Cuts deeper than swords.
She'd come very close to cutting off her hair that morning, to simply hacking it all off with a knife. She'd been growing it for years, had only started growing it to prove a point to Lyanna. Why she'd kept it up after Lyanna had disappeared, she didn't know. What she did was that know the damn stuff went past the small of her back and took far more effort to keep clean and braid than she'd ever intended to spend on a stupid thing like hair.
So she should cut it off. But then Duo had gone and told her about why he kept his braid, how he considered it a sort of memorial, and then he'd gone, period. Chosen to throw himself into a hole in the world, as far as she understood it, chosen to leave, and here she was, with one of the few people she could talk to about everything, who'd been here as long as she had, who'd been there, gone. And all she had was this stupid hair that she could never cut, now.
Especially since she'd gone and broken it off with one of the other people who understood a little more, if not as much as he had, simply having not been on the island as long. She'd been saving herself pain, had been the intention, and she was sure if she could just get over that initial sting it would work for the best, she wouldn't have to deal with this again. But right then it just added to the pile.
She was on the beach, as near as she could figure to where the space station came down. She couldn't even see it to throw rocks at it, so instead she was taking her frustrations out on the training discs, flinging the two hexagonal discs away from here until they stopped, floating in mid-air, and split off into half a dozen separate discs, which snapped into sharp, serrated edges. Spun, faster and faster, and then came at Arya, who flipped, spun and ducked through the whirlwind, swords out and flickering this way and that. Lashing out in mid-air, driving first one disc then another into the ground before she landed, backflipped through another brief gap, took out some more, in constant, fluid motion, sparing her no time for deeper thoughts.
Until one flashed by, on a course behind her. It wouldn't have cut her, but her braid was in its path, and it took a sharp jerk of her head to flip it out of the way. She actually snarled as she cut it down. Within moments, only one more was left, hanging in the air as if hesitating.
She tossed her swords point first into the ground and stepped back. "Come on, then!" she shouted at it, and it shot forward. Probably coincidence, since she doubted the things were that smart, but satisfying nonetheless. It flashed at her face and she spun aside at the last minute, slapping one hand down on the top, the other on the bottom, on the smooth, un-bladed parts, turning its momentum into a spin, hurling it into a tree before where it stuck as she stopped, panting.
[For reference, the crazy-ass things Arya trains with are like these Or, if that's blocked, in badly edited worse form here.]
So she should cut it off. But then Duo had gone and told her about why he kept his braid, how he considered it a sort of memorial, and then he'd gone, period. Chosen to throw himself into a hole in the world, as far as she understood it, chosen to leave, and here she was, with one of the few people she could talk to about everything, who'd been here as long as she had, who'd been there, gone. And all she had was this stupid hair that she could never cut, now.
Especially since she'd gone and broken it off with one of the other people who understood a little more, if not as much as he had, simply having not been on the island as long. She'd been saving herself pain, had been the intention, and she was sure if she could just get over that initial sting it would work for the best, she wouldn't have to deal with this again. But right then it just added to the pile.
She was on the beach, as near as she could figure to where the space station came down. She couldn't even see it to throw rocks at it, so instead she was taking her frustrations out on the training discs, flinging the two hexagonal discs away from here until they stopped, floating in mid-air, and split off into half a dozen separate discs, which snapped into sharp, serrated edges. Spun, faster and faster, and then came at Arya, who flipped, spun and ducked through the whirlwind, swords out and flickering this way and that. Lashing out in mid-air, driving first one disc then another into the ground before she landed, backflipped through another brief gap, took out some more, in constant, fluid motion, sparing her no time for deeper thoughts.
Until one flashed by, on a course behind her. It wouldn't have cut her, but her braid was in its path, and it took a sharp jerk of her head to flip it out of the way. She actually snarled as she cut it down. Within moments, only one more was left, hanging in the air as if hesitating.
She tossed her swords point first into the ground and stepped back. "Come on, then!" she shouted at it, and it shot forward. Probably coincidence, since she doubted the things were that smart, but satisfying nonetheless. It flashed at her face and she spun aside at the last minute, slapping one hand down on the top, the other on the bottom, on the smooth, un-bladed parts, turning its momentum into a spin, hurling it into a tree before where it stuck as she stopped, panting.
[For reference, the crazy-ass things Arya trains with are like these Or, if that's blocked, in badly edited worse form here.]