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addrivat[[ using this intro log thread for a prompt thinger ]]
[ The rain isn't something that the deserts of the Dothraki Sea is touched by with great frequency, and perhaps because of that, the scarcity of resource and the foreign feel of water so completely drenching Drogo's skin, hair and clothes, it feels welcoming and cooling. Soothing, when the last he'd remembered was a feverish heat taking over him. Something he wasn't ready to admit to, but recognizing nonetheless. For a moment, he's only standing in it, feeling the wind beat at his bare arms and chest like the poison sea against solid shore rocks. Something stalwart and unweathering.
But he hears her voice - his Khaleesi calling in a pitch and tone that would make men shake, and lips tug into a proud smirk. She'd started timid, quiet and uncertain, but something raised up in her, bared it's fangs and roared low and deep when she had taken her place in the Khalasar. She was born to rule at his side.
Though, when he turns towards the direction of her voice, perhaps the hiss and roar was more literal than he'd thought - given the creatures circling around her. Dragons, if the stories of them were true, and if one of them weren't hissing directly into his face, as he'd stood behind her, shoulders hunching offensively, he might have thought it appropriate that they'd seem to flock to her.
But beasts are beasts, and while they swarm around her, he can't be certain if it's in defense or something more predatory, and Khal Drogo will surrender his wife, his love, and his queen to no creature, ordinary or lengendary. The curved arakh at his side makes a high, metallic grinding as he pulls it free, and he may as well sound like a dragon himself for the way he echoes the large, black and red one's hiss savagely back at it.
'She is mine' is what every inch and every fibre of his being says as he prowls forward, dark eyes gleaming. Daenerys is still faced away, speaking commands at some stranger, but he'll have to make it past the beast to lay hands on her. ]
[ The rain isn't something that the deserts of the Dothraki Sea is touched by with great frequency, and perhaps because of that, the scarcity of resource and the foreign feel of water so completely drenching Drogo's skin, hair and clothes, it feels welcoming and cooling. Soothing, when the last he'd remembered was a feverish heat taking over him. Something he wasn't ready to admit to, but recognizing nonetheless. For a moment, he's only standing in it, feeling the wind beat at his bare arms and chest like the poison sea against solid shore rocks. Something stalwart and unweathering.
But he hears her voice - his Khaleesi calling in a pitch and tone that would make men shake, and lips tug into a proud smirk. She'd started timid, quiet and uncertain, but something raised up in her, bared it's fangs and roared low and deep when she had taken her place in the Khalasar. She was born to rule at his side.
Though, when he turns towards the direction of her voice, perhaps the hiss and roar was more literal than he'd thought - given the creatures circling around her. Dragons, if the stories of them were true, and if one of them weren't hissing directly into his face, as he'd stood behind her, shoulders hunching offensively, he might have thought it appropriate that they'd seem to flock to her.
But beasts are beasts, and while they swarm around her, he can't be certain if it's in defense or something more predatory, and Khal Drogo will surrender his wife, his love, and his queen to no creature, ordinary or lengendary. The curved arakh at his side makes a high, metallic grinding as he pulls it free, and he may as well sound like a dragon himself for the way he echoes the large, black and red one's hiss savagely back at it.
'She is mine' is what every inch and every fibre of his being says as he prowls forward, dark eyes gleaming. Daenerys is still faced away, speaking commands at some stranger, but he'll have to make it past the beast to lay hands on her. ]