middaeg | (semi-closed)

[ She use to admire the moon at night. It was something she could always find in the sky when she needed something to distract her mind. From the long nights being used by Khal Drogo to the endless longing for home when her ships sailed across the Narrow Sea. Here... it was different and part of her is not sure if that is a good or bad thing. It is an echoing reminder: Doreah, her Dothraki handmaid, spoke so clearly of the legend of how dragons came to their world. A second moon, which cracked like an egg and spilled out the creatures.

She wonders: is that so far-fetched now?

It was not the moonlight peeking through her window that garners her attention. It was a singing that haunts her mind. Makes the dreams she dares to enjoy cease and pull her from her slumber. It felt as if she was out of her own body – that standing, moving across her room, and out of it was all something otherworldly. Was she still dreaming?

Melodic magic weaves its way through Dany's core, her feet leading her past Jorah's apartment, down the hallway – exactly to where Four lingers. Whether it was another apartment complex or her own, Dany's bare feet show no sign of stopping until she finds her way to the source. To find the end of this charm that leaves her daze.

Four's figure was beautifully lit in the silver glow, her own knees feeling compelled to kneel before such a sight – such an alluring beast that charms her in ways no woman or man had. It takes a strong resolve for her to realize something was wrong – so she croaks with a soft whisper past her lips: ]

My lady...?

[ someone would come, someone had to, it didn’t matter who. perhaps, maybe she wouldn’t mind paloma at this point either. there was too much blackness oozing from the holes of her heart and no where to go but to fill her chest, empty her of anything truly sweet (if there had always been some left to begin with).

the one who calls for her in turn makes four’s very heart twist like a knife being plunged through her gut. it hurt. it hurt, it hurt, it always hurt. four has little control over the rancorous black swan beneath the crawling of her skin. no one would like that, the frightened part of the intoner pleads. no one would love me for who i am. ]

Sweet Daenerys, [ and so the ugly black swan coaxes four: let us find out, then. she steps forward, her hands in front of her and beckoning. ] we meet again.

[ she wants to touch the woman’s hands, and smiles quaintly when she’s allowed to cradle them (her hands, though, they tremble. they tremble with the rage of a fighter who has only tasted loathing). ]

Would you mind if we spoke?

Edited 2019-08-12 15:41 (UTC)

[ The woman haunts her. As the chilled breeze catches against her skin, she knows not how to pry her eyes away. Mind, body – it too remained rooted like a lemon tree. Her form feels heavy, eyes wanting to shut but how dare she shut them at the source of the song? Her words follow soon, just as sweet as strings and drums that bring her back to happier times. Simpler times. ]

You drag me from my dreams, here and now. Why...?

[ She dreamed of her far away world. Of Essos and the lover she left behind. Of the husband now ash and cinder. Of the child dead on arrival. Four takes that from her and sadness does swallow her heart, but she doesn't show it – even in her haze those eyes of her stare to her like a Queen – full of purpose.

And Dany's purpose was an answer. ]

What do you want of me?

[ that was want. that was resolve. little four might even cower at it, as zero had approached her with her sword. every time, four had cried, and screamed for mercy.

what does she have to lose here, now? ]

Oh, [ she starts, her tone wondering. ] I hadn’t been aware that dreams are as tangible as the waking world. Phantoms may gain the upper hand against the living at this rate.

[ she giggles— unhinged and soon fleeting. you see, that’s actually a funny joke. because she no longer belongs to the living. four has perhaps gotten either a second chance or a terrible loop of dreams to be stuck in. her personal hell.

as passive and as “harmless” this was, the touch of aggression to her tone was so misplaced, if you were to compare this girl to the one met at a quaint little fashion show for children. I hate that look, four thinks as she fixes her smile for the queen. i hate that look people make when they think they’re something grand. ]

I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I was . . . Lonely.

[ The only mercy she gets now is the gaze of a dragon still wrapped in the skin of a young girl. The words this woman speaks are still so lost to her, phantoms and tangibility – Dany wanted the simplicity of escaping her turmoil with sleep. To visit those who were not with her, to wish without guilt.

Four taunts her and soon, her knee drops and the weight in her body feels like bricks burying her alive. Why? Why? Why? It echoes in her mind and it is not until the tone subsides enough for her melodic voice to seep into her ears again, twisting through her mind. How could she be angry? Daenerys can see the loneliness wash over the girl. ]

You are not alone. Not now. Please – [ It takes a few moments for her to regain some sense, for her to look up with a pleading expression. ] Tell me how I can help you.

[ from smile to frown, to a dull straightness in her lips, four is quick to change her mood. that was not was she expected. she expected a fight, not compassion. she tries to look at the woman, at possibly the same height as her, as if she were larger. as if four could look down on her as lesser— but the more she tried, the more she couldn't.

the more she felt like the smaller one and it made her sick. ]

Am I not? [ she looks nowhere close to laughing, now. as if she had never chortled at all. an anger claws in her gut, claws so desperately to pull out of her— the pinches in her shoulder burn, prickle like needles. ] There is no fixing a shattered vase. An ugly, shattered vase—

[ why did she say that? four stops, dead silent before the rage can seep through her teeth, and uttering nearly hushed words. ]

But you are not shattered.

[ Daenerys would have fought if she had the will. She's tired – it had become obvious over the past few nights that she tosses and turns, only briefly finding reprieve from the fear of changing herself. It was ignoring the problem, ignoring a tide that continues to sweep her away – but she has no dragons here, no army behind her.

Her eyes can still make out Four's – how she washes herself in confusion and can't settle on an emotion herself. It makes Dany's teeth grit. ]

We are people. People are not shattered until their bones dust to time. [ No – she pushes off her knees, standing taller with her resolve. ] It does not mean I am free of flaws. Do not ever presume that about me.

[ she does not sing again— but four chortles, twirling into a small spin with the tips of her toes, boots chafing at the roof they wander about, lifting, hovering away . . . it reminded her of her dance with viren. it was so close to perfect. so, so perfect. quiet in silence once more, with only the wind to whisper to them, four twists with her hair snapping along with her, her small lips pulling into a frown that wants to shed tears. ]

Everyone has flaws— of course. [ oh, she knows. four walks over to the ledge, the very edge of it, before finding her seat. a dangerous place to be, but it doesn’t matter. ] It’s only a matter of which are best endured to see the good in others. Come here, it needn’t be close.

[ a small beckon, but dany will find that it is not laced with her song— not yet. ]

Which prevails for you?

[ Daenerys keeps her stance – keeps her distance from the woman. As she may watch the fluttering movements intently, there's a wall being built between them. Where she once had been more open, she closes off now. ]

I am fine where I am. [ She does not come off cold, instead tired and unamused. ] You stand here above everyone, singing a song and wishing for answers you do not wish to hear.

[ More firmly, sympathetic with how her brows knit downward: ]

Your mind is already made up – what does it matter what I say? The truth is not what you wish to hear, is it, my lady?

Is it wrong to ask which you take into account? That maybe I am not as alone as I think? Perhaps— that you would not mind . . .

[ four was wrong, in fact, she’s simply twisting her words, desperately to gain an upper hand in reasoning that she would always lose in. to seem like the victim in her cries that grasp so highly for gain. her head falls, droops across her shoulders in a roll, and her legs swing against the air, empty beneath them— only for momentum to jump to her feet.

black feathers creep from under her collar, poke out of her neck the more she feeds the monster that grows in her. these, she clasps, and she yanks. yanks them right off. she rejects it as much as she’s always rejected herself.

maybe that would be a good reason for her behavior, later. she can blame it all on this. ]

You have given me all the truth I need tonight, lady. You are there for those when it is convenient, sound for your sweet face— [ but that was what four was, not dany. ] Have you ever imagined it clawed? Torn? Unrecognizable? You haven’t, have you? Have you ever wanted to do it yourself?

We wear our vulnerabilities dear to us, buried beneath thick skin and muscle that keeps us moving through day by day. It is mine to share, when I am ready.

[ Her voice is sharp like a blade, defensive over the badges of uncertainty and fear that boils inside of her like a hot furnace. Daenerys does not mean nor want to guilt the girl but take away her choices and she feels cornered. More angered. However when she begins to reject herself, tugging at plume – Daenerys takes a few steps forward with an outreached hand. ]

Stop it! You're hurting yourself! [ There is still concern there, but she speaks in a cruel, cold way. It makes her skin crawl, mind racing to try and piece the logic of why she would torment herself both physically and mentally. ] Is that what you wish for? To pull away a semblance of yourself? Do not aim your angers towards me, your doubts and fears are not weapons to wield.

Vulnerabilities were never meant to share.

[ she says this as if she hadn’t done it, but the way four slinks back into herself after a second, two— she’s already realized. she had told zero once. i would never reveal my weaknesses. perhaps it had been true, but the moon . . . the moon is persuasive. she has never hated herself more that she did now. ]

No one will love me this way, [ she chokes that out, and she hates that she’s saying it, too. but there’s still somewhere inside that wants something. ] no one ever did, Lady Daenerys. It won’t be you who will suddenly be different.

[ the feathers that were in her hands, like those of a fledgling, only a chick— she opens her fingers to the wind. ]

I cannot suddenly be different, either.

[ although, she wants to be. the rollercoaster of her emotions were bothersome. she was angry one moment, wanting to wail the next. ]

[ It was painful to watch. Not only for her own anger of being brought here by something she can't explain, but because the girl rips into herself as if she's digging for something. ]

I do not have love to give, no. My love died long ago. [ With her son, with her Khal, and now with the loss of her dragons. It was not something she gives in to. Something she needs to explain but her careful steps forward show that she does offer something – the attention Four may be seeking? Who knows. ] But you have yourself. When the world crushes you, you have to have faith in yourself. You are slipping into madness! Please, do not allow it to snuff your flame out.

[ The sight of the feathers catching the wind makes her stomach churn, it makes her feel helpless. ]

(semi-closed)

scoops up – please let me know if this works!!!

👀👀👀👀👀 this is,, so great

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