Rav'ahm goes with Jon - it is not too hard to be close to him when he can speak in her mind - and Lauralae walks with Daenerys, Urmyria curling around her arm and up along her shoulders, tucking into her neck over and over again. She doesn't seem as tense as the last few times they had been around one another, her devotion to her little child obvious. There's a softness to her that hadn't been there before.
"Mostly. Very little changed in the years I was here before - I did not imagine they would change so much after my death."
It's a noted softness she's much familiar with. Might not be the sort Dany's shown in a long, long time in front of many others, but it was there, once, in her. This demeanor's a marked change in Lauralae, who Dany recalls being distant and near feral. Motherhood suits her.
"I imagine it's a comfort?" Balerion remains a constant presence on her shoulder, tail loosely wrapped around her throat as he sits tall, studying their surroundings. Every now and then, he tilts his head in Lauralae's direction, watching. "None of it's the same as what I remember. I've wondered about Vaes Dothrak, and Dragonstone, and if they're still standing."
Twigs dully snap under her foot. There's a rustling ahead that has her slowing, pointed ears straining.
Urmyria does not look much like her brother; they're not identical and Lauralae would not think they came from the same mother had they not been taken from the same pit. Her dragon is lithe, more like some mythical wyvern, with a long tail that flicks here and there, ready to come down and curl around her wrist. Now that she knows that her mother is comfortable with this woman she seems a touch more curious, eyes flicking.
"Something of one, yes," if Lauralae can find anything a comfort in the midst of everything that has been happening. Reaching out, she strokes her fingers over her dragon's head, gentle and soft. "I do not know those places. This forest is only somewhat familiar, and I am not sure I can venture to travel down towards the one I knew before. I fear for what might happen to her."
Urmyria makes a soft, squeaking noise and Lauralae hesitates when she hears the noise ahead. Her free hand drops to her vampir dagger, staring.
"Dragonstone was in Atromitos. It's where I was born, prior to the rebellion which decimated my House." And Vaes Dothrak... she shakes her head.
A story for another time, perhaps. There's little reason to speak of horse shifters and how she'd been sold to one. This was meant to be a happy day, not one for sad memories.
"I hear it." Balerion, as well. He nearly vibrates against her, a soft, higher-pitched growl from a body still so small rumbling close to her ear. She doesn't reach for her bow. It wouldn't help in a space so enclosed, and it would only jostle Balerion.
No, she's something better: fire.
Sparing Lauralae a glance, she inclines her head and carefully steps closer to the nearby line of trees.
"I have heard little of other places beyond the forest I was in. I was in a temple for a long time, but when times changed I lived elsewhere. I did not know much of the dragons, of the world, of what people thought and wanted."
She frowns, shaking her head. Lauralae is somewhat aware of her own isolation from the world; she knows there is much for her to learn, and that fuels her curiosity more than she might be willing to admit, even to Daenerys.
Fingers brushing over her dagger, Lauralae sends a quick message to her raven before she moves forward, ducking down against the bushes. Her spare hand flexes, touching the dragon scale she had found, knowing the power it had given her.
Nodding in return to Dany, she presses low to the ground and begins to move forward, closer and closer.
"If you have questions..." She gives a slight shrug. No need to push information or tell stories if they're not something that Lauralae wishes to hear. "I traveled the wilds a great deal, intercepting orc caravans."
And she's quiet after that. The further she pushes ahead, the louder the sound becomes. It sounds like... scratching. Foliage ruffling. Lighter steps, and many steps. Not the sound of a heavy hunter, which likely wouldn't be making so much noise to begin with.
Upon reaching the tree line, she doesn't expect to see--winged cats? Small and large. A group of them in the clearing.
She spares Lauralae a look, watches the creatures a beat longer, and throws caution to the wind by stepping into the clearing with the felines. The smaller ones look up at her, curious. A few of the closer ones dart away, closer to the larger-sized cats.
Lauralae nods, once, sharp. If she has questions she will collect her thoughts and ask them - if only because she has faith enough that Daenerys might answer them truthfully. She does not believe so much in other people, but with the secret the two of them share wrapped around them like a cloak there is not much else she can do. She must trust in this woman and trust in the bond that has been forged between them.
Peeking through the bushes, Lauralae hesitates when she sees the creatures in front of her. They're strange things, nothing she has laid eyes on before, and her instinct is to lean back and duck away, to hide - but, ah, her companion is already moving and there is not much else to be done but join her.
She slips out of the bush and watches.
The cats seem to be wild, that much is clear, but not dangerous. The larger ones are mothers, surely, and the smaller their kittens, and there's a pang in her heart as she thinks on that for just a little too long. For now, she purses her lips and takes a step forward, offering out a hand.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
MAMA
"Mostly. Very little changed in the years I was here before - I did not imagine they would change so much after my death."
DAUGHTERRRR
"I imagine it's a comfort?" Balerion remains a constant presence on her shoulder, tail loosely wrapped around her throat as he sits tall, studying their surroundings. Every now and then, he tilts his head in Lauralae's direction, watching. "None of it's the same as what I remember. I've wondered about Vaes Dothrak, and Dragonstone, and if they're still standing."
Twigs dully snap under her foot. There's a rustling ahead that has her slowing, pointed ears straining.
no subject
"Something of one, yes," if Lauralae can find anything a comfort in the midst of everything that has been happening. Reaching out, she strokes her fingers over her dragon's head, gentle and soft. "I do not know those places. This forest is only somewhat familiar, and I am not sure I can venture to travel down towards the one I knew before. I fear for what might happen to her."
Urmyria makes a soft, squeaking noise and Lauralae hesitates when she hears the noise ahead. Her free hand drops to her vampir dagger, staring.
"Do you hear it?"
no subject
A story for another time, perhaps. There's little reason to speak of horse shifters and how she'd been sold to one. This was meant to be a happy day, not one for sad memories.
"I hear it." Balerion, as well. He nearly vibrates against her, a soft, higher-pitched growl from a body still so small rumbling close to her ear. She doesn't reach for her bow. It wouldn't help in a space so enclosed, and it would only jostle Balerion.
No, she's something better: fire.
Sparing Lauralae a glance, she inclines her head and carefully steps closer to the nearby line of trees.
no subject
She frowns, shaking her head. Lauralae is somewhat aware of her own isolation from the world; she knows there is much for her to learn, and that fuels her curiosity more than she might be willing to admit, even to Daenerys.
Fingers brushing over her dagger, Lauralae sends a quick message to her raven before she moves forward, ducking down against the bushes. Her spare hand flexes, touching the dragon scale she had found, knowing the power it had given her.
Nodding in return to Dany, she presses low to the ground and begins to move forward, closer and closer.
no subject
And she's quiet after that. The further she pushes ahead, the louder the sound becomes. It sounds like... scratching. Foliage ruffling. Lighter steps, and many steps. Not the sound of a heavy hunter, which likely wouldn't be making so much noise to begin with.
Upon reaching the tree line, she doesn't expect to see--winged cats? Small and large. A group of them in the clearing.
She spares Lauralae a look, watches the creatures a beat longer, and throws caution to the wind by stepping into the clearing with the felines. The smaller ones look up at her, curious. A few of the closer ones dart away, closer to the larger-sized cats.
None make any sign of attacking, though.
no subject
Peeking through the bushes, Lauralae hesitates when she sees the creatures in front of her. They're strange things, nothing she has laid eyes on before, and her instinct is to lean back and duck away, to hide - but, ah, her companion is already moving and there is not much else to be done but join her.
She slips out of the bush and watches.
The cats seem to be wild, that much is clear, but not dangerous. The larger ones are mothers, surely, and the smaller their kittens, and there's a pang in her heart as she thinks on that for just a little too long. For now, she purses her lips and takes a step forward, offering out a hand.
She's always been good with animals.