EVENT - THE BLACK CITY

[faileas]

Event Log: August, The Black City

A STARLESS SKY You feel like you're floating. Around you, colors and sounds and smells swirl as if trapped in a whirlpool, vibrancy and hue ever shifting. The more you watch them, the less solid they are; they only become clear out of the corner of your eye. The area around you begins to feel more solid as well, until your feet are on the ground, the taste of smog and fog heavy in your lungs - and you know one thing, and one thing alone: this is a dream, and an incredibly realistic one at that. Unlike the last time this shared dream happened, only familiar faces of your fellow mirrorbound appear around you; and unlike the last time that flavor of dream happened, those native to the city of Aefenglom are nowhere to be found. Instead, an impossibly tall wall raises in front of you; along it run small windows with people peering from the edges, arrows shimmering with the tell-tale glitter of magic peeking from the darkness, with more figures standing guard or patrolling the top of it. The wall itself is made of a dark, onyx-like stone - it's reflective in the smoothness of its bricks, painting all who look into it in clear darkness, and the effect is similarly found in the wide moat that surrounds the city, the faint sound of a river feeding into it the only thing to hear in the tense silence. Only one massive door stands as the entrance to the city, chains hanging across it with the protective runes of a barrier some of you might be familiar with by now. With a groan the chains begin to pull away, the door lowering across the moat as a bridge, and a party of Witches - for they must be Witches, the pins on their cloaks the same as those found in the Coven in Aefenglom - urges the group inside. Monsters find it easier to obey the orders - compelled to, even - but perhaps that's the safety of the city calling out to you, and nothing more.

I. THE CITY ITSELF While Aefenglom is known for its dusk-hued skies, made of lustrous pinks and purples and blues, this city is dreary to the core. The streets are covered in a perpetual fog, not unlike the city you hail from, but thicker, denser, tinged with the flavor of industrial smog from the factories whose spires you can see in the distance. Magitech lights - lanterns above doors, street posts, flickering in the windows you pass - illuminate everything throughout the entire day, as if the sunshine can't reach through the foreboding fog nor the onyx walls. Even the windows are barred, offering a paranoid protection against the outside world. Doors seem hardier, and each building is reinforced and protected in a way that may feel familiar to those that have encountered the protective magic wards. They're heavier, leaving an almost ominous presence that causes unease to hang just as heavy in the air as the smog. The people of this city are just as dreary as the streets, though they do mill about with the same frequency as any city. Unlike the citizens of the dead Aefenglom that were encountered just the month before, however, these are real, living people. They can be spoken to. They can be touched. They interact with wariness and caution towards the strangers that have been heralded into their walled in world, especially those that show what they presume to be monstrous traits. Because it becomes quickly obvious that the majority of the citizens that answer a call, a question, a touch to gain their attention... They're human. a. OBEY AND SUBMIT Monsters that can be seen on the streets aren't few and far between, however. Their presence is subtle, in the fog and amidst the passing crowds of passing faces, but they're there. On a surface level, most of them seem to be fairly at ease. Passive and unfazed by anyone that tries to interact with them, as if they're disinterested by their mere presence in a way that isn't reflected by their human counterparts. A closer look shows a strained pinch to their faces, a tenseness to their bodies, a glazed look just at the surface of their eyes. Too many attempts to interact with them will cause some humans to emerge from shops, or ask that you leave their business; these are the ones that are... employed, most often seen in the shopping and industrial districts. But their movements are almost robotic in repetition, and they never speak to anyone even when addressed - even when a keen eye might take note of the sturdy leather collars around their necks, reinforced by metal and with visible places to attach a leash. Some in the industrial district can be seen with these leashes, powerful chains to keep them attached to carts, to keep them from swimming down the river, from flying away and out of the black walls of the city. All Monsters present in the city are clothed, though it's the ones on the clearly decorative leashes with the more delicate collars that are the best dressed. They accompany humans throughout the city, the same placid blankness present much like their busier counterparts. These are the aristocrats and their so-called "Bonded," though implying the same tone one would take in Aefenglom here will net a deep set of disgust. Attempting to rouse these Monsters does very little, and may even result in them jerking away and cowering behind their human company. b. GOING ONCE, GOING TWICE At one end of the city is a massive pavilion, one made of the same stone as the wall, giving off the same oppressive foreboding. Humans come and go from this peculiar town square with a casual air, an intent the same as a stroll through the stalls on the market street. Because that's, essentially, what they're doing. Monsters young and old put on display to show their abilities and strengths, tasks that range from the physically demanding to performances of artistic abilities. Some seem to be just at the surface of awareness, their glazed expressions refocusing at times with a sort of strained fear that's visible even at a glance. Many don't even react outside of doing the tasks they're ordered to do, going through the motions as a barker speaks at length about them, their abilities, how much their labor goes for and what they cost. These Monsters are purchased by the humans of the city at each display, many of them never wearing more than their basic clothes and the customary collar, a chain to keep them tied to their station with a generous enough reach. Most come and go with very little struggle, but some... it becomes obvious that they've broken through the surface and are coming up for air for the first time in a long time. Wooden posts where the chains are connected can be heard splintering with the force of their struggle, metal bending under pressure, the anxious energy of something about to happen. But the fights never last long, as attendants wearing Coven pins on their cloaks swoop in to attend to the situation - and many dreamers might notice a familiar Witch filtering in and out of the events, speaking to the auctioneers before departing for another selling. It's difficult to recall their face later, no matter how clearly one saw it before, but one thing is certain: while not necessarily prim and proper, this person is someone with a steel spine and a sharp eye. And they saw you, just the same as you saw them. c. AT BECK AND CALL With enough observation, or perhaps even experience, it becomes apparently how this is happening: any command or order issued to a Monster is taken to the most literal, and Monsters have no choice but to obey. Many Monsters employed as workers are so deep in the compulsion that they won't obey any additional commands, unless it comes from the person they have this most warped "Bond" with. Others will accept commands from anyone, even the mirrorbound Witches that have come into their city. Even the most asinine command is one that they'd obey, and one that maybe even you'll obey, too. Having a friend playfully tell them to shut up? They're forced into silence until told that they can speak again. Told to jump off a bridge? Best make sure you specify that you don't want them to jump off of a very high one, if you really want them gone that badly. Handstands, cartwheels, jumping jacks - but also, hurting someone, hurting themselves... one has to hope the Monster in question has a strong willpower, or it's a command that goes against one that's already been issued to them. But something of note is that mirrorbound Monsters of Aefenglom will find that they're also effected by this, though they're better able to fight the compulsion. Those with weaker constitutions may need help snapping out of the command, especially as a powerful command will be painful to fight against, and Witches will have to watch their words. Take care that your friends, your peers, the strangers you've arrived with, don't find themselves attending the auction block - it's a very real possibility in this place, with an unknown Monster unattended and uncollared. It should all be harmless, though. After all, this is only a dream... isn't it? No NPCs are available for this log - unlike with the midsummer dream, they're nowhere to be seen. No Nessie, no Mhairi, no one. Which means that there's no one to counsel them as they find themselves exploring the setting, and discovering that they're just as susceptible as the people in the dream...

II. THE COVEN Unlike with Aefenglom, there isn't a proper Parliament. A little investigation will lead to the discovery that the Coven of this city is the main governing body, which may explain a great deal about why there's such a massive presence of magic here. Located at the center of town - all roads lead to the Coven, a massive stone building with sharp looking spires - the grounds are notable in that there's nothing even remotely similar to the Looking-Glass House that everyone has come to know, despite its secrets. Should one gain entry to the main building of the Coven itself, they'll find that all the mirrors are within. Their main focuses of magic, rather than the more broad spectrum/free-to-study policy that Miss Nessie encourages, are enchantment and abjuration - for control, primarily. They're also heavy studiers of runes, visible across the city and with an even heavier influence in the wards of the Coven itself. They are, regardless, fairly welcoming to eager young minds wanting to learn. So long as the Monsters are left behind. But who's to say that you can't disguise a Monster? a. STUDY TIME Those curious about the Coven's library are welcome to investigate it for themselves, the Witches all smiling faces as they usher their visitors in. But they'll soon find that they aren't really left to their own devices; a member of this Coven branch is practically around every corner, and while they try to be subtle about their observation it becomes quickly obvious that they're not there for their own studies. They're stationed around the library to ensure that their guests don't make off with any of their resources, or try to get into any forbidden sections of the expansive library. Where the Coven library of Aefenglom - as well as the Undermael College's library - plays devil's advocate, with accounts and studies conducted from both sides of the anti-Monster sentiment and attempt to expand upon outdated knowledge... these ones have a decidedly anti-Monster lean in every regard. Any attempts to find otherwise will be met with bemused amusement by the Coven members, and a note that they don't carry such things here. After all, they're certainly not Aefenglom. They would never carry anything that could put their citizens at risk in such a way. Nevermind those horrid Bonds that Bell goes on and on about - it's no wonder that they're always at odds with their government. If only they'd wisen up, hm? Perhaps these new arrivals would like to transfer to their branch, instead, to better guarantee their growth. b. THROUGH THESE HALLS If one manages to slip away from the library without having somebody tailing them, they'll soon discover that the chilled atmosphere doesn't simply linger in the city itself. The halls are cold, the runes unwelcoming unlike the homey feel that Nerissa Bell's charms offer. Certainly home isn't perfect - and there's no denying that the sentiment is shared by many - but the smiling faces of the Black City's branch are at odds with the feel of their magic, the caged in weight pressing down on everything, including your shoulders. The halls are dimly lit by flickering lights, enchanted lanterns with a constantly burning yellow-white fire. Plenty of nooks and dark corners afford even large Monsters the ability to sneak through the halls, should they be snuck in for better investigation with their peers. Take care, however; there are Witches coming and going constantly. An empty room might lead to a study, a classroom, a bedroom. Locked doors don't yield easily, even in a dream, and may need to be abandoned. But a terrible, foreboding feeling emanates from large double doors that are rigidly locked. Hushed voices speak from the other side, and it's almost like the cold feeling that spreads throughout the Coven itself finds its source behind those doors. Periodically, sounds of pain escape from within - but they die out to whimpers, then silence, before they can ever get too loud. A crisp voice speaks only one word, clear even through the wood and the magic: "Again."

III. THE DARK UNDERBELLY There's always more to a city than the streets that you can see at the surface level. If you're looking, it's not hard to spot the signs. There are runes that mark walls and cobblestone streets like graffiti, and a studied eye might realize that they're not the same sort that have subjugated the more monstrously inclined of the Black City. These are intended to dispel magic, and the moment that a member of the Coven notices it - it's swept up as soon as possible, scrubbed clean or scorched off with magic. People take to the streets in small groups, standing their ground and raising their voices above the muffled din of a foggy city. They carry chains and collars that have been broken, but many of them are undeniably human as they confront something that has so obviously become the norm. Break the chains! they demand. Break the spell! Monsters go missing from the auctions with a well-placed distraction - perhaps you're one of the individuals being freed from the pavilion, or someone that's realized that there are people coming and going through the crowds, wearing the same cloaks as the Coven but without their iconic pins, dressed as aristocracy, from all walks of life... smuggling the Monsters away at the first chance. a. PARTY TO PROTEST Not every uprising can be swept under the rug at first sign, however. Witches take to the streets, looking surprised to see the mirrorbound arrivals from Aefenglom - and it's not the same wariness that most would give them. This is the calculating eye of someone assessing whether the person they've met will help or hinder, and some of them decided that you're to be help. Enchanted slips of paper are pushed into hands, runes are taught as quickly as possible in a hushed whisper and explanation, locations given out to Witch and Monster alike with a word of caution. Use the paper on a surface, any surface, and you'll see. Use the runes to break the compulsion - you might have to do it twice, thrice, however many times it takes to dispel the magic. Don't be caught. Using the enchantment as instructed - pressing the paper against a wall, the ground, a post, anything - will result in glowing runes overtaking the surface. It's the same as the runes that are taught to Witches, used to ward against the magic in place just as much as it is to create a statement of protest. If one goes to a location that is whispered to them, they'll find that they've joined an organized protest. It's small in size, a mixture of Witches and unleashed Monsters. Due to the size and frequency it's easy enough to find them, but the guards are very quick in putting them down or hiding any traces of them from the public eye, despite the protesters' best attempts. There's nothing amiss in the city, and nothing for citizens to worry about. b. REST AND REGROUP But they can't find every source of the resistance. It isn't hard for dreamgoers to find themselves swept up by these protesters. Any help is welcome, and those that show an inclination towards helping the Monsters of the city - or their Monsters that they know, regardless people that shouldn't suffer this way - will be taken into the fold. Entrances to their secret routes can be found in places that are hidden in plain sight. A storefront tended to by a Monster with eyes in sharp clarity when they look up from their robotic work welcomes a group of people in and behind the counter, to where a hatch door is hidden in the floor. A manhole cover is pried up, where people are smuggled down below. A portal is prepared, a different and darker destination on the other side. They all lead to the same location. The sewers are vast beneath this city. Much like the labyrinth that many faced in the Midsummer nightmare, it almost seems winding, endless, and the water is cold when it's crossed. But even with the stank of the runoff, the musty and moldy air, there's never the sense of dread, of death. Instead, there are signs of when you're going the right way - runes that shimmer only when looking at them out of the corner of your eye, or when you know what to look for. Three stars together - sometimes overlapping, sometimes circling each other, but always three, and always five points. While they appreciate the help, the mirrorbound aren't invited in by the revolutionaries to the main hideout. But it becomes obvious by charm bracelets, necklaces, piercings, tattoos, embroidery and stitching on shirts; this symbol, and its presence, is integral to their world beneath the city. But many are welcome to mingle throughout their circle. In the sewers, the shops, the small park where a rune gives secret announcements to those who know where to look for it on the third bench, even the homes of people that certainly don't look like revolutionaries, let alone anyone that would be a protector.

Welcome to the Black City! As a reminder, this takes place on August 18th - or rather, 3AM on the August 19th, much like the midsummer nightmare. If you have any questions or need any clarifications, you can ask them here! And as always, while we do encourage you to use this log, you can feel free to thread things out on your own log or elsewhere. Characters are allowed to try and start fights in the city, create prompts based on the information given instead of using the ones given exactly, and poke their noses where they don't belong - we encourage it, actually. But regardless of what you choose, we hope you have a good time!

And as a final parting note: If a character dies in the dream, they'll simply reappear at the beginning rather than waking up like normal.

Comments

[freeing]

[ He's admitted things to her in the wake of exile, in the fear of never seeing her again. It is something known, something others see clear as day as well. Daenerys will never pry for more – not at this current state, anyway. His words are long buried in her mind, but she is respectful enough to know the tension that can still reside between them.

She allows him to touch her, trusts him not to do so in a way that brings discomfort. If there is anyone knowledgeable in both dragons and scales... it was Jorah. The touch was enough for him to feel the texture, to tilt her head and show off the patches pushing up from the surface. Dany remains quiet until he speaks again. ]

I care not of beauty. [ It brings a bit of red to her face and she feels like a girl again. She had been worried of it scarring her, making her less than what she was when she arrived. ] I do not wish to look like a fool. A monster.

[ She admits, weakly – and hoping Jorah does not take it the wrong way. His disease had been different than what the others face here. He went to the ends of the earth to find a cure, knowing it was a death sentence, not a change in himself.

He pulls away and her hands comb over her hair to her neck, tucks her collar back together tighter. ]

Here I am fearful and complaining... After all you have been through, my bear – [ Dany still shows a kind gesture despite the worries in her mind. He may try to tug his hands back behind him, but one reaches forward – she grabs at his hand. Rougher than he'd imagine. Her thumb finds his knuckles, barely dancing over the beginning of his scar tissue. ] Tell me if I offend you. You wear much worse than scales, do you not?

[heartsbane]

[ he isn't so arrogant that he thinks his confession is worth her remembrance, but he also understands that it isn't easy to forget what her closest friend told her prior to leaving for what was feared to be the last time she would ever see him. there's a permanent layer of tension there as a result, left unaddressed and unattended in hopes of moving past the repercussions of it all. Jorah would acknowledge and speak to it if she decided to ask, but he is also relieved that it hasn't been on the top of her list of things to do. a little more time playing pretend is fine with him. ]

Of course. But whether or not you care, it does not take away from the truth. You have nothing to fear, khaleesi.

[ they could theoretically try and remove it with a sharpened knife or scalpel, using what he had learned from the Maesters of the Citadel... but he won't even consider it unless it grows worse. she doesn't need to suffer through the pain of feeling it separate from her skin. not if it's benign and hardly unappealing. the opposite for someone with the blood of a dragon already inside her long before Aefenglom.

when she snatches her hand back into her tiny grasp, he is left surprised. Jorah doesn't find words at first, well aware of the intent of her question but stunned by her gesture. his throat stutters for a few moments before his free hand places itself on the top of her own hand, a familiar move he has done to her in the past. ]

No offense, my dear. I simply wear a reminder of what my past mistakes cost me. 'Tis all.

[ he wouldn't have been braving a journey through the ruins of Old Valyria if it wasn't for being exiled in the first place, and Jorah would never dare place blame on her for the cause-and-effect of what came to be. all that happened to him is on him and him alone. ]

[freeing]

[ It will always replay in her mind. It was one of the greatest losses in her life. She recalls vividly awakening to her child's death. Recalls the last moment her husband breathed, eyes glazed over and unresponsive. She remembers the loss of her handmaidens and riders who she swore to protect.

...and among those memories, was Jorah leaving her with Daario in search of a cure for a death sentence from the Gods themselves. He had been there from the beginning, since she grew from a girl to a woman. Of course she held his heart and feelings in regard, but there are more important things. A Queen sacrifices – a Queen rules. He was to help her do that, even after he returned. She could not dwell on much, on losing him and being blessed to regain her closest friend.

They still toe lines that make her unsure, that puts a man so proud and loyal in a vulnerable light. Daenerys wishes not to do that to him. Impulsively, taking his hand yields a more sheepish expression, merely because she encroached on a space they both do not cross often. ]

Mistakes that have been forgiven. [ Dany wants to remind him. With his hand in hers, there's a forced smile and she is quite light-hearted – more than she usually was. ] We will make quite a duo now, if this condition spreads. Scars and scales.

[ It's morbid, but true. One day her hand may weave with silver shimmer and his a dull pinkness – quite a choice for aesthetics.

Dany gulps and slowly relaxes her fingers, her eyes looking up to him – from chest to his own neck. ]

May I ask... [ She's cautious and curious all in the same, sympathy pooling in her eyes. ] How close was I from losing you? How far had it spread?

[heartsbane]

[ the reminders are happily accepted, but unneeded. he doesn't look for her pity or comfort when he expresses his honest feelings. part of what allowed him to return to Daenerys a healed man is learning to let go of the burden of guilt and shame that followed him through his inevitable exile. as much as thinking about it hurts him to this day, he felt a weight lifted once she finally knew, for better or worse. she knows everything there is to know about Jorah now, and she still accepts him under no false pretense.

her dark humor is enough to make him blow out a hot air of laughter through his nose, shaking his head at his queen in amusement and humorously scolding her through his eyes along. he takes it that she's been around Tyrion quite a bit if she is able to more often make light of situations. that wasn't always a strong suit of her in the early days. ]

And here I thought we always made quite the duo.

[ two can play that game, Ms. Stormborn. it's nice to divert the topic to something light, if only for a few fleeting seconds. and it is indeed just a few seconds, because it doesn't take like for Dany to lay on the heavy question. he pulls his hands away from her, acting instinctively without thinking again. almost as if he thought his greyscale suddenly returned. it's obvious from his deep inhale that he is pained and conflicted, but not for reasons she may assume. ]

I do not want to lie to you, but I do not want you to worry more than you already have for me. The details are not pretty, even for someone who has seen so much ugly in the world as is.

[freeing]

[ Her dark humor was more along the lines of trying to find a tether to them. Some kind of common ground they shared now – even if he was far more ashamed of his than she is of the budding scales that feel so foreign to her.

He rarely cracks honest smiles, smirks as if he knows things she does not. It was a rare day when Jorah Mormont did anything rather than keep his stern expression. Seeing it, even a small bit of amusement, does make her feel less at ease.

Doesn't stop her from being serious because I like making us hurt, though.

Her question was honest and when he tugs from her grasp he can see the regret in her clearly, from how her fingers curl tightly like a dying spider. ]

You have seen me at my worst, Ser. I only wish to offer to share that same trust. [ Months ago she may have wished to never see him again unless he was a corpse at her feet. ] I understand if you do not wish to share – I... can not imagine it and I am still thankful you have returned to me. I need you more than ever now.

[ It was no Iron Throne, but they were all each other had here. The dream does well to mess with time and perception, sure, but it shows changes in them now. It would have only rattled her mind if she faced this alone. Daenerys stammers her words out before sighing out. ]

I am here for you, when you are ready.

[heartsbane]

[ it's easier to find an excuse to smile when he's constantly reminding himself of how fateful their reunion had been. the situation may look pretty grim when considering it all — being stripped of her power, her right to the throne, her inherited family — but Jorah has learned to view things positively as of late. he has always been a realist and a skeptic, cynical towards most things thanks to his age and what past events have shown him. having a second change at life helps freshen his perspective, and he hopes she can see that in the way she looks at her knight. ]

That I have.

[ she didn't have to remind him. he knows all too well. a lost little sheep tethered to her selfish brother, a broken woman who had lost her child. it was all painful to see, and she had no choice but to show it to him. to hide what makes him most vulnerable feels almost unfair by comparison, and he is left with a heavy sigh that shows he is weighing his thoughts on the matter. Daenerys validating her need for him always helps. keep doing that, khaleesi. tell him how much of a good boi he is. ]

Of course you are. You are a fair queen. You listen to all your subjects. You take in their plights as your own.

[ it isn't as if she caused the scars on his body. he shouldn't fear the repercussions of her seeing what was left of him after his brush with death. Dany has seen his hands when afflicted with the disease, and she has surely witnessed the healing skin. Jorah clears his throat rather awkwardly, and if she tries to make eye contact with him, she'll notice that he is purposely looking away. ]

—I will need to undo my armor in front of you, my Queen. If you are to have no objections, perhaps it is better I show you rather than try to describe.

uses the best icon

[freeing]

[ Their history was full of bumpiness, but it lead him back to her in the end. He did the impossible and for that, she is forever grateful. The softness in her eyes were beyond the pity of a Queen – it was an honest, true friend that looks at Jorah. Her stomach twists into knots at his words, not out of his flattery but because he does understand they are not alone. They do have each other to rely on. His sword is hers, her forgiveness is his. ]

You forget care for my closest adviser like a dearest friend.

[ ONE DAY IT WILL BE MORE, YOU WILL SEE.

Daenerys didn't ask for much – she was willing to give him space and still ease into her own realization of the changes to her body. Perhaps she didn't need to feel like someone understood her – that she had a kinship or sense of belonging, but she did. She couldn't help it with her request for him to show honesty.

He speaks carefully about undoing his armor and she looks down and away as if he suggested something lewd. She clears her throat as well, words more firm instead of sheepish. She owed it to him to accept all he had done to return to her. It only felt right. ]

I will allow it. [ And she turns, as if looking away during the undressing process would make things better? ] I wish to know how far you have come, so please. If you will.

not fair

[heartsbane]

I shall never forget that. Perhaps I just wanted to hear you say it.

[ if Jorah was younger, perhaps more shallow-minded or easier to make jealous, he would find himself disheartened by the reminder of their friendship. he has accepted long, long ago that his feelings would never become something that could be returned even if Daenerys had the opportunity to let herself feel them. he can deal with seeing her flirt with other men and/or women, listen to her talk about marriage as nothing more than a chess piece to move on a board. what kind of man would he be to twist her words of warmth and encouragement into something bitter?

he refuses, so the teasing twist of his lips after his words is genuine. he thinks nothing more of it.

Dany thinking about him coming, though? he thinks about that. coming far, i mean............ ]

Of course, khaleesi. [ Jorah doesn't hesitate moving forward. he begins to undo his armor bit by bit, looking over his shoulder to ensure that they were still safe and secure in their current location. the last thing he wants is for witches to find them stuck in a tight, confined space with his protection on the ground. not that it would help much against magic, anyway. he finds a bit of humor in her turning away as if she is but a modest, humble woman. he's seen her naked more times than he should have ever been able to. ] You can look if you would like, you know. It isn't some grand unveiling...

[ and whens he finally does come to glance back at him, she'll find that her Ser is shirtless with his torso and chest exposed to her. tanned, sun-kissed skin is what is most obvious, but there's no mistaking the pink that spreads from his abs up to his shoulder. it's more severe on his left side, virtually a shade or two lighter with some scarred tissue running up along his other half. his back is more of the same, but his front half had been exposed to a bulk of the disease. ]

It... healed rather nicely, all else considered. Surely you can take a guess as to how this looked before the, ahem, surgery.

[ if he can call getting his skin cut apart by a scalpel for hours on end surgery, anyway. you did your best, Samwell. ]

[freeing]

[ A Queen makes sacrifices!!!! Let her live!!!

Now, she was forever thankful for Jorah's aid. For being here, finding his way to her when she needed him most. Her mind did not forget what he had done to her, no – but her heart had forgiven. It would be foolish of her to allow him into her graces if she did not. This... maybe it was the last bit of that chapter of their lives. It was not only a closure, but a weight for him. Daenerys was a smart girl, but Jorah was more complex than he let on. No simple sellsword, no simple adviser – it was how he evaded responsibility for his betrayal, after all. His secrets were closely guarded, his burdens hidden underneath.

She looks up to the poorly constructed ceiling, studying the wood pane and trying to treat him with respect, but when he speaks of looking – she glances over her shoulder. ]

Oh. Of course. I merely wished to provide you a little dignity and time. [ Of course!!! Her form turns to him slowly, her gulp obvious at the sight. It was... far easier to piece together the greyscale she had seen and the remnants tattered to his body. There were no words for a while, her eyes focused and noting every inch of flesh he exposed to her. Dragging in motions that pan across his frame, Daenerys finally stops as she begins to step forward slowly. The words he speaks to her only makes her pity him further. ] You tell me jokes, Ser Jorah? There had to have been some medicines or magic behind this – not a blade.

[ Her hand almost moves on its own, to brush against the scar tissue he wears like a badge of honor, but she stops – tightening to a loose fist before falling back to her side. ]

... You had yourself nearly flayed to return to me. [ The words feel heavy, significant. That was the only assumption she could make – the only one a girl uneducated in the body could. What was there, weaving over his flesh like a plague, was pried off of him. ] Am I wrong?

[heartsbane]

[ the scarring makes it easy to piece together how widespread the greyscale had overwhelmed his body. Jorah can remember the constant nights of only being able to sleep from pure, pain-driven exhaustion. every type of fabric or contact brought upon his skin sent his body into shock from the heat that overwhelmed his senses. one look at himself brought upon such a sense of disgust, seeing his limbs and muscles slowly turn into something that he thought would inevitably bring him death or insanity.

he wishes there would be some sense to forget it all, but he has learned to twist those feelings into something positive. it reminds him that, though their situation is far from ideal, he doesn't hurt anymore. he can feel comfortable in his own body, move without wincing or cringing. if the worst he has to deal with from his recovery is some pink, tender tissue, he won't be ashamed in showing it to his Queen. it really is a badge of honor. ]

I will not bore you with the technicalities. All you must know is that once it was all cut off, my body could properly fight the infection. There was no other way.

[ he hopes Samwell's process advances so that others afflicted with the sickness can also find a second attempt at life, but perhaps in a less gruesome manner. Jorah doesn't regret the suffering he had gone through for that either. how could he? it's brought him standing before his queen once more. he would deal with any manner of cruelty if it ensured as such. ]

You may touch if you choose. I am no longer infectious. Heh, I sometimes find myself touching just so I can marvel at how it once was.

[freeing]

[ It makes her skin crawl. Daenerys immediately brushes her fingertips defensively against her own arms, as if imagining such a horror. It was difficult to swallow – to think of such an act as vividly as her mind tries to piece together. Her expression pans from disgust to pity, all in one fell swoop. ]

I.. am forever in debt to those who have saved you, no matter the circumstances. I pray there is no further pain from this.

[ Dany's hand wafts in front of her, still tempted to just feel the proof of his efforts... of his miracle. She believes in the faith of oneself when the world is against them – Jorah experienced it now and there's a kinship she feels with him beyond just adviser. He made the impossible possible, he found the cure when there was none.

She swears, once she is Queen – whomever saved him would be rewarded with the highest of honor.

He feels her hand press to his wrist, fingers crawling up like a spider to the first spot he showed her. ]

Thank you for showing me. For helping me understand.