches her ears, Arya lowers her leg and pads lightly back down the stairs and into their apartment, peeking into Alayne's room - just in time to hear her. Lord father.
The hole in her chest, where her heart used to be, aches hard as she remembers Baelor's statue, and Ice. She didn't knock at her sister's door, didn't ask if she could enter: Arya rushed forward, grabbing for Alayne's wrist as she ( ... )
Reply
Sansa Stark's heart would have, surely, if her heart still knew how to beat. But Alayne had dismantled it - pulled it apart and set it aside - for only in becoming the mockingbird's daughter had she had hope of surviving.
But in seeing those wide grey eyes, in knowing their apprehension, Alayne found her voice stuck to the inside of her throat. Whatever irritation she felt quieted and then, as she pulled her wrist back to herself, fell away completely. Even if Arya faltered, Alayne knew that she could not. ]
He will protect us, [ were the words she said, though her expression ( ... )
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Tell him.
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[Arya had been uncertain, staring at her device while Alayne coaxed her into saying something. This was not her father. This was Alayne's father, whom she must respect. That frustrated her; but she pushed it down, turned it into a ball and buried it deep inside her. No, she would be Artos. And Artos was grateful for Lord Baelish's protection of his sister.
Still, she had to reach for her etiquette; it had been so long since she'd needed it.]
My Lord Protector. Do you remember me? [She glanced away from the screen, up at Alayne again, furtive.]
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