EVENT ★ TEAM BONDING

[futurologists]

TEAMBONDING TASKS Early in the morning, all characters will receive a message in their personal inboxes encouraging them to help with various tasks around the castle. Characters may either volunteer or be randomly shuffled into a group by accident; once assigned, they’ll be expected to show up and harangued by the castle’s animated suits of armor until they cooperate. The teams are as follows, though all groups besides the Training Center are open to sign-ups until the caps are reached. This OOC post may also be used for questions and plotting! LIBRARY: Anduin, Sigma, Rin, Keats, Papyrus, Adrien, Gumshoe, Sorey, Archer, Rosalind, Mikleo GREENHOUSE: Koltira, Julius, Sieglinde, Alice, Hellboy, Aqua, Dipper, Edna, Rodimus, King, Jekyll STABLES: Undyne, Khisanth, Mabel, Rey, Graham, Dezel, Olivia, Steven, Yata, Saber, Anakin TRAINING CENTER REDS: Shadow, Gintoki, Luciola, Gilgamesh, Ban, Melan BLUES: Kylo Ren, Pearl, Masamune, Poe, Barry, Lancer The Training Center will have a catch-all subthread below, but anyone in any of the other groups (or not in a group at all) is encouraged to make a top level and tag into whichever area you'd like to play in. TRAINING CENTER Once recruits step foot into the Training Center, they’ll find themselves suddenly outside. A voice coming from their jewelry informs them that this is a simulation of the world Asharion. There’s swamp for as far as the eye can see, and it’s dark and… sort of squishy in here. The two teams arrive at opposite ends of the swamp, where their respective “base camps” are located. Each of them will find themselves dressed head-to-toe in the color of their team, red or blue, and will see that a flag of their team color flies above their heads at base camp. There’s no concealing what team you’re on. If you look down, there’s also a HP bar plastered across the front of your shirt. Each time you’re hit, your HP goes down. (Remember, no one is actually getting hurt -- this is just a simulation. Once you run out of hit points, you’ll be kicked out of the simulation and offered a piece of cake from the kitchen as a consolation prize.) All powers are still around, but use anything too powerful, and the game will view it as a “cheat” and detract from your HP bar. A timer, floating in front of your eyes, starts counting down and the voice speaks again: ”There are three artifacts hidden within the swamp, and we’d really appreciate getting them back. The objective is simple: be the team with the most artifacts when the game is over. The game is over when all of a team is kicked out of the game or when the timer runs out. Good luck! Oh, and be careful with the artifacts. They have some… interesting magical properties. The aforementioned artifacts: THE STAFF OF INVIGORATION The staff is very plain and easy to miss. When you touch it, however, you’ll know. You’re suddenly filled with energy, flowing through your entire body. At least, for a little bit. It runs out of charge in about five minutes, and if you’re still holding it, you’ll find it actually starts draining you of energy until you’re too tired to walk. VENKAN STATUE A small, very delicate statue from the world of Venka, made of crystal. Try not to drop it. Whoever holds it will find themselves easily irritated, however, even by their teammates. The longer it’s held, the stronger the effect -- it starts out with mere annoyance, making you almost comedically ornery over small things, but if you hold onto it, you’ll find yourself becoming paranoid and aggravated. The statue is actually of the Goddess of War, and it turns out it might have started a few wars itself. THE RING OF… PUPPY LOVE? A beautiful sapphire ring in the shape of a heart. Once held or put on, the wearer will get an extremely awkward crush on the anyone they see, and be unable to do anything but giggle like a schoolgirl in their presence. The effect will only fade if they drop the ring. How embarrassing. The artifacts can be found anywhere in the swamp -- almost like they’re moving around on their own. Knowing ALASTAIR, they just might be. The countdown hits 0. From this moment forward, the voice tells you, you have exactly two hours. The blue team will end up the victors, but only by a hair. Cherenkov will be available for any questions and feedback afterwards (see subthread below), provided she's not napping. REWARDS: Both teams will receive a pocket watch, with very specific instructions attached. Both are capable of a one-time spell. The blue team’s pocket watches will administer a shock to stun the target when opened for the first time and the first time only, so don’t waste it. The red team’s pocket watches will create a barrier around the character that will shield them from any incoming attacks for three minutes. LIBRARY The library is enormous, with stacks that rise nearly to the vaulted ceiling. Rolling ladders lean up against the sides of the stacks, ready to be climbed, but the burly librarians that usually frequent the library are not found today. They have left only a single note behind, in neat, cramped script: Please clean up after yourselves. Thank you. There is a long wooden table in the middle of the library. Two closed books rest upon it: Escarpan Gardening And You and A History of the Hurricane of 62.516-18 A. Opening the first book will cause vines and flowers and other greenery to sprout up from nowhere, blocking the shelves and making traversing the library quite a difficulty. Opening the second will cause the entire library to be engulfed in wild winds, throwing books off the shelves and perhaps each other across the room. Opening them both will cause both things to happen, simultaneously. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the rest of the books do the same sort of thing. Open a book about medieval weaponry? Suddenly there are swords flying through the air. That murder mystery novella? Everything is now black and white with deep shadows. The encyclopedia? Nothing happens. Encyclopedias are safe, for some reason. How do you make these book effects stop? Shelve them in the proper place. But beware -- every misshelved book will cause another to pop out of place. Try to catch it before it hits the ground and opens, or you just may have a disaster on your hands. HINT: The solution is to shelve the books in order by size, large to small. REWARD: All participants will receive a fountain pen, with instructions: write a character’s name on any surface and you will be able to see through their eyes for thirty seconds. After using it once, it will become an ordinary (but fancy!) pen. Crowley will be available to contact for any general inquiries, though responses may be tardy since the cat NPCs are likely to be asleep on a high shelf together. GREENHOUSE The greenhouse and surrounding courtyard should be tranquil, but more often than not it ends up just as absurd as the rest of Oska. Recruits will be tasked with cleaning one of the giant glass domes that houses a massive, archaic tree at its core. Surrounding it is an entire biosphere teeming with life, but the fauna is limited -- that shift in the corner of your eye? Probably a slithering vine. The snapdragons here will take off a finger if you’re not careful, and the stinging nettles will leave worse than a rash. Some examples of the more fantastical plants are listed below, though players are welcome to create their own: Noxious Nightweed: the bright, glowing flowers of the nightweed are beautiful and full of nectar that smells of berries -- catching scent of it will cause drowsiness, lethargy, and thirst. As enticing as the flower sap may be to drink, it’s deeply corrosive and will burn on contact. Don’t fall asleep handling one! Kukichas: These large, puffy, red fungi are harmless to other plants and tend to grow on just about any other flora. However, they’ll stick to anything that brushes up against them and detonate some time later. Once they explode, characters will be plagued with itchiness, tickling sensations, and sneezing fits. Characters can remove these by quickly finding another person to stick them to. Beware though: kukichas reproduce by budding. Quickly. Mandrake: these plants appear to be normal, tiny shrubs, but when pulled out of the earth will become animate and let out a horrible, piercing wail that only increases in volume over time. They will cease when fed a drop of blood. But none of the compost should go to waste! After gathering trimmings and various plants, herbs, and flowers, recruits will be shuffled off to the greenhouse labs to make use of them. There are gargantuan, dusty grimoires full of recipes for various potions and all the necessary cauldrons and equipment to brew them. The directions are laid out thoroughly, but are quite complex -- one character may have to read an incantation while the other stirs, others might require careful handling of volatile substances, and so forth. The only thing they have in common is that none of them can be properly made without a little aid from someone else, so work together! Worse still, the books are old. Text in some places is washed out and requires quick, smart improvising. Or guesswork. ALASTAIR is not responsible for any toxic fumes, poisonous bubbles, or other strange side effects that may arise from randomly throwing ingredients together. Dagny will be available within both the greenhouse and the labs to offer assistance, feel free to snag her with any questions! There will be a thread below where you may drop links to threads you’d like her to briefly appear in. REWARD: All characters that participate may keep a single, one-use potion of their choice: mandrake potions are essentially magical molotov cocktails, kukicha potions cause euphoria and ease mental status effects (hallucinations, berserker rage, etc.), and nightweed potions will instantly evaporate into fumes that force anyone who breathes them in to tell the truth. STABLES The stables are a mess. It seems like all the stalls have been left open, and there’s animals of every sort everywhere, through courtyard, grounds, and castle. Most of them can be seized by the halter and led back into their stalls easily enough, but there are a few species that are a little trickier than that. Lucky for you, Uruz has a checklist of exactly what’s missing. On it, you will find: Spiked Horkles: These things are enormous, it’s unclear how people are even meant to ride them. They’re giant, bipedal, white-furred monstrosities, with spiked ridges all down their back, intimidating tusks, giant horns, and one single, central eye. The tallest of them are almost fifteen feet high, they look like they could snap you over one knee with their massive hands. They don’t seem to be inclined to violence, but they’re also utterly uninterested in following you anywhere, and impossible to budge. That is, unless you’ve got an instrument or a good singing voice. They’ll happily and docilely follow anyone putting on a musical performance, straight back into their stalls (sized accordingly), if that’s where the route takes them. Sixers: A sixer isn’t really all that different from a horse… except for the fact that it has six legs, and each of its hooves strikes sparks whenever it lands. This is fine if it’s taking a stroll in the wake of a light rain, or over stone, but entire fields have been lost to a herd of sixers. And unfortunately the whole lot of them seems determined to go sightseeing into the castle itself. They’re relatively easy to lead around, all it takes is any sort of food a horse would be inclined to eat, but the route you lead them on is the important part. Try not to cause any more property damage than necessary, please. Boxing Peters: This creature looks like its closest relation might be a giant anteater, although this version is several times larger. Also, nearly hidden along the long, hanging hair of its stomach is several more pairs of legs, tucked neatly into its body as it walks. They’re content to snuffle about in the courtyard, but will resist tugs at their halters, and utterly ignore any attempts at herding. The only way to catch the attention of a Boxing Peter is to challenge it. Drop into a fighting stance in front of it, take a swing at its side (not too hard, Uruz would remind you), shout insults -- whatever it takes. Upon being challenged a Boxing Peter rises up onto its hind legs and unfolds all ten of its hidden limbs, each of which ends in a large, padded hand, ready to fight. You don’t actually have to fight, but it’ll pursue a challenger wherever it might lead, until mutual bows signify the end of the match. Webbed Gliders: These are ALASTAIR’s aquatic environment mounts. And, oddly enough, they’re just tiny frogs with webbed limbs like a flying squirrel. They don’t need to be very large to be useful, as it turns out -- each one secretes a special slime which, when touched, shrinks whoever has done the touching to a size small enough to comfortably ride it. You’ll have to get these little guys back into the tank inside the stables without touching them, and they can be found anywhere outside where it’s damp. Any shrinking will wear off after 5 minutes without contact with the frog-slime. Ferrets: That’s it, they’re just ferrets. They’re enormous rideable ferrets, but still just ferrets. They’re just as energetic and playful as their smaller counterparts, and they have way too much energy to want to go back into their stalls. You’ll have to wear them out first, and it’s suggested you do so by playing with them. Did you know most of these ferrets are trained to fetch? Uruz is very proud of that. Uruz is happy to give pointers for the trickier species, but she’ll have to be found before she can be asked. She’s off wrangling some of the more volatile mounts, and can be spotted throughout the grounds madly galloping after something or another. If you have any interest in snagging Uruz for part of your thread, feel free to drop a link in her thread below for a tag-in! REWARD: As thanks for their assistance, each recruit will be sent away with a small, silver whistle. Blowing it will entrance all animals within hearing range, putting them into a placid trance for about a minute. This whistle will work for about two months before its effect begins to wear out. OTHER If your character isn’t signed up for any of these tasks, you are still welcome to tag into other characters carrying them out! The Training Center will be locked for the duration of its event, but the Library, Stables, and Greenhouse are all open to visitors. Characters are free to stop in and help (or mock) their friends, but they will not be receiving the same rewards as characters specifically contacted for help. You are also free to create open prompts within Oska at large, or your own logs. This log covers the next 2 weeks, so feel free to set them at any time within that timeframe! UNIFORMS: Every character will also find their official uniforms when they return to their rooms, accompanied by a note from Dagny: A reward for being you! :) - Love, Dagny. There is a gold star sticker by her name. The uniforms are instantly respawning, no matter how damaged they get. Whenever a character opens their closet, they will find a brand new one.

Comments

SADLY HE KNOWS

[selfimage]

[ what would a god know about being a slave? ]

Coming from someone who's endured quite a lot in some more painful memories, being tortured and whipped aren't nearly as bad as knowing that your choices aren't yours—that they were never yours. [ and then, mostly to himself: ] Funny how the hopelessness always wins the battle against the physical, isn't it? [ as for slaying infants. children, maybe. himself, once upon a time. what sacrifice had he made for his freedom? he became a creature drowning in guilt, struggling to break the surface. now he was running from who he used to be, using the capricious nature of memories to erase villainous deeds. ]

Things are meant to be because they're expected to be that way. Stories are written in patterns, which are re-inked and re-prophesied by feathered quills and wrinkled old fingers and sold for new. [ his body language changes, his voice changes. being boxed in is anathema to him. ] There are two kinds of ways that gods are conceived: either they're bound to a linear story, one that plays out in roles and natures and comes to and end, or they're bound by the circular, that which continues to repeat endlessly into eternity.

For us, the Aesir, it was the latter rather than the former—our cycle was called Ragnarok. It happened in different detail each time, but the concise version is that everyone dies by betrayal, [ his betrayal ] and is reborn again to follow the same road to ruin. Over, and over, and over again. Centuries or millennia? [ there's a little bitter snort that follows, and a shrug of his shoulders. ] Hel if I remember. I only know that we were being used as fodder for a hungry universe, disguised beneath the word destiny.

It turns out that my father had plotted various schemes across that time to try and stop the whole things and end the suffering of the gods; most all failed, some came close, but there's only so much that can be done when dealing with the boundaries of reality. In the end, it was my brother that freed us and cast away the shackles of fate. [ a pause, and then a slight laugh. ] When it was all said and done and we were free from Ragnarok, all the gods wanted was to know the end of their story. They wanted to be chained again.

No one wanted their choices, or their free future. They had been bound so long that they knew nothing else.

[ the coffee goes down, and he reaches out to her, beckoning with dark nailed fingers for her to give him her hand. he sees that cut there. ]

Luckily for you time and space are mostly the same, so I would rest assured that you can go back to the time that you came. Consider this an opportunity.

knows better, slithers forth anyway: the loki story

[conqueress]

[ Were she in a more sour mood, she might have told him she did not ask for a history lesson, but sustenance and water seem to have revived her. She cannot stew in her anger; she has need of a bath, and Drogon will require her attentions now that he is small again. And so she listens until the warning that marks his web for a cautionary tale, silent in the moments that follow.

And what of my path? she wishes to ask of him. Why am I told again and again what I must do, but only in riddles? Is it a jape? A trick?

But he knows nothing of her prophecies, she thinks, and that is folly. Perhaps the prophecies, too, are all follies.

He gestures for her hand, and at first, she hesitates. But she sees no reason why she should pause, and so she gives it, her healing burns wrapped in a thin strip of rag. Drogon takes off from her arm at the movement, settling to perch precariously atop the water pitcher.

If what he tells her is true, then that much, at least, may be a small blessing. Perhaps she can learn new wisdom here. Perhaps she can change what is written--but that seems a dangerous endeavor. ]

Again and again, warlocks and shadowbinders alike have told me what I must do. I am told names and instructed in riddles. [ The remark is wry; she is tired of their half-formed prophecies and truths. ] Would that I did not require their wisdom, but I fear I must listen. Perhaps it is for the best that I scarcely understand. [ At least then she has some reason to suspect she's following no one's advice. But which is less comforting? Trusting that she knows the way, or trusting that she may follow her own path, only to fall into some trap of fate anyway? Dany isn't certain.

To her, it seems the stuff of madness. ]

[selfimage]

[ prophecies were just another form of manipulation. telling someone that they should be doing something will ensure two outcomes: that they don't do it, or that they piece together enough to follow. he hated them, not as much as he hated fate, but close enough to cause a little boil of his belly in response.

with a dramatic sigh, he takes her hand, making a show of peeking under the bandages before he casually unravels it to expose the burn beneath. ]

Maybe. [ Loki tips his head, thoughtful. ] It's always in the back of your mind, isn't it? Like someone's forcing you one way or another.

[ his fingers are long, like his limbs. he's all smooth edges and hidden curves. his fingers are neither calloused nor soft, but deft and thoughtful, like they're reading the creases and crevices that they find. sliding between her palm and her fingers, his thumb pushes up so he can take a casual look at the burn, curious, like he's placing a memory.

there was something he always wanted to ask her. ]

What do you want?

[conqueress]

Yes. [ The admission comes easier than it should. ] Always the same. A red comet in the sky, a betrayal, a prince who tells me I must sail home. Is it the omen I must fear, or only the voice who brought me the tidings?

[ Or myself. There's a curious note in her tone. She isn't sad, precisely, but she sounds distant, as if she's alone and speaking to someone who isn't there.

His hand is deft enough that she doesn't object to his touch. It's the first touch she's felt since Ser Barristan held her back, tried to stop her from vaulting over the wall to run to Drogon, and she doesn't want to pull her hand away. Perhaps it's that that prompts her to answer honestly.

To return to my people. That is what I must do.

But a stronger voice whispers that that is a lie. ]

To go home. [ Now she sounds sad. ] I have always looked for a red door, but it seems I will never find it again. Instead, I must go back to where I belong, and be a queen. And to do that, I must bring ruin.

[ She doesn't sound as if she wants that. But perhaps frighteningly, she sounds as if she's begun to accept it. ]

[selfimage]

[ the hand holding her wrist guides her over to the counter beside him, so she can have something to lean against. psychotically heavy concepts occasionally needed the physical load off to bear them proper.

though he knew that feeling well. he had always brought ruin: Loki the destroyer, Loki the bringing of Ragnarok, the catalyst of chaos. while he was tentatively beginning to accept his role, there were always those that demonized him for the acts of a prior life, and it was even harder to work out what was good from what was bad. he'd never been good at morality. ]

Ruin isn't always a bad thing. [ dark lashes fall over half-lidded green eyes, as if he's not only talking to her. ] You can't build a better structure on a house that's already falling to pieces. When change is denied, it will come again, violently, if it must.

It's the nature of chaos.

[ his brow knits thoughtfully as he takes her bandages, dunking them into a half-filled glass of cool water. ]

Change always brings hope.

[ even as he lifts the bandages to wrap her hand again, with the softening of his features, he still looks dangerous. he can never rid himself of that scheming face of his. ]

[conqueress]

[ One surprise follows another. She has only known this self-proclaimed god for less than an hour, but she would not have expected gentleness. Whatever the words may have been intended to do, Dany wears them like a balm.

Because they echo what she hopes, what she must believe. She hopes, after all the bones are burned, that enough will remain to remake the kingdom she wants. She will not be Aegon the Conqueror, perhaps, but she can be herself.

Fire and blood. The words come unbidden, but a disconnect still lingers.

Her fingers curl thoughtfully, then unfurl again as he replaces her bandages. ]

A god may represent more than one claim, I have always heard. [ More often than not, she's found it confusing. She watches his eyes as he works, so vibrantly green as to be otherworldly. In the end, he is either a god, a wise sorceror, or someone with great power who knows how to speak as both. ] I know your name now.

[ She doesn't speak the title (the word) she means; there is no need. ]

[selfimage]

Do you?

[ the words come out more earnestly amused than challenging. perhaps he gave himself away somewhere amid their exchange, but he doesn't necessarily care. it had taken a long time for him to settle into something that wasn't outright evil, and it feels nice to know that she's not going to follow up that with villain.

when he finishes wrapping her hand he leans in a little bit, a smug, playful little smile on his face. ]

Where I come from they call me Loki, among other less pleasant things. You probably understand the whole less pleasant thing more than you'd like, from the sound of it.

[ and he knows more than he's willing to give. it's difficult to play around the knowledge without giving hints. (he also realizes that it would be hypocritical of him to base his perception of her on text, when he's trying so desperately to define himself by his own actions rather than former stories.) ]

[conqueress]

[ More than anything else, his words had sounded of disorder. A hand that sends plans to toppling, a fierce opposition to constraint, and at last some wisdom on the nature of change. He is rebellion and chaos. Perhaps she is wrong, but Dany doesn't think so. Here is a man who would send a world to reeling if he deemed it necessary, one who wore his defiance like a cloak. And yet there is an absurdity to him as well, as if he's a god who delights in behaving the opposite.

Somehow, his manner is overly familiar to her, now that he's released her hand. She meets the smirk with a raise of silver brows. It wouldn't be valid, anymore, to tell him he presumes too much--not when she's already given him good reason to suspect the truth. ]

There speaks one who finds too much pleasure in insult, [ she scolds. Why does she chide him? It is easy, somehow. But as for her own case: ]

My people have lost their love, I fear. [ She sighs. ] My decrees are not always kind, or easy, or what I would wish to do. But a queen must keep her word and remain consistent, elsewise that word is worthless. [ She had been charged by an angry boy, her face spat upon by a freedman, her life threatened by Xaro--a man she had once thought a friend. There are many people she's failed. Too many, but how was she to appease them all? ]

I started a war. I married for peace, that my people might live without fear of having their throats cut in the dark. [ A fragile peace only, one that the slavers are shattering now, she's certain. Gingerly, she runs a thumb over her burn. ] My lord husband says we are at the forefront of a new city, so why do I despise myself for it?

[ She doesn't expect he can answer, but she's finding there's a strange comfort in speaking to him. ]

[selfimage]

[ she jabs him and Loki retreats with a self-satisfied (possibly) yet non-committal shrug. a little self-depreciation serves both as an honest warning and a means of low expectations. where he had seemed older than he was before, he now seems to act his apparent age.

for the moment he listens, coffee in hand, slightly thoughtful. for someone who's done terrible things, and who finds his own meaning in chaos, there's little judgement to be had.

he tosses his hand with a little sigh. ]

You're in chains. Not literal, of course—but there are expectations. What other people want you to be, what you want yourself to be. Everyone wants something from you.

[ Loki had been bred to rule (or had always thought he had), and had his own part to play in the Asgardian royal family. both his father and mother had been watched carefully for centuries. that, unfortunately, didn't help Thor in his terrible, albeit short, reign. Thor had too much storm in him to be a proper king, though he was at no lack for ferocity. Thor needed to be free. Loki hadn't appreciated that until recently.

Odin had ruled without question. if crossed, he met with sword and spear, moving heaven and earth for his people and his family. Freyja, who took a less favorable turn in Loki's eyes, had brought what Odin couldn't: change. the Ten Realms shivered in turmoil while the old was peeled away and discarded.

he leans back on his hand, waving the half-filled coffee cup absently. ]

Ah—perhaps ... you're like something new in an old world, and the old world is enamored, but resists.

[ a thoughtful pause, and a furrow of his brow that follows. ]

Then there's what sounds like a boring husband.

congrats, loki; you got her to be catty

[conqueress]

[ He is too bold. And yet Dany finds herself laughing in delighted surprise, because that much at least is no lie. Drogon takes flight from the pitcher, joining a shriek to the sudden sound. She is newly wed still, but Hizdahr's words are as lukewarm as his lovemaking. There had been a flicker of refreshing anger in his placid gaze when she'd ordered him to release the dwarves from their folly, but otherwise, he was only a useful opportunist, no more. ]

I married the noble Hizdahr for his coin and his friends, [ she points out, ] not his vision. [ One step, and then another, he'd promised her. Together, they would make a new Meereen--and yet, his new Meereen had not carried a shred of her in it. It was his dream, not hers. ] I am a queen, and so I must make concessions, even when my consort is not who I would wish. [ He was better than the Shavepate, at least. Better than Daario, as well, though she wishes it were otherwise.

She reaches over to pat Loki's hand in gratitude, though whether she's more grateful for his honesty or the laugh isn't clear. ] I suppose I must find a way to break my chains. [ My chains, or my people? ] But how can I do that, when I have only just secured peace? I have given up everything, and still the slavers come petitioning for more.

he's gonna add it to his greatest accomplishments

[selfimage]

[ a child of Odin, Thor, Loki, Tyr and a few choice others that Odin had taken under his wing, were afflicted from "I do what I want" syndrome. entitled, arrogant, and unforgiving audacious, all of them seemed to suffer from Odin's worst parenting traits.

she's patting his hand, and he glances down in some curiosity at their fingers. ]

To define yourself in the face of the universe is no easy task. [ and he's speaking from experience. ] Everyone else has an idea what you should be. Luckily for you, you have some time to figure it out. Such resonance may carry weight, but there's always some wiggle room.

You just have to find it.

[ which, coincidentally, he happened to be in the process of. for someone undergoing the same predicament, he at least seemed to have an idea of how to go about it. ]

[conqueress]

[ Dany pulls her hand away at the look. I should not have done that. Strangely familiar though he seems to her, he is not Jorah, or Ser Barristan, or else anyone she knows. He is only someone who speaks with reason, who has struggled enough to fit into the world, to offer her vindication and hope alike. As intoxicating as that is, and as much as she might learn from him, she's allowed herself to stray too far. ]

Wiggling may not be enough to suit my needs. [ Dany smiles, but there's no warmth in it; only distance. She is a dragon, and dragons were not meant for chains. ] But I thank you. [ Discussing her troubles with someone who is not a part of her court, not even a part of her world, has proven queerly cathartic. ]

And now I fear I must return to the cell they have given me. [ Her filth feels somehow heavier upon her skin now that she's no longer raiding the kitchens. Curiously, her newly-regrown hair is clean and only slightly mussed in comparison. A little furrow appears in her brow as she examines it for the first time, staring at a silver-gold strand before brushing it away. She thinks to ask where she might have a bath drawn, but decides against it--she has already revealed too much of her own uncertainty. Her glass of water is mined for the dregs at the bottom, and then she returns it to the counter. ] You were kind not to take your leave of the kitchens.

[ It's a tease, though it's subtle. She knows she must reek of sweat. ]

[selfimage]

[ she examines herself, and Loki watches her with mild interest. it was as if all of that weight encompassed something more than consideration to her appearance. if he had known her any less than he did, the familiarity might be a little bothersome, but it's somewhat comfortable. since Thor left he'd been scraping and scrounging for something to hold onto, some level of connection was nice.

there's a faint shift, and he leans back a little smugly. a smile curls up on his lips that's playful and a tad dangerous, like he's weaving some sort of grand scheme. ]

Next time you'll be kind enough not take your leave of me so soon.

[ yeah, take that. he's a dirty flirt. ]

[conqueress]

[ Flirting with her even when she has great need of a bath, or even a rainshower. Must he be so shameless? He is smiling almost wickedly, but somehow, it only seems to add to the comeliness of his features. She laughs again, and gestures to Drogon, who seems to have little interest in leaving. ]

Ah, but next time I must be lured by other means. [ In other words, not bacon. She isn't certain that he made the offerings, now half-destroyed and lying in disorder thanks to her and Drogon, but it scarcely matters. ] I am a queen, and I command you to surprise me.

[ Return shots fired. She takes another sandwich for good measure, and turns back to the countertop. ]

Drogon! To me. [ The name is used to chide now, and in great reluctance, the black dragon flies to her side, though he does not land this time. Trailed by black wings, Daenerys Targaryen makes her exit, whip already tapping upon her thigh. ]

[selfimage]

Command. [ as if he wouldn't do it anyway. ] There's no need for that. I'll do well on my own.

[ it's difficult to tell if he's talking to her, or himself when she swaggers (well, it's not exactly a swagger, but he'll consider it so) out the door of the kitchen. there's a little snort of amusement and a hn that follows that. he won't even complain about his kingdom of bacon that she left in ruin. ]

Ah, so short, my reign as bacon king ...