[It's the opposite of a long ago reunion in another world (another Arya) - instead of a sightless sister she finds herself staring into eyes (like Father's, like Jon - Stark eyes) that seem to stare straight through - no, straight into her, observing - as if taking her in piece by piece and all at once at the same time.
Arya's older. Sharper, too.
When her sister's hand comes to rest upon her cheek her chest aches both with fullness from weight and from the freeing of it. She wishes she could speak with her own hands as she'd seen the people of this place do - it would be far faster than having to pause and tamp the little keys on the device to make letters. She knows she can't type fast enough. But she'll try. She frowns at the machine, as if it's responsible for the interruption.]
taller. older than when i last saw you. keener eyes, too. but you look well. fierce in your fine leathers.
[What she doesn't say is You look like her. Like Aunt Lyanna. Even moreso, now.]
no subject
Arya's older. Sharper, too.
When her sister's hand comes to rest upon her cheek her chest aches both with fullness from weight and from the freeing of it. She wishes she could speak with her own hands as she'd seen the people of this place do - it would be far faster than having to pause and tamp the little keys on the device to make letters. She knows she can't type fast enough. But she'll try. She frowns at the machine, as if it's responsible for the interruption.]
taller. older than when i last saw you. keener eyes, too. but you look well. fierce in your fine leathers.
[What she doesn't say is You look like her. Like Aunt Lyanna. Even moreso, now.]