[OPEN] When I was a child I'd sit for hours staring into open flames...

[dorzalta]

Who: Daenerys Targaryen (dorzalta) & others.
What: Chimera call to action in Wyver, post-kidnapping/torture, plus whatever goes down in April.
When: March/April catch-all.
Where: Wyver, Thesa Station, and others TBD.
Warning(s): Game of Thrones/Daenerys standard warnings, torture, self harm, etc.


Wyver
I. CHIMERAS
To get close to the dragons, Daenerys believes she must get close to the Beastmaster known as Thali. It would do her well to participate in this task for a multitude of reasons, the first of which includes keeping herself occupied. Her hair's braided back into one single plait, and whilst she's neither donning her Targaryen colors, nor wearing something entirely Dothraki, she is in leathers and pieces spun for practicality in the heat and humidity.

( a. ) Are you her partner in gathering the chimeras and feeding them? If so, have fun standing beside her as she stares at the creatures, frowning. "Which mouth do they feed themselves with? They're rather vicious looking."

( b. ) Or perhaps you're seated with her on one of the rocks near a spring. She's parchment with her, spattered in water and mud (is that blood?), with notes scrawled on the pages. Her legs are stretched out before her, hooked at the ankles, and she looks as if she is a queen in her element, not an onlooker studying a creature's behaviors. "It's a shame they've the head of a lion. That is a lion, isn't it?"

( c. ) Of course, living creatures--be it humans, dragons, or chimeras--can be spooked, and these are no different. One of the dragons in the nearby areas roars, and suddenly the chimera the two of you are guiding to a new location jerks. "Watch for its--mouths," she warns you, before ducking from the lashing snake tail. "Shh, friend, the dragons will not harm you."

II. FIELDS OF THE EXALTED (post-kidnapping)
She's reason enough to claim her spot in this place, having spied upon Thali during her work with the chimeras. After a few days of ignoring anyone and everyone, Daenerys is quick to reassert herself. It would do no good for a queen to show weakness. Likewise, she's determined to find a job to move out of her... less than acceptable living arrangements.

( a. ) If you're a friend visiting her, she may rope you into meeting a dragon--her dragon. For while Drogon is not free for her to ride as she'd prefer, he is still on the grounds, in the sanctuary. She can still interact with him. Which means you will, too!

( b. ) Work is good for the soul. When she was nothing more than a khaleesi, the khalasar kept her busy and exhausted. It might've been a simpler life, traveling with a nomadic tribe, but there were still things to appreciate. Do you help Dany gather meat for feeding younger dragons, lead in livestock for the adults, break up fights between dragons, tend to sick creatures, or training youngsters?

III. WILDCARD
HMU if you want some other interaction in Wyver prior to or post kidnapping!


Thesa Station
IV. STASIS
It's been some time since she's visited her people, and for that, there is a flare of guilt. Wearing her attire from home, she spends a vast majority of her time in the stasis room.

( a. ) She stands before ser Jorah's pod, staring up at him with a troubled expression. A palm rests against the glass of his pod, fingers gently smoothing the glass as if she would touch his face. It's intimate, but what of the stasis room is not? "I don't know what to do," you might overhear her telling her old bear. "I need you by my side. Please wake up."

( b. ) Missandei looks so peaceful, and that peace brings her peace. It's the first time she's smiled. "You'd have found them adorable. I know you've never seen a hatchling before."

( c. ) "You've left me with scars, brother," she murmurs to Viserys' slumbering face. No gold crown, not a crown for a king. No demonic teeth or flame-bright eyes. "But it was you who woke the dragon, this time."

V. MESS HALL
Wine and oranges--that's what Dany has as she sits in the mess hall. She's alone at her table, looking up, not at others. Up means she can gaze through the expansive glass lining the upper part of the room, and out into space itself. "Do you believe the stars are souls?" she'll ask someone, if they sit at her table.

VI. WILDCARD
Let's do it.

( ooc: Feel free to ping me on plurk to hash out some plans bubblytangerine or PM me on this journal. Will match format, so if prose isn't your jam, no biggie. Daenerys was kidnapped and tortured, so she will be absent for a period of time. )

Comments

V

[nineteenfortyfive]

Daenerys, as usual, is difficult to miss. Claire considers leaving her be and simply grabbing a meal on her own before heading back to Olympia, but she's rather tired of her self-imposed isolation. Magic has removed the evidence of any wrongdoing from her face, though she's covered elsewhere. Long sleeves, her skirts that brush the floor, and gloves. She looks ready for winter.

As tempting as it's been to hibernate until the sun comes back out, so to speak, she knows she can't.

"It's a pretty thought," Claire says, easing herself down into a seat, "But they're not. So, no."

[dorzalta]

"More like my dead husband's religion," she says, tone dry, before she lifts her glass and takes a sip of the red wine. Not the sort from the Reach. Or maybe it is, maybe they were able to recreate it. "If not souls, then what are they?"

There are orange peels on her plate. One is in her free hand, its oils fragrancing her skin. She might've wept over the smell and taste of oranges if she were in a different state of mind.

"You look like a Stark, now."

[nineteenfortyfive]

"Exploding balls of flammable gas," Claire replies. "I suppose they're a little closer to us here than on a planet, but they're actually so far away that it takes time for their light to reach us. One could be dead, burnt out, and us not know because their light is still traveling to our skies."

Stars and space have never been her forte, focusing more on the Earth and the bodies that live on it, but she did pay attention to the occasional article in National Geographic.

The comment about looking like a Stark makes her chuckle. Not the first time she's heard that. "Spend enough time around a people and you begin to mimic them, it seems."

The gloves might have been borrowed from Sansa. Whoops.

Wyver - Post-Kidnapping

[vladpire]

She had mentioned moving to Wyver, wanting to be closer to their namesake, and he'd been sad to see her go. But he certainly hadn't been about to insist she change her mind. With the way the cities had been lately, perhaps Wyver would be less hostile towards someone who wore her colors than Olympia was.

And then there had been chaos and blood and people had been taken and rescued and he had watched it all with a sort of pained repetitiveness. He had seen life play out like this before, and he'd been hoping to avoid it. But it seemed no matter where he went or how long he lived, history repeated itself. Even on other worlds.

But concern was there in his mind for the small, fierce woman that he seemed to share a strange kinship with, and when he'd been unable to reach her on the devices, he'd opted to fly to Wyver himself. He'd been wanting to see the other city regardless, and in the cover of night, what was one swarm of bats in a mass of others? It made traversing between the cities much easier, regardless of how 'badly' the monarchy felt for those taken and harmed. It was close to morning when he reached Wyver, and he found her scent in a matter of an hour or so, relieving his mind that she was even still here at all. But the wee hours was not the time to visit, and while he could be in the sun without immolation, he was still trying not to press his luck. It still hurt after an extended period of time, and he'd like to avoid blistering in front of her when she still did not know the truth of him.

So it was after he'd bunked down in an inn for the morning, resting and feeding on goat's blood (too cool and not nearly satisfying enough), that he sought her out in the later afternoon. The sun was still up, and it was much warmer here than it was in Olympia, but it seemed 'Spring' was still just starting, so it was still temperamental weather as he went looking for her. And found her, walking through the markets, talking to the children that ran by and teased at her skirts. He stayed in the shade as much as one could, but that was more out of habit than need.

For awhile, he merely followed, wanting to see how she was without her having to pretend for his sake.

[dorzalta]

Skirts and fabrics light and airy, near indecent to a Westerosi's eye, perhaps, but familiar to her throughout the days of her time in Essos. The design she dons is not quite that which she wore in Meereen when Yara Greyjoy came asking for her help, but similar enough. She needed something similar and simple, whilst she works to buy fabrics for more embellishments in other designs. No longer does she wear white to distance herself as a queen.

A dragon would not be cowed by the events it faced, no matter how much indecency there was in said events. Nor would Dany. So she aimlessly walks the streets, running her fingers along fabrics, buying herself a sweet fruit, and smiling faintly down at the children who run by, causing her skirts to shift. They lift, briefly, revealing her boots and pants beneath.

After a spell, there's a feeling. Not quite unease, but as if a ghost trails its fingers down the back of her neck. It's as if someone watches her. A cursory glance yields nothing, so she continues through the market, interactive with the residents when they deign to speak to her, but not going out of her way to interact with others.

And then, after another spell of time where she's unsure of who or what is following her, she veers off from the main road and spins around, hands on her hips.

"You may come out. Contrary to my House sigil, I do not bite."

[vladpire]

Of course she'd know someone was watching. A laugh echoes softly as he steps around the corner, looking both amused and perhaps, a little sheepish. "Pity. I do."

Fierce. She was always this blend of fierceness and kindness that reminded him of Mireena, and yet she didn't. She was much more quick to temper than his sweet wife ever was, but both women held that strength that seemed privy to that gender only. He came towards her, holding a bottle in offering. "Wine, if it suits your tongue. You'd stated a preference for it before, and I'd be remiss to come visiting without a gift, Lady Dragon."

II-B

[maipokerface]

[Mai tends to keep to the youngsters and after about three months or so of tending to them, the fledglings seem very familiar with her. She had thought after the kidnappings she might stay away for longer but honestly, this helped ground her as much as knives didn't. Dragons in her own world may have been long since extinct but this was a distant reminder of that world and she clung to it fervently as the only person from her world currently awake and active.

Today she's come to help train. It's just basic manners, things like no biting when being fed and learning how to obey voice commands but it's a start. And despite her dark looks or her cool nature, out with the babies like this she's almost... motherly? Soft maybe? She's a hell of a lot more relaxed anyhow. One of the smaller fledglings rides on her shoulder comfortably enough, trying to keep out of the grasp of some of the rougher players among the group.

Daenerys is only a vaguely familiar face, one she's seen elsewhere before but never really interacted with. Her memory of escapes and fires and all that say she's seen her before in all the chaos too but she isn't quite sure about that honestly. Regardless she makes her way over to introduce herself - good coworker relations and all that.]

Hey.

[dorzalta]

[ The fledglings here are not as affectionate as her own had been, nor anywhere as cute--though perhaps that is a mother's bias shading her perception. Still, she cares for them as if they are her own, far better equipped the second time around in teaching dragons how to behave. At least this place would benefit from well-behaved dragons... even if its people are terrible.

A greeting tears her from her thoughts, the smile she'd been donning as she coaxed the little one before her to try at his meal slipping away. When she looks over her shoulder, there is an initial wariness... which is soon replaced by something more approachable. Curious.

Dany recognizes the woman's face, but knows not who she is. ]

Hello. [ And then, before silence would twist things into awkwardness, she pushes to her feet, wiping dirt from her hands. ] I've seen you working here before whilst I visited Drogon.

[maipokerface]

[Drogon. Mai pauses a moment. She mostly worked with the fledglings but she wasn't a stranger to the older dragons either. Her brows perk up as she places just which one that may be, a new face among all the older ones.]

The one with all the spikes on his face?

[Not that Wyvern's dragons were without them but it's the first thing that sticks out in her mind. She reaches up for the little one on her shoulder, bending to settle him down on the ground gently.]

I've been working here for three months now. I'm Mai.

IV - a

[phykios]

When news gets around that the transporters are fixed, Daenerys isn't the only one thinking about visiting the stasis room.

Percy hasn't been back since -- gods, since before he ever made it to the ground. Back when he'd first woken up from his own slumber, been told the news of the Storm and the destruction of his home world, that this is what comes next. It's been too long since he's seen the faces of his loved ones, and he takes his time in here. Finds his mom, his stepdad, his girlfriend, his friends. Pauses at a pod containing a sleeping cyclops -- his half-brother, Tyson, and what wouldn't he give for him, or any of the rest of them to wake?

When he hears someone speaking, he looks up, going still. He doesn't want to eavesdrop or anything, even accidentally, so he makes a point of clearing his throat. Which is awkward, but there's no way this wasn't going to be.

"Hey," he says, then, "sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."

But he wants to make sure she knows she has company, not quite the privacy she'd probably thought.

[dorzalta]

The worst of it's been said, and she doesn't know if he's heard exactly what she said to her old bear. It's innocent enough--barring the fact that she's nearly poured her insecurities out to a sleeping man. Dany closes her eyes, fights against the sting in her nose, and clenches her fist against the glass. Stupid to speak of such things in the open. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

When she finally lifts her head and turns to look at the intruder (though the same could be easily said of her to him), she is composed. Distant, but composed.

"He likely hadn't heard me. Can't say I can recall anything those who visited me said." After a pause. "Do you recall much?"

[phykios]

He heard enough to get the gist of it, but for what it's worth, Percy has no intention of bringing it up. Or, to be honest, judging. There's nothing wrong with feeling lost here, with missing someone from home, especially after everything that just happened. He feels much the same, even though -- not that he's aware -- Daenerys has been through a lot worse recently.

Percy shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tugging downwards into a frown.

"I don't remember much of anything from when I was asleep. But, uh, I doubt anyone was visiting me. I've never heard of anyone else from my home being awake here, so I'm probably not the best person to ask."

Love Shack (Backdated)

[song_of_ice]

He had woken Dany early in the morning to steal away with him, out into the wilderness. Neither of them had ever known firm roots in their lives, always feeling adrift and without a real home. For the first time he could remember, he found that sense of belonging, but it was only at her side. Wyver or Olympia or even the wild, it didn't matter. This, being together was where he found grounding.

He rented a horse for her, a white one that he had his eye on as a potential gift. After preparing something for them to eat along the way (or rather, purchasing something from a nearby inn), he collected Dany and rode off with her out of the gates of Olympia. It would be the first (and possibly last time before she left for Wyver) that she would get to see the mountains and the rolling hills.

Urging her into a race, the two of the charged into the woods, passing a number of creatures along the way. Most were disturbed from their sleep, but a few watched them with hungry eyes. Jon wasn't concerned. Longclaw was with him as always and Ghost was at their heels. It was enough to let him feel comfortable as he slowed his horse, scanning the area for a place to rest and eat their meal.

"I think I see an abandoned cottage ahead. Do you want to explore it?"

[dorzalta]

There's a moment when he wakes her that she wishes he'd remained in bed. There were going to be fewer and fewer opportunities for her to sleep with him like this, weren't there? But the dawn brings with it a number of things, including fresh air and the wildness of the outdoors. She wears her hair half down, silver locks streaming behind her as they gallop along, racing one another, her laughter ringing in their wake.

It's all a beautiful sight, every bit of it. This is where she belongs, she thinks. Not in a city, not living as a civilian when war seemed to loom, but out in the wilds. If only her children were here with them, that would make this day perfect.

Birds chirp all around them. Prey darts away at the sound of their gallops and at the sight of Ghost. Briefly, she glances back over her shoulder toward the direwolf who is so very quiet and beautiful. Affection warms her for both man and wolf.

She spies the cottage just as he points it out, encouraging her silver into a faster trot. There are weeds her horse tramples through. Weeds and weeds, vines, all manner of greenery that's clearly become overgrown, both on the stretch of land before the cottage, and on its walls.

"It looks as if its been swallowed alive. Do you think anything lives in there?"

IV (a)

[personalwar]

It isn't 76's intention to overhear a private conversation between a young woman and one of the pods, but people easily forget that they're not the only ones to make visits here. He'd decided to make a trip here now that they actually have station access again. It's overly sentimental, he's well aware, but he'd needed some time away from Wyver after everything that happened.

In reality, he's putting off going back for as long as he can get away with it.

He could walk by the stranger without saying anything, but that might be even more awkward. There's an imperative to acknowledge what he's heard.

"Unfortunately, it's not up to them."

Well, in some cases that's a good thing, but telling her that isn't going to make her feel any better.

[dorzalta]

Sometimes, she forgets that this is an open room. She'd had the luxury of awakening in this space by herself, with none but Jon to guide her. But with the station now within their reach again, it would make sense that a number of them would choose to revisit theirs. She'd wanted to, and much like this man's motivations to delay his return to Wyver, so too does Dany try to spend as much time as she can before being forced to return back to the jungle kingdom.

Sparing Jorah one, last look, she sighs. Pulls her hand away from his pod. Turns to look at the one who made such a helpful comment. She's never seen him before, but that changes nothing. There were many she's yet to meet.

"And who is it up to?"

ii-b.

[beknight]

[ He's walking around, blending among the shadows in Wyver like they belong to him. Enough friends live in the city that he doesn't have to worry about a place to say, even if he still has safehouses here, and contacts among the locals. ]

[ Work is good for the soul. Doing something new, in a place where nobody requires questions or consideration, can be good for the soul — the heat helps, toiling until his muscles ache help with sleep. They start today by tending to the injured ones — Bruce had approached her at once upon seeing her — skims his hand gently over one to soothe it. ]

This one's doing well.

[dorzalta]

Better than before. Twisted his wing while trying to fly.

[ She's quick to look up when he speaks, the rumble of his voice both familiar and foreign. Her eyes warm upon identifying her visitor. ]

It's been some time since we last spoke. I didn't expect to see you here. Well met.

For Sansa - memory share

[dorzalta]

The chaos around them seems to be exacerbated by the memories. Surely the others have witnessed some thus far? She's already shared a number, far more than she would like.

It's in the chaos that she catches Sansa--quite literally bumping into the Stark and wrapping her fingers around the girl's forearm before they're separated. "Are you all right?" she tries to shout above the howling winds, knowing it would only be by chance she's heard.

Luck (or lack of it) would have it that she's tugged into yet another memory. That pull, the blinding fog--so familiar, Dany's forced to endure it, gritting her teeth all the while. Would this be Sansa's memory? Would she finally see what Winterfell looks like?

The chanting sends a chill skittering down her spine. As the fog fades, a spacious hut appears, filled with a number of Dothraki in all forms of dress. The women chanting are spread around a platform, swaying to the words they speak. Some of the men join in on the chant, not nearly as loud as the Dosh Khaleen are.

And on the platform? Daenerys. Or a younger version of herself, dressed in horse hair and leather, her silver hair loose down her back, mouth and chin covered in blood. She's on her knees, belly rounded from her pregnancy, swaying, her hands bloody and holding a stallion's heart.

Before her sits the man she watches, ripping another hunk of bloody muscle from the half-eaten heart. Impossibly large and muscular this man is, his long, dark hair pulled back into a thick braid. Her husband watches with sharp eyes, heated eyes, nodding his head as she swallows down another piece of the heart.

Dany stares at Drogo with creased brows and a clear frown on her lips. There's a glassy sheen to her eyes, visible only when the flames dance a certain way.

[unprays]

The momentary relief of seeing someone she knows and trusts is quickly wiped away by the fog that surrounds them, sends them into yet another memory before Sansa can so much as respond to Dany's question.

When she hears the chanting, when she sees where they are, she freezes in place. Her eyes are fixed on the younger version of her queen, heavy with child, her face and hands covered in red. It is only when she sees who the real Daenerys watches that she looks at Drogo. She had known she had been married, had heard Daenerys mention her marriage before, but never much about her husband.

"Was he your husband, Your Grace?" She is fairly certain of the answer, but one must start somewhere. It feels important to her, to get Daenerys to talk, lest she be too trapped into the memory.

the time says March/April but I do what I want: Beach Edition

[idealisme]

[Wyver is empty and its citizens are at the beach.

Enjolras is among them, determined not feeling any nostalgia for the Mediterranean or reminising about his childhood in the South of France. Neither of those things serve him, so he ignores them. Regretfully he leaves most of his books at home, fearing sand, sun, and sea might destroy the treasures he's only just recieved from the Natha. He has one small volume, a Wyverian book of political history.

He hires an umbrella, towel, and bathing suit (mildly suprised at the skin it reveals on himself and others) and picks a spot on the beach and begins to set up. His friends are in the water, enjoying themselves and the sun, he's content to sit in the shade for now, reading and thinking.

A sudden gust of wind picks up the umbrella and blows it along down the beach- straight into a young woman. With haste he chases after it, quite apologetic.] Madame, are unhurt?

FIVE MILLION YEARS LATE, FORGIVE ME

[dorzalta]

[ She's not in the--what were they called, bathing suits?--that a few of the others wear, instead choosing a dress appropriate for the setting. The weather reminds her of her days back in Essos, minus the humidity. With sand between her toes, warm and comforting, the waves lightly crashing against the shore, it's almost like home. Enough that she takes a moment--with the distant sounds of laughter and conversation wrapping around her--to close her eyes. Breathe it in--

--And promptly get hit by something. She stumbles, more surprised than hurt, and swats down the umbrella, not fully realizing what it is until her hand connects with fabric. It's nothing like what she's seen, bright and strange like all the others along the stretch of sand. Soon, its owner runs over, and she stares at him for a moment, mind struggling to catch up. ]

No, I'm all right. [ Just a little jostled, but she's quick to find composure. Quick to brush her hair from her face as she looks at the newcomer. ] Never expected a visit to the beach to be filled with such danger.

Surprise it's me again: this time with dogs ALSO GENERAL CONTENT WARNING FOR VIOLENT THOUGHTS

[veneries]

[Ramsay hadn't been back in stasis all that long, but it had been long enough for his hound, Alison, to develop bad habits. She was a good girl, from a good bloodline, with a keen sense for hunting-- but she was strong willed and needed a firm hand to keep her in line.

Even with all his fingers and faculties, Theon couldn't have managed her.

Ramsay doesn't particularly enjoy hunting beasts in the forest. There's no pleasure to be taken in overcoming them; no way to terrorize them or give them a glimmer of hope before snatching it away again, but as much as he'd like to he can't just set Alison after a stray child in the middle of the street. He'll work on that. After he's worked on Alison's behaviour.

After a day of hunting they wander back into Olympia, Alison now alertly walking to heel while Ramsay carries a bird and some animals over his shoulder. Ramsay walks as though he owns the street, while Alison stares down anyone who catches her eye.

The white hair in the crowd is hard to miss, so Ramsay makes for the figure, still as confident as ever] Good day, your grace. It's a pleasure to see you here.

[His smile is a charm and warmth.]

LE GASP!!!! look at that cute little face in his icon

[dorzalta]

[ The market is a place that draws her, no matter where she is. With little to do in terms of ruling and conquering, she requires other ways to keep occupied, and one just happens to be by rebuilding her wardrobe. (It's grating, but she keeps quiet.)

The greeting comes, smooth and pleasant, echoing above the crowds. With a glance over her shoulder, her brows lift at the sight of Ramsay carrying game--but perhaps what interests her far more is the hound by his side. The dog stares her down, and she can't help but wonder which is more dangerous: a direwolf, or any animal belonging to Ramsay.

It's a wonder how someone who speaks thusly can harbor such ill content for those around him. Has he changed, truly? By Sansa's words, no, and she trusts Sansa far more than she would her hope that a person could change. Nevertheless, she's received no word of him causing trouble, so she proffers a faint smile in greeting. ]

Well met, Lord Bolton. [ The fabric is set aside and she's turning to him, stepping closer. No hesitation. ] Seems you've had a successful hunt with your friend.

@percy - khalo village

[dorzalta]

"Better timing, I think," she tells him, as they trudge through the woods. Having heard from Jon and Vlad's venture up to the secluded space, they had some idea of the ways to approach. The things to consume. All of that, which had allowed them safe passage. In the distance, the village looms. "That you come down to Wyver now. The village wasn't open to foreigners prior to the council's birth."

There's much to update Percy on due to his time in stasis. When she'd first found him in Olympia, she hadn't given him a hug, but there was clear concern in her eyes. No, she doesn't know him well enough yet to initiate touch.

"Not too humid for you?"