Needle's Vow (Astira & Ravien Delapor)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Astira on 04-02-2014, 00:16:25</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Astira</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 00:16:25</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/b92088a7b4b9b03ab8daac20c1035296/tumblr_mu62pkKGtP1skt3v6o10_r1_400.png)<br><div align="center"><strong>Arya Stark</strong></div></div><br>She had been nine years old when she watched the man she worshipped, the man who encouraged her to pick up a sword and a bow, the man who told her stories and whom she called father was beheaded before her eyes for a crime he hadn’t committed.&nbsp; And then she watched as her only sister, the only member of her family left at King’s Landing was taken and held prisoner by a child king. Arya could never have known it would be the last time she saw Sansa and that she would never lay eyes on her own flesh and blood again for nearly ten years. <em>It had been the Baratheons and by default, the Lannisters, responsible for their deaths.</em><br><br>At age eleven, she unwittingly walked in on her eldest brother and mother’s massacre - the Red Wedding it was known as. Saw their lifeless bodies strewn across the rough stone floor like rag dolls, bathed in their own blood and guts - stepped on as if they were no better than the dirt that dusted the ground. <em>It had been the Baratheons and by default, the Lannisters responsible for their deaths.</em><br><br>Less than six months later, Sansa was found strangled in her bed, made public as if it had been an accident. Arya knew it hadn’t been. A year after that, Bran and Rickon had been found frozen to death, their wrists shackled to the wall of an abandoned tower near Castle Black. <em>It had been the Baratheons and by default, the Lannisters responsible for their deaths.</em><br><br>The only person who remained alive that carried her blood was her half brother, a bastard: Jon Snow. But he may as well be dead – she’d scarcely set eyes on or had heard his voice in over a decade. She suspected she never would.<br><br>Arya was nineteen now and had one thing on her mind – it was cold-blooded, ruthless revenge. <br><br>Robert Baratheon was dead, Renly Baratheon was dead, Jaime Lannister was dead and Joffrey was dead (she mourned that – she would’ve loved to rip out his heart and feast on it). That left Tywin Lannister, Tyrion, the imp, Cersei and two of her children Tommen and Myrcella. And Arya had every intention of slaughtering them all in a year’s time.<br><br>After the gruesome death of her younger brothers, Arya, only twelve at the time, fled from the Hound’s side in grief and spent the next seven years in hiding. She ensured that the world knew of her ‘death’ and then created a new persona for herself. She trained, she planned, she hardened her heart and she furthered her education relentlessly until finally, she felt ready. Ready to search for the one person who could help her exact her revenge.<br><br>When she was ten years old, she watched a man with red hair and a single streak of white framing his face kill a dozen trained soldiers like they were helpless children. But afterwards, he smiled at her - with warmth and reassurance. And then he disappeared in every way possible – face, name, and body. But she never forgot those two faces he showed her, even now almost a decade later as she sailed towards a place she’d never been to before, in search of him. For Jaqen H’ghar. She would find him and he would train her to become a faceless man.<br><br><em>“Show me how. I want to be able to do it to.”<br><br>“If you would learn, you must come with me. Far and away, across the Narrow Sea to Braavos….to be a faceless man...” </em><br>&nbsp;<br>The memory was fresh in her mind as if it had just happened yesterday. She had been too young then, too naïve to know the inevitable fate of both her and her family. But now, as she drummed her fingers on the sea-hardened wood of the Mahr’Vinhir, her long hair blowing like tendrils in the sea breeze, Arya Stark knew she was ready. And that all this time, it had truly been her destiny to become a faceless man.<br><br>The ship sailed past the giant statue of Titan of Braavos, the harbor entrance to the city and a faint smile ghosted her lips. She pulled out the coin Jaqen had given her many years ago and unwrapped it from the kerchief it lay in. The silver glinted in the golden hues of the setting sun, alighting the face of the coin in brilliance.<br><br><em>“A coin of great value...if the day comes when you must find me again just show that coin to any man in Braavos and say these words to him – Valar Morghulis,” he gave her that smile. Then said, “Jaqen H’ghar is dead. Farewell, Arya Stark.”</em><br><br>She remembered. She had named him and he had accused her of having no honor. She wondered what he would think of her now if he knew her true intentions? He never would, not if she played her cards right and relied on her well-trained instincts. She was no fool – Arya was strategic, cunning and ruthlessly intelligent. Would Jaqen recognize her, she wondered? Then she chuckled. Yes, he would. She was sure of it. But would she recognize him?<br><br>She chuckled again and tucked the coin back into her dress against her left breast. It didn’t matter if she did or not; she knew that HE would find HER.<br><br>The ship Mahr’Vinhir docked at the port of Braavos just after sundown. The journey across the Narrow Sea from King’s Landing had taken little more than a week. She had boarded under the guise that she was a wealthy Lord’s wife from Oldtown, a place not worthy of much note, but enough that she was treated with respect and even marveled at for her beauty. <br><br>Her eyes scanned the surroundings before fixing on a man loading cargo for another ship. He had a face that was easily lost in a crowd – there was nothing special about him, nothing noteworthy. And that was exactly what she looked for. His build was subtly strong and graceful, his back was straight when he stood up, chin a touch high and his eyes just a bit too unwavering. <br><br>Arya instructed the men who handled her bare items to wait for her at the end of the gangplank. She would only be a moment. They nodded, a bit uncertain about letting a woman walk unescorted but she assured them she was just going a few steps away.<br><br>Her gown sweeping behind her like silken waves, she confronted the faceless man, pulling out her coin once more and showing it to him.<br><br>“Valar Morghulis,” she whispered, the words almost immediately lost to the noise of the seaside city. But he’d heard her.<br><br>He slowly stood up from the box he’d just set down and looked her dead in the eye, not even glancing at the coin. Arya knew she’d been right and swiftly placed the coin back. One nearly imperceptible nod, and she swept away back towards the men. <br><br>She knew without looking behind her that the shipmate’s eyes followed her all the way to the high-end inn where she stayed. She was certain that Jaqen would know she was here within the hour.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ravien Delapor</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 02:19:57</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i1258.photobucket.com/albums/ii531/ShinaRyun/Jaqen1-1.png)</div>Braavos was a city like any other, with an underculture as rich and diverse as the world above the dim cellars and dripping sewers where people brokered and traded in every imaginable vice.&nbsp; Thieves, murderers, whores, and those who peddled them moved through Braavos’s shadows like rats, creating an ecosystem supported on savagery, lies, greed, and simple human filth.&nbsp; Honor was a commodity, cheaper than anyone ever liked to believe…but for some, it carried a weight greater than gold could buy.<br><br>Well, at least, not for a very, very great sum of gold.&nbsp; Tradition, and the influence of forces greater and older than common thieves, helped to ensure that there were parts of Braavos’s history which were not forgotten.&nbsp; The order of the Faceless Men was one such force, dimed but far from diminished by time, with traditions which remained the same as they had when the order was first established.&nbsp; A network of spies among the commoners of Braavos, eyes and ears among the eyes and ears of other organizations, ensured that when one of the few remaining Faceless Men was needed, he could be found.<br><br>Now, an outsider crossing the sea to enter the city was worthy of some notice, but no more than passing interest…but a noblewoman speaking words which had no business joining with her foreign accent was more than a mere oddity.&nbsp; The nameless, practically featureless man who Arya had spoken to at the docks was gone from his post minutes after her arrival, ducking into the main body of the city and disappearing down a network of alleys and tunnels.&nbsp; His message was one that he was forbidden from repeating to anyone save for the Faceless Man to whom it corresponded; to speak the words to another outside the order would have earned him a sharp pike for his head and a pack of sharks for his body.&nbsp; Even giving the words to a different initiated Man would likely earn him censure from the order, if not the removal of his tongue.<br><br>Without pause, then, he moved deeper and deeper into the dark warren, not stopping until he reached an unmarked door which would have elicited no undue interest from anyone unfamiliar with it.&nbsp; He knocked twice, and then stood back to wait.&nbsp; This particular Faceless Man was not always in, but made a habit of circling back to this home at least four times a day.&nbsp; The messenger was fortunate, as a small sliding panel in the door’s front opened within moments, and a featureless, deadpan voice spoke softly from within.<br><br>“Words?”<br><br>“Valar Morghulis,” the messenger breathed.<br><br>“The man may enter,” the flat voice murmured, the door unlocking and swinging open.&nbsp; The messenger did as he was bade, and quickly relayed all the information he could to the Faceless Man.&nbsp; Within minutes, the messenger was sent away with a pocket full of gold and the thanks of a man whose face he would never see again.&nbsp; Unknown to the messenger, he was followed within moments by the same man he had spoken to, but even when he and the Man parted ways and he offered the Man greetings, he did not recognize him.<br><br>Unknown and unknowable, the Faceless Man made his own way back to the surface, and then to the inn where his runner had told him that his caller waited.&nbsp; He had a hunch about whom had called for him, but held speculation in check until he could know for sure.&nbsp; He wore a face familiar to only one man, another of his spotters who recognized him immediately when he neared the hotel.<br><br>“Top room,” the spotter said simply.<br><br>“The man’s eyes are keen,” the Faceless Man answered simply before he turned around the inn and made his own way up to the top floor.&nbsp; For him, a sheer wall was as inviting as a stairwell, a shift of plain fabric covering his body to make him appear like nothing more than a loose scrap of cloth caught on the wind.&nbsp; He ascended without arousing suspicion, alighting through the upper-floor window wearing the face of one of the inn’s serving boys whom he had spotted smoking poppy seeds behind the establishment.<br><br>Only one room sat at the top of the inn, making it simple to determine where his caller was.&nbsp; Entering the locked room was even simpler, as was locating the caller herself.&nbsp; There was absolutely no mistaking her when he saw her, her face immediately recognizable even after so many long years since he had seen it.&nbsp; She had grown, and he was grateful; she had survived to maturity without him, and as he stood silent and motionless behind her as she sat at a table with a tray of light fare before her, his keen eyes picked out details hinting at how she had made it.<br><br>Her dress could conceal any number of weapons; the way she carried her hair looked elegant, but kept it from her eyes and away from her arms, perfectly positioned to allow her to burst into action.&nbsp; He smelled metal on her, and guessed that she had at least one long knife hidden in the folds of her dress along her right ankle.<br><br>On a whim, he shifted himself without a sound, taking on a form he had not work since he had seen her last, his hair lengthening and turning sunset-red, a streak of white spreading from over his left eye.&nbsp; His eyes themselves turned icy blue, while orange-white stubble sprouted briefly from his pointed chin and shallow cheeks.&nbsp; His physique trimmed and hardened, and he elevated in height until he could remember exactly how it felt to look down on the girl when she was eleven.&nbsp; His shift pulled tight around his body, strong arms bared, cloth wrapped around his torso and hips, loose around his legs.<br><br>“A girl has become a woman,” he said at last, his quiet voice unchanged by time.&nbsp; “She has endured her years well, it would seem.&nbsp; Her memory is as keen as it was when a man saw her last…she remembers his words, and calls for him.&nbsp; A man answers.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Astira</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 02:49:01</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/b92088a7b4b9b03ab8daac20c1035296/tumblr_mu62pkKGtP1skt3v6o10_r1_400.png)</div><br>Arya picked at the food brought to her by a young serving girl some fifteen minutes prior. It was a wooden plate filled with cheese, fruits and bread. She’d only had a taste, but knew the fare to be delicious - Braavos was a seaside city, which meant it’s soil was rich and it’s climate mild. But she could not eat. She was lost to her thoughts, her head leaning on the heal of her hand. Nerves bubbled in her stomach as she waited - waited to be found, waited for disappointment, or even waited for death. She knew not how she would be received; hell, she didn’t even know if he still lived! She was fairly certain he was - Jaqen H’ghar was a dangerous man - however the nagging feeling would not go away until it was proven to her. What if he <em>wasn’t coming</em>? What if he did not remember her? What then?<br><br><em>“A girl has become a woman,”</em> <br><br>A voice she had not heard for over ten years sounded in the stillness of the room.&nbsp;Arya’s hand instinctively hitched up the right side of her skirt to grab at the dagger she had strapped to her thigh, heedless of the impropriety of it. She then simultaneously spun around and stood up, eyes wide with startlement at being snuck up on. <em>“She has endured her years well, it would seem.&nbsp; Her memory is as keen as it was when a man saw her last…she remembers his words, and calls for him.&nbsp; A man answers.”</em><br><br>The dagger fell with a clang to the floor when her silver-blue eyes fell upon a familiar face; she leaned against the table for support. “Jaqen H’ghar!” She breathed. She hadn’t known what she expected; wasn’t sure WHAT to expect, really. An unexpected rush of familiarity and safety wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She stared at him, disbelieving and yet relieved. He was exactly as she remembered with the blood-red hair and a single white streak, the high cheekbones polished and defined, his chin dotted with light stubble, and that same mischievous little smile he always seem to wear; especially around her. All of it brought a flood of memories rushing back to her and made her chest tighten with nostalgia. She remembered taking a fancy to him; attracted to the man even as young as she was. With a small flush of realization, she knew it was still there and strong as ever - it would seem time did not change everything. “Is it…is it really you?”<br><br>The last time she’d seen him, he towered over her. Now, however, she only stood four or five inches shorter than he. Her dark brown hair had grown long and wild with thick curls, all currently piled atop her head with little whips and tendrils sweeping along her neck and collarbone. The dress she wore, though modest and elegant, still showed a healthy amount of (ample) cleavage - a far cry from her flat-chested youth. The rest of her followed in a similar fashion - all the curves and roundness in the right places.<br><br>She breathed hard, trying to recover from her initial panic and awaited his response.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ravien Delapor</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 03:41:12</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i1258.photobucket.com/albums/ii531/ShinaRyun/Jaqen1-1.png)</div>Jaqen tilted his head slightly at Arya’s question, his narrow, knowing eyes flickering from her own for just a moment, long enough to look over her body with the eyes of one who knew exactly what made each form unique.&nbsp; With a look, he knew her height and weight to within an inch and an ounce, the length of her hair, the exact color of her skin and eyes, the density of her muscles and the degree of her curves.&nbsp; Clothing was paltry armor to the eyes of a Faceless Man; in a moment, he knew how to make himself look enough like her to fool just about anyone.<br><br>“A girl asks a foolish question,” he said with that same quiet, silky voice, his hands hooking thumbs into the sash of his wrap, his lips holding their little, curious smile.&nbsp; “Jaqen H’ghar is dead, girl, as I told you so many years ago.&nbsp; A man cannot come back from the dead, can he?&nbsp; Surely that is something beyond even the power of a Faceless Man.”&nbsp; He smiled a touch wider and shrugged slightly.&nbsp; “And yet a man stands before her, and a woman knows who he is.&nbsp; A girl once knew a man named Jaqen H’ghar, but a girl does not stand before a man know.&nbsp; It is a woman…a woman who calls a man by a name she knows.&nbsp; Perhaps, then, there are two men honored to be named Jaqen H’ghar…and a woman has had the pleasure of knowing both.”<br><br>Jaqen smirked a touch and leaned back, sitting himself down on a chair against a wall, eyes never leaving Arya’s own.&nbsp; “A man knows a woman’s name…Arya Stark, last of her line, the lone wolf of the North.&nbsp; Jaqen H’ghar knew a girl with that name…is she dead too, perhaps?&nbsp; Is it a different woman bearing her name who stands before him now?”
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Astira</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 04:01:57</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/b92088a7b4b9b03ab8daac20c1035296/tumblr_mu62pkKGtP1skt3v6o10_r1_400.png)</div><br>Arya flushed again, but this time it was with indignation rather than embarrassment. Her lips thinned and her stance changed to one that would be slightly reminiscent of the girl he left on that rocky road many years ago.<br><br>“It is <em>not</em> a foolish question. I…when you changed…….when you left you were different looking and I only thought to make sure!” She shot back, had hands unconsciously on her hips as she stared at him. She felt an overwhelming urge to slap that half smile off his face - he looked smug. She rolled her eyes and stepped forward to pick up her dagger, her blush intensifying at having dropped it in his presence.<br><br>“To new acquaintances, I am Mae Casterall - it was too dangerous to go by my true name,” she placed the dagger on the table before turning to him and crossing her arms beneath her chest. She rose her eyebrow. “To you, Jaqen, I am simply Arya.”<br><br>Her freckled face then grew a tad more serious and she sought out his eyes. “And I’m here to take you up on your offer to become a Facelsss man.” 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ravien Delapor</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 04:21:28</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i1258.photobucket.com/albums/ii531/ShinaRyun/Jaqen1-1.png)</div>Jaqen chuckled behind his closed lips at her words, resting back against the wall with almost languid ease.&nbsp; It was delightfully easy to see how she had grown, what parts of her were still only eleven years old and full of childish immortality.&nbsp; She had changed, he knew, and parts of her he would need to re-learn, but still…that look in her eye as she scolded him made him feel like he was back in that iron cage with the smell of two unwashed rapists packed in with him, listening to a child swat at the imprisoned monsters.<br><br>“Mae Casterall…a man once wore that surname, to take his time entering a party of the house of Targaryen.&nbsp; You wear it well, Arya.”&nbsp; He turned as serious as she did when she mentioned accepting his offer from long ago, standing and resting his arms at his sides, tilting his head as he approached her.&nbsp; “A Faceless Man,” he repeated as he stopped only a foot away from her, staring down at her and looking unflinchingly into her intense eyes.<br><br>“A man offered a girl this honor once, and a woman now comes to claim it.&nbsp; What am I to think, Arya, that only now you come to me demanding this?&nbsp; Tell a man what you have done…what compels a woman to cross the Narrow Sea in search of Jaqen H’ghar?&nbsp; A man has spent these last ten years at work, but what has a woman been up to?&nbsp; What mischief drove a woman across the Narrow Sea?”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Astira</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 04:38:23</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/b92088a7b4b9b03ab8daac20c1035296/tumblr_mu62pkKGtP1skt3v6o10_r1_400.png)</div><br>He said her name and she instantly regretted insisting he call her that - it sounded like silk on his lips - a sensual caress to her ears. He stood and approached her and Arya couldn’t help but take a small step backwards. He looked so intense, so calculating and she was abruptly reminded of how easily he killed those men in the night. She caught a brief glimpse of the assassin in his eyes before it was gone. <br><br>He peered at her and she waited for him to say something. Despite only a few inches separating their height, she still felt unbearably small beneath that gaze. And up close, she realized he was far bigger than she initially thought. How easily he could overtake her; how easily he could kill her by strangling, slitting her throat or brutal torture. And yet still, her heart thudded in her chest; her cheeks retained their pink color at his nearness. She licked then bit her lip at his question. Seeming to come to a decision, she set her jaw and hardened her eyes. It was an unpleasant answer she was about to give.<br><br>“I have come all this way because there is no one else,” her voice low and held a bitterness to it. But beneath, there was masked sadness. “Do not mistake me, I didn’t see you as a last option, more like all loose ends needed to be tied before I could follow through with what I so greatly desired since that day we parted on the rocky path.” She paused, then lowered her gaze with remorse. “When my family died, so did the loyalty of those in their company. I learned that the hard way. I am no longer a woman of nobility, I am simply trying to survive. And I am…tired of being alone. I want to be a part of something greater than me. To do my family proud.”&nbsp; She paused again, hesitating. Finally, she caught his gaze once more. “Will you, Jaqen, be my teacher in the ways of the Forbidden Oathtakers? Will you help me earn a place among the Faceless Men?” Her voice held a note of pleading in it that was easily mistaken for a yearning to belong. <br><br>But that yearning was actually a bloodlust for revenge. But she wasn’t going to tell <em>him</em> that.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ravien Delapor</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 05:03:37</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i1258.photobucket.com/albums/ii531/ShinaRyun/Jaqen1-1.png)</div>Part of being a Faceless Man was control; Jaqen believed that it was the most important part of his occupation.&nbsp; Control over himself, over his loyalty, over his body, over his place in the world around him.&nbsp; He felt his self-control come under pressure as he bored his narrow eyes into Arya’s, seeing her cheeks darken in blush and her lips first suffer the touch of her pink tongue before being pinned up by her teeth.&nbsp; Jaqen had known a woman’s touch before, and had seen his fair share of maidens and whores alike; he could tell when a women was faking her interest in him, and when her body was betraying what her heart felt.&nbsp; To see Arya heat beneath his gaze, like the same little girl who he had once killed for…it touched a part of Jaqen that he had thought long-buried under the shifting sands of time.<br><br>Uncertainty clouded judgment for a moment, as it always seemed to at the most opportune moments.&nbsp; He should have seen that there was something more to her words, something that she was keeping from him.&nbsp; For a moment, though, all he could see was a girl who should have come with him years ago, who he could have guided into womanhood and taught to resist the heartbreak of such loss.&nbsp; He saw a little girl, too young to have seen the horrors that had befallen her family, who he had once allowed to trick him into a day’s unquestioning servitude.<br><br>His eyes turned away for a moment, betraying a slip of his control before he turned to take his seat again.&nbsp; “A woman loses everything worth having,” he said slowly, “And so turns to the man who helped her once before.&nbsp; A man understands, Arya.&nbsp; A man remembers, also, when a girl once named him for death and unnamed him only to save herself and her friends…a girl told me that she would obey.”&nbsp; He smiled at her then, hands lifting to rest casually on his knees, bare arms tight with practiced muscle and sun-worn skin.&nbsp; “A man will take her into his care, and teach her the ways of the Faceless.&nbsp; He will make her like himself, able to kill like the Northern wind, and hide like the wildlings over the Wall.&nbsp; In return, though…a woman will obey.”&nbsp; He raised an eyebrow slightly as he tilted his head forward, hair falling a little around his face as he stared at her.<br><br>“A woman must understand that a man does not offer this honor lightly.&nbsp; It is a risk that a man takes in good conscience, for himself and for her.&nbsp; A woman <em>must</em> obey, or a man will be hard-pressed to protect her anywhere that agents of Braavos lurk.&nbsp; A man has seen such agents tip-toeing on the edges of the world,” he said seriously.&nbsp; “So…a woman will obey.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Astira</strong> on <strong>04-02-2014, 05:48:29</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/b92088a7b4b9b03ab8daac20c1035296/tumblr_mu62pkKGtP1skt3v6o10_r1_400.png)</div><br>Those few minutes when he remained silent and then took his seat again, Arya felt her heart in her throat. She feared he would deny her. Would tell her it was too late or that she was too young. Perhaps too inadequate. All of her plans relied on a single word from him “Yes.” and she feared she wouldn’t get it. Just for those few minutes.<br><br>She listened attentively, feeling a dull ache when his words brought up even more buried memories. She hated being reminded of the deaths she could not prevent. But soon a small flicker of a smile touched her lips at recalling how she’d manipulated the master assassin. She wondered if she could do so again…<br><br><em>“A man will take her into his care, and teach her the ways of the Faceless.&nbsp; He will make her like himself, able to kill like the Northern wind, and hide like the wildlings over the Wall.&nbsp; In return, though…a woman will obey.”&nbsp;</em><br><br>Her heart soared and she barely was able to suppress the overwhelming urge to jump up and down like an idiot. Along with that happiness came relief, too. He wanted her to obey? She could do that…when she wanted to. At the moment, she wanted to and so she nodded. <br><br>“I will obey, Jaqen. Whatever you wish, whatever you command, I <em>will</em> obey. This I swear to you. I will endeavor to be the best pupil you have ever had as a master.” she said fiercely.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ravien Delapor</strong> on <strong>05-02-2014, 11:39:32</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://i1258.photobucket.com/albums/ii531/ShinaRyun/Jaqen1-1.png)</div><em>“I will obey, Jaqen. Whatever you wish, whatever you command, I will obey. This I swear to you. I will endeavor to be the best pupil you have ever had as a master.”</em>&nbsp; Jaqen’s thin smile turned half a touch higher at those words, his hands slowly squeezing around his knees before sliding up his legs as he stood.&nbsp; That smile stayed frozen on his face as he dipped a slow, shallow bow, icy blue eyes sharpening intensely as they held to Arya’s own, pinning her to the floor with his attention alone as he bowed and rose before her.<br><br>“A man accepts your oath.&nbsp; He will not regret it, for it was his choice to offer her this honor before.&nbsp; It is his choice now to accept it once again; its honor remains clear to him.&nbsp; Come,” he said, turning and offering her a gentle smirk as he stepped closer to the room’s door.&nbsp; “A woman must now come with Jaqen, to the only place in Braavos where life and death become like the black and red sands of the desert…woven together,” he said as he opened the door and held an arm towards it, indicating that she should leave, “and made one.&nbsp; If a woman’s will is strong enough and her desire to become Faceless is true, then she will leave that place as easily as she entered.&nbsp; Those are the only things that you will need,” he added with a pointed look towards the small collection of belongings that had accompanied Arya on her journey across the sea.&nbsp; He knew that they would be safe here; his agents already knew where he was and would guard the room until he told them otherwise.<br><br>Once Arya made herself ready to go, Jaqen led the way out of the inn through the establishment’s front door.&nbsp; His face was the same as when he had first come to the inn, his calling card to allow his spotter to recognize him when he walked out.&nbsp; A simple look upwards from him had the hired man nodding in understanding, that he was to watch the room and allow Jaqen’s other pawns to guard it.&nbsp; After that, Jaqen shifted his features to those of a man who passed by him in the opposite direction, hiding the shift by ducking down momentarily into the folds of cloth at a weaver’s roadside stall.&nbsp; His new, brown eyes turned to hold Arya’s just long enough for her to see that it was still him, and then he was off, moving with a fluid grace which felt utterly natural to him, feline in his antipathy towards the people around him and in his ability to avoid their grabs for his attention.&nbsp; He doubted that Arya could follow him so seamlessly, and upon glancing back, he saw that while she was keeping up, she lacked his inhuman grace.<br><br>This was to be expected; she was not yet Faceless.&nbsp; Jaqen looked to take a measure of how she had learned to avoid being seen in plain sight, how to navigate a crowd and avoid the hazards of pickpockets, hecklers, beggars and the crazed.&nbsp; He was impressed, certainly.&nbsp; For an uninitiated, she had come a long way from the frightened girl he had once known; there was still potential to be found in her.<br><br>Jaqen nodded to himself as he continued on his way, leading Arya through the bustling streets and along narrow alleyways, up skinny staircases and down half-covered cellars.&nbsp; He skirted the routes taken by the city guards, skipped around hostile gang-held territory, and kept his presence unknown to the families he passed by and through.&nbsp; Under better circumstances, he would have guided Arya through these dangers, but without training, they represented threats too great for him to do anything but avoid them.&nbsp; It made little difference; to one seeking to find the House of Black and White, any route would do, so long as one had been to the House before.<br><br>The burning sun was close to kissing the western skyline when Jaqen motioned for Arya to tag behind him down a set of stairs, then a ladder, and then through a long length of water pipe before another ladder brought them to a cistern, and to a plain iron door.<br><br>“A girl should pray,” he said simply before knocking on the door.&nbsp; It opened without a sound; there was only dark, empty space behind it, with no sign of whoever had opened the heavy portal.&nbsp; Jaqen nodded; it was as it was supposed to be.&nbsp; “Come,” he said, walking through the portal and then straight on towards the immediately visible centerpiece of the room.&nbsp; A pool, ten feet across and mirror-flat, sat in the middle of the floor with a presence all of its own; around it, nestled in the shadows close to the walls of the room, statues to more than thirty gods stood as silent witnesses to all that transpired around them, watching as Jaqen led Arya towards the pool.&nbsp; The Faceless Man paused beside the pool and turned to face the woman, his face reformed into the shape she knew best, deadly serious.<br><br>“A girl will step into the pool,” he said calmly, arms crossing over his chest.&nbsp; “If the Many-Faced God decides that you will be Faceless, it will be a man’s honor to train her all that he knows.&nbsp; And if she is not to be Faceless, then she will simply be nothing, and Jaqen H’ghar will lose the honor of taking in those like her for all his days.”&nbsp; He offered her a touch of a smile, a miniscule tilt of his head; talking of her death and his dishonor, he still had confidence in her.&nbsp; “Step into the pool.&nbsp; Your fate is only what you have made of it before now.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Astira</strong> on <strong>07-02-2014, 04:57:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/b92088a7b4b9b03ab8daac20c1035296/tumblr_mu62pkKGtP1skt3v6o10_r1_400.png)</div><br>Arya followed Jaqen through the winding streets. She had been hesitant to leave her things behind, but she supposed to become Faceless meant to leave not only your past identity behind, but the <em>items</em> of the past as well. It was strange but she thought she understood the purposes.<br><br>Arya pulled her cloak tighter around her, not so much cold as feeling as though people were staring at her; staring <em>through</em> her. She struggled to keep up with Jaqen occasionally - he would slip into the shadows, as was his instinct, and during these times she wondered if he recalled she was following him. She kept up the best she could, though.<br><br>If she had been asked to repeat the directions to someone, Arya never would have been able to - each street looked the same, felt the same. Braavos was beautiful by day, but by night it was dark, and filled with street rats, beggars and lascivious stares. It made her skin crawl.<br><br>Soon enough, they arrived (almost to her surprise) at an iron door. He told her to pray, and she spoke a little prayer in her head before entering in behind him. It was a strange place - dark and forbidding. There were many people inside, hooded in robes of black and white - priests, acolytes, students….it seemed like they all blended. Her boots made no sound as she followed Jaqen further inside. Statues of deities surrounded them, some in alcoves, some in the open…some she knew, some she didn’t.<br><br><em>“A girl will step into the pool.”</em> She hadn’t realized they stopped nor that there was a pool in front of her until she looked down and saw the dark liquid. She stared at it blankly. <em> “If the Many-Faced God decides that you will be Faceless, it will be a man’s honor to train her all that he knows.&nbsp; And if she is not to be Faceless, then she will simply be nothing, and Jaqen H’ghar will lose the honor of taking in those like her for all his days.”</em> She looked at him sharply, her eyes widening a little.&nbsp;He simply smiled. <em>“Step into the pool.&nbsp; Your fate is only what you have made of it before now.”</em><br><br>Arya paused for a moment, wondering the most absurd things: she should take her clothes off? Was it actually water? What did it feel like?<br><br>Not wishing to ruin her cloak, she took that off and stepped forward to the edge of the pool. She took a deep breath, and then waded in.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ravien Delapor</strong> on <strong>18-02-2014, 10:40:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://i1258.photobucket.com/albums/ii531/ShinaRyun/Jaqen1-1.png)</div>The pool was barely six inches deep, enough to soak her ankles in cool water and darken the hem of her silk gown.&nbsp; The shallow water did nothing as she stepped in, just rippling around to its edges before settling when she reached the middle of the pool.&nbsp; Her body was lit from above by a single hole in the ceiling high overhead; the hole was tiny, but the light it provided was magnified by a series of ground glass lenses that amplified the gathering starlight and moonlight into a silvery beam which caught and held every curve and highlight on her body.&nbsp; Standing back, watching intently, Jaqen forced his body to remain still and calm even as his baser urges rose within him.<br><br>Nothing happened for a long minute, though at the borders of the dark room, the acolytes and priests who had been bustling around could be seen pausing and paying close attention to the newcomer.&nbsp; There were as many women as men in the dark crowd; their interest, like Jaqen’s, was solely on what would happen to her, rather than on the girl herself.&nbsp; The air in the room grew more and more oppressive with each pair of eyes that locked onto Arya, all sound dying save for the tiny splashes of water lapping at the edges of the pool when the girl shifted her weight.<br><br>When something did happen, it was immediately noticeable and to those in the room, its message was clear.&nbsp; After a minute of still silence, the light beaming down from the ceiling changed abruptly from clear, pale blue-white to a red so deeply saturated that it was almost burgundy-brown, like dried blood falling in a ray that bathed Arya’s body and turned the water she stood in bright sanguine red.&nbsp; The intense red light lasted for only a few moments, and ended when off to her right side, a loud, sharp <em>crack!</em> was heard.&nbsp; At the snapping break of sound, almost deafening after such suffocating silence, the light faded back to pale blue and the intense scrutiny of the others around her shattered, the acolytes and priests returning to their duties as if nothing had happened.<br><br>The water in the pool, however, stayed bright red.&nbsp; The light had turned it to blood.<br><br>“You have been accepted,” Jaqen said with a narrow smile as he approached Arya, offering her one strong hand to leave the pool.&nbsp; “The Red God remembers well the lives you once stole from him, girl.&nbsp; A man repaid him those lives, with interest,” he said with a hint of dark humor, “But to His eyes, once you have taken lives from him, they are never truly repaid until you have given them to him by your own hand.&nbsp; I staved off his wrath,” he explained, smile melting into a smirk, “But not his interest.&nbsp; See for yourself,” he finished with a nod towards the source of the loud <em>crack</em> which had broken the spell.&nbsp; It had come from one of the statues ringing the wide chamber, a male figure carved from redwood stained even darker crimson until it resembled a statue carved from a block of solid blood.&nbsp; The figure was cracked and warped in a thousand different places, and it was from these cracks that the darker red stains seemed to have dripped.&nbsp; The freshest of these cracks was already weeping dark red fluid down the statue’s chest, the crack splitting the figure’s chest right over the crux of its ribs, adding to the innumerable stains already marring the figure.<br><br>“The Red God empowers us, to a certain extent, as his messengers in this life,” Jaqen said quietly, standing beside and slightly behind Arya as he stared at the statue.&nbsp; “His will is greater than any law of men, any will we might have.&nbsp; He is death, lovely girl, patient and certain.&nbsp; This, then, must be the nature of a Faceless Man: to be patient and wait for the perfect moment to strike just so, and to be certain that what we do, the lives we take, are meant to be taken.&nbsp; A Faceless Man must have no doubt…but a man does not need to tell you this.&nbsp; You are here; that is proof enough that you are certain.”&nbsp; He smiled again and gave a soft chuckle before touching her left shoulder lightly to get her attention, nodding off into the darkness, towards a door half-hidden in the gloom.&nbsp; To his eyes, the door was as clear as if it was only mildly shaded, making it easy for him to lead her towards it.<br><br>“A girl has passed the first of many trials; this, I assure you, was the easiest.&nbsp; Learn to sleep rarely and lightly; there is no time, no season in which the Red God’s toll cannot be paid, and so we must be able to work in all times and in all places.&nbsp; We train for every situation and environment…there are names to be collected across the land and sea, alone and in great numbers.&nbsp; A Man must be able to see the will of the Red God done,” he said as he opened the door for her, then led her through a short hallway and out another door which brought them both out onto a small balcony set into the side of a cliff face overlooking Braavos.&nbsp; Jaqen paused as the night air hit him, smiling down at the woman at his side.<br><br>“Your training begins now, girl.&nbsp; A man will let you choose for yourself where you would like to begin.&nbsp; A girl can be taught how to craft poison which will kill an oxen in five seconds; she can be taught how to move so that even a mother fox will not be alarmed by her approach; she can be taught how to open any lock and scale any wall.&nbsp; So, tell me…where would you like to begin?&nbsp; Or does a girl have another skill she would like to know first?”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Needle's Vow (Astira &amp; Ravien Delapor)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Astira</strong> on <strong>19-02-2014, 07:56:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/b92088a7b4b9b03ab8daac20c1035296/tumblr_mu62pkKGtP1skt3v6o10_r1_400.png)</div><br>The pool was much shallower than she thought. And it was cool, not cold as she’d expected. She was surprised yet not disturbed as she gently walked to the center of the pool. Soon she was illuminated by the single skylight, throwing streaks of white-blue in her dark hair. She felt knots tie in her stomach, nervous not for herself, but for Jaqen. She could not fail him - if she did…well, she’d be dead. So ultimately it did not matter.<br><br>She closed her eyes and tried to focus on nothing around her - just a single thought that she was here and she felt more at home than she had since her Winterfell days. Eyes were on her, but she did not notice. Very light whispers were heard, but she did not hear. For a long time she stayed like that - minutes? hours? - until finally she felt something in the air change and she opened her eyes. Managing to hold herself together, she was startled to see the light had changed blood-red - she roughly pushed down the bubble of trepidation that threatened to burst in her lower stomach. Was this it then? Would she die? The water turned warm and somehow thickened before the light disappeared and a sharp CRACK! was heard. She wanted to whirl to it, but her limbs were heavy as metal - she could not move<br><br>She’d seen and been covered in that swirling crimson liquid enough times to know what it was - it was blood.<br><br>For a split second, she thought it was her’s, but then the slightest of movements caught her eye and she looked at Jaqen as he reached a hand out to her. She couldn’t see her face, but she had the look of a frightened young girl on it a split-second before it was gone, once Jaqen’s familiar face came in to view. She reached a shaking hand out to him, the tremors belying her true inner turmoil as she stepped from the pool, holding on to him perhaps a little tighter than was strictly necessary.<br><br>He spoke to her, but she could only stare at the hem of her gown - it was stained red, yet her boots and her feet were completely dry and retained their normal hue. How very odd.<br><br>She listened to him speak, turning her head to look at the statues he’d indicated. They seeped blood and though she thought she should have felt horrified or squeamish, Arya could only muster curiosity and even a bit of familiarity with the fluid. She made a move as if to go over and touch it, but stopped and instead, turned into Jaqen close enough to touch him, instinctively needing his comfort. She hadn’t spoken at all since leaving the pool - words from her mouth would only ruin the moment and reverence she was beginning to feel about this place. <br><br>He touched her shoulder and gestured into the darkness and began leading her towards it. She glanced at him, wondering what on earth he was looking at, when suddenly he pulled open a door and was taking her through it. How had he seen that?!<br><br>Through a dark but short corridor he led her until they were out on a balcony overlooking the sea towards Braavos. Silently her breath hitched with beauty that hit her - it was night and the stars were so bright overhead - combined with the moon and it was almost like a sunless day! Her eyes widened and sparkled as she deeply breathed in the warm, salty air. “Oooohhh,” she released the breath in a slight moan, so low and quiet that no one would hear. Except perhaps Jaqen.<br><br>She felt eyes on her and turned to look at the man beside her. She smiled at him. He spoke, asking her what she desired to learn first. Her answer was out of her mouth before she knew it. “Teach me to change my face, Jaqen.” She said, stepping closer to him as if to emphasize how ready she was. This close, he’d feel her heat, feel her nearness as the moonlight fell across her face in silver-blue hues. She looked at him and it was as if a little girl was striving so hard to show her father she was ready, she was determined. Such innocence, so young…at nineteen it was as if she was trying to be 39.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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