capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO: Arya Stark and Damian Wayne
WHERE: On the rooftops of Lo- the City
WHEN: Forward dated to later in the week
WARNINGS: Brats.
SUMMARY: Child assassins part two. In which powers are explored.
FORMAT: Para to start, then whatev

She had spent most of her early life wishing for freedom. To be allowed to do as she pleased rather than what was expected of her, of a daughter of Winterfell. It had taken the clean slice of a sword before a crowded square to teach her the truth of freedom: it came only when there was no one left to care. So wandering the streets of her new City as she willed did little more than force her gut to clench, the liberty little more than a reminder that she had nothing else to do with herself now. No family, no revenge, no mentor or temple or cause. It would hurt her heart were there more than a hole left there to feel it.

Working on her powers of detection was all she could care to occupy her time with, but the base needs came first. So, feet dangling over the edge of a rooftop, Arya combined the two as she sat to nibble on the odds and ends of food she’d collected over the course of the night. Below, in the alley, men clad in dark clothing gathered, likely up to no good from the look of their posture. But she was here to observe, to predict. And so she did nothing as another two entered the alley. Not yet.

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"Who sent you?"

The exasperation in her voice is almost overwhelming. She wouldn't be half so annoyed with it all if he didn't sound like a lord. Like Robb, like her father. Just the smallest amount. While she sounded less like them every day.

He looks at her, baffled for a moment. Even after a year in the City, he still expects people to associate him and Batman as a pair. And even if she couldn't make that connection, it's an odd question.

"What makes you think I can't act on my own?"

"Because no one thinks like that unless someone told them to. It's not natural."

And there's an edge of bitterness she can't quite keep out of her voice, and she ends up glaring at the men below them rather than meeting his eye. They were going to notice the pair sitting on the roof if they kept talking, she knew. But she was getting near past caring about learning. A fight would be nice.

Damian, however, cares a lot. Far too much, actually, so much so that he takes a lot of issue with what she just said. So he reaches over and gives her a shove that isn't gentle.

"I think for myself. I don't need to watch thugs on the street to learn something."

[aaand this seemed like a good time to bring this in, let me know if it doesn't work.]

The threat couldn't go ignored, and Arya releases the bits of food still in hand to spin up into a defensive crouch on the ledge- or tries to, save for her hand finding the patch of rotten brick to brace herself again. As she presses the palm- and her full weight- onto the ledge, the brick gives, crumbling down on top of the now nearly forgotten thugs below. With Arya along after it.

"Robi-"

The startled gasp ending in a screech as, rather than the scrawny girl of a moment before, an American robin flutters in the air before him. A more than a little frantic, angry robin.

_{( more than fine! )}

Damian's about to reach out and grab her--he hadn't intended to hurt her, at least not really. And maybe somewhere, for a split second, he's sorry, because not pushing people off of buildings is exactly the sort of thing he's been working on lately. But of course, before he can, that happens, and he's left staring at the bird.

He stares for a moment longer, before reaching out a hand tentatively--the same hand that had been making a move to grab her a few seconds earlier.

"That is you, right?"