I can be a regular bitch, just try me.

“Much stronger boys in her class soon learned that it could be quite unpleasant to fight with that skinny girl. Unlike other girls in the class, she never backed down, and she would not for a second hesitate to use her fists or any weapon at hand to protect herself. She went around with the attitude that she would rather be beaten to death than take any shit.” mudge j. twenty. [email protected] [email protected]

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

the rooster and the pearl | | september 27th, mudge & beric

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

"Besides", he continued soon enough, "I’m sure you have an idea of what this is about, or was it normal to you that I asked you to babysit a sixteen year old?", Beric asked quietly, and he did mean to explain himself, he didn’t want them to think he was under using them, that he didn’t think highly of their abilities. These talented people, they had to believe that he truly wanted them for their skills, not to order them daily chores he couldn’t attend to.

But first he wanted to make sure of what exactly Mudge knew, she could have or could have not recognised Arya and even if she hadn’t, she already knew too much whether she was aware of that or not.

And they were other matters, some that were even more important than the young Stark. But first things first. His success in the cabinet had many variants, one of them was his perfected ability to follow a methodology that would guarantee a fulfilled goal. This time, he and she and all of their brothers had one goal and one goal alone: to give this country back to the people.

This particular methodology had to be carefully followed. So he waited, “Tell me what you make of her”.

[mynameismudge-blog]

She blinks and realizes that maybe she doesn't have Dondarrion as pinned down as she'd thought. Mudge had assumed this was a formal call, and it still is, in a way - but she hadn't expected him to look for banter. Huh. They turn to take a walk around the lake and she rummages in her jacket for cigarettes. "Do you mind?" she asks, taping the pack. "I'll even let you bum one off me," she grins. The lake is serene in the autumn light. It's odd, she thinks, that there can be places so untouched by what's happened. She imagines that it must be like this everywhere in the north.

Well, not anymore, she supposes. 

She thinks about the Reeds again. The messy flat with more books than she'd ever seen outside a library. She probably should have texted Meera. They were close to the Starks. Dondarrion asks about it then, the kid - Arry. She likes the kid, to be honest. She's a bit of shit, not unlike Mudge herself at the age. "I like her," she says, rolling her cigarette in her fingers. She tries to think of how to answer his question. "She's smart, bit of a pain in arse." She lights her cigarette and takes a drag. 

She thinks about the pictures on Meera Reed's dresser. Of kids with gangly legs they haven't quite grown into, dirt on their faces. Mudge takes another drag and meditates for a moment on how to tell Beric just what she knows - what is safe to say, what she's allowed to say. "I think she got stuck on the wrong side of the border, but maybe that's not a bad thing. I know some friends of the family." She thinks that's enough.

[aryaofwinterfellsaved]

morning, keep the streets empty for me // august 26 // arya & mudge

Just because she had come home two nights before covered in blood, with a cut on her scalp and a swollen lip, did not mean that she needed a babysitter. Arya had told Beric as much, shouting it at him as he walked out the door that morning (to go off and save the modern world, no doubt), but she doubted that he had listened to her.

"Not a political prisoner, my arse," Arya muttered to herself, pacing across her room. Beric wouldn’t be keeping her locked up like a prize zoo animal if she wasn’t important to his cause. He didn’t seem like the sort to be worried about her from a paternal standpoint; as far as she could tell, he was more annoyed about needing to get her new clothes than whatever injuries she might have sustained. If she was as unimportant as he claimed, he’d allow her to go back out on the streets again to face whatever maiming and beating was out there. Arya would be happy to do it, but apparently that wasn’t in the cards for her. Beric had turned out to be a terrible liar, and true to what she had initially believed, he needed her for something. So she was locked up in his goddamn, pristine flat, and told that “a friend who’ll look after her" would be appearing shortly.

A babysitter. That’s all it was. Arya could have screamed and broken something - and might, still, the morning was young - but she made herself sit down on the couch and try not to think about whatever mini political warrior he might be sending to look after her. Whoever they were, they were about to get a lot more than they bargained for with Arya Stark. 

[mynameismudge-blog]

Beric rings her just as the BBC's webpage loads on her laptop. She's in nothing but a shirt she thinks she might have accidentally lifted from Meera's and her pants when he asks her to go over to his, that she needs to watch a kid. And there are rules. No TV, no computer, phone or anything really. Board games, maybe. God she hopes this kid isn't some sort of major prick and actually just Beric's incredibly sheltered cousin. (She knows the kid isn't.)

The tube ride over all she can think about is that Ned Stark is dead. It's not them - it can't be. The panic that it might just be grips her hard for a moment, like a punch to the gut and she loses her breath. God. This man, Ned Stark - Meera, the Reeds care about the Starks, the Reeds are close to the Starks. Mudge feels like she's in too deep. (Wether it is with the Brotherhood or the Reeds, she doesn't know.) 

Mudge reads over the reports on her phone again. Car accident. Hit a tree. Mudge focuses on her breathing and compartmentalizes. They're anti-bourgeois; that's Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks. This is a win for them. But it's not them - the Brotherhood's attacks have mostly been cyber-based. Even when she wasn't part she knew of them. They were beginning to grow a little fame. 

But Mudge wasn't a hacker and she knows in her gut Beric brought her in for her own certain skills. But the Brotherhood is clean, concise - like Beric. There's an unmistakeable energy that's missing. It can't be them. She swears to herself she'll ask Beric when she arrives.

Of course, she doesn't. Because Beric isn't there when she arrives. But the kid is. The kid's not short but not tall either and wearing a sour expression. Her charge can't be more than sixteen. Mudge is oddly reminded of herself in sixth form, angry and spiteful. Mudge has been sixteen when she bought her bow. "Hi," she says, uneasy. 

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

the rooster and the pearl | | september 27th, mudge & beric

He had seen her around, of course, but they hadn’t really talked, he barely knew her. This girl, the person who he had shared with these rare moments, and he didn’t truly know anything beyond facts of her life, like a resumé he found and found useful and hired. He knew she had too much nerve and potential and faith in their cause. And that was it, whatever truly moved her, whatever truly inspired that nerve was lost in time and too much stuff to worry about and he forgot to ask and he forgot to get closed to her. Part of it was because he had decided no to get too close to these people anymore, to his people. It only led to complications and he wanted so desperately to learn from his mistakes.

But complications came along anyway. Mudge happened to be available the day Eddard Stark died and he needed someone to make sure Arya didn’t find out and decide to run away. That of course, couldn’t but lead to plenty of questions formulating in the girl’s head, or so he imagined: why would Beric ask her to babysit a teenager, in the first place?. Mudge was very smart, she could see through him from the very first moment, Beric knew that well and he feared what she could have deduced from her time alone with Arya. And who knew what the Stark girl decided to tell her that day. Of all the people he was working with, that little girl was the most unpredictable. 

It was infuriating. 

A child ran after his dog on the other side of the lake, his parents watching close by. Beric had almost forgotten that this was the reason he wanted to form the Brotherhood in the first place. He constantly needed reminders but it was better if he could see it himself first hand, if he could smell it and hear it. He smiled at the scene. 

He looked over his shoulder when he heard footsteps by his side and exhaled when the girl approached him. He returned his gaze to the front but somehow he had already lost sight of the family. “Thanks for coming”. He had texted her early that day. The moment he found himself with the girl, he remembered that time at the bar when they met and his smiled didn’t falter at the memory. At the very least, he had hold his liquor. And it had been fun. 

[mynameismudge-blog]

It's the second time Beric has texted her out of the blue. The first of course, is the day Eddard Stark died. She'd been at her flat when the news alerts hit her mobile--she wondered, briefly, if his death had been connected to them, but she knows in her heart isn't not (although something about the whole thing strikes her as odd--Manderly's comment next to Bolton's on the BBC homepage has been rubbing her the wrong way for days). Not minutes after that came a text from Dondarrion asking her to come over, to watch a kid.

She'd complied, for lack of anything better to do, really. (Also maybe she's a little afraid of Dondarrion--she's got a criminal past he could dig up with a flick of his wrist.) And the kid--the kid had been annoying as shit. The kid was stubborn and strong-willed, not unlike Mudge herself. The most curious part was that Mudge knew the girl. She knew her face--she'd spent all night thinking about where she'd seen the girl's face before. 

Of course, as soon as she got a text from Meera later that night--or was it early this morning--she'd know exactly where she'd seen the girl. Meera's photographs. She knew, objectively, that Meera and her brother were Scottish and Reeds, whose parents were on the Stark board. She knew they were close with one of the Stark boys--but she'd never thought about them being friends with some of the other Stark children. Not until now. 

Beric asks her to meet him in Camden, Regent's Park to be exact and she spends most of the ride on the tube turning over her discovery. She's also a little curious, Dondarrion seems to have many faces. There was the man she met in the pub, trying to pull at the neck of his tie, sleeves rolled and trying to slum it, to throw back and let loose. Then there was the Dondarrion she'd seen in the warehouse, calm and collected, in control. 

She hops off the tube a few blocks off from the park, taking the opportunity to enjoy the walk. The weather, she knows, isn't going to hold out for much longer. London has never been the place for the mystery of Indian summers and she knows well enough that winter is coming. The city is quieter near Regent's, far uptown from her own home in the ends where noise and clamor is a constant. This is the idyll London, one tourists look for when they step off their plane at Heathrow. 

Mudge spies Dondarrion when she gets to the park and his silhouette makes her chuckle, his figure cutting a modern day Byronic hero by the water, his back to her. She's thought about that before--if he's doing this, the brotherhood, all of it, to be hero or there is something driving him, some secret or some sort of something. It could be divine intervention for all she knows, but Mudge wants to know why. 

He thanks her for coming and she shrugs. "It's really not a problem," she says, for lack of something better. "They cut my clinic hours anyway, so it's not like I had something better to do." Mudge pauses, chewing the inside of her mouth. "So why'd you ask me to meet you out here anyway?"

[mynameismudge-blog]

can't believe you thought i'd be average [closed: meera and mudge] [august 2nd, night]

[mreeds]

Meera laughs and brushes against Mudge as she slips into the flat, looking around to take the place in. It’s small and messy and not at all what she would have imagined, had she taken the time to think about where Mudge might live before coming here, but it’s homey. It feels lived in and safe (despite the neighborhood) and Meera has the distinct impression that it belongs to Mudge, through and through. It’s the kind of fit she feels in her own flat, the one she shares with Jojen.

“Are the gardens past the curtain?” she asks, teasing, as she follows Mudge into the kitchen. Her friend takes down some jars from the cupboard and Meera arches an eyebrow, leaning one hip against the counter and pulling her hair to one side of her neck. “It wasn’t hard to find,” she says. “Those look decidedly too large for shots, though.” She laughs, sudden and loud, and claps a hand over her mouth, swaying as she tries not to get too much into Mudge’s space.

The suggestion that she spend the night catches her off guard, though she thinks it probably shouldn’t. Her texts with Mudge since they met have edged on flirtatious every time, though Meera’s never been with a girl and isn’t sure how to go about talking to one in a way that isn’t just friendly. She thinks, briefly, that it might be easier than reading signals from a boy, but shakes the notion off. Mudge probably keeps her around purely for the amusement of it.

“Is there enough space for me on the couch, then? My legs are a bit long.” She bites her lip and snags a glass of rum once it’s been poured, swirling it around before knocking back a substantial swallow. Meera tries hard not to screw up her face — it’s good rum, and smooth, but strong for all of that. She wonders if she should have grabbed something else, instead.

[mynameismudge-blog]

Mudge smirks. "Just follow the sound of fourteen hundred waterfountains and the scent of opulence," she jibes back, turning to see Meera raising an eyebrow in her direction, looking pointedly at her jars. "Hey if you were looking for a pub, you're in the wrong place," Mudge says, her mouth set in a thin line, but her eyes are laughing. Meera laughs, loud and clear, her brown curls tumbling as her shoulders shake before she clamps a hand over her mouth, like she's done something wrong. Mudge pulls a face. "You're allowed to have fun, Reed," she says, pouring out the drinks next to where Meera is hovering at the counter. "Just 'cause it's shit outside doesn't mean us in the ends can't have a good time." 

Meera gives her a look when she suggests spending the night and for a moment Mudge wonders if she's misread the girl. Mudge has never questioned her sexuality, knows that she likes the soft curves of girls. That doesn't mean she's not into boys, just that she she actually likes to keep girls around. "Don't be bloody stupid," she says and hands off a glass of rum to Meera, who takes a hearty drink from the mason jar. Well. "Bed's open to you too, if you want it." 

Mudge shifts , leaning against the wall and watches Meera over her glass before taking a drink herself. The liquor is smooth and warm in her chest. It's really good shit. Mudge smiles, appreciative, and tilts her glass to Meera. "Cheers."

[mreeds]

✉ → text → mudge [september 4]

[mreeds]

you’re cocky, you know that?

[a moment later] yeah. dunno much about her yet but she’s got my major and she’s very sweet.

[mynameismudge-blog]

i am very much aware of that. thank you.

[a minute later] let me know how it goes with her, yeah?

[mreeds]

✉ → text → mudge [september 4]

[mreeds]

little bit of both

[a moment later] don’t know if there’s much of my ‘innocence’ left for you to smash, luv

[mynameismudge-blog]

says the girl who looked like she'd just walked through a warzone after crossing the bloody river

[a minute later] a little of both, huh?

[mreeds]

✉ → text → mudge [september 4]

[mreeds]

i guess he’s alright

[a moment later] yes. her name’s gilly and she’s adorable.

[mynameismudge-blog]

adorable in a doe-eyed 'let me smash her innocence' way or adorable like a wounded kitten?

[a minute later] because you're already filling my smash the innocence quota thank you very much reed

[mynameismudge-blog]

can't believe you thought i'd be average [closed: meera and mudge] [august 2nd, night]

[mreeds]

Meera’s mind is nowhere near as clear as it usually is, and she hates the fact that she’s hung up on a boy. She hasn’t been this weirdly miserable since Joshua moved away when she was fourteen, and it’s irritating that she feels this way about someone she barely even got to know. Of course, it isn’t entirely about him. Her feelings for Bran are complicated and weird, made worse by the fact that he’s in Scotland and she’s still here, a closed border and miles of political red tape between them.

She texts Mudge partially out of a desire to see her and partially out of desperation. They’ve only talked a few times since Meera showed up at the clinic (seeking something she no longer has need for, really), but Mudge is cute and a little harsh and totally different from anyone Meera knows back home. It’s the kind of distraction she needs, maybe; at any rate, she grabs a bottle of cheap rum from the makeshift liquor cabinet in the kitchen (the one Jojen had declared was the perfect size and shape for all their drinking needs) and leaves not long after texting Mudge, the address of her flat typed into the GPS on Meera’s phone.

The trip isn’t long, but it’s eye-opening. Meera had known that Mudge didn’t live in the best part of the city, but seeing it up close is a different ball game entirely. She checks the address thrice before committing to knocking on the door, and when Mudge opens the door wearing a too-baggy graphic tee and a pair of boxers, bottle of cheap beer in hand, she grins and tries to hide the surprise in her face.

“Hey,” she returns. She opens her bag and pulls out the bottle of rum, brandishing it like a prize. Her grin is slow and easy and she feels a little reckless. “Shots?”

[mynameismudge-blog]

Mudge's eyes go wide at the rum--it's good shit. Not as good as the whiskey she'd made Dondarrion buy her but better than she could afford anyway. "Well, you certainly delivered," she says, grinning, wide and cat-like. Mudge lets Meera slip past her into the messy flat. Her couch is ratty and her sink filled with take-away, her coffee table actually plywood and cinder blocks, littered with more take-away but even more beer. The doorway to her bedroom is covered with a sheer curtain, the unmade mattress visible through the sheer yellow fabric. 

"Welcome to Versailles, Reed," she smirks and takes a drink from her bottle. She moves toward the kitchenette and grabs old jam jars from the cabinet, motioning for Meera to pass her the rum. 

"I reckon you go here alright?" she asks as she twists the cap off the bottle. "You should probably just stay the night--gets a little rough and I don't want you on my conscience, Scottish girl."

The poor girl still looks a bit doe-eyed. Well, a smug part of Mudge is a little pleased. It's a rude awakening and she gets a little sick pleasure from seeing rich kids stare her life in the face. But still, the Reed girl is cute and she'd rather get something more than free booze out of tonight.

[mreeds]

✉ → text → mudge [september 4]

[mreeds]

more than you like me? :P

[a moment later] also, i met this girl today that i think you’d really, really like

[mynameismudge-blog]

well he didn't want to feed me dicks so

[a minute later] oh really?

[mreeds]

✉ → text → mudge [september 4]

i told my brother we should save the dick pasta you bought us for the next time you come over

[a moment later] he disagreed

[mynameismudge-blog]

i like your brother

[mynameismudge-blog]

can't believe you thought i'd be average [closed: meera and mudge] [august 2nd, night]

She gets text from Meera Reed and the girl wants to get trashed. There's a voice that says she doesn't want the girl in her home, it would bring the reality of poverty and Mudge doesn't have the patience or the time for awkward explanations nor apologizes. But she still likes the girl. Thinks her smile is kind and her ass is great. So she texts Meera her address and tells her to bring liquor. Anything. Mudge isn't stupid enough to say no to free booze and the chance of sex. 

The Reed girl shows up not an hour later, looking a little wide-eyed (the neighborhood would make anyone from across the river do that, though). Meera's got on these shorts that are hardly an excuse for pants and a ratty band t-shirt that's baggy in all the right places. Mudge hasn't even bothered to try--she's got on an old t-shirt, some graphic print that's three sizes too-big for her thin frame and a pair of plaid boxer shorts. She's been pregaming and has an open bottle of cheap beer in her hand when she opens the door for Meera. "Hey."

[mreeds]

rebel girl, i think i wanna take you home [closed: meera and mudge] [july 20]

[mreeds]

Meera brings the clipboard back to the counter and slouches down again, resting her chin on her hand. She always hates doctor’s visits because they’re always so boring. This time around, she’s just getting an exam and looking for birth control, which is routine enough. Even when she’s sick, visits to health offices are routine. Mudge smiles her thanks and once again, Meera is caught by her beauty. She shakes it off, standing up and tapping her fingers on the edge of the counter. “Sounds good to me. I’m not in a huge hurry, so if she’s got other patients…”

While Margret talks into her phone, Meera looks around the lobby, taking in the funky color scheme and the artwork on the walls. There are posters about safety and consent and pregnancy, as well as stock photography of fields that don’t seem to fit with anything at all. She catches herself smiling as she takes in the decor, lazily turning back to look at Margret.

“Have you worked here long? I had to dig a bit for a women’s clinic that didn’t shove beliefs down people’s throats. This one got the best reviews for open-mindedness and safe practice,” Meera says, tilting her head to the side. “I was nervous when my initial search didn’t bring up anything like that… I’ve only been in London about a month, but I’m starting uni in a month. Didn’t want to be stuck with some creepy controlling fucker who likes to dish advice about body parts he doesn’t have.” She smiles.

[mynameismudge-blog]

Mudge laughs, the clinic is practically deserted--Meera is here rather early. The clinic's demographic isn't posh early risers from Scotland but Mudge doesn't say anything about that. She's trying hard to learn professionalism; her lack of it has gotten her in trouble enough and she likes her job, so she'd like to keep it. "We're pretty slow right now, so you'll probably get in a in mo'," she says, offering the girl a smile. She pages the doctor on duty, lets her know she's got a walk-in for a wellness visit and B.C. consult. 

The girl begins to make small talk which Mudge is glad for, she's been horribly bored since she came in. She hasn't heard from Gendry nor any other friends in days and it's been driving her mad. "A bit, yeah," she says, shrugging. "I started working here after I finished my A Levels." (Which she'd failed.) The Reed girls starts talking about open-mindedness and Mudge has to bite her tongue. It's not that the girl is wrong, but Mudge doesn't think she understands why the clinic has to be so open. The women of the East End wouldn't have a place to go if they weren't. "We try our best to be open," Mudge says diplomatically, "Dunno who's going to come in needing what, you know?"

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

If the enemy is in range, so are you | | anguy, mudge & beric [august 25]

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Somehow Beric can already predict the outcome of this particular test, or so he tells himself. It isn’t hard if you know Anguy well enough. She is certainly a natural but Anguy is an expert. And he might be an expert at hiding it, but they boy is as skilful at this as he is at hacking. And he is the fastest he’s ever known. In more than one area.

But who knows, this might prove to be a surprising show for all he knows.

When he hears Mudge redirect her attention to Anguy he steps to the side, reaching the wall by the entrance, his involvement requires observation now and he doesn’t pretend to know anything about the correct use of arms, as much as he wishes to. 

He decides to let them play by themselves.

[ofbowandarrow]

She seems harmless enough. Seems.

But it’s in the way she talks with a certainty in her voice as she reaches for the fighting knife on the wall, without a hesitation; the way she flicks the knife on her knuckles. The girl knows how to handle knives. She’s used them before.

Close contact weapon; he’ll have to thread carefully. Anguy may know how to handle a gun, but fighting with bare hands was a different story. The principle is different. He reaches for a pistol, sitting heavily on his hand.

“How well is your aim, Mudge?” Anguy asks, crossing the room. “Let’s bargain a little. Your call, since you’re the guest.”

[mynameismudge-blog]

She shrugs. Archer--an archer who shoots guns and a speck of mud who shoots arrows. She offers a smile, the joke her own but thinks it's still good natured of her to smile at him. "Always had dirt on me face," she answers, sheepish. "Mates used to tease me. I was Mudge the Smudge. Wasn't so funny once I started calling myself it." She runs her thumb over the flat of the blade. It's simple and effective, balanced enough that she could throw it. Not as light or clean as her darts with Beric, but hopefully enough to get Archer to keep looking at her like he's not sure what to make of her.

(It's something she'd gotten accustomed to the older she got--the more who tried to hurt her, take her and strip her bare in the dark; when she fought back they were scared. Not scared of her, but scared of the idea that someone like her could hurt them so easily. Not that the Archer knew that.)

She bites her lip and blinks up at him through her lashes. This isn't like the game she and Beric played. She's not sure it's the right place to be arrogant with him, perhaps it is best to be shy. Mudge chews her lower lip, trying to think of a wager. Mudge shrugs and shifts her weight. "I'm... fair," she says, finding a word for it. She rolls back her shoulders, thinking on what she wants to wager. "If I win, you buy me a drink." Mudge offers. "If I lose, I'll buy you one."

There's a few targets, dummies in the shape of men, several meters away from them. She turns from Anguy and takes her stance, weighing the knife again before spinning it off. The knife buries itself deep in the chest of the dummy with a dull thud. It's a kill, that's plain enough to see. She's not sure if it would have been an instant death, but it'd be one less man.

[mynameismudge-blog]

my childhood spat back the monster that you see

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

If the enemy is in range, so are you | | anguy, mudge & beric [august 25]

[ofbowandarrow]

He is closer to the young man and it allows him to speak softly, over a whisper so that only Anguy can hear him right now. He turns around, “I knew I told you I would never ask this of you but times have changed and I’m afraid we must start thinking of defending ourselves and there’s only so much a virus can do”. He says. “We must be ready for the best and the worst”. He sighs and looks up at Mudge, waiting for her to approach or to turn around.  

“What’s your weapon?” Anguy asks, carefully. He looks just past her, his eyes catching a sniper gun on the third shelf. “Knives?” He continues near by. “Short range weapons. Good for close contact, good too for… for throwing, I suppose.” He gestures over to the guns. “Or are you more of the long range type? Guns? These are… these are lightweight. You can barely feel them and when you pull at the trigger, barely audible.”

Anguy stops then, worried that he’s speaking far too much and waits, searching for a response on Mudge’s expression.

[mynameismudge-blog]

Mudge nods, a little surprised by Beric's request. It's not quite what she expected to hear. She's never fought to test her skills before (and she doesn't think the darts game she and the older man had played counts), fighting has always been survival. Fighting was what she did when men touched her in clubs; it was what she did when she felt threatened. But she complies--Mudge isn't really in a position to say no. "Sure," she says and smiles a little in Beric's direction.

The boy joins her and offers a hand. She shakes his hand; the boy--Archer--his grip is firm but not strong. He shakes like Mudge would hold the grip on her compound bow, supple but not heavy-handed. She can guess that Archer's a pseudonym, some sort of code name and she's not sure wither she's supposed to offer her own name until she reccives a name from Beric and his... brotherhood. But it doesn't feel right to offer up her given name either. Beric might know it and maybe Archer is in charge of this place, but she's not ready to trust fully. Archer's smile is genuine but she doesn't know how this game is played. Mudge glances to Beric past Archer's shoulder before replying. "Mudge," she says, "you can call me Mudge." 

Beric wants us to spar, she thinks as she follows his gaze to a sniper's gun. It's the first place he looks and she figures that's what he knows the best. Mudge doesn't miss the joke in his name and her skills. But no one's supposed to know about those, yet. She hasn't seen a compound on the walls and figures no one's thought to use one as a weapon. They're hunting tools; tools that hadn't been used to help the poor since Robin Hood. Maybe Mudge could change that--it had been Robin Hood that had made her want to be an archer. 

She smiles and reaches for a fighting knife on the wall. "A knife is good," Mudge says, rolling the handle over her fingers. She doesn't take the butterfly knife from her pocket, unsure of how well it would go over if the two men knew if she'd brought a weapon with her. Archer is giving the guns one last glance and there's an odd sense in Mudge's stomach. He's not Mudge's enemy, not at all. But the gun is.

Her fear of guns is intrinsic--guns were things dealers had, things her mum had always told her to fear. Guns meant to go into her room, lock the door and get under the bed. Guns were what had put her father in the grave, that's what her mother told her. 

Mudge takes a step back and finds her balance, spreading her feet out. She flicks the knife over her knuckles again, a bit of a nervous habit. Her gaze shifts from Archer to Beric. "How do you want to do this?"

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

If the enemy is in range, so are you | | anguy, mudge & beric [august 25]

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

He reaches out for the opening of the small gate and looks back at her one last time, “If you are interest come inside to have our rematch”, there is no if not, there is no need, he knows. He steps inside and finds Anguy in there already, along with walls covered with shelfs of weaponry and computers. He’s never been to this place before and he is, by all means, impressed, it is messy, but it is ready.

He has to raise his voice a little too loudly for it to reach the other there in the open space, any sound echoing against his ears, “Is everything ready?”, Beric asks, “I’ve brought you a present”.

[ofbowandarrow]

He figures it won’t be too much - a new recruitment, he thinks to himself with a smile as he steps out into the middle of the warehouse to reveal himself to Beric and the girl that’s standing nearby. 

His hands are buried inside his pocket, shoulders slumped as he tries to ease himself into the situation.  He raises an eyebrow. ”A present?” Anguy tilts his head to the side as he walks closer to Beric and the new possible recruit. “You shouldn’t have, Beric. Really. So thoughtful.” He smiles. 

[mynameismudge-blog]

"I was," she replies to Dondarrion, her voice is low - a vow, almost. She did want to do something - wanted to be  more than a rioter; she wanted to be a catalyst. Or at least be inside the crucible as chemicals reacted, to be part of an agent of change. They're lost in a sea of people. Dondarrion is far better prepared this time, he sinks into the crowd with ease now. Mudge is impressed.

His voice is low and hidden under the voices of others - people talking on the phone, to each other, gossiping and trading far less important secrets - but it carries to Mudge's ears. The Anonymous Brotherhood. She has to bite back a laugh. Her fucking home secretary is a bloody terrorist. She'd never really understood irony until this very moment. It had always been a difficult concept. But right here, walking with MP Dondarrion as he spills that he's affiliated with hackers. Well, now it's coming in clear to her. 

Mudge almost doesn't believe him. But then, of course much to her chagrin, he's leading her into a warehouse. She digs her nails into her palm, itching to reach for her knife. She doesn't want to admit it, but she's a little afraid. (Not of Dondarrion, his attempts at darts proved him to be an opponent she could beat, but she doesn't know the odds anymore.) Mudge doesn't say a word and follows Dondarrion into the warehouse, it's industrial, a little sparse and a little chaotic, which gives Mudge a little more ease. She likes a dash of chaos. 

(Her favourite story growing up was the tale of Jörmungandr - the child of Loki who held the world together as an agent of chaos. She was family with discord, raised alongside pandemonium.)

He leads her through to the back. It's an area constructed of wall shelving, covered in guns--more than guns, really, weapons--and computers. Hidden in the back of it is a boy--he has to be a boy, he can't be much older than Mudge herself. He's in a lazy posture, shoulders hunched in. Dondarrion is offering her up like a prize. She's nobody's prize but doesn't dare speak until the boy has said something. Instead she takes stock of the tools behind him on the rack. There's a lapse in the conversation which Mudge fills, unable to keep silent anymore. "So can you use any of these?" she asks, nodding to the weapons behind them.

[prtypsn-blog]

Y O U W I R E D I N? :: an ep for b&g’s hackers (DL)

01. IN MONTION trent reznor & atticus ross {instumental 02. NYCTERIS hans zimmer {instumental 03. NIGHTCALL kavinsky ft. lovefoxx {gonna show you where it’s dark but have no fear 04. RIGHT THIS SECOND deadmau5 {instrumental 05. SHADOWPLAY (COVER) the killers {in a room without a window in the corner i found truth