[A soft huff that's quickly stifled (no sound, none at all, you promised) as she realizes she'd sent something - garbled nonsense most like, unless these devices could read minds, which she'd been given no inclination that they could. That was good, at least.
She almost smiles a fraction at the reply - better a jape than an outright insult - until she fixes her eyes on the name.
The name.
Gods be good, I---
But who else might choose such a name, of all the names she'd heard in duplicate or more - Stark for sure, it'd been almost commonplace by the time she'd found herself in the world of Clock, but Nymeria? She can't be wholly sure, but she's so close to it - they're at least familiar with her world, even if just through hearing the name from...
...from Nymeria herself, or anyone who might have known of her. Or Arya. (Another Arya or the same? I...it doesn't matter.)
It could be. It could.
Her mouth is dry again as if full of dust, and her knees weaken as she shifts on the sandpath. Looking over her shoulder from the direction she had come: nothing. No one watching her. Everything still, silent.]
It cannot be said that I don't know my letters. But as to what order they fall in...
💩 💩 💩
[If she knew the faces, they might share the same memories of Clock and of Jon and of Lady Lyanna. Of...
...and if not, it still didn't matter. If mymeria was Arya, any Arya at all she was her sister. And though it can't be seen in the confidence of her words, she's trembling a little as she types this next part:]
Are you familiar with the tale of Nymeria and her Ten Thousand Ships? Or of the lesser known tale where she stuffed her elder sister's mattress with sheep dung?
ALL THE HELLOS \o/
She almost smiles a fraction at the reply - better a jape than an outright insult - until she fixes her eyes on the name.
The name.
Gods be good, I---
But who else might choose such a name, of all the names she'd heard in duplicate or more - Stark for sure, it'd been almost commonplace by the time she'd found herself in the world of Clock, but Nymeria? She can't be wholly sure, but she's so close to it - they're at least familiar with her world, even if just through hearing the name from...
...from Nymeria herself, or anyone who might have known of her. Or Arya. (Another Arya or the same? I...it doesn't matter.)
It could be. It could.
Her mouth is dry again as if full of dust, and her knees weaken as she shifts on the sandpath. Looking over her shoulder from the direction she had come: nothing. No one watching her. Everything still, silent.]
It cannot be said that I don't know my letters. But as to what order they fall in...
💩 💩 💩
[If she knew the faces, they might share the same memories of Clock and of Jon and of Lady Lyanna. Of...
...and if not, it still didn't matter. If mymeria was Arya, any Arya at all she was her sister. And though it can't be seen in the confidence of her words, she's trembling a little as she types this next part:]
Are you familiar with the tale of Nymeria and her Ten Thousand Ships? Or of the lesser known tale where she stuffed her elder sister's mattress with sheep dung?