taxonomites Entry: [Location: Ship] Quiet as a Shadow

When the sun dipped behind the watery horizon and only a web of stars lightened the blackened night, Arya crept out from below deck, quiet as a shadow.

Some people were awake. Some people never seemed to sleep at night.  But it gave Arya more ways to gain the one thing she needed: practice. She had not much time to train on her way to the Saltpans, before Taxon.  Mostly, she was just too tired and hungry and aching, and she did not want to frighten the wimpy mare called Craven or let him get stolen.  But now, more than ever, Arya knew honing the skills of a water dancer was more important than sleeping. No one on board knew where the ship was taking them.  And not everyone on board could be trusted.  There were things here she had never even heard about in Westeros, at least not from any human.  Things that ate blood.  One she even thought could be a friend, once. But that was just stupid. Friends always left, or got killed.  She had no pack anymore. She had to be strong.

She had to be ready.

She slipped through the shadows of the ship like a passing wind. Quick as a snake, she told herself.  Light on her feet, she would imagine some enemy looming from behind a corner and spin around and dance out of the way, whipping Needle out and slipping into the water dancer's stance--sideways, to be a smaller target.  Smooth as summer silk.  Sometimes she even stood one one toe--balancing on one foot. She could not do it as long as she used to.

She practiced walking on her hands.  It was hard because she was out of practice, and her hands had gotten used to gripping her sword but not to balancing her body.  She fell a few times and bruised and scratched her knees and arms, but she never cried out.  Your enemies will give you more than scratches, she heard a voice say. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine, she whispered to herself.  Needle whipped back and forth in the air, quick as lightning.  She thought of the Queen, of Ser Meryn and Ser Gregor the Mountain, of all of them. She furiously wiped the sweat from her brow as it stung her eyes. She thought of the Hound as she slashed the air, of his ugly burned face. Would that she could give him his mercy now.  She would cut his throat and shove him into the water, where the fish could eat the other side of his face.

She did not know what lurked at port, or even within the bowels of this ship, but Arya had no fear.  Nobody would catch her.  Nobody would hurt her.  Here or there, or back at the city, or in Westeros.  She slashed and slashed.

[OOC: Posted here.]

taxonomites Entry: [Audio/Location: Taxon Forest] You Shall Drip Rubies

The pine needles were soft underneath her bare feet, so rough and leathery by now that Arya hardly even felt them. She moved through the forest like a gust of wind and just as quiet, not worrying about getting lost. If she could not find her way back, she had the map on the tablet, and Taxon was easier to navigate than Westeros. She didn't even need to look at the moss on the trees, or the little blue veins of rivers on a rusty stolen map and wonder which one she was supposed to cross. And she didn't have anyone to slow her down and get her caught, either. Not Gendry or Hot Pie or anyone. And anyway, there was no one to catch her. No one to follow her.

"Ser Meryn," she said under her breath, swiping at a hanging leaf in her way, "Raff the Sweetling, Dunsen, Ser Gregor the Mountain,"

Thwack! Thwack!

"Queen Cersei."  Thwack!  "Ser Ilyn."  Thwack!  "Raymund Frey."  It was odd to hear a foreign name on the list, but after this one, two extra fierce thwacks! can be heard on the tablet, with no visual to accompany it.  The girl sighed. "Valar Morghulis."

She had being coming to the forest often as of late. At first, it was just to search for a Weirwood, a heart-tree with its blood-red leaves and scary carved face and tears of red sap. But those faces were carved by the Children of the Forest, and they were gone, and certainly not in Taxon. So instead, Arya took up her dancing lessons where the other people of Taxon wouldn't gawk at her or shriek if she got too close, or warn her not to play with knives and swords like she was just some stupid little girl. Today, she had come out of restlessness, and anger. Since the day Jason Blood with his cards and water and needle had spoke the name of the mother's killer, Arya could hardly sleep. She had been so close, and maybe she could have killed Raymund Frey first if The Hound hadn't stopped her. She could have killed all of them, and thrown them in the river.

Somewhere, there was the vague sound of drums.  Boom doom boom doom boom doom.

"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
and it's filled with people who are filled with shit
and the vermin of the world inhabit it . . .
. . . But not for long."

The words poured out of her like black blood from some deep wound, matching every step, every swing of her sword. The trees seemed to shrink from her now, her and Needle. Good, she thought. One day I'll be back, or Taxon will bring them here, and they'll shrink from me too.

The drums are louder, lower. A steady beat underlying every word. Arya didn't know where it came from, even though it sounded familiar. Boom doom boom doom boom doom boom doom.

"Ser Meryn," she said, singing and the string of words almost under her breath in a queer little tune, "Raff the Sweetling, Dunsen, Ser Gregor, Queen Cersei, Raymund Frey."

When she was done, she went through the list again, louder this time:  "Ser Meryn, Raff the Sweetling, Dunsen, Ser Gregor, Queen Cersei, Raymund Frey."

BOOM doom BOOM doom BOOM doom BOOM doom BOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM.

She said the names again and again, yelling a tuneless tune nearly drowned in sounds of steel on bark, on leaves, the whishing through air, over and over until, for the love of the Old Gods, somebody stops her.

[OOC: Posted here, for the musical glitch]