april catch-all.

[beknight]

Who: bruce wayne (beknight) & various others.
What: shenanigans for april
When: throughout april
Where: everywhere
Warning(s): none yet, will add if needed.

Comments

DAENERYS.

[beknight]

[ It's a grand old house, every corner of the room dripping elegance. The kind that has been chosen and layered over, by generations. It should be a warm place, with cosy looking armchairs, a fireplace, and an ornate window. Light should pour in from every corner. ]

[ But it feels a little cold, a little quiet. Like the man in the middle of the room, looking up at a painting of two people, is really a ghost. ]

[ But someone laughs, to the side. Bruce's head turns, his mouth pulling in a secret smile, listening to that voice as its owner runs up and down the halls. ]

[dorzalta]

[ It's a grand sort of room, likely part of an even grander building. Similar enough to Dragonstone, if she would compare it to the places she's been--though not due to the decoration (which is far different than her own touches to revive her birth home), but due to the... distance. No, not distant, necessarily, just empty.

Of course, that all changes when the echoes of laughter suddenly fill the halls. It's a sweet sound, the likes of which tugs a faint smile to her lips as she steps forward, closer to the figure standing ahead of her. ]

Where are we?

[beknight]

[ Home. ]

A place that doesn't exist anymore.

[ He burned it down. He should've cared more, in hindsight, but the lick of the flames on the walls, the smell of burning wood, it had been more satisfying than he wanted to admit. It never touched him, physically. But Bruce has lived in symbols enough to have felt it. ]

[ The laughter draws closer, and the source is a young boy, racing down the stairs, tearing his way to the kitchen for dinner. The memory-Bruce follows him without hesitation, as though buoyed, led along by his joy. ]

[dorzalta]

[ A short and brief answer. She looks to him. Steps up beside him and just catches a young boy darting past. ]

Who is the sweetling?

[ That laughter softens her. Makes her thing of little hatchlings singing beneath the stars. ]

[beknight]

My son.

[ Does the truth have power, here? The room warms at once, Bruce is still following that laughter as though captured by it — fully embraced. ]

[dorzalta]

[ Nothing more cherished. She steps up beside him, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, lips tilting up in an encouraging smile. ]

Show him to me?

[beknight]

[ She has children. He remembers this fact, it surfaces in his mind unbidden, often, when he has studied her previously. They are the way to her heart as his sons are to his. ]

[ How long has it been, since someone had that in common with him? He looks down the corridor, and takes her arm. ]

This way.

[dorzalta]

[ How long has the very same been a commonality between her and another? He and Claire, Emma. Not many others have spoken of their children to her--or if they even have any.

She falls into step beside him. ]

How long ago is this?

[beknight]

A lifetime.

[ A different man — one with no small amount of hope, joins Jason at the table. Alfred has already set it and is making Bruce's coffee. ]

[ It's telling that both Bruces — the one next to her and the one in the memory — are leaning towards the boy, soaking up his chatter. He's talking about a field trip he's volunteered to chaperone, to a museum, asking permission to skive off his "after school activities" with his mentor. The Bruce in the memory is agreeable. ]

[dorzalta]

[ A subtle shift in disposition, but easily recognizable when noticed. The boy holds Bruce's attention in a way she's not witnessed. Quietly, she glances beside her--and notices the same attentiveness wth the man she knows. ]

What is a museum? Is it in the fields?