[Her touch is a surprise--Bran is still fiddling with his jumpsuit, but he looks up at the weight of Arya's hand, and he smiles a little when he feels her tug at his hair. It makes him think of Winterfell, of chasing her around the yard, up and down stairs and towers, across roofs and through stables--laughing, or shouting, it doesn't matter which, he still loved her, and even when she made him angry he loved her anyways--and instead of hugs or kisses, like Sansa always wanted to give, she'd shove his shoulder or pull at his hair. But it meant the same thing, and he knew it, even if he sometimes complained.
It hurts less when she pulls away from him. Bran watches her, quietly, just for a moment. Then he reaches out and takes hold of her sleeve--just a little pinch, just his fingertips pressed to her arm. It's a light touch, but it's real, and he can feel the real warmth of Arya beneath, and if he were wearing Summer's skin, he would be able to smell Arya, no matter what she says or what mask she wears or how hard she shoves him.]
I promise that it is real.
[I swear might have more weight. Promises are for Winterfell too--the stuff of children, but important, here.]
I promise that it is real, Arya. And I'm glad-- [He feels that stupid hot feeling behind his eyes, and he struggles not to put his arms around her again, to only hold gently to her arm.] I'm glad you're here.
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It hurts less when she pulls away from him. Bran watches her, quietly, just for a moment. Then he reaches out and takes hold of her sleeve--just a little pinch, just his fingertips pressed to her arm. It's a light touch, but it's real, and he can feel the real warmth of Arya beneath, and if he were wearing Summer's skin, he would be able to smell Arya, no matter what she says or what mask she wears or how hard she shoves him.]
I promise that it is real.
[I swear might have more weight. Promises are for Winterfell too--the stuff of children, but important, here.]
I promise that it is real, Arya. And I'm glad-- [He feels that stupid hot feeling behind his eyes, and he struggles not to put his arms around her again, to only hold gently to her arm.] I'm glad you're here.