indispensible | nine. audio & spam. i've walked around broken.

spam } barge, day 1

[Vin wonders if Alpha is gone as a judgment on her. Maybe. She deserves to be judged. She knows this, because she feels as though a part of her heart has been carved out and left on the other side of the door.]

[Nathan is gone. She goes through her days avoiding the people she has harmed, her eyes glued to some imaginary horizon. There are no horizons here. No sun. Hardly any air to speak of.]

[Everything is dying. It reminds her of home. Except for the stars, which she stares at for too long on the deck, until they leave bright spots on her vision.]

public } voice, day 1

[She sounds contemplative, if a little flat. She isn't sure what she wants out of this; then again, she isn't sure what she wants out of anything, right now.

Wouldn't it be easier if we let the ship die?

It would be better. None of you would have to fight anymore. You can't possibly want to anymore.

private } marsh

Is it . . . very bad? Today?

[By it, she means everything. The weight of existence in this place, at this time.]

spam } port, remainder

[It's tempting to trail after people like Ned. But she doesn't. Breathing free air - free-ish, free enough - inspires her in a way she didn't think she could be inspired anymore, and she strikes off on her own into the settlement. Does not think she's pursued; doesn't listen too carefully. There's a large part of her that still doesn't care.]

[But she listens to the people around her talk of invasion, of medicines she doesn't understand, of technology she can't comprehend - and of weapons.]

[On the second day, she trades several hours of menial labor for a weapon, a small, short-bladed knife. Metal - not what she wanted, but the best she can get. And after she puts it in her back pocket, she walks around differently. With a touch of purpose, instantly noticeable, along with the unsteady and distant half-smile flitting across her lips.]

[Maybe she wants revenge, for the people she's hurt and for Nathan, too. Maybe she is simply pleased to finally be moving.]

( ooc; vin is affected for the desperate to deliver plot! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She goes to find Vin after her post to the network. Stop fighting? That isn't the Vin she knows. That is diametrically opposed to the Vin she knows. Riding on Nymeria's back, she holds fistfuls of fur to keep steady, bare feet dangling down on either side. The direwolf still has blood on her muzzle, and Arya has bound the cut on her hand to hide the fact that the blood is her own: she doesn't want anyone who might notice them to think something is off.

On the deck, she stays in the shadows, sliding down from Nymeria's back. She approaches from the side, looking around for anyone who might be watching.]

Vin.

[That is all. She doesn't say it as a question, she doesn't yell it. Come back. This is all a show, and when it's over, it will be just them.]

[Her eyes are dead black holes in her face. She hears Arya and even turns, but she doesn't smile or even really see her. Looks, but doesn't see. There is an emptiness, a lack of life.]

[She looks at Arya and she is so tired. She remembers what they did together, hurting Beatrix and other people, too, simply because they could and because doing nothing made them feel small.]

What do you want?

[She looks tired. She looks so unlike Vin that for a moment, Arya wonders if it's really her.

Another look around to make sure they're alone, and she reaches out to take Vin's hand. She has never needed someone to hold her hand, at least not in a long time - but she thinks maybe Vin could use it.]

Nothing.

[She almost says no one wants nothing and calls Arya out for a liar, but then there is a small hand in hers, and Vin stills. She doesn't remember the last time someone held her hand. It was Elend, ages ago, must have been. Before that, maybe Kelsier.]

[She is suddenly afraid as well as tired, that she's being tricked, that soon she'll be hurt. But she doesn't pull away. It feels too safe to leave behind.]

Nothing?

[Small fingers fold around larger, curved and curling and supporting. She remembers holding her mother's hand, distantly, and she carefully tucks that away. Vin is not her mother. But she is in need of comfort.]

Nothing.

[She repeats the quiet word, tipping her head up to look at the older woman. It bares her throat, though not in any way that could be construed as submissive. This isn't the wicked little girl who delighted in watching Vin work. She pauses before she goes on.]

That's not true. I want to know what's wrong.

What's wrong?

[She squeezes Arya's hand, a squeeze as tight as her smile. Where should she begin?]

Have you ever had a friend who was so close he was like a part of your heart?

[Arya tightens her hand in return. She wishes Vin didn't have to ask that question. But this isn't the Vin who reunited her with Nymeria. So she nods, her face still water.]

Like pack.

[Her brow furrows at the analogy. Like pack. Like animals. She nods.]

Exactly like pack.

When they're torn away. When your pack dies, and you're alone. You could carve out your heart and leave it behind just as easily.

I did.

[There is a hole where my heart is, she thinks. It has been there since my mother and brother died. Sometimes it starts to fill back up. It was almost full here, she was almost whole. But people leave. Packs die. And the lone wolf, all alone in the world, can survive.

She wonders, distantly, if Gendry was a part of her heart.]

But the hole still hurts, sometimes.

Yes.

[Vin sighs. Her hand is limp in Arya's, but she does not let go. She doesn't know if she can anymore.]

Most of the time, it hurts. I cauterized it, but then it . . . got infected.

It's not a good analogy. [Elend would have a better one.] But sometimes I want it burned off again. It felt better. Or at least it - felt less.

It's a bad analogy. [But she smiles a little, up at Vin, a secret only for her.]

You can't burn off a part of yourself. But you can hide it.