Arya spent all of five minutes in the city before escaping to the woods, long enough to take a gas mask and put it on once she felt herself starting to suffocate. The thing is better than dying, but it restricts her peripheral vision just enough to make Arya uncomfortable with being in this strange, unknown city. She's far more accustomed to forests, however, and she escapes there, sword in tow.
Once she reaches the wilderness, Arya moves slowly, carefully, barely rustling the dead leaves. It's easy to see that this place is sick, perhaps dying, but there's something oddly beautiful about these rocks and hills. After a few hours of hiking, Arya reaches the edge of a cliff, and for a moment she allows herself to stop and appreciate the view.
But only for a moment. She hears something moving behind her, and Arya draws her sword and quickly faces whoever is approaching. ]
Who are you?
[ The hostile way Arya asks the question makes it sound more like an accusation than anything else. ]
war games. [ Arya didn't mean to start the fight, truly. The hunters had come upon her in the wilderness, and when she tried to fight back, they surrounded her and threw her in the pit she's standing in now. One man bothered to tell Arya that fighting was only allowed in sanctioned areas, despite Arya's protests. She hadn't wanted to fight. She just wanted to live.
More often than not, however, those two amount to more or less the same thing.
Arya looks right, then left. There's so many people, most of them spectators. Arya doesn't know what's going to happen to her, but she doesn't want to find out. She spots a door at the opposite end of the pit. She'll have to barrel through a large crowd, and her escape might not work, but it's worth a shot.
So without warning, Arya sprints straight towards the crowd with one thing on her mind: the exit. ]
arya stark | a song of ice and fire
[ This isn't Braavos.
Arya spent all of five minutes in the city before escaping to the woods, long enough to take a gas mask and put it on once she felt herself starting to suffocate. The thing is better than dying, but it restricts her peripheral vision just enough to make Arya uncomfortable with being in this strange, unknown city. She's far more accustomed to forests, however, and she escapes there, sword in tow.
Once she reaches the wilderness, Arya moves slowly, carefully, barely rustling the dead leaves. It's easy to see that this place is sick, perhaps dying, but there's something oddly beautiful about these rocks and hills. After a few hours of hiking, Arya reaches the edge of a cliff, and for a moment she allows herself to stop and appreciate the view.
But only for a moment. She hears something moving behind her, and Arya draws her sword and quickly faces whoever is approaching. ]
Who are you?
[ The hostile way Arya asks the question makes it sound more like an accusation than anything else. ]
war games.
[ Arya didn't mean to start the fight, truly. The hunters had come upon her in the wilderness, and when she tried to fight back, they surrounded her and threw her in the pit she's standing in now. One man bothered to tell Arya that fighting was only allowed in sanctioned areas, despite Arya's protests. She hadn't wanted to fight. She just wanted to live.
More often than not, however, those two amount to more or less the same thing.
Arya looks right, then left. There's so many people, most of them spectators. Arya doesn't know what's going to happen to her, but she doesn't want to find out. She spots a door at the opposite end of the pit. She'll have to barrel through a large crowd, and her escape might not work, but it's worth a shot.
So without warning, Arya sprints straight towards the crowd with one thing on her mind: the exit. ]