Their agreed upon meeting place is rather unremarkable, truth be told. Not in the forests, but lingering just outside. Irriella bounds ahead, hicc-coughing as she stumbles over her paws once Lauralae's in sight. Perhaps it's because Ghost is nearby. Or maybe it's because Dany's happy to see Lauralae, excited to meet Balerion's... sister, is it? Was the dragon they'd seen in the pit a parent to both? Either way, the two share that over their link.
On her shoulder sits a small black dragon with red and orange markings. His tail is curved around her neck for balance, the hatchling sitting tall now that there's no reason to hide. Every now and then, Balerion tilts his head, a toothy-like grin as he chuffs at the air.
"It wasn't so hard to find her," she says to Jon, knowing full well it's because Lauralae wants to be found in this instance. To Lauralae, once they're in earshot: "You're growing a little clan about you."
action; in the wilderness with BABIES!!! and cats to tame
There comes a point where Jon steps away, accompanied by Ghost and Irriella. It leaves Dany with Lauralae and their dragons, trudging through the forest in a companionable silence. She hasn't spoken of what she knows about dragons, yet, but she plans on doing so. Anything she can recall Viserys saying of them. There are little snippets of memory, something murmured gently whilst she'd shared a bed with him.
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."
Irriella might not be the wolves that Lauralae is most fond of being around, but she is the companion of someone she is beginning to care for and that inspires a tender greeting in her. Lauralae can lean down to scratch behind the little creatures ears, soft and gentle, a sweetness to her that is often only inspired in the company of animals; they are so much easier to deal with than people, far less complicated and confusing.
Peeking out of Lauralae's hood is Urmyria, blinking a little as she takes in the strangers; Lauralae has not introduced her to much, has not shown her to anyone other than her raven and her horse, so the suddenness of some strangers has her interest, captivating her just a little. She seems immediately quieter than her brother might be, perhaps taking after the quietness of her caretaker.
"The horse was wild. I think he needed a friend." Reaching out, she steps to touch Dany's hand, careful in greeting. Urmyria makes a soft noise, peeking out even further, leaning out of Lauralae's hood as she gazes at the other dragon. To Jon, Lauralae gives a small nod, immediately dropping down to open her arms for Ghost.
Lauralae is, in Jon's mind, a strange girl, and he wonders what she was long ago, before the wars. Now she seems like a sort of woods witch in whom Dany has taken a friendly interest. She misses her people, he thinks; she seeks to fill spaces left by people like Missandei and Chiron. It's different for him, always a little resigned to being alone, and having lost his family one by one by one before his death.
There is a dragon on her shoulder, and he is not sure what it will mean for a dragon to be raised so wild.
In spite of the little hatchling, though, Ghost goes to Lauralae when she opens her arms to him. Her dark hair contrasts against the white fur, and the small wolf gives one or two diffident sniffs in the dragon's general direction.
"How are you living out here?"
People can; people do. He has. But he's inquiring into the specifics, and how well it's going.
She does miss her people--that gaping hole would never be filled, not with any of those she meets, now. It's the same emptiness of not having blood relatives, of knowing she's alone in that way, despite forging bonds of a stronger means during a time long lost to this world. Lauralae may not be Missandei or any of the others, but she's a loyalty to the woman not so easily earned, no thanks to the pit.
Irriella huff-quacks, arching against Lauralae's fingers. No words need to pass between them for her to know the red panda's pleased with the attentions. The same pleasure is returned when Dany's fingers brush against the other's. And it's then she's allowed her first glimpse of Urmyria.
She's different from Balerion in a great many ways.
"Does he have a name?"
Her focus shifts from Ghost to Jon--who she brushes against as she ducks past him--and finally, to the horse, who she is slow to approach.
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.
Lauralae immediately wraps her arms around Ghost and greets him properly, pressing her face against his snout and scratching at his ears. She seems momentarily lost in the great excitement of being with a wolf again; she would turn into one herself if she was not so concerned about the nature of the if she transformed while carrying her.
It's only after all the animals are greeted that she turns back to look at Jon and Dany, her eyes skimming between the two of them and nodding her head quickly. Her dragon curls, almost shy in the wake of strangers - she is not used to being around people other than her 'mother', and Lauralae doesn't seem inclined to let that change.
She would keep this dragon to herself, to raise her and love her, no matter what the world might think.
"Kelytha." She reaches out and touches the horse's snout, calming him. "He is still wild, but he should not buck."
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.
The horse is handsome, although Jon is not sure there is wisdom in trying to train a wild horse. Some are better at it than others. By the way it calms when Lauralae touches it, and the way Ghost seems to enjoy her affections, she may have the skill.
“Kelytha. A good name for a handsome animal. Does it have a meaning?”
Would not buck--for a moment, she recalls Drogo and his ways. How he would likely view it a challenge to tame the horse in front of her. Bend it to his will. That has her looking away from the animal, focusing on the other dragon on Lauralae's shoulder.
"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.
Lauralae takes a moment and hesitates, glancing up at Jon. It takes her a few seconds, but she nods her head, once, and speaks, her voice low and quiet - not entirely shy, but still not sure of what to make of him or what thoughts she ought to carry when it comes to him and his interactions with Daenerys.
"Kelytha means horse." And then she turns back to look at Dany herself. "He has, once. I am not pushing him."
"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.
Only what he requires. And your presence upon picking up our items.
[ It doesn't hurt to have two protective mothers there to ensure they're not being duped. Truthfully, she thinks Poe's being honest, but one can never be too careful. ]
He begins to wonder if the bird's name means bird, but doesn't ask. Still, when a horse is more than half wild, horse isn't a bad name for it. It's just what the animal is -- no more, no less. There is a dignity to it.
"Wild creatures do as they will. If Kelytha is your friend, it's because he wants to be." His voice is low too -- not shy anymore, though there was a time when it would have been. He isn't precisely a man of few words, but he is quiet, and there is a gentleness to him that isn't always common to men who know the wilds.
Something occurs to him, and he adds, "The dragon may spook him. Big dragons would eat up a horse in an instant. They usually know enough to be afraid."
That pulls a smile from her, faint but amused. Kelytha means horse. Easy to name something its name, just like when she calls a wolf a wolf in the Common Tongue or High Valyrian. Seems they've a few things they share in common.
Her focus drifts to Jon. "Some were always fearless." But she speaks of shifters and centaurs, not actual horses. It's not the same, as he'd likely remind her, oh so helpfully. "Kelytha's the luxury of time, I would say."
Assuming any of them have time, she doesn't say. Why even think it? That grave Stark-ness must be rubbing off on her.
"When we go to meet Poe--that's the one who will spin the illusion for them," a nod to the dragonets, "He'll need something of each. I think it's to bind the illusion to each of them, specifically."
It's a name but not a name all at once - another language, another tongue, meaning something simple but with warmth to it as well. Kelytha is going to be a good steed, a good horse, and she is going to do what she can to take care of her budding pack; her horse, her dragon, her bird, her friends. Dany and Jon are... Something, something that is hard for her to name, but...
She is careful as she looks between them, her gaze awkward and unsure before she breathes out. They're accepting of her, of her strangeness, her oddness, and she can accept it.
"I will get her to give me something," Lauralae nods, careful. She won't push Urmyria, but she is sure if she asks nicely enough... "If you trust in this... Then I will as well."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action; a mom dad and gremlin
On her shoulder sits a small black dragon with red and orange markings. His tail is curved around her neck for balance, the hatchling sitting tall now that there's no reason to hide. Every now and then, Balerion tilts his head, a toothy-like grin as he chuffs at the air.
"It wasn't so hard to find her," she says to Jon, knowing full well it's because Lauralae wants to be found in this instance. To Lauralae, once they're in earshot: "You're growing a little clan about you."
action; in the wilderness with BABIES!!! and cats to tame
"Are the forests like you remember from before?"
MAMA
"Mostly. Very little changed in the years I was here before - I did not imagine they would change so much after my death."
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Peeking out of Lauralae's hood is Urmyria, blinking a little as she takes in the strangers; Lauralae has not introduced her to much, has not shown her to anyone other than her raven and her horse, so the suddenness of some strangers has her interest, captivating her just a little. She seems immediately quieter than her brother might be, perhaps taking after the quietness of her caretaker.
"The horse was wild. I think he needed a friend." Reaching out, she steps to touch Dany's hand, careful in greeting. Urmyria makes a soft noise, peeking out even further, leaning out of Lauralae's hood as she gazes at the other dragon. To Jon, Lauralae gives a small nod, immediately dropping down to open her arms for Ghost.
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There is a dragon on her shoulder, and he is not sure what it will mean for a dragon to be raised so wild.
In spite of the little hatchling, though, Ghost goes to Lauralae when she opens her arms to him. Her dark hair contrasts against the white fur, and the small wolf gives one or two diffident sniffs in the dragon's general direction.
"How are you living out here?"
People can; people do. He has. But he's inquiring into the specifics, and how well it's going.
hahaha i forgot to track this
Irriella huff-quacks, arching against Lauralae's fingers. No words need to pass between them for her to know the red panda's pleased with the attentions. The same pleasure is returned when Dany's fingers brush against the other's. And it's then she's allowed her first glimpse of Urmyria.
She's different from Balerion in a great many ways.
"Does he have a name?"
Her focus shifts from Ghost to Jon--who she brushes against as she ducks past him--and finally, to the horse, who she is slow to approach.
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.
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It's only after all the animals are greeted that she turns back to look at Jon and Dany, her eyes skimming between the two of them and nodding her head quickly. Her dragon curls, almost shy in the wake of strangers - she is not used to being around people other than her 'mother', and Lauralae doesn't seem inclined to let that change.
She would keep this dragon to herself, to raise her and love her, no matter what the world might think.
"Kelytha." She reaches out and touches the horse's snout, calming him. "He is still wild, but he should not buck."
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"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?"
/tees up the joke
“Kelytha. A good name for a handsome animal. Does it have a meaning?”
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"Has he allowed you to ride him?"
text; backdated
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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.
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"Kelytha means horse." And then she turns back to look at Dany herself. "He has, once. I am not pushing him."
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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.
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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.
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[ If she were another person, she'd claim how his risk is not her problem. ]
I'll watch him. We'll require his aid in the future once they begin growing.
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[ The 'I trust you' is unspoken and unwritten, but perhaps Dany can sense it. ]
I want one for her.
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[ As if she knew Lauralae would want one. ]
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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.
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[ It doesn't hurt to have two protective mothers there to ensure they're not being duped. Truthfully, she thinks Poe's being honest, but one can never be too careful. ]
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"Wild creatures do as they will. If Kelytha is your friend, it's because he wants to be." His voice is low too -- not shy anymore, though there was a time when it would have been. He isn't precisely a man of few words, but he is quiet, and there is a gentleness to him that isn't always common to men who know the wilds.
Something occurs to him, and he adds, "The dragon may spook him. Big dragons would eat up a horse in an instant. They usually know enough to be afraid."
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I don't recognize him from the pit. If he's being honest and does have a hatchling, that means there are others out there.
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Her focus drifts to Jon. "Some were always fearless." But she speaks of shifters and centaurs, not actual horses. It's not the same, as he'd likely remind her, oh so helpfully. "Kelytha's the luxury of time, I would say."
Assuming any of them have time, she doesn't say. Why even think it? That grave Stark-ness must be rubbing off on her.
"When we go to meet Poe--that's the one who will spin the illusion for them," a nod to the dragonets, "He'll need something of each. I think it's to bind the illusion to each of them, specifically."
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We all thought the dragons were gone.
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She is careful as she looks between them, her gaze awkward and unsure before she breathes out. They're accepting of her, of her strangeness, her oddness, and she can accept it.
"I will get her to give me something," Lauralae nods, careful. She won't push Urmyria, but she is sure if she asks nicely enough... "If you trust in this... Then I will as well."