[ once upon a time there was a serpent that wrapped around the world. it would cause calamity and distress to anyone who came upon it. terrifying creature, really, and in all the myths, Loki was the one who birthed him. he'd seen all manner of creatures, both terrifying and way too cute (there were lots of those on the internet), and he wasn't deterred by a few dragons. there's a wave to Rhaegal and a tip of the head to Viserion. ]
Hello—before we even start with introductions, I'd like to assure both of you that I'm very salty and not good for the heart.
[ he doesn't let his guard down, but he doesn't advance on either of them. he talks, perhaps, like they may be people too. there were all sorts of people, and they didn't always look like people.
there's a shrug of his shoulders as Dany calls them over and they leave their inspection of him for better endeavors. Loki twists his hands in his suspended shrug, rolling back on his heels. he looks casual, despite, you know, being surrounded in dragons. ]
[ Viserion flaps his wings and begins propelling himself upward, chasing after Rhaegal. The sounds of their play are curiously magnified in the absence of any wind.
She has pleased Morla and Reul both, and the first part of her vow is finished. It was not so long this time, her beggaring--but all the same, she will not miss it. ]
It is done, [ she confirms, smiling. ] I will never be alone here again, until I wish it. [ Perhaps the assertion would sound strange to someone who didn't know her, but for all the company she's kept here, none were her flesh and blood. Even more than a queen, Dany is the Mother of Dragons, and she has never felt so whole and living as when they are all three with her. ]
But you were wise to stand your ground. [ For the softness in her voice, she might have been referencing something far more endearing than Rhaegal's test of him. ] My children are growing too quickly, too boldly. I fear they would seek to rule this world as their own, if I let them.
[ And though she will not say it, she knows that one of her dragons, in particular, feels especially trapped by the spell. Drogon has always ranged the farthest, grown the fastest, and already he craves hunting grounds he needn't share with his brothers. As if in punctuation, from the other side of the mountain comes a bellow, deep and resounding and territorial. It seems to ring for miles through the empty air, from peak to valley and castle, and in response, Dany's blood stirs, her heart quickening. ]
[ Loki watches the two dragons take flight with mild interest, his head tips toward the lower clouds that occasionally conceals them, more nebulous fog than lazy atmospheric obscurity here in the mountains.
he's met larger dragons, not to say that these were small (or would remain small), but rules in Asgardian society generally boiled down to 1) how well you stood your ground and 2) on what basis that was backed up. Loki had his own variety of tricks up his sleeve, and he left it to the dragons to decide whether or not to test him on those claims. ]
There are tales of dragons in this realm. To the north there are ruins, smelted and buried by the breath of Seelie-lead dragons. Though it was a hand that commanded them. Yours seem to be a bit more ... feisty.
[ his bright eyes trail toward the sound. ah, yes. the last one. the big one. ]
Hm, now if that isn't foreboding. This is the little "if I let them" detail, isn't it?
[ Dany's heard of Seelie dragons. She's heard of a child dragon who fell near Caer Scima. She's heard, too, of a dragon that had slumbered beneath Redgate, who when awoken had lain waste to the surrounding villages until shardbearers had seen it slain. She's no fool: Dragons are not trusted here in Dorchadas. If anything, they are feared. How curious, that a creature so aligned with who she is should have hated the Unseelie. Are dragons not agents of chaos before order? Perhaps these Seelie dragons did not possess the same fury that courses within her own. ]
If any Seelie dragons remain, they are either guarded from enemy eyes or turned to stone, [ she sighs. It would be a distinct tactical disadvantage if the race lived still, especially with her own dragons yet largely untrained--but truthfully, her feelings on the matter of the Jabberwock's legendary decimation are more complicated than Morla would like. A massacre of dragons, enemy or not, leaves a sour taste in Dany's mouth. ] I know dragons are not loved here, but my children are bound to me by a spell until I deem them fit to be released. The Unseelie shall have little to fear from them.
[ A generous declaration. Likely too generous, but she hasn't yet seen the unintended destruction they bring.
At the roar, Dany seems curiously serene, raising her eyes to the thinning clouds above them. ]
That "detail," [ she tells Loki, with no small measure of maternal pride, ] is named Drogon.
[ From above comes the sound of thunder, distant--but it isn't rain that the black shadow brings. It's no storm that passes over them now with every flicker of the sun, every beat of his magnificent wings. Drogon is her Balerion Reborn, her Black Dread--and, though she has yet to realize it, he is everything primal that lurks in her veins. Her blood fairly calls to him as he dips gracefully beneath the cloud cover, his body turning to glide with ease in a wide, sweeping circle as he looks to land. Primordial trills echo from the rocks around them in his wake. ]
Drogon, [ she sings out, and as though answering some ancient bond, he flies to her, with his wings stirring dust and wind in great, hot waves. They don't touch, not yet, but he soars gently--almost pointedly so--over her head toward a low-hanging outcropping behind her, ruffling strands of silver-gold hair and pale silks in his wake. It's clear that this dragon, more than either of the others, is well and truly hers. ]
Loki's arrival into the drabwurld had been more of a trip into calamity than a graceful entrance. he had fallen straight into a battle that decimated Caer Scima, leaving the Unseelie scattered. the aftermath of that battle had included something of interest: the Jabberwelp, kept in the depths of the stronghold, was released, and began to spread her rot. he had spoken to her before her death, told her riddles to relieve her of a constant pain, but it had been for nothing; she died despite every effort.
it was one of his first memories in Allaidh Darach, and it remains a wound scabbed and held together with poor stitching.
there's no fear in him when Drogon descends from the fog to meet her call: he's not afraid of dragons. instead his hair is tossed and the lapels on his jacket ruffle from the wind, he tips his head to watch something unfold in front of him like a scene in a play, or an artist finishing a painting. it's like something out of myth and story with the tips of her fingers reaching toward something that she knew was lying like fire inside of her.
thus, he can't stop himself. ]
All for the better, yet ... [ for them; for her. ] How would you feel about going a bit higher? [ a smile twists from the something on his lips, and he offers her a hand. ] It'll be fun.
[ His scales are hot even inches before her fingertips reach him, enough to burn and blister the skin if contact is prolonged. But if Drogon is fire made flesh, then so is she. Her fingers rove over the ridges upon his left cheek, drinking in his warmth, and two terrible eyes bore into her, burning red.
But when Loki's suggestion reaches her ears, she breaks from her trance to look over her shoulder with contained curiosity. Red eyes become green, unearthly bright. ]
And what manner of height would that be? [ she demands. ] Teleportation? Flight? [ The smile as she closes the distance between them is both suspicious and cautiously excited, in the way that a child isn't certain about a gift being hidden behind a playmate's back. ]
Flight is more of my brother's thing. I have a pair of boots that'll do the trick. [ ones that will run up just about any surface, no matter how ephemeral and impossible they may be. it's suited him to his more tricksy dealings, and been useful for all that B&E that he seems to do in his spare time. ] But we can dabble in a little bit of teleportation. I'm certain the mother of dragons isn't afraid of a few clouds. [ it's a tease and a challenge—both, maybe. he seems lighthearted enough, wiggling his dark nailed fingers at her enticingly. ] No biggie.
[ Her gaze flits to his feet. ] Boots, [ she repeats almost flatly, silver brows raising--as though she might have known. Of course he possesses magic boots, that he may walk into the sky. All who practice magic must, surely. ]
Very well. [ She takes his hand with some deliberate, queenly flourish, meeting his play halfway. ] You may surprise me. [ There's an almost flirtatious quality to her smile, to the way she looks to him from the corner of her eyes. It's a dangerous invitation, but it will not be a difficult feat. More than most she's met here, it is Loki who surprises her. ]
[ magic boots made for various sneaky and magical endeavors, of course. he couldn't skirt around without resources.
there's a quirk of his lips to the opposite side as she gives him permission. if there's something he excels at, it's surprising people.
she offers him her hand, he takes it, and with a tug pulls her in toward him. in the same motion he tips forward, an arm around her shoulders as he trips her up, grabbing her knees to let them dangle from his forearm. it's all a quick, playful motion. something that seems lost when all worlds are ending. maybe there's no time for it, but maybe he'd rather find time for it.
what's the use of an apocalypse if there's nothing of value to lose?
a spell is muttered and just like (and unlike) the last time, they're somewhere else in an instant. he's jogging jovially along a stretch of cloud, the peaks of the mountains far below their feet. the air was cold, thin and it was difficult to breathe. ]
Getting your air-legs can be a tricky.
[ he sounds immensely self-satisfied, waiting for the dragons to join them. ]
[ For all her permission, Dany had gasped audibly when he'd swept her up, unaccustomed to sudden seizure meaning her anything but ill. Just a hair before they'd vanished, she'd flung her arms instinctively around his neck to ground herself, and now--
--Now they were airborne, the desolate landscape somehow made lovely below them. Now it was an elaborate carpet, with patches of green vegetation to soften the stone, white wisps and misshapen swirls interrupting the climes. There's a sudden roil in her stomach at the feeling that she's no longer standing upon anything, that her center is gone, and she turns to rest her head upon his shoulder as though searching behind them, closing her eyes where he cannot see how temporarily ill she feels.
It's Drogon's roar that grounds her again, his strength and wingspan bringing him even with Loki. Drawn back to her side by the spell Morla and Reul wrote for her, her children are with them, Viserion soaring upon wings that appear almost translucent in the brightness of the sky. It is the happiest she's seen them all day, and as Rhaegal trumpets a shriek and circles them curiously, it strikes her what a gift this is. She has never been able to fly with her children.
I am here with you, she thinks, the sickened feeling leaving her for a strange giddiness. The sudden change in air pressure has made her lightheaded, and so she keeps one arm draped over Loki's shoulders still while she cautiously reaches toward Drogon with the other. ] Now there are four dragons in Dorchadas, [ she calls to Loki, feeling silly, and a laugh leaves her lips. She was mad, perhaps, but Loki wouldn't think her so. ] Look how he flies! Drogon is the most splendid sight in all the world.
[ Loki's all too used to it. his body adjusts as easily to the change in atmospheric pressure as it does to the extremity of temperature. (nothing is as rigidly cold as Jotunheim or as searingly hot as Muspelheim.) being a god has had him traversing many places, between the cracks in stories and along the shadows of dead time, and the sky was hardly off limits. it's good for both of them, as it seems like one slip-up may send them both hurdling down toward the ground—but Loki doesn't seem to have a care of the world. there's something wild in his expression beneath the mask of smugness, enjoying the sudden rush of freedom.
the mountains unfold beneath them, appearing and reappearing between clouds. Loki makes his own roads, leaping between transient pathways and skidding along streaks of shapeless white to create new ones. the air is cold, and he has to blink away the frost forming at the tips of his hair and on his eyelashes. it doesn't at all seem to matter, not with the rush of adrenaline that accompanies the wind. well, if she was mad, it was contagious.
there's a spot just above the lower clouds where the horizon becomes clear. ]
Four! [ one of the dragons shrieks just as he says that, almost covering the sound. ] Does that mean we count as one? I've always wanted to be a dragon.
[ the words are accompanied by an unruly grin. it takes him a bit to keep up with the three dragons circling the sky, but he doesn't seem to tire. all beings of defiance needed to stretch their legs once in a while. ]
So, are you ready to hit the sky running? [ he shifts his grip on her, holding her waist upright with one arm, ready to put her on her feet next to him. ]
[ Dany reaches with stiffening fingers to curiously touch a little patch of ice crystals forming upon the hair near his temple, rubbing it between her fingertips until it melts.
She looks beneath them again with slight wariness, watching the scenery pass below. Loki has seemed to walk astride the world itself, his feet nimble and his pace jaunty. Could she "fly" as well? Some feet away from her right elbow, Drogon snorts steam into the air and banks to dive from above toward an unsuspecting Viserion, and Dany knows she must try. Perhaps they will chase her through the sky, right into the horizon. ]
What must I do? [ she asks, uncertainly letting go of his shoulders. Have his abilities transferred to her through mere touch? ]
Hold on. Don't look back, and don't look down. I suppose trust me a tad, hm?
[ Loki has to raise his voice to speak over the wind. he jogs forward suddenly, as they seem to be falling behind to fall neck and neck with them again. luckily for him the dragons don't seem to be seeing this as a race, as more of an opportunity (he wasn't sure that he could run as fast as they decided to fly, but it the former).
his fingers shift from her waist to her hip, holding her adjacent to him so she can decide what she would like her pace to be.
an occasional puff of cloud passes, translucent and cool, leaving them dusted with droplets of frost once again. it's shaken off carelessly with a small leap between rapidly changing clouds. ]
[ Four moons ago, if anyone had told her she'd be walking upon air and trusting the God of Chaos with her life, she would have thought it a riddle even Quaithe could not have spun. At the very least, she would not have thought the meaning literal.
One side of her is now flush against him, both arms wrapped around his waist for stability, and she realizes with a chill entirely unrelated to the temperatures around them that she is leaping onto nothing at all. She will not look back, but she does look below them, thinking that she must. A dragon does not fear to look upon heights. ]
But the clouds are all wet! How can that be? [ she protests over the wind, the child in her disappointed, though she does laugh in shock as another cold puff soaks their faces. They had always looked feather-soft from below. ] All the tales are lies.
[ Drogon's ambush on Viserion was successful, and the two have locked wings, spiraling down out of sight for a moment before rising again, flapping at each other and snapping. The waves of air sent from the play buffet against them both, worsening the cold against her cheeks. ] Be gentle, Drogon! [ she scolds, shivering. ] Rhaegal, to me!
[ And the green dragon comes, wheeling around to bank back toward them, bronze eyes gleaming. Let us see how dragonfire meets these clouds. When he has reached them, Dany points to a particularly wide, sprawling cloud below. ]
Dracarys! [ she commands, and at the sound of the word they like best, Viserion and Drogon disengage and watch as a blast of orange and yellow flame scorches toward the helpless array of water droplets, sending billows of hot steam into the air. Slayer of Lies, Slayer of Clouds. Dany giggles, the dropoff beneath them momentarily forgotten, and her arm is rejoined around Loki's waist. ]
Will you run with me, slowly? Perhaps they will give chase. [ A race they would lose, she fears, but she is curious to play with her dragons another way. ]
[ there's a low, rude sound that comes out of Loki's mouth at the sudden exclamation of the cloud disappointment. the tales are most certainly lies when it comes mist and atmospheric pressure. the dragons get their room, and he watches them twirl like a vortex into the sky and return with gaping maw and playful shrieks. she tries to rein them in and he watches her tame the wilderness around them with fire. there's a puff of cold-aired amusement. ]
I never did like that cloud.
[ he has to do a short hop and a skip as the fog disperses and reforms, as some sort of meeting of fire and ice that seems to draw a twist of a smile from him. ]
Give chase? [ he says with some mock innocence. ] They won't be nipping at our heels, will they?
[ regardless of his feigned protest, he begins to fall into step with her pace. he had resources to fall back on, and while the dragons would certain win in a test of strength and speed, he liked to have a few clever tricks up his sleeve. ]
You needn't fear, [ Dany teases, trying to meld to his longer stride as best as she can. The jape would be ominous to almost anyone else, perhaps, but Loki doesn't fear her dragons. ] It is cooked meat they need, not raw.
[ Or clouds, for that matter. She leaps them onto one now, balancing upon one foot in delight, then turns her head slightly to look over her shoulder. ] Viserion, [ she calls out, brightly. ] Come here, sweetling.
[ And the white dragon does, flapping away from Drogon to fly to her, perhaps expecting more hands to "kiss." She giggles and runs them toward the horizon in an arc, where they may hide behind a drifting patch of fog. A screech mingles with a trill as Viserion watches his mother recede from him, but still he comes, though from the opposite way. In moments, they are caught, face-to-face with a triumphant dragon whose gold eyes gleam like two yellow stars. ]
That is cheating! [ she laughs, resisting the urge to give him the gentlest of swats upon the nose. If she does not touch him, perhaps he will keep following. Turning on her heels, she runs them forward. Rhaegal has noticed his brother's departure and is now trailing after them on wings of jade, though whether it's out of interest for the newly-moving target or out of jealousy that Viserion has won his mother's latest attention, Dany cannot say. ]
Ah, yes, raw Loki sounds entirely unappetizing. [ but he's talking to himself for the moment. it's times like this that Loki's all to disappointed at his lack of a working smart phone. this is something of a good selfie opportunity. one with dragons.
there's no fear in him, but as she grows bolder he follows along with slight satisfaction. the dragons flap back and forth, coming and going with their newfound freedoms. she jokes and plays with them, Loki leans over her head for a decisive squint and a face full of bad dragon breath. ] It's absolutely cheating. [ he says cooly, as if he's impressed. he runs with her, keeping pace as the clouds mist the form of the coming dragon. ]
You do know that the title "storm queen" now takes on a certain literal aspect, don't you? Ah—tale of traversing the skies, causing trouble to clouds and rains when the dragons are feeling grumpy. It would make for quite a story.
[ That provokes a rare, delighted laugh, not just borne out of the spontaneity of the moment. ] But who will spread my tales? A true legend does not overspeak her own deeds, surely. [ She smiles up at him, patting the waist she isn't foolish enough to let go of. Is that fondness? After this, how not? Seven save them both. ] I shall task you with the honor. You must make certain everyone hears.
[ Loki Loremaker. Of course, she doesn't know he is already named Spinner of Lore.
Rhaegal soars with ease directly over their heads, almost tauntingly. The internal heat emanating from his scales warms her back and shoulders, and for a moment, the jade dragon circles them, eyeing their combined width with fresh interest. Dany giggles again, then swats at his nearest leg. ]
No, Rhaegal! [ He wishes to stand astride their shoulders, as he would atop something he's caught. Given their height disparity, he will be in discomfort. ] We are not your spoils. [ More ominous commentary for almost anyone else, but Dany seems lighthearted still.
From behind them comes a strange, reptilian cross between a croon and a trill, and Dany looks to spot Drogon flying effortlessly through cloud after cloud, his hellish red eyes visible even through the fog. He seems as of yet uninterested in any sort of race; presumably, large and majestic dragons care little for contests they can easily win. But then an idea strikes her, and she gently prods Loki with a finger. ] Can you teleport without falling?
Carried away like so much dragonbait. Never a dull day.
[ Loki says as Rhaegal gets scolded for trying to claim them. he still sounds amiable, but he keeps watch of them. just like so many other things in this world, they are still what they are. they're still dragons, no matter how well they respond to her. she seems to have taken to traversing the skies, but Unseelie were known for their adaptability, so it doesn't surprise him. there's something intoxicating about dancing on air, footsteps leaving trails in the clouds, something akin to the elation of sudden freedom.
they weren't, of course.
it was a momentary trick, but what were lies worth if they offered nothing? ]
Of course I can. [ he tosses his dark nailed fingers as they dawdle. ] Loki of many skills, they call me, especially those that have to do with running away.
[ That draws an eyebrow raise, pointed and incredulous. There is no pride in running away. ] You must have better boasts than that, surely. [ Come on, Loki.
Drogon's nearly caught up to them now, and seems inclined to swerve around them and continue on his way. She wants to capture his interest. ]
But what are you waiting for? [ she smiles again, buoyed by the rush of hot air that engulfs them in his wake. The frost melts from her hair and her lashes, turning to vapor, and Rhaegal shrieks in protest at being thus buffeted, flapping off to try and deliver a hearty bite to his brother's tail. ] We must give him something to race. [ And with a tug upon his waist, she gets them to a running start, behaving for all the world as if her life isn't one slipped grasp away from falling to her death. ]
[ hey, running away could be done in absolute style. the smirk that he offers her is almost cheeky. he made being a lying good-for-nothing into an art, and he displays it as such.
maybe he had better boasts, and maybe they were all still terrible. ]
Hey! Aren't we running right now? You'd be glad for it! [ but he wonders just how much she caught of that, because she quickens her pace fearlessly and he has to make the effort to keep beside her.
with an amused puff he mutters something beneath his breath and they disappear, reappearing far enough in the clouds that the details of the dragons are lost. ]
Somehow I don't think they're going to be fond of losing.
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Hello—before we even start with introductions, I'd like to assure both of you that I'm very salty and not good for the heart.
[ he doesn't let his guard down, but he doesn't advance on either of them. he talks, perhaps, like they may be people too. there were all sorts of people, and they didn't always look like people.
there's a shrug of his shoulders as Dany calls them over and they leave their inspection of him for better endeavors. Loki twists his hands in his suspended shrug, rolling back on his heels. he looks casual, despite, you know, being surrounded in dragons. ]
I suppose a hearty 'congrats' is in order, hm?
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She has pleased Morla and Reul both, and the first part of her vow is finished. It was not so long this time, her beggaring--but all the same, she will not miss it. ]
It is done, [ she confirms, smiling. ] I will never be alone here again, until I wish it. [ Perhaps the assertion would sound strange to someone who didn't know her, but for all the company she's kept here, none were her flesh and blood. Even more than a queen, Dany is the Mother of Dragons, and she has never felt so whole and living as when they are all three with her. ]
But you were wise to stand your ground. [ For the softness in her voice, she might have been referencing something far more endearing than Rhaegal's test of him. ] My children are growing too quickly, too boldly. I fear they would seek to rule this world as their own, if I let them.
[ And though she will not say it, she knows that one of her dragons, in particular, feels especially trapped by the spell. Drogon has always ranged the farthest, grown the fastest, and already he craves hunting grounds he needn't share with his brothers. As if in punctuation, from the other side of the mountain comes a bellow, deep and resounding and territorial. It seems to ring for miles through the empty air, from peak to valley and castle, and in response, Dany's blood stirs, her heart quickening. ]
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he's met larger dragons, not to say that these were small (or would remain small), but rules in Asgardian society generally boiled down to 1) how well you stood your ground and 2) on what basis that was backed up. Loki had his own variety of tricks up his sleeve, and he left it to the dragons to decide whether or not to test him on those claims. ]
There are tales of dragons in this realm. To the north there are ruins, smelted and buried by the breath of Seelie-lead dragons. Though it was a hand that commanded them. Yours seem to be a bit more ... feisty.
[ his bright eyes trail toward the sound. ah, yes. the last one. the big one. ]
Hm, now if that isn't foreboding. This is the little "if I let them" detail, isn't it?
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If any Seelie dragons remain, they are either guarded from enemy eyes or turned to stone, [ she sighs. It would be a distinct tactical disadvantage if the race lived still, especially with her own dragons yet largely untrained--but truthfully, her feelings on the matter of the Jabberwock's legendary decimation are more complicated than Morla would like. A massacre of dragons, enemy or not, leaves a sour taste in Dany's mouth. ] I know dragons are not loved here, but my children are bound to me by a spell until I deem them fit to be released. The Unseelie shall have little to fear from them.
[ A generous declaration. Likely too generous, but she hasn't yet seen the unintended destruction they bring.
At the roar, Dany seems curiously serene, raising her eyes to the thinning clouds above them. ]
That "detail," [ she tells Loki, with no small measure of maternal pride, ] is named Drogon.
[ From above comes the sound of thunder, distant--but it isn't rain that the black shadow brings. It's no storm that passes over them now with every flicker of the sun, every beat of his magnificent wings. Drogon is her Balerion Reborn, her Black Dread--and, though she has yet to realize it, he is everything primal that lurks in her veins. Her blood fairly calls to him as he dips gracefully beneath the cloud cover, his body turning to glide with ease in a wide, sweeping circle as he looks to land. Primordial trills echo from the rocks around them in his wake. ]
Drogon, [ she sings out, and as though answering some ancient bond, he flies to her, with his wings stirring dust and wind in great, hot waves. They don't touch, not yet, but he soars gently--almost pointedly so--over her head toward a low-hanging outcropping behind her, ruffling strands of silver-gold hair and pale silks in his wake. It's clear that this dragon, more than either of the others, is well and truly hers. ]
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Loki's arrival into the drabwurld had been more of a trip into calamity than a graceful entrance. he had fallen straight into a battle that decimated Caer Scima, leaving the Unseelie scattered. the aftermath of that battle had included something of interest: the Jabberwelp, kept in the depths of the stronghold, was released, and began to spread her rot. he had spoken to her before her death, told her riddles to relieve her of a constant pain, but it had been for nothing; she died despite every effort.
it was one of his first memories in Allaidh Darach, and it remains a wound scabbed and held together with poor stitching.
there's no fear in him when Drogon descends from the fog to meet her call: he's not afraid of dragons. instead his hair is tossed and the lapels on his jacket ruffle from the wind, he tips his head to watch something unfold in front of him like a scene in a play, or an artist finishing a painting. it's like something out of myth and story with the tips of her fingers reaching toward something that she knew was lying like fire inside of her.
thus, he can't stop himself. ]
All for the better, yet ... [ for them; for her. ] How would you feel about going a bit higher? [ a smile twists from the something on his lips, and he offers her a hand. ] It'll be fun.
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But when Loki's suggestion reaches her ears, she breaks from her trance to look over her shoulder with contained curiosity. Red eyes become green, unearthly bright. ]
And what manner of height would that be? [ she demands. ] Teleportation? Flight? [ The smile as she closes the distance between them is both suspicious and cautiously excited, in the way that a child isn't certain about a gift being hidden behind a playmate's back. ]
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Very well. [ She takes his hand with some deliberate, queenly flourish, meeting his play halfway. ] You may surprise me. [ There's an almost flirtatious quality to her smile, to the way she looks to him from the corner of her eyes. It's a dangerous invitation, but it will not be a difficult feat. More than most she's met here, it is Loki who surprises her. ]
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there's a quirk of his lips to the opposite side as she gives him permission. if there's something he excels at, it's surprising people.
she offers him her hand, he takes it, and with a tug pulls her in toward him. in the same motion he tips forward, an arm around her shoulders as he trips her up, grabbing her knees to let them dangle from his forearm. it's all a quick, playful motion. something that seems lost when all worlds are ending. maybe there's no time for it, but maybe he'd rather find time for it.
what's the use of an apocalypse if there's nothing of value to lose?
a spell is muttered and just like (and unlike) the last time, they're somewhere else in an instant. he's jogging jovially along a stretch of cloud, the peaks of the mountains far below their feet. the air was cold, thin and it was difficult to breathe. ]
Getting your air-legs can be a tricky.
[ he sounds immensely self-satisfied, waiting for the dragons to join them. ]
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--Now they were airborne, the desolate landscape somehow made lovely below them. Now it was an elaborate carpet, with patches of green vegetation to soften the stone, white wisps and misshapen swirls interrupting the climes. There's a sudden roil in her stomach at the feeling that she's no longer standing upon anything, that her center is gone, and she turns to rest her head upon his shoulder as though searching behind them, closing her eyes where he cannot see how temporarily ill she feels.
It's Drogon's roar that grounds her again, his strength and wingspan bringing him even with Loki. Drawn back to her side by the spell Morla and Reul wrote for her, her children are with them, Viserion soaring upon wings that appear almost translucent in the brightness of the sky. It is the happiest she's seen them all day, and as Rhaegal trumpets a shriek and circles them curiously, it strikes her what a gift this is. She has never been able to fly with her children.
I am here with you, she thinks, the sickened feeling leaving her for a strange giddiness. The sudden change in air pressure has made her lightheaded, and so she keeps one arm draped over Loki's shoulders still while she cautiously reaches toward Drogon with the other. ] Now there are four dragons in Dorchadas, [ she calls to Loki, feeling silly, and a laugh leaves her lips. She was mad, perhaps, but Loki wouldn't think her so. ] Look how he flies! Drogon is the most splendid sight in all the world.
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the mountains unfold beneath them, appearing and reappearing between clouds. Loki makes his own roads, leaping between transient pathways and skidding along streaks of shapeless white to create new ones. the air is cold, and he has to blink away the frost forming at the tips of his hair and on his eyelashes. it doesn't at all seem to matter, not with the rush of adrenaline that accompanies the wind. well, if she was mad, it was contagious.
there's a spot just above the lower clouds where the horizon becomes clear. ]
Four! [ one of the dragons shrieks just as he says that, almost covering the sound. ] Does that mean we count as one? I've always wanted to be a dragon.
[ the words are accompanied by an unruly grin. it takes him a bit to keep up with the three dragons circling the sky, but he doesn't seem to tire. all beings of defiance needed to stretch their legs once in a while. ]
So, are you ready to hit the sky running? [ he shifts his grip on her, holding her waist upright with one arm, ready to put her on her feet next to him. ]
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She looks beneath them again with slight wariness, watching the scenery pass below. Loki has seemed to walk astride the world itself, his feet nimble and his pace jaunty. Could she "fly" as well? Some feet away from her right elbow, Drogon snorts steam into the air and banks to dive from above toward an unsuspecting Viserion, and Dany knows she must try. Perhaps they will chase her through the sky, right into the horizon. ]
What must I do? [ she asks, uncertainly letting go of his shoulders. Have his abilities transferred to her through mere touch? ]
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[ Loki has to raise his voice to speak over the wind. he jogs forward suddenly, as they seem to be falling behind to fall neck and neck with them again. luckily for him the dragons don't seem to be seeing this as a race, as more of an opportunity (he wasn't sure that he could run as fast as they decided to fly, but it the former).
his fingers shift from her waist to her hip, holding her adjacent to him so she can decide what she would like her pace to be.
an occasional puff of cloud passes, translucent and cool, leaving them dusted with droplets of frost once again. it's shaken off carelessly with a small leap between rapidly changing clouds. ]
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One side of her is now flush against him, both arms wrapped around his waist for stability, and she realizes with a chill entirely unrelated to the temperatures around them that she is leaping onto nothing at all. She will not look back, but she does look below them, thinking that she must. A dragon does not fear to look upon heights. ]
But the clouds are all wet! How can that be? [ she protests over the wind, the child in her disappointed, though she does laugh in shock as another cold puff soaks their faces. They had always looked feather-soft from below. ] All the tales are lies.
[ Drogon's ambush on Viserion was successful, and the two have locked wings, spiraling down out of sight for a moment before rising again, flapping at each other and snapping. The waves of air sent from the play buffet against them both, worsening the cold against her cheeks. ] Be gentle, Drogon! [ she scolds, shivering. ] Rhaegal, to me!
[ And the green dragon comes, wheeling around to bank back toward them, bronze eyes gleaming. Let us see how dragonfire meets these clouds. When he has reached them, Dany points to a particularly wide, sprawling cloud below. ]
Dracarys! [ she commands, and at the sound of the word they like best, Viserion and Drogon disengage and watch as a blast of orange and yellow flame scorches toward the helpless array of water droplets, sending billows of hot steam into the air. Slayer of Lies, Slayer of Clouds. Dany giggles, the dropoff beneath them momentarily forgotten, and her arm is rejoined around Loki's waist. ]
Will you run with me, slowly? Perhaps they will give chase. [ A race they would lose, she fears, but she is curious to play with her dragons another way. ]
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I never did like that cloud.
[ he has to do a short hop and a skip as the fog disperses and reforms, as some sort of meeting of fire and ice that seems to draw a twist of a smile from him. ]
Give chase? [ he says with some mock innocence. ] They won't be nipping at our heels, will they?
[ regardless of his feigned protest, he begins to fall into step with her pace. he had resources to fall back on, and while the dragons would certain win in a test of strength and speed, he liked to have a few clever tricks up his sleeve. ]
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[ Or clouds, for that matter. She leaps them onto one now, balancing upon one foot in delight, then turns her head slightly to look over her shoulder. ] Viserion, [ she calls out, brightly. ] Come here, sweetling.
[ And the white dragon does, flapping away from Drogon to fly to her, perhaps expecting more hands to "kiss." She giggles and runs them toward the horizon in an arc, where they may hide behind a drifting patch of fog. A screech mingles with a trill as Viserion watches his mother recede from him, but still he comes, though from the opposite way. In moments, they are caught, face-to-face with a triumphant dragon whose gold eyes gleam like two yellow stars. ]
That is cheating! [ she laughs, resisting the urge to give him the gentlest of swats upon the nose. If she does not touch him, perhaps he will keep following. Turning on her heels, she runs them forward. Rhaegal has noticed his brother's departure and is now trailing after them on wings of jade, though whether it's out of interest for the newly-moving target or out of jealousy that Viserion has won his mother's latest attention, Dany cannot say. ]
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there's no fear in him, but as she grows bolder he follows along with slight satisfaction. the dragons flap back and forth, coming and going with their newfound freedoms. she jokes and plays with them, Loki leans over her head for a decisive squint and a face full of bad dragon breath. ] It's absolutely cheating. [ he says cooly, as if he's impressed. he runs with her, keeping pace as the clouds mist the form of the coming dragon. ]
You do know that the title "storm queen" now takes on a certain literal aspect, don't you? Ah—tale of traversing the skies, causing trouble to clouds and rains when the dragons are feeling grumpy. It would make for quite a story.
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[ Loki Loremaker. Of course, she doesn't know he is already named Spinner of Lore.
Rhaegal soars with ease directly over their heads, almost tauntingly. The internal heat emanating from his scales warms her back and shoulders, and for a moment, the jade dragon circles them, eyeing their combined width with fresh interest. Dany giggles again, then swats at his nearest leg. ]
No, Rhaegal! [ He wishes to stand astride their shoulders, as he would atop something he's caught. Given their height disparity, he will be in discomfort. ] We are not your spoils. [ More ominous commentary for almost anyone else, but Dany seems lighthearted still.
From behind them comes a strange, reptilian cross between a croon and a trill, and Dany looks to spot Drogon flying effortlessly through cloud after cloud, his hellish red eyes visible even through the fog. He seems as of yet uninterested in any sort of race; presumably, large and majestic dragons care little for contests they can easily win. But then an idea strikes her, and she gently prods Loki with a finger. ] Can you teleport without falling?
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[ Loki says as Rhaegal gets scolded for trying to claim them. he still sounds amiable, but he keeps watch of them. just like so many other things in this world, they are still what they are. they're still dragons, no matter how well they respond to her. she seems to have taken to traversing the skies, but Unseelie were known for their adaptability, so it doesn't surprise him. there's something intoxicating about dancing on air, footsteps leaving trails in the clouds, something akin to the elation of sudden freedom.
they weren't, of course.
it was a momentary trick, but what were lies worth if they offered nothing? ]
Of course I can. [ he tosses his dark nailed fingers as they dawdle. ] Loki of many skills, they call me, especially those that have to do with running away.
[ don't be proud of that, Loki. ]
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Drogon's nearly caught up to them now, and seems inclined to swerve around them and continue on his way. She wants to capture his interest. ]
But what are you waiting for? [ she smiles again, buoyed by the rush of hot air that engulfs them in his wake. The frost melts from her hair and her lashes, turning to vapor, and Rhaegal shrieks in protest at being thus buffeted, flapping off to try and deliver a hearty bite to his brother's tail. ] We must give him something to race. [ And with a tug upon his waist, she gets them to a running start, behaving for all the world as if her life isn't one slipped grasp away from falling to her death. ]
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maybe he had better boasts, and maybe they were all still terrible. ]
Hey! Aren't we running right now? You'd be glad for it! [ but he wonders just how much she caught of that, because she quickens her pace fearlessly and he has to make the effort to keep beside her.
with an amused puff he mutters something beneath his breath and they disappear, reappearing far enough in the clouds that the details of the dragons are lost. ]
Somehow I don't think they're going to be fond of losing.