[center]As more of the lost souls awakened, Arya's eyes scanned at their strange attires and odd appearances from what she was normally adjusted to. Genuine fear resided in her heart about these strangers, however, she could not bring herself to foolishly to run away in an alien and foreign land. From a young, blonde boy with an odd set of shaded spectacles to the masked engima that had thrown himself in front of the highborn *lady*, Arya was truly feeling out of place partially due to her age and her ragged, wild appearance. Slightly edging herself to stand beside the blonde boy with shaded spectacles and an odd curved blade that looked like it was forged in Essos, the highborn held from trembling as she looked up at the skeleton.

"It's an old stupid legend...about the dead that would rise in the fury of winter, with skin of ice and eyes of the brightest blues, and they would march in thousands down from The Winterlands. You don't look anything like that, though." Arya explained casually, well, as casually as she can to this abomination of life standing before her. Which, for such a young girl, was rather impressive in terms of being so bold and brave (even if such bravery is idiotic at times). Still keeping a firm grip on Needle, the ambiguous child turned around, looking down upon that cloaked woman that seemed to be calm enough to approach the fallen scroll that had been dropped by the mysterious raven. Eager to hear what the scroll revealed, young Arya's face tighten as the each word was uttered with a sense of urgency from the anonymous writer.

"Elyae..." Arya repeated, swiftly turning around for a brief second to examine the conflagrations that still furiously raged throughout the dying domain. "I've never heard of this place..." the girl whispered once again, wincing for a moment as a sharp headache coursed through her skull, the aches from awakening from such a damning slumber still in minor effect. Hearing of introductions beginning to be formed about, Arya had hesitated of revealing her true identity to these strangers. Even though she was far, far from home, these individuals were still nothing more than recently-med acquaintances to the wild, adventurous highborn.

"My name is Arry." Arya simply spoke, ending the conversation swiftly there on her part as she stood idly beside the blonde boy with the Essos-curved sword.[/center]