[open] april catch-all

[freeing]

Who: Daenerys Targaryen + Open Prompts
When: April!
Where: Aefenglom and outside the walls
What: Starting fresh for April. As a note: last month I'm dropping all threads, as I had some IRL stuff prevent me from focusing most of the month on plot due to COVID concerns. If you'd like to hash out what happened with our characters, please PM me! Here's a general list of what happened with Dany and her CR.
Warnings: N/A as of now.





FARMLANDS

[ The farmlands had begun to show promise. Once hollow and dying lands slowly began to heal and one by one, the rows of crops began to push up at the dirt. The smallest of buds, stalks, and vines began to seep from the soil reaching out for any warmth. Daenerys had no say in the success – it is instead the few workers and visitors who assisted. The khaleesi hated remaining idle, so she learned the best she could – leading and guiding others with diligent tasks and getting her own hands messy when she could.

It still wasn't enough to carry things on for herself, however.

a. Visitors – Open
The latest partnership elderly Edre, the owner of the farmlands, agreed upon was supplying two of her best horses to a section of the city guards in Aefenglom. Daenerys spends her morning out in the front of the stable, brushing down the mane and tail of the two horses. She can be heard humming from the distance, a lullaby she can't even recall the words to. Part of her wanted to wish it was her brother who sung it to her when they had nothing else to their name as children, but the thought was untrue. It was a hymn the children in markets would sing – one that was about dragons flying free, but that was all she could recall. Instead of lyrics, the wordless hum carries among such a menial task.

b. Passerby (afternoon) – LIMITED - 0/1 *
However, later that day... anyone traveling the roads leading back to Aefenglom would find quite a sight. A cart, wheel broken and a few bags of wheat and rye tossed off the path. A few yards into the treeline and no sight of its owner... Will you follow into the broken shrubbery and path deeper to hear a pained neigh? ]

*A limited slot! This will be an action-oriented prompt where they find Dany attacked by a Shade. One horse is injured, which will be a tw: animal death if the appropriate prompts are taken, the other is running around. Dany is not capable of fending for herself yet.

CITY BUSINESS

[ Daenerys, despite her problems earlier in the day, arrives for a day in Aefenglom. A foul mood hangs over her head, part shame and part anger. There was still work to be done regardless... so she meets with the people, with her fellow council-members and the city guard to deliver the remaining horse, per agreement.

a. In Parliament – LIMITED - 1/2
The council was something... different. She did not bode well with sharing power, but she's learning. The greater good was to serve the people, to protect their own kind – right? She sits in silence most of the meetings – unusually so. Perhaps it was the disappointment of not pushing forth Asura's idea properly that weighs on her or the events earlier in the day, but she never brings up her discourse. It was in the past, but perhaps her mind still lingered.

It, however, was more accurate to assume Daenerys is critical on herself. Perhaps a Queen isn't needed here, she wonders, but refuses to truly accept the self-pity. All she has known is wanting to go home, go reclaim what was hers ... everything else feels foreign now. So, she is abnormally distant – interjecting only when needed. That does not mean she will ignore anyone when dismissed from the meeting...

b. Market District – Open
The city was as bustling as always, but there was a caution since the Rathmores were seized and executed. Shops closed at sunset, more guards filtered through the market. That pleased her when she first arrived. It was a small change, one that put herself at ease.

Daenerys stops at the wharf first to gather a healthy supply of fish for Drogon, who remained on the farmlands during this venture.

When the smell of lemoncake seeps through the air outside of a bakery, Daenerys will find herself curious. The tartness – it's undeniable and it had been some time since she had anything with lemons. So carefully, she'll eye through the window of one of the bakeries like a child tempted by a second dessert.

Finally, she'll browse through a winery, beckoned by the seller's calls to passerbys to try the latest uncorked bottles. Fortunately, she does not feel compelled to drink – the last time such an occasion happened, she was nearly poisoned... So, Dany awkwardly and insistently declines. ]

MEMORY SHARE

[ Daenerys once dreamed of a giant throne cast of iron swords and of her child's face she can't quite see clearly. She dreamed of a man who would love her unconditionally, but never once could parse his identity. Dreams of lemon trees and red doors often found themselves keeping her tight in her bed until the sun crept upon the horizon.

But, dreams in Aefenglom were not of wonder or omens. They were magic, she knows this to be true, forced upon them without consent or reason. This one is no different... The Looking Glass House was all but wondrous, imposing and still for the curious. Upon arriving, Dany's mirror was clear: dragonscales line the frame and twigs from a lemon tree sprout from the cracks and edges and underneath the edges glows an ember of fire. Anyone who dares go to Dany's mirror...? Oh, they were in for some Fun Times... ]

*Dany's prompts are here to choose from. Please list which memory you'd like to see and I can whip something up!

WILDCARD

[ Dany will be stopping in Aefenglom for business, but will make a special stop at the refugee area in city. She'll be delivering some extra bags of goods from the farm's owner and ensuring they have been treated well. She will also offer jobs to the strong refugees who wish to find coin and housing outside of the city.

Additionally, Dany would not be opposed to watching a meteor shower if she has visitors late at the farmlands!

If you have an idea for another wildcard, please feel free to PM me and we can hash it out! ]

Comments

Delivery service~

[cryptsleeper]

[There are in fact people much better qualified to do delivery service than Alucard. He isn't as swift as he used to be, and after having people tromp about in each other's memories, the man is also far too on edge. Not the best bedside manner for dropping off official sort of documents, or for being around people in general.

Except that's usually the point of heading out to areas like farmlands - not being around people. Clearing one's head. A good excuse to...well, the justifications can go on. The point is that Alucard's accepted the task for selfish reasons and takes no issue with them.

"She'll be by the stables, most likely. Round back and follow the scent," was all the instruction Alucard had received once he arrived at the property. He did as he was instructed, opening the barn door to the stables and then being careful to announce himself.]

Hello? Anyone here?

[freeing]

[ The horses were getting restless. Part of her felt a bit of guilt taking them off to work in the city as some gaurd's mount. They seemed content here, the raised by the love of the farm's owner – but love not always win out.

Perhaps that is why it was now Daenerys who was trusted to deliver horses, not Lady Edre, the owner. The parting was sweet sorrow, but the coin was sweeter – it was known. Dany had learned by now how to detangle knots and brush one's hair – instead of simply combing, she finds comfort braiding the horses into braids similar to her own.

It was not until her humming and trance-like focus was broken by a call out. She jumps only slightly, stepping out from one of the stalls with a curious glance. ]

Yes? I'm here –

[ And the words catch in her throat, she offers a cordial smile. ]

Ser.

[cryptsleeper]

I'm only here to deliver mail, I promise.

[There's a small satchel bag slung across Alucard's shoulder, all dark leather with no particular embellishments. He doesn't move to go about the task yet though - he waits for permission to approach.]

And admittedly to have a little time outside of the city, but that's my prerogative.

[freeing]

[ She gives a courteous nod, indicating he can step forward. ]

I did not imagine you to be a courier, so consider me surprised. [ Her hands dust themselves off and the distance is closed further when she takes a few steps herself. Her defenses down, she gives a small laugh. ]

There isn't much outside of the city, but our farmlands offer a reprieve from traveling and protection from any stray Cwyld.

memory-share.

[trouvaille]

( it isn't so much that she intends to go into dany's mirror as she very much does not intend to go into another, and in the slight confusion of the hall of mirrors she is stepping in one direction without looking to the other, and

the first thing she sees is a woman. some inches taller than she is, slender, warm-skinned and dark-haired, dressed in a fashion that wouldn't seem out of place in koschei's court. )

...hello?

( probably not. )

[freeing]

[ The scene unfolded like pages pulled from a book. Line by line, scenes became vivid with details lost to the memory over time. At first, it starts with the most important – a single woman with curls more beautiful than anything Daenerys had ever seen. From the woman, the darkness in the mirror instead becomes vast – spread out across an expanse of rows of stadium seating, of arms raised in the air and the call for blood beginning.

The Fighting Pits of Meereen, a time-honored tradition. A display of true prowess to survive, despite the discomfort from the few surrounding the stranger.

The woman looks uncomfortable, her eyes unable to look forward to the display of men brawling to the death. Defensive, her eyes downwards towards the floor and hand clasped. It was a smaller man – a dwarf, many call him, who shows kindness with a small nudge and reassuring smart-mouthed comment lost to the display.

And if Gwen stares deeper, past conversations and sportsmanship – she sees a familiar silver-gold set of hair weaved into braids that cascade down her back. Gwen's words are like a ghost – or perhaps the visions before her otherworldly. If she steps forward, it is like the world parts for her to immerse herself deeper, as if wanting to be revealed. ]

[trouvaille]

( no one looks at her.

everything feels at once too-real and not at all; not dreamlike, precisely, but as if maybe she's a dream someone else might have in this place. none of it recognizable, but the atmosphere of it—the way they all hold themselves. the brawls catch her eye, and under different circumstances perhaps they would have held her—it's sort of impressive—but it's when she catches sight of someone she has seen before that she reconsiders.

she doesn't know her well. it would take her a moment to place the name, but it's a distinct look. someone from the city, or more accurately, not from the city. like her.

a dream would be different. this is, she thinks, a memory. )

[freeing]

[ Missandei's fair smile was always hard to ignore. They were rare, even if they were forced. The woman and the shorter man, Tyrion had been making idle conversations to ease the displays of violence. The time honored tradition. They keep their distance from Daenerys, a strand man sitting next to her instead and many guards keeping their Queen safe.

Or so they believe.

The crowd watches the display, booing triumphantly when an old knight from Westeros instead wins the brawl – which would result in a javelin being sent into the crowd, as if centered directly to Gwen.

It goes through her or just misses enough. Behind the woman, one would find a masked man all-but armed and soon... the crowd was full of the very same, hissing in a foreboding tongue foreign from them. ]

Why are you here?

[ The voice seems so far, but when Gwen filters between the panic of a sudden massacre, there is the same silver-gold girl she can't quite place a name to. More draconic, more tired. ]

This... can not be changed.

city business (parliament)

[mirshikar]

Your voice was missed during the proceedings, Daenerys. [ —resounding and full, Asura's greeting, extended in the instant when he falls into step with her, exiting from the halls of Parliament into the thick of the Aristocratic District.

Many things have changed since they last walked side by side (including Asura himself, his golden-scaled wings folded comfortably over his shoulders in lieu of his infamous crimson coat; his feet bare, talons clacking against the ground in time with the gentle sway of his tail as they continue on with their stroll), but it remained unlike Daenerys to be so removed from the assembly when there was so much work yet to be done. Clear to Asura now, more than ever, that bridges needed to be built not only between the Mirrorbound and Parliament, but among the Mirrorbound numbers themselves, starting with this: ]

Where are you heading? [ It's an easy question, followed by an offer borne of camaraderie— ] I'll accompany you there, if you'll have me.

[freeing]

[ Asura's greeting had been one that she was hoping for. Since their last adventure together, there was precious little time for her to make the trek into the city. His treehouse, for the most part, had still be a work in progress so she did not disturb him – just as he did not pull attention to her unusual silence during the meeting.

There's a tired, almost sarcastic sigh past her lips – eyes rolling like a child when he joins her walk. The ends of her dress kick against her boot, her appearance still deemed noble and collected despite her more... farm-life now. ]

Really? It seems you were the only one to miss it. [ She does not mean to lash out, perhaps it was part of her grown dragon-induced anger that makes her words bite, but she offers a furrowed brow and an apologetic side eye to him. ] I mean not to misspeak, I'm ... glad there were things address and put into motion.

[ It was different – it was different being part of a council instead of relying on one and delegating her will. Targaryens are notorious for not playing well with others. ]

I must visit the fishermen at the docks. Drogon is almost out of food and Lady Edre would tug my ear off if I allowed one of her chickens to fall victim to a hungry dragon. We've been barreling fish for him to char. [ A small grin follows – ] You may accompany me, if you can stand the stench.

[mirshikar]

You dare the wrong man. [ —lilting and thoroughly roguish, that declaration, marked by a flash of Asura's green eyes, for never in his life has the King been able to resist a challenge, regardless of how small it may seem. ] I am well accustomed to the perfume of the sea, her sailors, and the fish they gut on the very docks you speak of, for...

[ It reminds him, in many ways, of the home he shares with his Summer brothers and sisters on the docks of the Naviglio Grande. Rollicking and raucous, those days had been, sharing in the same tumultuous livelihood and spirit of the people knew both the grit of ocean spray and the beauty of its waters. ] The Harbor district is akin to a second home to me. There is a pride among the people who dwell there, you can see it in their tenacity and resilience, and I would go so far as to say it is no different from Lady Edre's own.

[ It had been one of the first things he'd noticed, upon paying a visit to the farmstead run by Edre Bern: the familial legacy and pride which colored the modest farmhouse as he and Daenerys spoke and stories passed between them. ]

Or your own, for that matter. [ —though he bears a crown and takes part in councils, it is simply not in Asura to ever be veiled. And while the glances he and Daenerys share in are side-long as they promenade through the streets, the King's gaze is made no less weighty, no less direct for it. Because she matters to him, he is frank, forthright when he speaks: ] And when a blow is dealt to that pride, it is only natural to nurse the wound, but a Council ceases to function as one in the moment the voices of its members are silenced.

[ His words are steady, despite the taste of her ire which still lingers upon his tongue— ] That your voice was gone from the assembly by your own will does not change this fact, Daenerys.

[freeing]

Some could claim all men are wrong, but I see only boldness before me.

[ Teasing, but there's an underlining seriousness to her tone. Valar morghulis. All men must die. It was a language no one would know – one that was particular to just herself, so why toy coyness so close to their conversation? There's a laugh under her breath, as if to try and play it off – he means her no harm she knows and part of her is desperate for the company of someone other than an elderly old woman. ]

I didn't peg a man so keen in playing with fire to be fond of wharfs and fisheries. [ But, away from the water, it was a cut-throat kind of world. It was families working to fill their children's stomachs with food, to keep the roof over their head. Where stories part for months on end to send sailors to see... Daenerys perks her brow when he speaks so bluntly to her, but it was what was needed. It makes her feel not overlooked, feels as if guidance was given towards her. Ozymandias offers it in kind, Jorah does too – but Asura... when he speaks, she truly listens

Her steps grow slower, as if trying to think and walk at the same time. ] One thing you will learn from me is I am not ashamed of my name. Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen is etched into history for doing what is right when no one believed it to be true. A mother of dragons, a khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, and a Queen of the Free Cities – [ Sorry, she ... always is so prosey!! ] I have lead and been advised, but ultimately – a Queen rules. No such title exists for me here.

[ A huff, almost childish. ]

I had never been on a council nor have my words held anything but finality in their weight.

market district

[extirpator]

[ there is a sense of familiarity to the market, to merchants clamoring for sales, eagerly attempting to draw you in. he’s made out with a fresh loaf of bread in his bag, but dany’s eye for the lemoncake does not go unnoticed. ]

Ah, can I have one lemoncake to go?

[ there’s a clatter of cunes before the container of cake is set into his hands. he nods politely, leaving the store at long last. when he sees her, he gestures it towards her with a small, subdued smile. ]

Here. This is for you. [ a gentle laugh. ] I didn’t know you liked sweets.

[freeing]

[ How could anyone ignore the sight of a dragon with silver-gold hair, violet eyes like the most blossomed of flora outside of Aefenglom's walls? Daenerys tries her best to go about her day, to tend to business over something childish as desiring sweets. But the lemons... she could smell the tartness from here

And it isn't until Nier decides to show a gesture of good-will and kindness that makes her seem a bit lost. ]

Ser? [ A genuine strike of confusion, she tries to dismiss. ] I can not accept that.

[ And for once, it wasn't fear of being poisoned. It was too humble, as if she accepted the sweets tempted her like some gambler found temptation in coin. Although, her eyes do linger... ]

They call it "lemoncake" – if it is anything as its name dictates, I'm sure it's delicious.

[ And admittedly: ]

That... was what lured me in. On any other day, I would have walked by, but it does smell delightful, doesn't it?

[ Nier gonna protag in 3....2...1... ]

[extirpator]

[ stop! it's the niichan in him! ]

We can split it. I don't care for sweets, but I know someone who does.

[ ah — his bag came with a set of silverware, fortunately. it's set down against the ground unceremoniosly, and the top of the box pops open. with a tear, a fork shakes loose from the pouch, and he slices off a piece in a fluid motion.

he's had too much experience with this, maybe. the fork, now carrying a particularly fluffy piece of cake that smells distinctly of sugar and lemon, is gestured towards her. ]

Try it. That way, you can taste it for yourself.

[freeing]

[ When Dany denies, Nier compromises. Even with the precaution that he doesn't care for sweets... he's willing to lessen the burden of guilt on accepting a gift. Tentatively, she looks at the assortment that comes with it – as if these lemoncakes were made to be shared. What a thought, huh? ]

You drive a hard bargain.

[ She admits, not fighting back. The little things, something as zesty as a cake that recalls old, fond memories, were welcomed today of all days. She'll take the fork carefully, weighing the piece a bit – with a satisfied murmur, she's unable to hide how good it tasted. It was enough of a tartness that makes her lips tighten and her eyes shut.

Sorry, bro, she's going to just kind of stand there. ]

market - lemoncakes

[chosenside]

[Familiarizing himself with the city once again has been one of his top priorities upon returning. It'll only benefit him later, especially since that's the one thing he can control, unlike his new challenge of his magic being taken away, replaced by a slow transformation into a monster. Honestly, it's not something he's looking forward to, but... he'll have to deal with it.

But walking about Aefenglom, some things are different, a lot is the same, it's as much as he expected. Despite that, however, it's always a surprise, but a pleasant one, to see someone that he recognizes. Theseus stops a few feet away from her, taking a glance at the lemoncake she's peering at through the window, before speaking up.]

You can go inside, I believe.

[Theseus teases lightly, the easiness in his expression and posture to show that he's not trying to be mean spirited by his comment. It's been a rather long time since he's spoken to Daenerys, months even, but she's someone that he hopes that's been doing well.

Of course, there's always a level of difficulty living here and an overall different standard of being 'well' in this city, but that part is always implied.]

[freeing]

[ It had been quite a long day. Losing one horse has weighed upon her, but something as simple as a smell from a fond memory long lost is enough of a distraction to just – live in the moment.

Daenerys is greeted with a familiar voice and she turns – eyes wide as if there had been just far too much distance between them in the past few months. There had been, between her own issues and his? It seems fate allowed them this time. ]

Ser! [ She calls out with an amused hum, as if trying to not piece together everything at once. ] It has been some time since we crossed paths – I hope you are well?

[ She puts the curiosities into words, as if trying to not partake in her little sweet tooth as well. Because, y'all, that lemoncake smells amazing. ]

sorry for the late! electricity was out for a couple of days

[chosenside]

I'm just fine, although I'd be rather worried if you came across me in the past three months. I've temporarily found myself back home during that time and only recently returned.

[And there's been both good and negative things about that. Theseus still isn't entirely sure that he's glad to be in Aefenglom once more, but since he doesn't have much of a say about it anyway, he's going to focus on what he wants to do. Most of that pertains to his brother, but he's still very much interested in talking with others here and doing what he can to help.

...Slightly more difficult now he's no longer a Witch, but hey, he can at least afford the lady this slice of cake. He smiles lightly, before nodding slightly at the bakery.]

I hope you're faring just as well, Miss Targaryen. Although, I do imagine that you'd be doing even better if you had a piece of that lemon cake.

MEMSHARE (give me love then tragedy)

[usurpers]

[ eren usually, very usually, takes the form of the wyvern given to him in aefenglom— when he finds himself beyond on mirror that hadn't been his intention to enter to intrude but to follow a scent, he ends up here:

a place that smells of fire, wood and ash, of dirt, sweat, horse and perhaps some blood. he walks on his legs rather than all four of his limbs, stepping through the mirror as a dragon and arriving on the other side as the man he had grown into. ]

[freeing]

[ It had been a ceremony that many would never forget. Dothraki mixed violence with passion, they saw no difference between power in their life. They fought for it. They honored it. They valued it. The strongest would lead them and he looks upon the display of dance and fucking mutually.

A pale, small khaleesi sits upon a bench carved of the finest wood and weaved through the sturdiest of threads. She looks small, terrified seated next to a man with hair as black as the night, as if she was more of a pet than an equal. Her hair was soft and fluffed, fabric light and loose against the youthful frame of a woman more brittle than glass itself. ]

Eren.

[ Another voice, one familiar, one not pleased. It was hollow and empty and as he advanced inside of her dream as a man – she was very much a woman looking at the girl she once was.

It was not the first time dubious magic brought them together, allowed them to partake in the world in which it was not – Daenerys with scales as beautiful as the sea rolling into the cliffside off in the distance, stands behind Eren with her face a ghostly white.

Seeing Eren, someone who fills her heart with a warmth hotter than she was prepared for, seeing the young girl she was is not the issue. It was not shameful, or so one would think.

But... Drogo. She sees him in her dreams at time, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. Each time, however, part of him feels gone from her mind. Memories fade, lines and scars become smoothed, and she wondered – will she ever dream so clearly again?

Now she has her answer. ]

[usurpers]

[ there were so many details to consume, but it felt as if eren couldn’t take all of what it was, where they were. everything was a second priority after he finds her, young and frail seeming next to a man triple her size and imposing aura— a sore thumb against displays of energy, fervor and the sheer intensity of whatever act was to be revered today. drinking, partying or plainly fucking for all to see, as it were. the language he hears is unknown, but not one he hasn’t heard. in a dream, months before, he swears he could hear her thick words bouncing back and forth with jorah in the stables of dorchacht.

distracted by such, his neck turns with surprise and his eyes greet her, ever stunned by the difference in woman. she was grown in mind and spirit, the body simply followed along. the sheen of her scales remind him of how vast the ocean was, beautiful and immoderate with power that could dominate those that called this home and care for them all as a mother would. his heart rises to his throat and falls to his gut as he inclines his head to greet her. who wouldn’t be stunned, truly? she had the ability. of course, he didn’t mean to be nosy and intrude. ]

You didn’t know who you were, yet.

[ saying she looked “young” held double meaning or seemed more than obvious, and such, he opts for directness. he also happens to mull more over the sound of her voice calling his name. most times, it had been ser, as he recalled.

his eyes then, hover back to the large dothraki man, about to ask, then— holding his tongue, almost literally as it doesn’t flick from his lips as often as it usually does.]

farms.

[ressusciter]

[it's the afternoon when a visitor arrives at the property, skirting the farmhouse itself and going to where the horses may be in the field. tall and dressed in dark colors, it won't be hard to guess who it is, but he approaches them gently, speaking softly until one comes over to nudge him for a treat and stroking their mane. something about all of it soothes him greatly - the simplicity and honesty of animals was something he appreciated, right now more than ever.

he knows he's intruding on territory, should announce himself formally and be a better guest than this. but right now, all he wants to do is press his head into the horse's side and breathe, feeling his thoughts creep back up since work for the day is done. later, he'll apologize. right now he needs the spring air and the feeling of something there.]

[freeing]

[ The horses were not much startled by visitors now. Lady Edre had kept an 'open door' policy her poor naive husband took to heart, welcoming anyone tired enough to stop or hungry enough to seek a farmer's wares.

Dany finds grooming them relaxing enough – mainly because it reminds her so fondly of the self-care she shared with her handmaidens. Grooming in general was something she took seriously, why each braid weaved into her scalp had purpose and accomplishment.

When she was entrusted with the horses? They earned their braids too. She looks in the pasture for a few horses still needing upkeep – and then, she sees a familiar face. One she hasn't exactly followed up with recently. It wasn't awkward, it simple makes her worry she had let time slip away from her like the mane of a stallion through her fingers. ]

Careful, I may start charging you.

[ressusciter]

If you did, I'd accept your price and pay it.

[pulling away from the horse, his eyes meet Dany's. he's not exactly smiling, but there's a calm recognition there. time may have passed, but he's not upset about it. he just looks...tired, really, weighed down with weariness.]

The air out here's better for the spirit, anyhow.