[open] february log

[freeing]

Who: Daenerys Targaryen + Open Prompts
When: All month, baby.
Where: Aefenglom and outside the walls
What: Open starters for Daenerys for the month. I'm trying to limit certain prompts so no overlap occurs. Please make note of the numbers next to the prompt name.
Warnings: N/A as of now.





FARMLANDS

[ It has been a hard few weeks, it is known. No amount of distance could truly calm her paranoia and anger – but she tries. Gods, does she try. The Rathmore execution gives her a sense of satisfaction, but after that... how else can she process the healing she needs to allow herself? She flees the city, as was her word. Risking the Cwyld infection over the evil of men was a stubborn thing to do, but it helps make her feel safe. The farmlands that were her sanctuary now had quite some work to do, but it was all she had.

This is not her ideal place, there's still an awkwardness of not having high walls or pyramids to retreat to – but she makes the best of it. Daenerys promises its owner payment with her reparations to rebuild and possibly... allows herself to begin to heal.

a. River – 1 Slot **FULL
Daenerys had still nightmares about what had happened to her – still consumed by an anger that feels so... natural. Was it the Targaryen in her or the dragon in her? She isn't sure, sadly.

The farm's elderly owner had suggested many things – medicinal flowers to calm her, hours of stories of the olden days, and also the location of a small river that snakes behind the farm off a beaten path one must cross to find a tree she always goes to for solitude.

Of course, Daenerys' dragon affliction made her sense to wander at an all-time high closer to the full moons. One of those sounded more pleasing than the others. So, as she ventures to the forest path behind the farmlands, she finds the river and begins to cross. It was simple enough – a small footbridge made of old wood seemingly was safe if an elderly woman could traverse to it, is it not? Each foot step careful, it couldn't anticipate the frigid temperature had rotten the wood quicker and – she doesn't realize it until it's too late. In she goes, tumbling into the river with a scream and slosh. Did you know dragons don't fare well in cold like this?

b. Travelers – Open
Days after her little accident, she has been better suited. Any cold she had received from her plunge in the cold waters was gone and instead – she finds herself being of some use. She can be seen feeding chickens and tending to the horses out in eye-sight of travelers. It was odd to find something like this calming, yet here she was – trying to deal with it. Even if Jorah was here to do it for her... she isn't a Queen here, she has to learn to survive somehow.

There was a sudden storm, however that was expected within the next hour or so. If not outside, she is inside reading books about the full moon and old children's tales passed down through the farm owner's family. Travelers who stop by and ask for some shelter until the storm passes will be met with some supplies, good company, and a somewhat light dinner. ]

CITY BUSINESS

[ Daenerys would be a fool if she believed she could survive outside of the city walls without any assistance. She weighed the stubbornness in her heart and the bitterness still fresh in her mind – she would not be deemed as a charity case to the Aefenglom government, but she will work with them. The stipend provided to her for reparations allowed her to help a farm outside of the city garner the means to sustain itself again, after all. So, she comes on a beautiful white mare into town – for business.

a. In Parliament – 2 Slots **FULL
She is left with a sense of being able to speak for the fellow Mirrorbound and Dorcharcht refugees now with the Council, natural instinct to rule alone was pushed aside to ensure she works with those able to feasibly protect their kind. Isn't that what it came down to when things got tense? Us versus them? She hates that it has to be this way, her paranoia still rooted as she makes her first contact with Coven Witches to discuss business. By the time she is done, she is seen visibly having to catch her breath outside of the Parliament building – burying her own trauma of the last time she was here seeing her tormentors beheaded.

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 by a horse-keeper who made a deal with Daenerys to fit her newly acquired horse with new reigns, saddles, and horse-shoes. The horse-keeper's children was so fascinated with Drogon that she nearly becomes distracted over how much time had passed since she arrived.

She'll eventually find herself in a potions shop, picking up something for the farm's owner. She is a bit embarrassed once the shop owner proudly announces a hormonal potion used to help attract suitors. Yikes.

Finally, she'll browse through a winery, charmed 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. ]

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. Please note: for all prompts, Daenerys will be actively wearing attire that covers her missing scales on her neck, arms, waist, and thighs.


UPDATE 2/16: If your character is leaving or returning from the outpost, I'm totally down for threads with the farmlands prompt there!

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

Comments

[mirshikar]

Your certainty of that is heartening. [ Heartening, because it attests to the good relationship which Daenerys and this Lady Edre have forged. That trust between the Mirrorbound and the residents of Aefenglom (the city's civilians and officials both) remains tenuous is of great surprise to no one, but what is a wonderment to Asura is this: here, on this farmland bordered by the light which limned from runic magic and stone, Daenerys has begun to feel at ease again. At ease, even if that meant being responsible for keeping buckets of chicken feed out of the rain. It had been a small thing, one which Asura had assisted with— Daenerys had beckoned him, and so too had he spirited away a pail of the grain to the safety of the porch, the beginnings of precipitation drumming against the awning overhead.

The near miss of the rain has a sporting grin crossing Asura's features, one of his taloned hands outstretched as he leans forward, catching raindrops in the cup of his hand. In truth, the King would have liked to make the trek back to he city while in the thick of the storm (cloudbursts like this one are so often the last, triumphant hurrahs! of his season, and their power is to marveled at and enjoyed), but he is not yet fully recovered from the time he'd spent in the Rathmore's vile pit of stone, and will not squander what fortitude he does possess (strength and health, restored to him by Sokie's expert spellcraft) on a reckless challenge to the elements themselves.

There will always be time for as much later, after all (and how he will revel in the contest, when the time is right!). Right now, what is important is this: ]

But perhaps there's no such thing as a stranger in the face of a storm. [ This, both he and Daenerys had learned together when they had spoken of stories, wrath, and justice in whispers gone unheard by all others. ] Still...

Lady Edre must know that my hands will not remain idle during my stay. [ Withdrawing his hand from the rain, Asura sets his sights upon the farmhouse instead, appraising its construction. ] Old as this farmhouse is, I'd be be amazed if something weren't in need of repair.

[ And finally, his focus fixes upon Daenerys in the form of sidelong glance, vivid with alacrity and keen with interest: ] Maybe, you know where to start?

[freeing]

[ It was a complicated one. Lady Edre did not bite her tongue with the young dragoness nor did she expect her to be anything other than what Daenerys offered – safety, hope, a hand when she is unable to summon the strength to.

Asura was welcomed here, as were all who helped push the goals Daenerys wished to push. It was something of a strange kinship in him – as if she relied not only on his strength, but was inspired by the kindness he had shown in such a small amount of time. Dusting her hands off on the hips of her pants, smirking only a bit at the mention of his own inability to remain idle. ]

You offer so much everywhere you go. Why? [ It was a simple question, but one that was skeptical. Her palm presses tightly to the door and opens it up with a resounding racket of wood hanging off hinges and not quite stable. ] Does it not get tiring?

[ She was teasing, closing the door behind him once he's given entry. The modest farmhouse had seen the wear and tear of time, but it looks lived in above all else. ]

Lady Edre will be singing your praises more than me at this rate! [ But, there was a heart stew boiling over a fire – perhaps he'd have something to gain as well. ] I know many things about this place, but they will come later. Afterwards.

[mirshikar]

Mn. So you reveal your hand only when the time is right, I see. [ —Daenerys teases and Asura offers easy repartee in return, his green eyes flashing with keen interest upon witnessing the hint of her smirk. A relief, to know that her spirits have recovered enough to allow for the enjoyment of small pleasantries (banter, stew, and good company all), because while Asura had held no doubts that she would rise again (no different from how she'd rose to start the fire, the one which had seen herself and others delivered from the Rathmore's keep of stone), what he knows is this: after the durance of imprisonment, the road to reclaiming oneself is long and riddled with thorns. But Daenerys, she does not walk that path alone.

Nor would she ever, not if Asura had a say in the matter. His hand is extended to her always. ]

After what, might I ask? [ Treading further into the farmhouse, Asura surveys the worn floorboards (traversed by many, over the years) and the strength of the wooden rafters overhead (protecting all those who passed through), before deciding...! He does like it, this place. There are many memories here; it feels warm and human. ] An answer to your question?

[ The matter of why, asked with notes of skepticism. Glancing back, over his shoulder, he regards Daenerys with a look that is as arresting as it is honest. Asura, he is someone who is candid in all things, unabashed as he discloses: ]

In truth... there once was a time when I had neither the hands nor the capacity to help others, and knew nothing beyond making war. [ When he had been the prized commander of his once-Master, and had been held suspended in their thrall. ] But it was not by choice, that I fought.

[ And while there is deep-set loathing in Asura's voice as he speaks (for himself, for the being that had kept him chained), he sees it banished with a shake of his head, a card of gold-taloned hand through the ever-curling mass of his hair as he continues on, seeing her question answered in full: ]

And now... I choose. [ Instinctively, he draws closer to the hearth of the farmhouse, drawn not by the smell of the stew, but rather by the familiarity of the flame. ] Choose to patch old farmhouses and to spend days culling Cwyld-creatures so they suffer no longer, and will bring no harm to the brave few beyond the wall.

[ So that's what he'd been doing out in the Wilde, hm? ]

It is not the most noble of reasons. [ His grin then, is wry. Choosing to show benevolence to others to spite everything you had once been— no, it is not at all noble, and yet: ] But it is enough of one.

[freeing]

As any survivor should. It is a common occurrence that fools are far too trusting.

[ She deflects, trying to at least keep an aura of guard up. It was difficult. She had no one to rely on that viewed her as a Queen. In the creeping loneliness of night, she wonders if all they will see is a dragon with scars and weak spots.

Inside they go, the lavishness she's grown accustomed to stripped away when she arrived here. Now, there are things that remind her of Meereen — bowls of fruit out every morning, the curtains pulled aside to let the sun in, and a few pitchers of wine ready at call. All added because of her presence, not the old woman who slumbers away. ]

People often misunderstand nobility to privilege. Honor as glory. Thanks for worshiping praise. [ With stew bubbling in the fire and the faint sound of windchimes clanking to the back porch, she stands before him taller than she had been when they last crossed paths. ] It is noble enough to do what is right, to live another day and help those who need it. Without your offering, perhaps this farmhouse will still rot to time before its owner.

[ There's a coyness in her words. ]

We haven't had time to talk since... [ Since, you know. ] and truthfully, there is little you know of me and I of you. Yet, fate brings you here.

[mirshikar]

Fate? [ Ever considering, Asura lofts a brow high. While he is a creature inexorably linked to (imbued with, forged from) the great tapestry of the thing which mortals call fate, those ties have been severed in the world of Talam, here where Asura professes both with good humor and a thoroughly roguish turn to his grin: ] Arguably, it was my legs that did the walking.

[ And does he ever feel it now, the rejuvenating burn and physical ache from the forays he'd launched himself into out in the Wilde. It is a freeing feeling, the fatigue born from both combat and travel, but Asura cannot deny that the heat from the fire is soothing, and this— this is how he'll come to settle before the farmhouse hearth, sitting lotus-legged and tall in the shadow cast from the flame. Asura is ever the curious existence: where, at times, he is easily regal and imposing, there are others where he seems he could belong almost anywhere. Certainly, he has taken a quick and keen liking to the old farmhouse. ]

But it is true, there is an infinite more that I would like to know of the woman who found her strength and lit the fire. [ Because when he looks to Daenerys (the other Mirrorbound who had been imprisoned, to his own people realms away from here), Asura does not see the wounds left behind from their torturers and Keepers. Survivors though they may be, that is not all they are, and Daenerys is (as he suspected her to be) a will stronger than anything. ] And perhaps...

You are right, and it is no great coincidence that I am here. [ —he concedes with a huff of a laugh, turning his head to better glimpse her. ] I have not yet said it, Daenerys, but you look well. The set of your shoulders is proud.

[ As it should be, as he plainly states: ] I am glad for it.

[ Then, with a slow incline of his head, he invites— ] Will you sit beside me, then, as we talk and trade stories?

[freeing]

[ It was a tease, one he rebukes with such simplicity. If she was to lose her 'nobility' and instead live among the people she wishes to help serve, chattering around like this was the easiest way to do it.

Asura asks much of her without realizing. That she strips away the walls she puts between her and this world, brick by brick. It would be fitting that the man who saw her at one of her weakest moments would be the one to help with that transition. She falls next to him, eyes distant and not making eye contact. Part of her feels the need to withhold it all, but that is not her way. Her story, the one of tragedies and dragons, touched many. Why did she feel so... odd speaking it now? ]

Well enough, ser. That is all we can ask for now. [ But: ] Fire had never been my enemy, I do not fear it and it is as much in my veins as blood. It was only fitting that I used it as I did to get us out of there.

[ But, she does sit, finally. ]

Trading stories... you too offer to sate my curiosities?

[mirshikar]

Aa. [ Simply, succinctly, yes he will see her curiosities addressed. And before she asks of him why, seeking motive behind his decision to oblige, he offers her his own rationale freely, withholding nothing at all: ] Because I trust you, and my gut tells me I am no fool to do so.

[ His grin softens, then, as she settles beside him, the firelight casting its warm hues upon her clothes just as it reflects off of his scales and horns, rendering them a near-molten sort of gold. ]

Oftentimes, people are also wont to mistake camaraderie and kinship for purely transactional relations. [ Trading story for story, aid for the promise of support in whatever trials the future might hold. ] But it is not so. That I will tell you, and perhaps show if you permit it, who and what I am is...

[ Lowering his eyes, he thinks on the very thing which had united them, when they had curled together in a moment which Asura does not perceive as weakness, Daenerys' hand held fast in his own. ]

A hope. [ If he looks to her, will he be able to catch and hold her gaze with his own? Instead of so simply wondering, he makes the attempt, dipping his own head as he does so. Curls, cascading down over his shoulder, and green eyes flicking up, he confesses: ] And a wish, for understanding between us.

[ And no more, unless Daenerys herself chose to pursue it. ]

And if you should decide to trust me in turn, then... [ A discerning hum! ] ...you'll have no further need to call me 'ser'.