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

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. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

"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."

"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.

"Mn, I think I prefer that to souls." Explosions and flammable gas--what's not to like of that? They speak of power. Strength that none of them would ever be able to harness, as well as the ability to leave a lasting effect seen and felt through time itself. "It's how I would've preferred my legacy."

She takes another sip of wine, and it soon becomes clear that this is not her first glass. If she's to speak so freely of her ruling Westeros and her own demise...

"Or weave their fashions and ways into your own." Now she's looking at Claire. She'd heard, of course, that the woman was captured and held hostage as well. Dany's own tunic hides the fading bruises and marks from the bites, but she does not lean back in her chair. No, the wounds she'd inflicted upon herself were still healing. Ugly things.

She might've inquired about the chill in Olympia, but... "Do you enjoy the cold and the snow, Claire?"

"I'd take science and proven fact over pretty words most days." Daenerys is a logical young lady, a thing Claire's picked up on over their conversations. Souls don't live in the stars and if there are souls at all, who knows where they go. She asked Ned Stark about death, about what it was like after, if any beliefs in his world aligned to what he experienced--he couldn't tell her anything, but his soul went somewhere, he did not know.

Claire has seen the names of those taken. Far too many, and far too many she knows--Daenerys and Loras are the ones she'd worry about most in Wyver, but it seemed Jon Snow was quick to see to her. She bites back a remark about Snow liking Daenerys, but she doesn't know one way or another what's going on there. But one assumes things, when it's a young man and a young woman.

"I do. It feels right. I hear I'd be right at home in Winterfell." She looks down at her gloved fingers, not daring to flex them for fear of a stab of pain. "I always did like trudging through the snow, and rain's never bothered me. I suppose it's why I've stayed in Olympia."

"If only more things could be proven with both." That, however, would require an explanation to something like the white walkers. How did her dragons return? How can she walk through fire, unharmed? Magic has its place. "Though there is something romantic about the idea. The Dothraki believe it to be true. Their bodies must be burnt so that their ashes may rise into the skies, which will allow their soul to ride with the Great Stallion."

It might've been an illusion, but the memory of Drogo telling the Great Stallion (or anyone, for that matter) to go fuck himself earns a quiet huff of amusement.

"I've only seen snow twice in my life. Once was an illusion." She doesn't like to think about the second time. "You've not visited Wyver at all?"

"I'm never against anything that would make a person more comfortable with death, or their own mortality." She smiles to herself. She's never been particularly religious, but it had brought her comfort knowing that Mother Hildegarde had baptized Faith, so that she might be buried on the church's grounds.

Wyver is one of the last places she encountered Willem. That's not the only reason it holds bad memories, but Claire doesn't wish to sour the conversation. "We were evacuated there, once. And I've been on the outskirts to look for herbs, before the riots. It's a little too... humid, for my tastes." Wild. She means wild.

"But it must suit you, with the dragons."

"It brings with it other problems. You've not witnessed that?" She reaches for her wine, taking another, heartier sip. Rakharo and Irri come to mind. How he'd been beheaded. How inconsolable she'd been. Years have passed, and that memory still haunts her. "But I suppose that the Great Stallion is what encourages their ferocity in battle."

The glass is emptied. Only when it is does she manage to banish the memory. It helps they speak of the two kingdoms. More familiar territory, even if such lands were tarnished by memories of torture, currently.

"Humid. That's fair. Essos was much the same. I suppose it's more familiar to me in that regard." Upon mention of the dragons and their sanctuary, she quietly hums. "I'd believed mine to be lost. Most are awed by dragons. I take it you were not?"

"It does. Wars, crime... though I suppose it'd be just the same without." Humans are animals, and animals fight and claw for whatever they think is their right, using whatever justifications. Hundreds of years and none of that's changed--Charles believed it was his God-given right to be king, and how many people died because they had that same faith?

Claire could probably go for some wine at the thought.

"Awed and terrified," she admits with a little smile. "Much like I first was with the direwolves. They grew on me, over time. Dragons? Those are especially out of my league. We never had anything like that at home. Lizards, maybe. Dinosaurs, eons ago. But they no longer existed by the time civilization rolled out."

It sounds pessimistic, to believe in all these terrible things people are capable of. She considers her glass with a marked frown; only when they speak of dragons does she set said glass aside.

"Dinosaurs?" What a sad thing to be so terrified of such beautiful creatures. "If my son lived--" The memory is still so fresh, still hurts as it had the day she'd hallucinated it again. "I think you'd like him. He was the sweetest of the three. I carried him in my arms until he was too big to--and even then, he still would fly himself over to set his head upon my lap. They're wild like direwolves."

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

V

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if only she knew the truth... 8D

A MOTHER'S INTUITION

SUCH A SMART MAMA

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idk what happened to this email notif :< IM SORRY! I DIDN'T DROP THIS