![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Open + some closed
Who: Theon Greyjoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reek) & OPEN
What: Catchall
When: Wyver stuff
Where: A r o u n d
Warning(s): Theon is his own warning
I. Evacuation
[ If you’re unfortunate enough to find yourself stuck with Theon, especially on the later leg of the journey, you may realize just how little Wyver climate is agreeing with him. He’s a man of the Iron Islands—or a man of the North, depending on who you ask. Either way, he grew up in a much chillier environment than this. The further they trek, the more he finds himself, for the first time in this life, actually regretting wearing black. He already looks a mess, his hair and collar damp with sweat and his face red. He’s angrily pushing his sweat-streaked hair out of his eyes every few minutes. ]
It feels as though all seven hells have opened at once.
[ He practically snarls his words, looking irritated with their surroundings. Olympia was manageable. Here, he feels as though he may die. Yes, yes he is overreacting. ]
Who would ever desire to live in a place such as this? Not even the Dornishmen would bother. You cannot even find the sea from here.
[ Theon—Theon, just….just…you need a nap. ]
II. Hunting
[ Theon, as outspoken as he is, doesn’t dare to complain about earning his keep. He’s a good hunter, good with a bow and arrow. He thinks about Asha and about Sansa, and he tells himself to go though the motions, to help and to earn his keep until the cure to their illness can be found.
He hasn’t hunted in an environment like this, and he finds it difficult to maneuver. Perhaps it’s just the heat, or the unfamiliarity of it all, but he mislikes it, and it’s too easy for him to lose himself to his thoughts and his worries amidst the sounds of birds and insects. Believing he spies an animal, he pulls back his bowstring, fires, and he misses whatever target he was after, nearly hitting another instead.
Want to be nearly murdered by the Greyjoy kid? Now’s your opportunity to be tragically grazed! ]
III. Wildcard
[ Anyway, anyhow, anywhere you choose. You can adapt one of the above if you prefer too, especially the hunting one. I'm incredibly easy. Find me on plurk if you need me!![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
muttonchops ]
reek) & OPEN What: Catchall
When: Wyver stuff
Where: A r o u n d
Warning(s): Theon is his own warning
I. Evacuation
[ If you’re unfortunate enough to find yourself stuck with Theon, especially on the later leg of the journey, you may realize just how little Wyver climate is agreeing with him. He’s a man of the Iron Islands—or a man of the North, depending on who you ask. Either way, he grew up in a much chillier environment than this. The further they trek, the more he finds himself, for the first time in this life, actually regretting wearing black. He already looks a mess, his hair and collar damp with sweat and his face red. He’s angrily pushing his sweat-streaked hair out of his eyes every few minutes. ]
It feels as though all seven hells have opened at once.
[ He practically snarls his words, looking irritated with their surroundings. Olympia was manageable. Here, he feels as though he may die. Yes, yes he is overreacting. ]
Who would ever desire to live in a place such as this? Not even the Dornishmen would bother. You cannot even find the sea from here.
[ Theon—Theon, just….just…you need a nap. ]
II. Hunting
[ Theon, as outspoken as he is, doesn’t dare to complain about earning his keep. He’s a good hunter, good with a bow and arrow. He thinks about Asha and about Sansa, and he tells himself to go though the motions, to help and to earn his keep until the cure to their illness can be found.
He hasn’t hunted in an environment like this, and he finds it difficult to maneuver. Perhaps it’s just the heat, or the unfamiliarity of it all, but he mislikes it, and it’s too easy for him to lose himself to his thoughts and his worries amidst the sounds of birds and insects. Believing he spies an animal, he pulls back his bowstring, fires, and he misses whatever target he was after, nearly hitting another instead.
Want to be nearly murdered by the Greyjoy kid? Now’s your opportunity to be tragically grazed! ]
III. Wildcard
[ Anyway, anyhow, anywhere you choose. You can adapt one of the above if you prefer too, especially the hunting one. I'm incredibly easy. Find me on plurk if you need me!
II
That dismissal comes back to bite her ten minutes later when an arrow nearly pierces her shoulder. Letting out a small whine that rasps into an even less friendly sound, she turns on him with ears slanted forward and teeth bared, but quickly shifts again to make sure she does not invite more. In a transformation quick enough that a blink could miss much of it, she trades gray fur for pale skin and stands fully dressed, or as fully as is her norm.
Lightning crackles from one hand, a warning bolt aimed to miss. Barely.]
Turn your bow away.
sorry for the ridiculously long wait! the end of october was wild
Make yourself known next time!
[ He snaps at her, angry, bitter, and most of all, completely shaken. He has too much innocent blood on his hands, and he doesn’t wish to add more, even by mistake. ]